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atlabeth · 2 months

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all of me | luke castellan

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: sooooooo i know that i said i would work on something else but this hit me and suddenly i could not rest until i wrote something for it so you're getting headcanons since i can't formulate proper thoughts. some of this is dialogue but most of this is pure stream of consciousness. im already kind of obsessed w them ?

wc: 3.7k lollll this got away from me but it was so much fun.

warning(s): parental death, fighting, normal royal stuff. fluff, angst, all that good shit

princess!reader and knight!luke

yeah

and they're childhood friends bc they grew up in the castle together

YEAH

luke is the son of a kingsguard and he wants to be just like his mom

his father is out of the picture (booo) and his mom never really talks about him but she’s raised luke the best she can

shoutout to may castellan, she was the first female kingsguard! and definitely the first to personally guard the king

you are the heir to the throne and the only thing you're sure of is that you want luke to be in your life

you basically spent all your time together because he was kinda the only one your parents would approve you hanging out with

most of the crownsguard don't have children and those that do have them live with their spouse outside of the palace, and your parents didn't want you spending time with the children of servants

and luke's mom is your father's closest friend because she's the king's personal knight and so everything’s basically already vetted and they don’t have to worry about you accidentally getting murdered by him

so you and luke basically spend every moment of your free time together!!

even when you’re not free tbh

sometimes you beg your tutor to hold your lessons outside so that you can sneak glimpses at the knights training and luke training alongside them

whenever he sees you, his face always instantly brightens and he will lose focus in whatever tf he’s doing because he’s only thinking about you now

and instead of either of you doing what you’re supposed to do, you just spend the whole time making faces at each other and trying to grab the other’s attention

after his mother tries (and fails) to get him back on track a million times and your tutor realizes that you’re never going to listen to her historical prattles they allow the two of you to talk for “FIVE MINUTES AND NO LONGER MY BOY” and your tutor is all “i ask that you do not delay our lessons any further, your highness”

and tbf you and luke could notttttt care less. you immediately join up and you start teasing him about his form and how he was holding his sword and he just makes fun of you for having to be a princess

“Your form is horrendous, Luke! How do you expect to beat anyone holding a sword like that?”

“At least I’ll be on the battlefield one day. You can bore our enemies to sleep with your recounts of Aureldan history.”

“Oh, I bet I could beat you right now. I’ve got royal blood in my veins.”

“And I’ve got knight’s blood in mine,” he says. “I’ve at least got a sword. That’s more than you have.”

You huff. “Mother says I have to learn propriety before I even think about picking up a weapon.”

“Do you want to hold mine?” he asks immediately, his eyes lighting up as he offers it over. “It’s just wood because Mom doesn’t want me to hurt myself, but that means it’s safe for you.”

you do. obviously.

You’ve got soft hands, untouched by the world, and the sword feels foreign in their grasp as you realize this is in fact the first time you’ve ever held a weapon. You cut it through the air a few times and Luke is grinning wider than ever

“I think the role of a warrior princess suits you,” he says.

“It is nice,” you muse as you turn it over in your hands, already growing used to the feeling of it.

“And you look great with it,” he says. “Powerful.”

“I’d give myself a splinter before I can do anything with it,” you retort as you hand it back to him. “It’s a nice thought, though.”

His eyes light up. “You should train with us sometime. My mom is the best at teaching— she’d teach you everything you need to know!”

You glance back at your tutor, who is very clearly eavesdropping, and you sigh as you look back at Luke. “Maybe in a few months.”

Luke’s mother calls his name and it’s obvious that your time is over. You hug each other and promise to meet up as soon as your responsibilities for the day are over, then go back to your respective duties.

Your tutor takes you inside because she doesn’t want anymore distractions, and you wave at each other like crazy as you’re walking back into the castle.

so yeah. you’re best friends and you have been since you first met as children, and though it is a battle for your betters to keep you on task if you’re near each other, you just light up when you see each other and it actually helps

You’re learning dining etiquette and if you get told that you’re using the wrong spoon again, you’re going to lose your mind.

luke is hurrying through the halls to catch up with his mother and you both catch a glimpse of each other.

your posture straightens, he stops in his tracks, and you both smile at each other. then luke’s mother calls his name again and he’s on his way again.

spoons aren’t that bad, you think

you’re mulling over history books in the library that make you want to fall asleep.

luke just happens to be walking past on the way to his chores, and when he spots you, he yells out your name and waves at you. you wave back, and you both stifle laughs as your tutor shushes you

suddenly, you’re not feeling so down.

Luke is training on his own out in the yard before dinner and he’s about ready to break his sword over his knee because he can not get this damned move right.

he hears your voice across the way and sees you, all dressed up and with your parents about to get into a carriage. you’re on your way to a ball, he remembers you telling him earlier, and he finds himself smiling.

You had been complaining about it, and Luke had told you to just think of the two of you hanging out whenever you were bored. You said you were already planning on it.

His smile widens. He’d be thinking of you too, wondering what it would be like for him to attend with you. Dressed in the same gaudy outfits as the rest of the court, having to go through the same dull niceties that you’d been raised on, listening to stories from other royals he couldn’t care less about.

Standing beside you as an equal.

Luke’s young, but he already doesn’t care for nobles and their court. But he thinks he would wear any amount of uncomfortable suits and listen to any number of dull proposals for you.

for the rest of the night, he trains better than he thinks he ever has.

and of course, you break the rules together. GOD HELP YOUR CHARGES YOU ALWAYS BREAK THE RULES TOGETHER

your tutor cannot count how many times you’ve slipped out of lessons and she’s found you in the halls talking with luke, him smiling brighter than she’s ever seen as he listens to you go on and on and on

your mother cannot count all the times you’ve talked about what you and luke did that day instead of describing to her any of the history or arithmetic you were supposed to be learning

May always keeps watch over her son, but she’s been known to turn a blind eye when Luke thinks he’s being sneaky to go off and see you.

and of course, sometimes you actually hang out when you’re allowed to hang out lol

you’ve run around every bit of the palace grounds together, you ride horses together (with parental supervision of course), and once you’re a bit older, you’re actually allowed to practice with luke and the rest of the knights!

typically, it’s a shorter session with May teaching the two of you, and typically, it ends with both of you ready to die because you’re just kids and even though Luke is a prodigy, you are sooooo bad at swordfighting. it’s honestly not even funny how bad you are at it the first couple of lessons

But May just pats you on the shoulder and promises to work with you until you’re as good as her.

(luke pouts and says he wants to be better than you. you forget that you’re holding a sword and just start complaining at each other)

(“you CAN’T be better than me luke I’m the princess”) (“YES I CAN MY MOM’S THE GREATEST KNIGHT EVER”) (“SHE PROTECTS MY DAD WHICH MEANS I CAN BE THE BEST EVER”) (“THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE”) (“YES IT DOES”) (“NO IT DOESN’T”) (“I’M YOUR PRINCESS YES IT DOES”)

(the lesson ends when May has to pry you two apart)

but we haven’t gotten to the knight part.

because it’s a bit sad.

what happens to may in pjo canon is awful but

May Castellan dies when you and Luke are sixteen. A month after your birthday, in fact. Four months after Luke’s.

(he’s always held those three months over you, especially as you get older.)

(it doesn’t seem to matter as much now.)

rumor has it throughout the kingdom that she slowly went insane and then fully lost it, ultimately dying in an attack against the king during a ball that turned out to be a set-up.

the only one who knows what really happened that night is your father as he was the only other person there at her death that still lives, but he refuses to talk about it, only saying that “Head of the Kingsguard May Castellan died a hero and shall be remembered as such”.

Luke… does not take it well

besides the king, he obviously spent the most time with his mother and it was obvious to anyone that she loved him with all her heart and wanted him to follow whatever dreams he may have had

she’s given a knight’s funeral and you are beside Luke the entire time, holding his hand or him leaning against you as you listen to eulogies or even just sitting next to each other because your presence is enough for him. it doesn’t matter what—you’re always connected in some way, and no one says a single thing.

he needs you, and you need him. it’s as simple as that. and no one dares to correct the princess when she’s icier than they’ve ever seen her.

You put on that front to protect Luke—you don’t want anyone bothering him, and you don’t want him to have to worry about you at a time like this.

Because you know he would. He always does.

When Luke gives his speech, barely able to hold back tears, he looks at you the entire time. he doesn’t tell you, but you’re the only reason he’s able to get through the day.

Luke becomes a ward of the royal family.

There’s no chance you’re letting him leave, and Luke doesn’t want to go either. The memories of his mother all around are painful, but he takes some small comfort that she’ll live on in Aurelda forever.

Your parents have no objection to it—he grew up in the palace anyways, and he can practically provide for himself. You wouldn’t have let them say no.

You’re thankful beyond words that Luke is still here. Because everything feels like a mess, and things are a little more manageable with him by your side.

Someone tried to kill your father. They killed Luke’s mother instead. Both of you are broken in different ways.

Obviously, this sparks the beginnings of war both in Aurelda and in Luke’s entire being.

but that’s a topic for another day.

May’s death changes your relationship.

She was his mother, obviously, but you were close to her as well. you could never forget every time she ruffled your hair and complimented your sword fighting, or every time she would acknowledge you in the midst of a crowd with a smile and a nod, or every time she would act like a mother and not a knight.

she had the best hugs in the entire kingdom.

But her death changes your relationship because Luke changes.

He’s angrier. His edges have all sharpened, honed by his own spirit. He softens when he’s around you, but to the outside eye he’s impenetrable. He thinks you’re the only one that understands him.

Others pity him, fear him, are jealous of him.

You treat him the way you always have. Like your best friend.

That’s all he needs.

And so Luke throws himself into his training, vowing to become the youngest kingsguard in Aureldan history to honor his mother’s memory. He wasn’t able to save his mother, and he needs to become strong enough to protect the ones he loves from anything.

(You don’t know it, but he thinks of you every time he closes his eyes and sees the night his mother died. He’s in the place of his mother and you’re in your father’s position, and Luke knows that he would sacrifice himself for you every single time.)

So you don’t have as much time for each other anymore. Luke is on his kingsguard mission, and you’re starting to come into your own as the Crown Princess of Aurelda.

You can’t sneak out of lessons anymore to go talk with Luke, because you’re starting to learn about the nuances of politics.

Luke can’t let you interrupt his training, because he’s on a warpath and he won’t be stopped before he reaches his goal.

You can’t neglect your responsibilities because they’re more than just etiquette or history lessons. War is going to come to Aurelda sooner or later, and you’ve got to be ready when it does.

You’re only sixteen, but neither of you are children anymore.

But you’re still best friends. Nothing can change that—it’s just changed the way you show it.

You take your morning walks with your mother past the training grounds, and Luke always smiles at you and salutes no matter what. You bow your head in a very refined, princess-y nod, and you continue on.

Luke makes sure he’s always the one that gets to deliver news to you, even going so far as to make deals with other servants and messengers just to make sure he gets to see you at least once a day.

Most of the time, you end up seeing each other at night. Just happening to end up in the kitchens at the same time for a midnight snack that results in hours of talking with each other. Bringing Luke to your balcony to look at the stars together.

Even some midnight training has occurred together, though you always end up a sweaty mess and having to make a bath for yourself because you can’t alert your servants. Luke says he likes you best when you have that vicious glint in your eye while you’re training with him.

Luke still has horrific dreams, and though he weathered them on his own for a while, one night he finds himself outside your door. When you open it, seeing his haunted eyes and disheveled appearance, you let him in immediately.

It’s not the first time you’ve slept in the same bed after nightmares, and you know it won’t be the last.

(You spent the whole week together after his mother’s death. Not even your parents could complain when they saw the change in both of you.)

And Luke does it. He completes his training, having become one of the fiercest and youngest warriors Aurelda has ever seen. Traditionally, knights are older, but an exception was made for Luke—he’s got the Castellan name and a childhood spent with the greatest knights in the kingdom to back him up.

You’re the first person he tells when he finds out, and your scream of pure joy must have echoed throughout the entire castle. You hug him tighter than he’s ever been hugged before, and for just a moment, in your embrace, he feels like you’re both kids again.

Weeks from his eighteenth birthday, your father knights Luke Castellan in an official ceremony.

Not just as a member of the kingsguard, though—he is sworn in as a knight, and as your personal bodyguard.

Your father didn’t tell you beforehand, and you thank a childhood of courtly influence to keep the shock off your face. One hand tightens ever so slightly into a fist, and you let it out just as quickly.

You can’t see Luke’s expression, kneeling and head turned downward. You would pay all the gold in the kingdom to know what he was thinking.

“Sir Luke Castellan.” Your father’s voice booms through the hall, and a shiver even goes down your spine. “Do you swear to serve Aurelda as her loyal knight, through war and peace, through riches and debt?”

“I do,” Luke says.

“Do you swear to protect the Crown Princess of Aurelda—” your father says your entire title, and for the fifth time you wonder how many middle names a princess needs, “—my daughter—with everything you have in you, until your dying breath?”

Your breathing stills for the slightest moment.

Luke doesn’t flinch. “I do.”

The thought of Luke dying for you is unimaginable. It’s something you’d never ask of him—you don’t think you could live in a world without him anyways. You know it’s what knights are expected to do—for king and country, my life for yours—but that’s for any member of the royal family—any member of the court.

Luke is assigned solely to your protection.

And he doesn’t even falter when he bonds his life to yours.

As soon as the ceremony is over and Aurelda has gained three new knights, you’re on your way to Luke. You don’t care if anyone else wants to talk with the princess, you don’t care if your parents need to tell you something—royal propriety be damned, you need to talk to Luke.

He doesn’t look surprised when you march up to him, but there’s already a different air about him.

Maybe it’s because in these past couple of years he’s absolutely shot up in height, maybe it’s because his insane training regimen has toned every part of him, maybe it’s because he’s done what no one else has done before, or maybe it’s just because he actually accomplished his goal.

But when he smiles at you, that crooked slant to his lips that always meant mischief when you were younger, it’s enough to make that train of thought immediately shut down.

“Princess,” he greets. “I think we’re going to be spending a lot more time together, these days.”

“Yeah,” you say, the warpath you’d intended to be on fading away almost immediately with his words (and that goddamned smile that will certainly be the death of you someday.) “Maybe this is our way to make up on all that lost time.”

“...I’d like that,” Luke says.

“Can I hug you?” you ask wryly. “Or is that unbecoming of a brand new knight?”

“I don’t think anyone will tell the princess she is doing something wrong,” Luke says.

So you do. You hug him, and he immediately wraps his arms around you, and you hate that you had any doubt that he would. You’ve always felt safe in his embrace even since you were children, and now that he’s four times as strong and much taller, you feel it more than ever.

He truly does look the part of a perfect knight. You remember the days of wooden sword fights and afternoons by the lake, wondering what your future awaited, but sure you would be together no matter what.

You feel like you’ve aged a century since then.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” you say as you pull away. “You’re incredible. I mean— you always have been, but this… It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. So I’m proud of you.”

Luke brushes his curls out of his face with a gauntleted hand, his smile turning a bit more genuine. “It means the world, princess. You are… one of the main reasons that I even made it up here. So I have you to thank.”

You feel your cheeks heat. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve been you,” he refutes. “You’ve stood by my side through everything, and you’ve always been there when I need you no matter what. You’ve done everything.”

You’re thankful for the sheer sleeves of your gown, because now your entire body feels warm. And maybe that’s why you practically blurt the question out, but it’s been burning in your mind since the moment it happened.

“Did you know?”

He frowns. “Know what?”

“That you would become my personal guard,” you said. “You’ve wanted to be a part of the kingsguard since you were a child, and now…”

“Princess,” Luke says, “I asked your father for the honor.”

That throws you off. “What?”

“Do you think he would entrust your wellbeing to just anyone?” he asks. “It’s part of the reason I’ve been training so hard—I wanted to prove to him that I was worthy of the position.”

“Luke—” you start, but he shakes his head.

“War is coming to Aurelda whether we like it or not,” he says. “All I want is for you to be safe. This way, I can ensure it.”

“You said you would die for me,” you say. “You vowed it.”

“That is generally how knighthood works, yes—”

“Luke,” you interrupt forcefully. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

“The goal is for nobody to die,” he says wryly.

You cross your arms. “You know what I mean.”

“Your safety is my number one concern, princess,” he says. “That’s all you need to know.”

You stare at him. He stares back.

You win, because Luke sighs and shakes his head. “We don’t have to worry about that at the moment. Right now, you have to get back to change before you sit in on an advisor’s meeting with the king and queen.”

You frown. “How do you know?”

“I’m your guard,” Luke says. “It’s my job to know.”

“You were just sworn in!” you protest.

“And I am always prepared,” he remarks. Luke holds his hand out in a gesture towards the door. “After you, princess.”

You shake your head as you start walking. You hear Luke’s footsteps start soon after, much heavier than yours in full armor as opposed to your ceremonial dress. “You are ridiculous.”

“Which is also my job,” Luke muses.

and so luke becomes a knight, but not just any knight.

your knight.

good luck handling that crush on him you've harbored since childhood now.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan headcanon #luke castellan au #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #knight!luke #sadie writes

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goldsainz · 9 months

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GUESS WHO’S BACK? — one shot.

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

MASTERLIST.

NOTE: first of i wanna say that this is not meant to diminish the treatment nyck got bc it is undoubtedly shitty (helmut marko you will pay for your crimes), i am just happy one of my fav drivers is back. this is eminem!daughter!reader an idea @lorarri let me use, all the lyrics and song she came up with are fantastic, i couldn’t have made this without them, so thank you lola!!!!

liked by danielricciardo, eminem and 3,082,719 others

yourusername i am so excited to announce my newest album “BADGER BEWARE”!! this project has been in the making for quite some time, it has the help of people i am very close with. and inspirations behind a lot of impacting moments in my life. which is why i am so happy that it is finally here and you can all enjoy it july 13th

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ynfan1 oh this is so about daniel

ynfan2 NEW MUSIC FINALLY😭😭

danielricciardo 💛💛💛

liked by yourusername and 96,053 others

⤷ danielfan1 acting as if the album isn’t gonna be dedicated to him

icespice gonna be bomb 🔥

scottyjames31 Claiming track 3 right now

⤷ danielricciardo No, it’s already claimed. Pick another.

ynfan3 july 13th cannot come any sooner

danielfan2 i hope y/n knows that she just sent me into cardiac arrest

danielfan3 MONZA MASH??? YOU’RE TELLING ME SHE MADE A SONG FOR HIS WIN IN MONZA

ynfan4 thank you eminem for the blessing that is y/n🙏

liked by charles_leclerc, bellahadid and 3,950,416 others

yourusername “BADGER BEWARE” is out now in all streaming platforms! i wanna take a moment to thank all the people who made this album possible, to the man who inspired this project and sat with me until sunrise writing down lyrics, to my friends who participated and helped me push through, but especially to all my fans who waited patiently for me to release my music in my own time. have fun and pls don’t take what i talk about too seriously (or do 😉)

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danielricciardo I would sit until sunrise every day with you

⤷ yourusername love the sentiment but you were asleep 90% of the time

⤷ danielricciardo But I was still there!

ynfan21 RED WINGS IS WILD

ynfan22 album of the year!!!

danielfan21 oh so this is a diss track to mclaren…

redbullracing Our playlist has been updated!

liked by yourusername and 107,368 others

ynfan23 when we needed her most she appeared🙏

ynfan24 damn she did not hold back

danielfan22 DANIEL AND Y/N BEST COUPLE ON THE GRID

“Show-stopping” is the expression Y/N wants to convey each time she sits down and starts to write her songs. It is a “big word”, as she puts it, but there is no other word that would fit the feeling she hopes to transmit through her music.

“I started writing “BADGER BEWARE” back in 2021, I think around august, and by the end of that year I had written 3 songs. I stopped writing because I thought of either scrapping the whole project or making a 4-5 song EP. Obviously that didn’t end up happening because now there are 10 songs, 1 intro and 1 outro. All those songs hold a different place in my heart and while they all form part of the genre of Rap, they’re heartfelt in their own special way.”

Rap is a genre Y/N is all too familiar with. With her father being Eminem, an icon to the genre and the 2000s — even now. She says that the choice is not arbitrary, that there is an influence she cannot deny, but chooses to embrace it rather than push it away.

She dedicated the album to her boyfriend of 3 years, Daniel Ricciardo, who was the initial inspiration behind it. “Danny listened to me rant about my ideas for hours, sat in different studios with me and suggested different things that made the whole experience different than anything I’d ever done before. He also introduced me to — now one of my good friends — Charles Leclerc, who plays piano and is the one that composed the music for both the intro and outro.”

When asked about her favourite songs she picked a couple because “there is no way I could choose just one”. There is an evident passion to her craft when it comes to Y/N, something not everyone in her field possesses quite as well as she does.

“HONEY, RED WINGS and SUMMER SMILE are probably my top 3. They were all written at such drastically different points of my life, about things that have practically nothing to do with each other but that are tied by a little string. Some people think I pick my singles because they’re my favourite, which is true because all my songs are my favourites! But most of all I pick them because they’re the ones that I felt most comfortable publicising, all the other songs in the album are like a little secret between my fandom and me.

“There are also songs which are more personal. MONZA MASH, for example, it’s a very hyper song but it still is about an event that was very emotional. TEARS OF THE SUN, is also an obvious one. My songs are about something, and if it makes you feel anything at all then I did my job right.”

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE!

liked by tayrussell, saweetie and 2,785,046 others

yourusername 2 THE MAX MV IS HERE!! i heard it was a fan favourite and had to deliver… there is no way to express my gratitude to you all for the support the album has gotten, so i guess this is my way!

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ynfan31 MY FAV SONG YES

⤷ danielfan31 “i turn up the heat to the max and watch them bitches squirm” ATE THAT SHIT UPPP

ynfan32 y/n mathers?? MORE LIKE Y/N MOTHER

danielricciardo She’s wearing red, next question!

⤷ yourusername LMAO??

⤷ maxverstappen1 Let him be, he’s a bit jet-lagged

ynfan33 literally fell down the stairs bc of this announcement

danielfan32 forget daniel… I WANT HER

ynfan34 as a y/n fan i am more than amazed at the amount of content we’re getting😭

ynfan35 it suddenly got real hot

⤷ ynfan36 we call that “the y/n effect”

ynfan37 LITERALLY RUN ME OVER!!!!!!

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chelseypprimrose · 10 months

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I Dare You / Negan X Reader / pre apocalypse

Summary: A game of drunken truth or dare turns into the best sex of your life.

Warnings ⚠️: daddy kink, unprotected sex/rough sex, choking, oral, spitting, slight voyerism, slight dumbification and use of degrading terms (slut ect) bfd!negan, age gap

As always, all respective parties are over age of consent ect. 🤍 *Not proof read yet*

A/N: whelp here we are again, i started rewatching the walking dead from season 7 and tell me why I had totally forgot that Negan cleans out Alexandria’s houses just to burn their mattresses right down the road from them, the more I watch the more I remember how evil he really was and it makes me giggle and kick my feet i can’t lie lol. Enjoy this little depraved story, I’m just loving writing stories where the reader is very fully aware of someone watching/walking in bc it’s just so dirty I can’t freaking cope 😂love ya’s and my requests are open as always 🤍🎀🧟‍♂️

Straightening out your dress, you walked through the wooden gate at the side of your friends house, the loud thumping beats of music and chatter blaring through your eardrums. You held a bottle of Smirnoff in your other hand, remembering the teaching from your mother about never showing up to a party empty handed, that was considered rude and insulting.

You’d left the party girl lifestyle behind, having your fun in your early twenties but mellowing out in the last year or so, finding more enjoyment in a cup of tea and a good book. Not to the extent of being anti-social, just cutting off bad habits and rethinking where you wanted to take your life. Coming fresh out college filled you with a sense of doubt and confusion, you studied heavy, dedicating your time to educating yourself but hadn’t yet found what you wanted to be in the world. No matter how much you were freaking out about your next step, you couldn’t miss your friend’s birthday party, so you’d decided to have some fun and let loose, deal with reality tomorrow instead.

Pushing those dreaded thoughts underneath the surface, plastering a smile on your face as you entered the already crowded back garden of your best friend, Natalie. You’d known Natalie for years now, exact number you couldn’t remember but through high school and many ups and downs, you’d always stayed close, spending nearly every weekend at her house. That was with her mother though, she’d recently moved in with her dad, due to domestic arguments with her mother getting too toxic. You’d only ever seen her dad twice in your life, normally when he’d pick her up after the various extra curricular activities you two enrolled in together. Negan.

Such a unique name, you’d thought when you first laid your eyes on him. How anyone could give him up would be a mystery to you, from your limited interactions he’d always been sweet to you. Offering to drop you home as well but always denying, not wanting him to drive out of his route just for you. Those polished, pearly teeth gleaming at you when he asked, practically making you melt right there on the spot. You’d cursed yourself for manifesting a little crush on the man, who was your best friends dad, the forbidden attraction. The way he’d sit lazily in the driver side, his large hands gripping the steering wheel, your mind wandering to thoughts of what they would be like gripped around your dainty neck. The black bikers jacket he’d always wear even in scorching temperatures, fitting his frame just right.

“Hey hey girl, how are you?” She wrapped you into a affectionate hug, her candy sweet scent hitting your nostrils, her birthday tiara shining in the sun’s beam. You reciprocated, giving a small squeeze as you released her, holding the bottle out to her. “Happy birthday, Nat. It’s been too long!” You replied as she took the bottle out of your hands, thanking you for the gift. “Come on let me get you a drink and we can catch up!” She lead you through the crowd of people, a mixed bag, some young and some old. You recognised some familiar faces from growing up, giving a small nod at those who recognised you, commenting small hellos.

Natalie motioned for you to take a seat at the rattan sofa lounger, near the side of the backyard porch, a small fire pit in the middle, keeping you toasty as your dress was a little shorter than you were used to. Negan entered through the same gate you’d come through minutes ago, returning with a crate of beer from the garage. He fought his way through the crowd, handing out the liquor to those he’d promised it too. Small ‘thank you’s in acceptance, placing the remaining bottles into a cooler with ice. Wiping his hands off with a small towel, fingers slightly numb from handling the ice, his eyes moved around the yard, silently cursing his daughter for inviting so many people to this place. His annoyance came to a halt when his eyes locked onto you, recognising your face in the sea of people. Watching you laugh with Natalie over old pictures she was showcasing to you, he’d know your laugh from a mile away.

He couldn’t help the heat that ran through his body, his jeans getting tighter as he watched your chest rising, your arms placed in front of you, making your breasts press together firmly, slight cleavage coming into show for him to memorise. You’d definitely grown up since the last time he’d seen you, taking a beer out for himself, he started sauntering over to you, discreetly adjusting himself on the way.

“Well if that isn’t who I think it is? It’s been ages doll!” He exclaimed, your head whipping around to meet his gaze. He looked similar to how he did when you’d last seen him, the only major difference being his beard being thicker and slight whiteness now peaking out of it. “Hey! Mr Smith, it’s nice to see you after all this time!” You almost purred, he loved the way that name sounded rolling off your pretty lips, that familiar heat rising to his cheeks slightly. While it sounded completely innocent to everyone around, he could tell the difference. “Oh why so formal? Call me Negan, we’re all friends here.” He grinned, those familiar pearly whites coming into view as he swiped his tongue along his lower lip lightly. “Are you ladies okay for drinks?” Natalie waved her dad off, claiming they were fine, he took his leave but not before taking one last gaze over your body, your curves almost putting him under some witchcraft spell.

It was later in the evening, the sun setting over the horizon, you’d been roped into playing a game of ‘Truth or Dare’ under the suggestion of Natalie, it being the game you played at all those sleepovers you’d had with her back in the day. You were sat with a few other girls, ones you’d recognised from high school. You weren’t best friends with any of them, not knowing them well like you did Natalie, just more so the fact they were the only girls left at the party.

You’d played it safe up to this point, only choosing truth, you decided to throw caution to the wind when your next turn came, proclaiming dare to the group.

Natalie’s eyes found yours, you could practically see the cogs turning inside her head, it got you wondering what her depraved mind was going to come up with. “I dare you to… seduce my dad.” You almost spat your drink out, eyes widening at the request, palms hot with embarrassment. “What? You actually want me to do that? Are you insane?!” You asked, a confused look sat on your face. “Not to be rude but… you aren’t his type at all, so it’s a guaranteed point for me! I’m just being strategic!” She claimed, her eyes meeting yours, goading you to back down. Your heart sank at the confession, you couldn’t understand why it stung so much, it was just a little silly crush but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit this new information made you feel a bit low. Your hurt feeling started slowly turning to slight rage, still watching Natalie as she challenged you with her eyes.

“Okay, how about we make this interesting though? $100 suit you?” You smirked, pulling a hundred dollar bill out of your purse, waving it in her face, mocking her. She returned your smirk, that goddamn egotistical smirk she got from her father, her manicured hand coming out in front of her to offer a handshake to seal the deal. “You are on, sister. You have to bring something back to the table that’s his, it’s the only way I’ll believe you.” You raised from the couch, slamming your empty cup down on the small table, taking your hair clip out, hair falling to the top of your back in loose, bouncy pin up curls. The girls watched you walk through the patio doors, sliding it to let you in before continuing on with the game.

You got into the kitchen, a few people standing around in conversations, you politely asked one of them if they had seen the man you were seeking out, answering that he’d gone up to his bedroom to change shirts, alcohol being split on him about five minutes ago. Making your way to the top floor of the house, you started trying doors, having absolutely no clue which one was his as you’d never been in the house before. You came to the last one at the end of the landing, being met with the very man you wanted to see.

There he was, shirtless in front of you, his room rather large. A four poster bed in the centre of it, black and red silk sheets with matching puffy pillows, a small door which lead into a en-suite, two bookshelves at the sides of the bed, small circle led lights above the headboard. He threw the wet t-shirt he’d taken off into the wicker laundry basket, not yet noticing that you’d entered the room. “Mr Smith? Sorry for not knocking, I need to speak to you about something.” You mumbled, the anxiety of what you were about to ask him gaining on you. He slightly jumped, a flirty grin on his face when he realised it was you who was there. You took a seat in the leather loveseat, matching the bed sheets, red and black were obviously his favourites. Your hands nervously played with the hem of your dress, his eyes wandering to your delicate fingers. “I’m all ears doll, ask away!” He says, turning his back to you as he found another t-shirt to change into, you opened your mouth to talk, nervousness managing to stop you in your tracks.

He turned back around, his face contorting into a confused look, wondering what you be needing to ask that would get you so worked up like this. “So Natalie dared me to… seduce you in our game of truth or dare. I had every intention to give it my best shot but she told me I’m not your type. W-which is fine, but I kind of bet $100 on it. Is there any chance you could give me something out of this room that I can take down to prove I did it, without actually doing it?” You awkwardly explained, your eyes not being able to meet his, if they had you would have seen the shimmer in his eyes as you cutely fumbled over your words out of embarrassment. He let out a large laugh, your face squirming, if his daughters confession made you feel bad, this was ten times worse. You felt a small tear gathering at the bottom of your eye, wanting the earth to swallow you in this moment.

It was the touch on your knee that made you look up, meeting his gaze as he knelt down to come to face level with you, Negan hadn’t bothered to put another shirt on, the low light of the room landing on his body just right, your core feeling slightly slick as his muscles tensed deep. You thought he was about to make fun of you for such a childish request, when he grabbed your chin firmly, making your head stay in position it was, looking into his eyes, not having the nerve to look away.

“Now doll, please tell me why you’d ever listen to such a fucking stupid thing like that?” He questioned, his thumb tracing your jawline slightly, still holding your chin in place. Your ears perked up, the total opposite of what you thought he was going to say coming out. “Uh, I’m not sure?” You replied, your voice not coming out as confident as you would have liked, that smirk still on his face. He was enjoying watching you squirm underneath him, his hand let go of your chin, hooking either hand around the underside of your thighs, pulling you slightly forward so your ass was half on the chair and half off. “How about I do you one better? Why don’t we actually complete the dare, huh doll? I don’t know why she’d say some crazy shit like that, probably hasn’t been paying attention to how I haven’t taken my goddamn eyes off you all night. You’ve really grown into a fine ass woman, you know that right?” You let out a slight moan, the feeling of his large hands keeping your legs spread open for him to see making your whole body electric. A vision of white panties peaking out under your dress, your new position on the seat making it rise up to your waist. “Thanks for the compliment Negan, but if… if you don’t touch me right now, I’m going to lose my mind.” You managed to make out, in broken breaths, your chest rising heavily up and down as you did, eyes wandering to his abdomen.

“Your wish is my command, pretty girl. Just relax and let daddy take care of you.” He whispered lustfully as his fingertips moved your panties to the side, showing your ever wetting slick pussy to him. He had to take a sharp breath in, nothing he’d seen was a prettier sight that this, hadn’t even imagined you looking this good, exceeding his wet dreams. He gathered saliva in his mouth, a powerful spit right on the centre of you, you whimpering in response at the degrading and dirty action. “Well, look at that! Someone likes a bit of domination doesn’t she?” He proclaimed to you, he couldn’t believe his fucking luck. You gasped as he finally took your clit into his mouth, sucking on it softly, teasing you with his devilish tongue.

He moves back to your pussy where he runs his tongue over your wet lips. You let out a deep guttural groan, as you grab large pieces of his slicked back hair, tugging him slightly, guiding him to all the places, you needed attention on. Negan continued to lick long strips down from your sensitive bud to your opening, listening to your moans and whimpers as he did. “Fu-fuck Negan! Yes, your making me feel so good.” He took his tongue of you, whining at the loss of contact. A darker look shifted on his face, more pressure as his hand dug further into your thighs. “Listen here, dollface. Tonight I’m not Negan, tonight I am daddy, you get that? Or has my tongue already made that pretty little head of yours blank?” He growled out, his tone completely like nothing you’d ever heard him sound like before, you’d truly woken the beast inside this man and you couldn’t wait for the journey. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry daddy, please put your tongue back on me, it makes me feel so fucking good!” He sinisterly grinned at you, parting your folds again and letting your juices flow down onto his tongue. He finds himself vigorously tongue fucking you as you begin gyrating on the chair, trying to push your hips into his face more, nothing mattering to you more than the pleasure he was providing, while pulling his hair with your fingers.

As he begins sucking your clit, he works a couple of fingers deep into your pussy, finding how tight you clamped around him, trying to intensify your pleasure. Negan begins to alternate between licking and sucking your clit, as you became more and more impassioned. It isn't long before you thrusted your pussy hard against his face, his beard scratching against you as your first climax washed over you, your hips bucking even more, back arched, your arms that were holding you up shaking.

“Fuck, daddy, I need you inside me now, please!” You whined, Negan hoisting you up off the now wet chair, the slick shining sun in the light of the room. He slammed your body on the bed, your head hanging off the edge of the bed, the blood rushing to your ears. “Goddamn doll, this pretty little pussy is going to be the death of me, pull that top down, I want to see those tits bounce as I fuck you dumb.” You obeyed, pulling your breasts out of your dress, the style of dress restricting you from wearing a bra, cupping them and rubbing your nipples as well. He could have bust right there and then, the image of you below him, looking like something out of a damn Playboy magazine.

He trails kisses up your body, tasting the thin layer of sweat on your skin until he reaches your mouth where he kisses your lips deeply, snaking his tongue into your mouth as he lined up at your entrance, rubbing his dick up and down your folds, setting your whole body on fire, nerves standing on edge. He releases your mouth, moving to your neck, nipping and biting at it as he finally stretched you out, filling you up nicely.

“That’s it doll, fuck. You feel goddamn heavenly, such a good slut for my dick right?” He grunts out, leaning away from your neck to hover over you as he put his hands around your throat, his pace getting more erratic, unable to control himself from his hard thrusts as your skin slapped together. Your head was starting to go dizzy, between being upside down and your oxygen being slowly cut by Negan’s large hand, it intensified your impending orgasm. Negan pulled out quickly, turning you over from your back to your stomach, forcing your back to arch as much as you could, slipping back into you. The new angle sent you nearly cock drunk, Negan too mesmerised watching his dick going in and out of you, not noticing the door slowly opening slightly.

You looked over to see Natalie looking on at you and her father, like time had stopped in place. You couldn’t see her whole face, just her eyes. Frozen, she made no move to say anything or close the door. You smirked at her, your eyes not breaking eye contact. “Oh daddy! You fuck me so good, my pussy belongs to you!” You moaned, a narcissistic grin sitting happily on your mouth. “Shit yeah doll, this pussy is all fucking mine you dumb whore.” His hand coming down in your hair, his other placed around your neck again. Hips snapping repeatedly against you at a now familiar pace, a moan leaving you every time he snapped. You raised yourself up on your elbows, repeatedly rubbing your thumb over the tips of your index finger and middle finger, the universal sign for Pay Me. Her eyes squinted in anger, closing the door again, not wanting to see anything else and now pissed she owed you money.

You quietly laughed to yourself as quietly as you could, feeling your walls clamp on Negan’s dick as you were ready to orgasm. “Fuck daddy, I’m going to cum again!” You whimpered, gripping the silk sheets below you both, Negan shallowly grunting above you. “Shit doll, me too. Let go for me baby, milk daddy’s dick doll.” You squeezed the bed sheet again, your whole body shaking as you closed your eyes, breathing irregular as you flopped forward on the bed, panting heavy. Negan pulled out at just the right moment, hot spurts of his cum hitting your lower back, cooling off after a couple seconds sat there. He carefully placed himself next to you, pulling you towards him so you rested in his arm. “I’ve been waiting for that for years, you know?” You told him, your fingers slowly drawing small circles on his forearm. “Could have told me sooner doll, that was fucking sen-sat-ional! You are perfect.” You laughed, kissing the side of his face, leaving a small nip at his ear lobe.

Two orgasms and $100 richer, it was worth leaving the house after all.

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velvet-paradox · 7 months

Text

Observant

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: König x Female reader Summary: You're out on the town with your friends but it's your guys' job to make sure you're safe. Length: Medium Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, strong language, explicit content, jealous!König, big guy is a little creep, drinking, established relationship, unprotected p in v, voyeurism, sex in a bathroom, dirty talking, creampie, detailed smut.

Tagging: @synnersaintaint @shyjellyfish26 @kosmokenny @butterscotch-babie @cesneo @deaddainish @allkot @jacket-slut99 @hers-area @1-fuzzy-squirrels @hailmesuckers @ella-bella-ella @spookylilbay @t6ylors @salamanderstuff @hh-spnxx @akii1833 @malyshka-3 @etoilebleue @gremlingottoosilly @talktothemoon2 (I couldn't tag everyone for whatever reason)

p.s. this isn't inspired by The Virus of Life by Slipknot but it fits the mood I'm going for so if you wanna' read this while listening to or listen to it general bc it's a perfect song, go right ahead!

ENJOY!!!

He can't help it. Not really. He told you to go (even helped you zip up that pretty black dress, bending down on his knees as he clasped your heels too), told you to have fun, call if you needed him, text him to pick you up, go through the drive-thru and get your favorite go-to hangover meal. He knew you would be drinking and dancing with your friends. The thought of what other people, men in particular would be looking at once you left the house made him hot. Made him possessive. But, as smooth as glass on silk König looped his hood over your head at the door, kissing you hard before waving you off, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

König saw fucking crimson as soon as the car full of giddy women pulled away from the curb.

He caught the kiss you blew him before he slammed the door shut and stomped through the house, taking the stairs two at a time, he threw off the hood and sat down at his computer. He turned on his work tablet that he just so conveniently take home with him. He knew what he was doing.

He wiped a hand down his face, green eyes glowing from his computer screens. He used them for gaming, for work emails and new weapons he'd long for. You had your own laptop so using his wasn't really on your radar. So as König typed in coordinates and accessed street cameras and the like, he thought how silly of you.

You had no reason to questions his methods, he was yours, his main priority is to keep you safe and happy and healthy. By any means necessary. And much like his job in the military; he took his job very, very seriously.

While his tablet tracked your location that he'd check every so often, he found your girlfriends' car on the highway, a grin on his face.

Gotcha' sweetheart.

His eyes flitted back and forth as he monitored the cameras.

While König was jealous of the looks you'd be getting, breaking necks and hearts with the way you swayed your hips, helping one of your friends out the of the car at the curb. It was a swanky sort of club at least, he thought. Everyone that he saw and silently judged as a potential threat, it made him warm and it also made him rock fucking hard.

Without knowing or giving it much thought at all, you looked up at a random camera at the stoplight.

Fucks sake… if you only knew what he'd do to keep you safe.

….

It was quite concerning to him how easily he was able to hack into the clubs' security system. They certainly needed better IT in this joint, he chuckled darkly as he maneuvered through the camera's, squinting in the dark and flashing lights. It was packed. He had trouble finding you at first, too many dresses, too many pretty women.

He bit his thumb when he found you.

For the most part you danced with your friends at back booth, he watched you down a few shots already, grooving to the beat of unheard music as you sipped on another drink. Even though it was dark and murky in the club, he mused it was most likely a Bee's Knee's. You love those.

König soon took notice of a man in a very expensive looking suit pass by your table, that's three times in the last fifteen minutes and it wasn't for the bathroom as he'd already scoped that out. König leaned forward, creaking his chair to get a better view.

You had your back toward him, laughing with two of your friends who could still stand, the other two were already sitting down nursing a few cold glasses of water.

If you pass by one more fucking time you dummkopf…

That's it. König grabbed his mask, fought with his boots downstairs and almost forgot the keys to the truck. Grumbling to himself that he should've just gone with you, stayed in the background, blended in to the noise.

He parked the truck violently, coming to a screech in the alley. As luck would have it, an employee of the club was busy taking out some trash and clinking empty bottles of booze, propping up the door just enough for the larger man to slip through unannounced. The music was loud in his ears, heart pumping with the steady rhythm of the bass. The lighting in here was on purposely poor, made for better make out corners and hook-ups he'd concludes as he shifted along the back wall.

Eyes scanning, heart pounding, the threat of you not being here made him move quicker. That little creep better stay away from you, if he know what's good for him, König thought as he made his way around the club. He saw your seated friends then, eyes frantic to find you.

Where are you? Where are you?

Just then he caught something shining in the dim lighting, something bright.

König relaxed a bit more when he saw it was you, holding up your left hand, showing off the wedding ring on your finger to fuck-face. With a huff he shifted his weight, towering over everyone around him, as usual, and made a beeline for your frame.

"Where is he then?"

"Trust me; he's just a phone call away."

"Shame… a real pity he let you out of his sight tonight."

"Is that so?"

"She is never out of my sight."

The poor man must've gave you some pretty wide eyes while you instead smiled, popping your hip and looking up at him. The guy turned and by the look on his face, was not at all prepared to see just who put that little ring on your finger. König grinned and tilted his head, crossing his arms he bent over.

"Boo."

The man let out shriek and took his nosy ass and what was left of his drink and melted back into the dancing crowd.

"I had it handled you know?" You said, sipping down the rest of your own drink.

"I saw that," König countered, sauntering forward to close the not so wide gap. From his height of course, he could see your cleavage perfectly and he just couldn't help himself but sigh quietly. "I'll admit it has been awhile since I've intimated someone. Felt good."

"I bet. Do you want to intimidate me?" You asked, batting your lashes ever so cutely.

Now that was certainly an idea he just might have to entertain.

….

Waving 'hi, hello, good to see you, goodbye' all at once to your friends was a blur, hefting you over his broad shoulder, carrying you away towards the restrooms. Lucky for you both, other than the gendered bathrooms there was a Family Room option, which meant private. Just what he wanted.

He set you down on your heels, clicking loudly on the tile floor as you tugged down the hem of your dress. Until he stopped you. He took your purse and strung it up on the hook, whirling on you he grabbed at the silky material, shifting it up your legs, bunching it at your waist. He clicked his tongue at you.

"And just where or where did your little panties go, hmm?"

"I didn't wear any." You coyishly toyed with the bottom of his mask.

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm."

"Now that's just bad girl behavior." König pressed, leaning on his arm above your head, smiling to himself that he could see your breath hitch in your throat, your chest rising and falling much quicker now. "I should do something about that."

"Yes you should."

You moaned when his free hand found a welcome home between your thighs.

"My my, what have we here? A needy little slit, already wet for me." König sighed, gathering more and more of your slick along his fingers before breaching your tight hole. Your lashes fluttered so sweetly. "I shouldn't even be doing this. You're drunk."

You huffed when he began to retract out of your wetness. "No no no I'm not drunk, honey. I swear. I'm just buzzed, I can still--"

"Ah ah. Don't lie to me, pretty girl. I know you had two Bee's Knee's and a few shots so far."

Your face screwed up when you looked at him. "How do you know that?"

König just chuckled and pulled his finger out, leaving you whining and stunned with his answer.

Low and slow König tapped your nose. "Like I told that dummkopf; you are always in my sight."

He didn't give you even a millisecond before he hunched over, dragging his mask down his face, locking eyes as you bit your lip at the bare sight of him.

….

König made you face the bathroom mirror, told you to hold onto the cool porcelain, bend over, stick that cute ass or yours out. The groan that filled the room vibrated off the walls.

He hunched over your back, "I'm gonna' love you now. Hold on fucking tight."

The crown of his cock split you open, little by little your pussy bloomed open and wet for him as you arched, your back cracked as your shoulder blades threatened to touch.

"Fuck!" You hung your head and rocked on your heels as you adjusted, further and further he pushed himself into you.

He licked his lips at the noises coming from your mouth as he started fucking you, humping you as he wound an arm around your middle, gripping your soft dress. His fingers digging into your skin.

After a particularly hard thrust, you snapped your head up, locking eyes with him in the mirror. You keened and gripped the sink like it had the potential to save you from your husbands' onslaught.

"Fuck you pretty pretty thing, you feel even better than you did this morning," König grunted, slamming into you hard, practically jostling you like a rag doll on his cock. He stilled and panted into the back of your head. "You look so fucking good, so fucking filthy like this, my dear. Look at yourself," with that he grabbed a handful of your hair, jerking you up, blinking at your fucked out expression, mouth agape and glistening. "Awww look at that pretty little face."

He felt you clench around him, pleased he wrenched free his cock, spitting on it as you whined and pushed back against him. "Needy are we, dear?"

"Yes. Oh God yes, I'm so desperate. So so desperate for you." Your ring clinked against the sink when you moved, looking at him over your shoulder, mouth open and waiting for a kiss.

You nipped his tongue after he fucked it into your mouth, giving your ear an experimental bite as he moaned and breathed in your ear.

"Fuck you are so fucking pretty, my pretty little wife," König slapped his wet cock against one of your ass cheeks, it sounded so loud and so filthy. So damn good. "Oh you poor thing. You need it so badly don't you? Need your husbands' cock right back in that wet little cunt of yours. Fucking you out, stretching you out, fuck yes."

"Always." You whined and met him thrust for thrust, settling into a steady pace as he placed kiss after kiss to your neck, your shoulder, biting the strap of your dress as he cupped one of your breasts.

"Yeah you do. Look at you, just ready to be used like the little toy that you are, right? Leaving the house without panties... slut behavior, easier access for me in the end though."

König seemed to be talking to himself as you had become just a puddle, his personal fleshlight as he eased his way back into you.

Your cunt greedily sucked him back in, thrust after thrust as he groaned and grunted, half English tangled with his native tongue. He growled the second you pushed back against him, taking him harder, bowing and whining as if you two were in the sanctuary of your bedroom and not in a public bathroom.

A shower was going to be an absolute must.

Suddenly he lifted one of your legs, gathering you close to his chest, changing the angle to a decadent surprise. Both of your eyes locked on the sight of his cock stretching you out in the mirror.

"Oh my God." You whimpered, eyes watery and focused on how huge he looked. Your gummy walls fluttered around him making him sweat.

"I'm afraid there is no God here, mein engel," he clicked his teeth, shaking his head with a sinister grin, licking the shell of your ear he half whispered. "There is only me. Just you and me. Just your king."

You moaned behind your clenched teeth as you came, legs on the verge of giving out, trembling in his hold. König enjoyed the flood of your arousal encapsulating him, throbbing hot.

"Awww my dear, you couldn't hold it any longer. You poor dear thing, just empty and ready for me to fill you back up, hmmm?" König mused, chuckling darkly before pulling out once more, shoving you up against the wall, your hands slapping against the painted brick, turning your head against it.

You bit your lip at the sight of yourselves in the mirror, arching and wiggling your ass towards him. The jangling of his belt when you fucked you again had left you dizzy, you voiced it, screwing your eyes shut. König got a thrill out of that. Telling you what a good little wife you were, how deep you were taking him, how badly he wanted to fuck you all over again once you made it home.

"That's it baby, good fucking girl. Look at that pretty little girl in the mirror getting whatever she wants." He even went a little far as to little slap your face, holding your chin as his thighs slapped against your ass. "Good job. Take it baby, you're gonna' take it. Oh fuck. You want to feel me cum inside you? Yeah you do, yeah you fucking do."

You sobbed as he came, shooting a few healthy ropes of cum into you. He ground himself against you, pushing his semen even deeper into your pliant body. Your breathing was erratic at best, licking the drool from your lips.

König slowly pulled out, a thick glob dribbled out of your hole, dripping down your inner thigh. He had half a mind to scoop it back up and push it back inside your sensitive cunt, those intrusive thoughts to have you completely full of him, drove him wild. He'd beat off to that image later. Instead he told you leave it, pulling your dress back down and turned you around to face him.

You giggled when he kissed you. "I fucking love when you cum inside me. Makes me feel so good, so warm." You rubbed your thighs together and he laughed with you, fixing himself up while you grabbed your purse and checked your make up. Only a little smeared.

"You're a naughty little thing, you know? Walking out of here with cum leaking out of you. What would your friends think, hmmm?"

Your laugh was louder than expected as you touched his shoulder once his hood was on and you'd opened the bathroom door to the steady pulse of the music.

"Trust me my love, you don't want to hear their stories!"

#könig x reader #könig #konig x reader #konig cod #konig x you #konig x female reader #konig imagine #konig fic #konig fanfic #konig fan fiction #cod imagine

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yesimwriting · 7 months

Text

Promise

a/n yes im using the princess! reader who's about to be forced into a political marriage with anakin again,, and what about it the vibe is so fun to me, also i love jealous anakin

warnings: 18+!!! smut (he broke me down) written by someone whose only experience comes from fanfics, so pls be nice,, also written in 1st person bc that was the vibe when i started and i didn't realize this was going to get smutty (i'm sorry yall😭 it's still my best tense)

Summary: As a princess, your future is set in stone. You'll marry someone your father picks for you to aid your country. All of this you've accepted...until you befriend Anakin Skywalker, who was originally assigned to guard you during a time of political unrest on your home planet.

----

He's still near the door, arms crossed and expression as stoic as it was when he first interrupted my meeting to escort me to an urgent consultation with my father.

I understand that publicly we need to remain as indifferent as physically possible and that any sort of friendliness we display needs to seem completely surface level. But we're not in public anymore and usually the transition from appropriate indifference to something much warmer is instant.

"...How urgent is urgent?"

The question is more for our sake than anything else. I want to hear his voice outside of the stiff way he interrupted the meeting with that last suitor. He had barely looked at me as he mumbled something about my father. I want it to feel light the way it usually does between us. I want him to make one of those jokes that always has me rolling my eyes or to smile or--or to do anything that makes him feel like Anakin.

The urge to study him begins to make it hard to just stand there so I turn towards my vanity. What I'm wearing isn't exactly inappropriate for a closed door meeting, but it's more formal than I'd like and a little itchy. If I have time to change into something more standard, I'll take it. "If I call Raina in here I can be in something a lot more comfortable in five minutes."

No response. I smooth my hair back with my palms, eyes subtly shifting towards his reflection in the mirror. Anakin's taken the slightest step forward. "Anakin?"

His head tilts downwards, eyes briefly meeting mine in the mirror before darting away. There's something about the way he's holding himself that would feel bashful it was less stiff. "There is no meeting."

"What?" My head instinctually snaps in his direction. Anakin's already watching me. "You--you made up an emergency?"

This is--Anakin interrupted a meeting with the first suitor that didn't make my skin crawl. I wouldn't have been thrilled to walk down the aisle with him, but I could have likely learned to be content with him. At least he believes that women can do more than just be brides and raise children. He'd allow me to participate in some community work to bond with his people and I'd be able to visit home.

But that's besides the point. He could have been the most repulsive candidate my father had found for me and it still wouldn't have justified what Anakin did. I don't walk out of meetings. Ever. If my father finds out about this...

"Do you have any idea what my father will do if he finds out?" I sit the edge of my vanity's seat with a tired sigh. There has to be some excuse. I could blame it on sickness or a misunderstand or--

"Then I'll take the blame." Anakin's words pull me out of my thoughts. His voice is still stiff and lacking its usual warmth in a way that only adds to my unease. Why is he acting like this? "I'll tell him that it was my fault and that I misunderstood your schedule debriefing."

My fingers dig into the soft fabric of my dress that's pooling over the seat. "Don't." My voice sounds so small, so vulnerable I have to hate myself for it. "He might take that the wrong way and--" I exhale slowly, forcing myself to cling to rationality. "And he might arrange your removal."

Anakin scoffs. What is his issue? "Like that'd bother you."

My throat tightens. After everything we've been through, after telling him things that I've never been able to tell anyone...How can he just dismiss all of it? And why is he being so mean? "What?"

"You've found your ideal suitor and now you can get married and be sent away and never--" Anakin cuts himself off, eyes tearing away so quickly like there's painful about looking at me. "You don't need me anymore."

Oh. That's what this is about. "Anakin." He's staring at some distant point on my wall. "That's not true. You know it isn't."

Everything about him remains stiff. "You were smiling." He briefly glances at me, eyebrows drawn together so sharply it tugs at something in my chest. "A real smile, not your practiced one." Anakin lets out a sigh that feels as pointed as a sarcastic laugh. "And you laughed."

"What?" I'm not miserable in one meeting and now he's acting like I hate him. "I--I might have been making the best of it because he's the first suitor who didn't spend the entire time listing off the requirements for his bride, but that isn't the same as liking him." And even if I liked him, would that be such a terrible thing? Would it really undermine our entire friendship if I found a way to be married and not miserable? "I'm going to have to marry one of them at some point, and I d--"

"Don't marry him." Anakin blurts the sentence out in one wavering breath. The letters run together so closely it feels more like a single word.

For a moment, all the shaky request does is sit between us. I've been on several outings and meetings with potential suitors and Anakin's never reacted like this. What was so wrong about this last one? "Don't marry him? What do--"

Anakin's eyes finally meet mine. The way he's looking at me stings, all glossy eyes and a pouty frown that's trying its best to be harsh. He seems more pained than angry and that's somehow worse.

Don't marry him. The words too strained and small to be about just the man from earlier. Don't marry him means don't marry any of them.

Oh.

I scratch the back of my wrist as Anakin's eyes drop to the ground. He knows that I have no interest in marrying for my father, but even if I did, why would that bother him?

With a sigh, I push myself to stand. Why it upsets him doesn't matter. So much is already weighing on him.

Anakin doesn't look up as I start walking towards him. "I--I can't promise that." My nails dig into the skin of my palm. "I wish I could." The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. "But it doesn't matter." Anakin's rigid as I carefully extend my hand and bend my fingers against his forearm. "You're always going to be important to me."

He pulls his arm forward instinctually. My hold on him loosens, but before I can take my hand back, Anakin adjusts his to squeeze mine. He's holding on just tight enough for it to feel uncomfortable, but I don't mind it. It's grounding.

"Until you're married." He's staring at where our hands sit between us. There's something I should say, something comforting and easing. Nothing's coming to mind. The reality of the situation is set in stone. I'll have to marry eventually and that--that will change things. But it'll never change the way I feel about Anakin.

Anakin, who always listens when I need to purge all of the resentment about the rules that control my life. Anakin, who sits with me when I can't sleep. Anakin, who has the worst sense of humor that can always pull a smile from me even when it feels impossible.

He moves our hands, releasing my hand at my side. The brief loss of contact makes my ribs feel cracked. "No." It's instinctual. "It's--" I reach forward, hand reaching for his arm. "You're the only person I can tell anything to, the only one that never expects anything from me and just--just likes me for who I am."

The realization that Anakin might be the only true friend I've ever had hits me hard and fast. All of that and a part of me has always been selfish enough to imagine what it'd be like to live in a different world that could allow for more. Though, that's barely been a thought that I've allowed myself to have. Neither of us are in a position to get attached to anyone in that way, and even if we were, Anakin wouldn't see me that way. Besides, his friendship is no small thing, so it definitely takes the sting out of the impossible.

"Who wouldn't?" The comment comes out so soft, so absentminded I nearly melt on the spot.

A lifetime of being a daughter instead of a son has a reflexive a lot of people attempting to crawl up my throat. I swallow the bitterness like bile before I can make this about me and settle on a much lighter, "You'd be surprised."

Any lift in his expression falls again. "You don't see it."

I do try to think about it, but nothing that makes sense comes to mind. "See what?" Anakin pauses, lips pressing together. I'm expecting some kind of response. Instead, Anakin shakes his head once dismissively. "Tell me." His lack of response has me gently shoving his shoulder. "I thought we didn't keep secrets."

He lets out a small breath, we're so close I can feel the warmth of it against my skin. "It's nothing." When my only reaction is to glare, he reaches for my hand. "I don't want to talk about them anymore."

Strange. What does whatever he's talking about have to do with what we were talking about? Yes, the suitors want to court me but they want me the same way they want an ornament or my father's leniency in a business deal. Before I can remind him of this, his hand finds my shoulder.

If Anakin notices the way I freeze, he gives no indication of it, he just trails his thumb up and down the start of my collarbone. It's not the first time he's done this, but until now the gesture has been reserved for late nights when I can't sleep. I'm so used to it being soothing that it immediately gets rid of any fight in my system.

"You've had more meetings recently."

I nod, still too focused on the feeling of his hand on my shoulder. "It's a busy time...celebration season is always elaborate, and things are...tense."

He nods. If there's one thing he knows about, it's the precariousness that seems to be reaching everyone these days. But my time with Anakin is limited. He's been assigned to be my personal guard during the celebration season since the year a political protestor took my mother's life. The season always feels like it will be long, but time always slips away quicker than it should when it comes to Anakin.

I know I shouldn't do this. He doesn't need any type of encouragement after what happened at today's meeting, but something's clearly been weighing on him and I do miss him. The additional events, the public outings, the suitors...all to save face as the threat of war continues to become a more pressing issue. "My father had most of my afternoon blocked off in case that last suitor wanted extra time."

Anakin frowns, his thumb stopping its outlined path across my shoulder. He is so dramatic. "I shouldn't be telling you this because it might sound like I approve of you making up an emergency, but if you don't have anything to do, we can catch up."

He tilts his head, a hint of a smile turning up the corner of his lips. "Catch up? We're together all day."

I extend an arm, gently pushing him. First, he basically throws a fit because he convinced himself it was possible for me to like a suitor more than him, and now that I want to do something with him, he's trying to make fun of me. "I mean about before you came here. We've barely had time to talk since you've gotten back."

"Okay," his thumb brushes back down where my collarbone meets my shoulder, "We can talk." He squeezes my shoulder before retracting his hand. "The garden or the library?"

Our two most frequented spots. I grin. "The garden, the weather's nice today." He smiles, taking a step back. "Give me a minute to change. I turn away from him, walking towards my closet. "I've been ready to take off this dress since Raina put me in it this morning."

Raina spent longer than a minute trapping me in between scratchy fabric and a stiffly structured top. All of those ties and buttons that I still can't reach. Ugh. I wonder if calling Raina in will lead to more attention being drawn to the fact that I left early. Technically, the official meeting would likely be over by now but my father wanted it to go well. He kept things open in hopes of it lasting a little longer.

It's probably better not to ask. Drawing any attention to me and Anakin isn't the best idea in general. We're good friends, which is okay in front of some people but wrong in front of others. Raina is a little skeptical. It's nothing personal against Anakin, she just knows me too well, which means she reads into things.

I stretch my arm back as far as it'll go and manage to undo the bottom of the lacing and a few buttons. Anything that's more than halfway up my back is impossible to get to. I twist and turn and push and I can't reach.

"Everything alright?"

Anakin's voice carries through the short hall. I sigh, giving the fabric one last desperate tug. "Everything's fine I just..." I squeeze my eyes shut before pinching the bridge of my nose. "Can you come here?"

A brief wave of silence that leaves my face burning lingers until the sound of footsteps ends it. Anakin appears in my closet's doorway. "You're okay?"

"Yeah," I mumble, "Yes, I just--I can't get the buttons." As if to make my point, I try again in vain, trying again to reach the tiny clasps.

"You need help?" Anakin's voice comes out lower than usual.

Maybe he feels just as awkward about this. "If it'd be easier, you could just call in Raina."

"No," I can hear his weight shifting off the doorframe, "I can do it."

He takes a few steps forward. Before I know it, he's directly behind me. Anakin smooths a hand over my hair before gently moving it over my shoulder. The way heat begins to crawl up my neck makes me glad that my back is to him. His hand settles against my back.

I pull my arms forward, crossing them in front of my chest. He takes over, fingertips grazing against my back. The longer he works, the looser the dress begins to feel. I should be feeling cooler now that I'm getting closer to just being in my thin layering dress, but all of my earlier warmth and discomfort is now rising up my face.

"Raina put you in this this morning?"

I nod, "Raina woke me up earlier than usual today to make me up." The final button is pulled apart. I have to keep an arm at my chest to keep the dress from pooling at my feet. "I think this might have taken longer than my hair."

The comment is meant to be lighthearted. Instead of taking it that way, Anakin lets out a breath as his hand settles against my hip. "Won't things be easier when you don't have to worry about finding a husband?"

Now it's my turn to sigh. I make a point of pulling his hand off my side. I wander further into my closet. "You know I want nothing to do with this." My grip on the dress tightens, my sudden movement making it harder to keep the heavy dress on. "And if you honestly think I find any joy in being packaged in suffocating fabric and bodices so structured that they stab into my ribs every time I breathe, then you don't know me."

I turn around and let go of the dress, allowing the gown to pool at my feet. I step out of the puddle of fabric before reaching for one of my hangers, a casual day dress that I've barely looked at.

"I didn't mean it that way." His voice comes out low, almost reluctant. It's not enough to ease me, so I make a point of scoffing. Something warm pulls on my forearm. Before I know it, I'm facing with him. Oh. Anakin's closer than I thought he'd be. "I'm sorry." He exhales, voice tight, "Don't be mad, princess."

I keep my expression neutral. Though I'm in no mood to be reminded of my title, Anakin has a way of making it feel like a term of endearment. "If you're bothered by my situation, I understand that." He's staring me with such intensity I have to make the conscious choice to not look away. "I really understand that, but do not treat me like this is my choice. Not all of us are meant for more and can do whatever we want."

"Not whatever I want," he whispers, voice strained.

Now it's my turn to wish I had bitten my tongue. Anakin's told me enough of the stories for me to know that while sometimes the fact that he gets to leave and be an active source of good makes me wish my life was different, his isn't exactly easy.

His eyes hold mine for a beat before drifting downwards. For whatever reason, that makes me aware of the fact that this is likely the least dressed I've ever been in front of anyone. Sure, Anakin's seen me in pajamas and casual wear, but the silk dress under my gown is thin and low cut.

"And don't say that this is what you're meant for." He pulls my arm down with his hand, letting his fingers interlock with mine. "I've seen you in meetings and the way that you care about your people. You don't need to do this."

Again, it's like he's trying to convince me to change my mind. Like this is something that I want. I don't understand what he's trying to convince me to do. "Try telling that to my father."

I'm not sure what it is, but something about Anakin's expression looks a little flatter. Maybe even disappointed. I get it, this isn't exactly a fun topic, and we have no reason to dwell on it now. It's not like I'm getting engaged tonight. And I rarely get time to just be around Anakin, my future marriage has already taken enough from me, it doesn't need to take this too.

"Why are we still talking about this?" I pull my hand back, ready to grab my dress. "It's not like anything's happening now, let's just go to the garden like we--"

Anakin reaches forward before I can turn around, his hand finding my shoulder.

"I--" He cuts himself off, "There's been a rise in meetings with potential suitors, it's not as easy to ignore as it used to be."

I know exactly what he's talking about. All of my energy has been focused on not thinking about that. But that's because it's my inevitable future. How could this possibly matter this much to Anakin? "Ignore what?"

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to know what they're feeling? What they're thinking about you?" Anakin's breath catches itself in his throat, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of my dress. "What they're thinking about doing to you?"

Heat rushes to my face. I try to swallow to clear the lump in my throat but my mouth has gone dry. "Anakin?"

"I've spent so long trying to let you go."

What? Is he--is he saying that he-- "What?"

He tilts his head downwards, "You don't need to do this. I--"

"Don't say it." My hand is quick to grab the one he has on my shoulder. Push him away, I should push him away. My hand won't move. The one person I've always known I won't ever be able to have.

"Why not?" He asks the question so innocently, like he couldn't ever fathom a reason for me to shut this down. After a moment, his eyebrows pull together, a small frown playing at his lips. "You don't want me?"

If this was any less serious, that would have made me laugh. That is, most definitely, not the issue. "That's not true."

He relaxes slightly, his thumb trailing down my shoulder. Before I can explain issues that we both are definitely aware of, he leans impossibly closer. His weight on mine is nearly enough to make me forget the concept of logic entirely.

"Anakin," it's meant to be a warning. The breathiness of my voice takes away all of its severity. "We can't." I'm arguing for more my sake than his. He already knows all of the reasons that we need to agree to remain just friends before things get any more complicated. "What I want doesn't matter. Nothing I've wanted has ever mattered." He hasn't moved away, but at least he isn't trying to get any closer. "And even if it did, it's not like we'd suddenly be able to be together."

Anakin's hand adjusts on my shoulder, his grip tightening. He has the audacity to look like he's not sure what I'm talking about. "The Jedi code?" He blinks, still giving no indication of understanding why everything about us is impossible. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you why that matters, chosen one."

He scoffs. "I don't care."

I place my free hand on his chest, willing myself to create some distance between us before my judgement finally lapses. "You can't--you can't say that." My eyes squeeze shut, "I know that it's unfair, but time will pass and you'll feel rational again, and it'll be easier."

"Don't do that." The harsh quality of his voice nearly makes me step back. "Don't treat this like it's a political compromise."

Something about me trying to keep things together the only way I know how is hurting him. I don't know how to get through this without taking the emotion out of it. Still, I don't want to make this harder on him. My hand moves up his chest and rests on his shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that."

He nods slowly, visibly relaxing at my touch, "You're only pushing me away because you're afraid."

"What?"

Anakin's thumb drags across my skin. "You're afraid that if you let yourself even admit that you might want something that your father hasn't decided for you, and that if you're selfish for even a second, your entire world will fall apart."

If it came from anyone else, I'd be offended, but coming from Anakin, it just makes the real reason why I can't just say it and give in hurt more. "That's not it." Anakin doesn't respond. He wants me to say more and I'm not sure that I can. "It's--" What I'm afraid of is that I let myself admit that I want Anakin out loud, I'll have to decide whether or not I want him more than everything I've been working towards my entire life and that I won't like my own answer.

"It's that," I start over, staring at my hand on his shoulder in case looking at him directly will make the confidence I've gathered to wither away. "That if I let myself think about it, about you--like that--for longer than a moment, I might want you more than any of this."

He pauses, likely thinking through his words. Maybe he'll try to promise me that he wouldn't make me choose while not understanding that being with him at all makes that decision for me. Or maybe the amount of care I'm implying will scare him into second guessing this.

His hand slowly moves off of my shoulder. If my deep, dark secret has finally gotten him to understand why we're better off as we are, then maybe it's worth how hard it was to get out.

His fingers settle against my jaw. Slowly, he gets my head to turn. I look at him, expecting some kind of rejection to be written across his face. Instead, all I see in his eyes is a pool of emotion ready for me to drown in. "Would that have to be a bad thing?"

This time, the softness of his question doesn't feel like an attempt to dismiss our reality. It's so genuine it turns into a physical ache between us.

I'm reminded that despite all of his talent, confidence, and sense of humor that I've tried so hard to enjoy less, he's still a boy who's experienced so much heartbreak. The council constantly dismissing him and refusing to grant him the title he deserves, the loss of his mother, all of the expectations on his shoulders...

Would it be such a bad thing to want him more than anything else? To love him more that much?

I tilt my head back, just enough to press my lips against his. Anakin's quick to reciprocate, turning the barely there press of lips into something else with no warning. He shifts his weight so that he's fully against me. My back hits the wall of my closet before I realize what's happening.

It's heavy, my bottom lip being pulled between his teeth. The hand that's not still cupping my jaw settles on my hip, the silk of my slip dress crumpling between his fingers. I pull my head back, Anakin attempts to follow, teeth tugging on my lip one last time before letting us separate.

He doesn't let me get far, resting his forehead against mine as we both struggle to catch our breaths. "I'm sorry, I should have--"

"Don't be sorry," I manage between slow pants, "Not for that."

Anakin smiles, and for once, I don't mind feeding his ego. "I can feel how much you need me." The urge to squirm away and hide any potential embarrassment is strong, but I have no way to act on the impulse. I'm pinned between Anakin and the wall of my closet. He slowly pulls my dress, exposing another inch of skin. "Do you think any of your suitors could make you feel like this?"

I shake my head, "No." That's an easy thing to get out, "Only you."

Another tug that has more fabric pooling around my waist. "Promise you won't marry him." His head dips forward, his lips brushing against the end of my jaw. "Any of them."

My eyes instinctually shut. I need to hold it together. "You--you know I can't just--" He places an open mouthed kiss against my neck. "Anakin."

"Promise." An order.

I exhale, struggling to focus. "It's not--" Another kiss. "It's not f--air." My voice cracks on the last syllable as Anakin moves further down my neck. "You know I'd never break a promise I made to you."

"What's not fair is having to watch you meet with men who look at you and to know that this..." He pulls the strap of my dress off of my shoulder, exposing more skin that he immediately presses his lips against. "Is what they want to do to you."

What? I had never thought that my suitors fantasized about anything, everything about those meetings always feel so cold and political. I'd question it if I could bring myself to care about the revelation with Anakin's teeth pressing into the pulse point of my neck. "To have to watch them look at what's mine."

"Anakin..."

One last shift of fabric and the hem of my dress is now over my hips. His hand leaves my jaw and skims the waist of my underwear. "Promise."

His fingers finally reach where I need him most. My eyes instinctually shut at the sensation, a wave of pleasure I've never felt before nearly making me jump. Noticing my tension, he presses a gentle kiss against my cheek.

I have to give him something, and maybe that'll be enough to at least put this conversation off until I'm in a position to negotiate. "I'm yours." My ability to form sentences is quickly fading as his finger presses into me. "Can't that be enough?" A small part of myself hates how easily I'm cracking. "For now?"

Anakin does the meanest thing imaginable, he stops. "Promise me."

A pathetically desperate whine escapes me. He can't be serious. He won't walk away now just because I can't immediately promise to never marry anyone.

He straightens enough to pull away from the crook of my neck. "Anakin." I meet his gaze, and behind the harshness of his eyes, I see that he means it. "You know I--I can't--"

"We can work it out." That genuine side of him returns, softness bleeding back into his expression. "All that matters is that you want to."

"Of course I want to."

He leans forward again, forehead pressing against mine, "Then promise me..." Anakin's eyes briefly shut, "Promise me you won't marry anyone else."

I let myself take him in, how it feels to let him consume me entirely. It's too late for me, anyway. I wouldn't be able to will myself to walk down the aisle the same way I couldn't force myself to push him away. "I promise."

His lips are on mine in an instant. When I don't part my lips fast enough, he hooks two fingers between the waistband of my underwear and tugs them down my legs in one, swift motion. I gasp, giving him all the access he needs to drag his tongue against mine.

He moves back, beginning to press his lips against my jaw. "Anakin."

"Say it again." His fingers find the spot that makes me see stars. "Promise me that you're mine."

A whiny breath slips past my lips, "I promise." His teeth drag against my throat and my nails instinctually dig into his shoulder, "Only you."

A rough sound escapes from the back of Anakin's throat. He removes a hand from my hip to adjust his own robes. I'm too distracted to realize what he's doing until it's obvious. "Again."

I reach my hand forward until my fingers are wrapping around his length. "Only you, Anakin." He groans. "I--I won't marry anyone else." Anakin places his hand over mine, guiding my hand up and down his length. "I'm yours."

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, "Maker, you're--" The rest of the sentence is murmured into my skin at a pitch that I can't make out.

His fingers press into me even harder. "Anakin," my whininess would be embarrassing if I wasn't so distracted by the coiling feeling in my stomach, "I--I--"

"Tell me," he lifts his head enough to speak the words into my ears, "Tell me that you want me."

My eyes screw shut, "I--It's more than want." It feels like a confession. "I need you."

Another strangled breath escapes him. Anakin pulls away enough to line himself against my entrance. He presses in slowly, the feeling in my stomach reaches a height I didn't think possible. "Anakin."

"You're so," he's getting the words out through gritted teeth, "Tight." Anakin pushes in even more. A gasp escapes me. "Say it again." I'm too lost in what I'm feeling to form the words. He pulls back before pushing his entire length in with no warning. Anakin shows no reaction to the pitchy whine he forced out of me. "Again."

"It's--it's only--you," I pant. "I won't marry any-one else--just--just please, Anakin."

His thumb presses against where my nerves are at their most on edge. I can't breathe or focus on anything. "Please what?"

"I need you."

He rubs tight circles against me and picks up the pace. My head falls against his shoulder, eyes squeezing tight. "Look at me." I--I can't keep my head up. Anakin's hand tugs at my hair, forcing me off of his shoulder. "Look at me."

I force my eyes open. "Anakin."

"Feel good, hm?" All I can do is nod. "Can't even talk anymore?" His lips find their way against my jaw. "What would all your suitors say if they could see how easy it was for me to get you like this?" His lips find a spot on my neck that leaves me dizzy. "First breaking all the rules and now you can't even talk." It's hard to focus on anything that isn't how he feels. "Who has you like this?"

I take a shaky breath, "You, Anakin." My voice is shaky, "Only you."

His lips press against mine. Hard. I give in entirely and it's all teeth and wanting a closer that doesn't exist. He pulls away just as quickly, "I've got you, princess," he exhales, "come for me."

My body knows what to do more than I do. I cling onto him. Anakin's thrusts become less even without losing speed. He continues until an all consuming pleasure has my body practically shaking. My orgasm hits so fast and hard I can barely hold myself upright.

"Oh, you're squee--" Anakin cuts himself off, pulling out before he can finish inside me. "Maker, you're perfect."

After it ends, I expect to be filled with some kind of regret or remorse. Instead, all I feel is a sense of peace as I recover with my forehead pressed into Anakin's chest. He keeps his arm around me loosely. "It's just you and me, princess."

I nod against him weakly, desperate to accept what he's saying. "Just you and me."

He smooths circles against my back. "We'll figure it out together."

It's not an easy thing to believe, but trusting Anakin is natural. I finally lift my head to look at him, "We have time." I don't know how much time, but it's definitely not happening today, and if I can push this until our political crisis becomes the ultimate concern, my father won't bring it up until this is resolved. Maybe if I prove myself as a leader, he'll see that I can be more. "I'm tired."

He smiles lazily, "You're saying I tired you out?" I roll my eyes. "Come on, we have some time before you have to meet with your advisors." Anakin squeezes my shoulder, thumb soothingly tracing a pattern against my collarbone. "Stay with me?"

I have to bite my tongue to keep a much too emotional always from coming out, so I just nod. He takes my hand and leads me into my bedroom. Anakin helps me into bed before laying next to me.

Drowsiness pulls at my eyelids. I fight against the exhaustion as best as I can, but Anakin's gentle touches and whispered terms of endearment aren't making it easier.

"You can sleep," he finally whispers, "I'll make sure you're awake with enough time to get ready for your next meeting."

It's tempting, but after all of this, all I want is to be near him and to--to talk to him and absorb his presence before I can't. "But--"

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, reading my hesitance easily, "We have time."

My eyes are already closed, "Promise?"

Anakin's head dips forward as he presses a chaste kiss against my temple. "I promise."

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #sw anakin #anakin skywalker smut #darth vader x reader #darth vader x you #anakin x reader #starwars #starwars x reader #smut #anakin skywalker fanfic

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caineinthecorner · 5 months

Text

Hi. I binged like 80 chats in a row and I have opinions(tm) about physical strength and general power stuff of the brothers. Mostly just strength related things, but I tried to cover most of their battle stuff.

Yes I know, yes I know, "they're ranked as siblings by power blabla", but that's LAME. So here are my personal takes mostly for fun. Canon is dead and I ate it.

Also I finished the dividers and general aesthetics of this blog woo

★ Lucifer.

Generally the strongest, period, can and WILL kill almost anyone without much issue or even second thought

Physical strength, however? He’s not the best, as he doesn’t rely on it at all for battle / conflict

He didn't need it in heaven, after all

(Beel was his brawns and he was already a powerful angel so it never was a requirement)

I don't see him actively working out (anymore, at least), so most of his strength is merely his baseline

His main tactic conflict wise is intimidation.

Cough giving MC death threats cough

Very prideful of himself in battle, obviously

Rarely would ever use any sort of dirty tricks

Would probably prefer to go down the "honorable way"

Target his brothers though and he WILL play every trick in the book with little regard to his pride or his own life

This fuck looks like he knows swordsmanship and is probably the only of the brothers who does so

(except maybe Satan who is learning just to copy / be better than him)

Either that or he knows fancy sword dances for angel rituals he cannot partake in anymore (and doesn't do them anymore)

Diavolo has photos of him doing said dances but his lips are triple sealed since it is a heavily touchy subject

★ Mammon.

Canonically this man is physically weak (or at least has a weak complexion / scrawny arms)

Probably the most disappointing in terms of strength because he is literally the second born

His saving grace is his unholy speed and dirty tricks, using it to cover his weaknesses / lack of physical strength.

A LOT of dirty tricks and bs magic stuff. So so many. Never ends

He’s the living embodiment of the “random bullshit go!!!” meme

You know Looney tunes? Yeah this man has the Bugs bunny's levels of bullshit

But he has the best stamina out of his brothers (so he can run away from his debts)

Doesn't train because he's already perfect as it is (<- that's his ego talking he can barely pick up the weights at Beel's gym)

Honor is for the dead type of person. Nothing is out of the table in battle

(^ that makes him terrifying to fight against btw)

He either tries to intimidate (imitating Lucifer) or sweet-talk his way out of conflict

It usually just pisses off his adversary more which actually leads to the fights starting, but hey, he tried 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

★ Leviathan.

Physical strength is shit.

he will get his shit kicked if he tries to brawl with almost anyone

Except maybe the lowest hanging fruit (humans)

Magical or general strength is decent, but he's definitely not the greatest in battle out of the brothers

^ he's kinda insecure about this and he wishes he were stronger (he sulks about it)

Wishes that actual irl battles were like Fire Emblem or strategy games bcs he's actually good in those

Update: I didn't make it clear (mb lol) but I see him as the best strategist of the brothers by far, he just isn't good at front-line action

^ Being away from the front lines keeps the pressure away from him for the most part, and it avoids him getting riled up and acting rash

He once tried to workout with Beel but quickly got overwhelmed because Beel shoved 200kg weights onto him thinking it was an reasonable starting point

So he kinda has trauma(tm) about it

Despite his garbage physical prowess, he WILL start fights and get riled up easily

He goes onto his demon form immediately when he wants to fight

^ bcs his strength isn't great, and he needs any boost he can get

Plus, awful anger management

My man will get onto a fist fight with the demon equivalent of a redditor over anime waifus and he will lose

★ Satan.

As the literal embodiment of Wrath, he does pack quite a punch and will maul you to death with only his fists. No problems at all

But that's merely his baseline strength (which is a lot) since he doesn’t really train physically

Probably focuses on other areas (read: intelligence) instead of physical strength.

Which is ironic because he could kick Lucifer's ass in a fist fight if he actually trained more

But oh well. Books do be booking

Surprisingly strategic while in fights, although not above Going Apeshit

Funnily enough the least likely of the brothers to enter a fight

Has read The Art Of War and will quote it just to be a smartass

★ Asmodeus.

Physically? Weak.

Probably the weakest of the brothers, having more or less the strength of a human (and on the weaker side of that).

He doesn’t train whatsoever; Likes his slender figure and muscles “ruin” that.

However, he makes up for it on the "trickster" scale.

As the Avatar of Lust, he will probably go the charm route instead of wanting to directly fight his enemies, or he make someone else do the dirty work for him.

Think of Mammon but make it a bit less scummy, tricks wise.

His go-to is sweet talk.

Something something the Avatar of Lust being physically weak since sex is considered an act of vulnerability and therefore the lowering of one’s guard something something

Something something the poetic narrative of the Avatar of Lust having only power through Communication something something

★ Beelzebub.

Contrary to Asmo; he does lift for days and can pack quite the punch, being one of the stronger brothers physically despite being one of the youngest.

I don't see him caring much for magic or other types of strength, he is content in packing the punch and has the capabilities to back him up.

Fight wise he will probably punch the problems away

Maybe use one or two tricks he’s learned

Mostly relies on his intuition and gut and it surprisingly works out

Nothing fancy; Dictionary definition of all muscle no brain battle wise

Literally one of the scariest brothers to ever fight he will actually beat you to a bloody pulp

And make a smoothie out of it

★ Belphegor.

This fucker doesn't lift at all you can't tell me shit

At MOST he'll accompany Beel to the gym and would sleep at the benches

The strength he has is the strength he was born with

Which isn't a lot, but still above human average by quite a lot

More or less demon standard of strength. Maybe a slightly below it

But he's still above most demons by a mile in other regards, mostly magic prowess

He's stronger than Levi because I think it would be hilarious that the dude who sleeps all day is stronger than him

(or you can make him really physically strong just because it'd be funny to see the sleepy dude kick ass)

(either way is funny as shit go ham)

★ Physical strength chart

Behemoth type strength :

Beel (only barely)

Lucifer

Satan

High / Low above human average :

Mammon

Belphie (low diff w/ mammon)

Levi

Asmo

★General strength chart

Can kill hundreds no effort :

Lucifer

Satan (If apeshit)

Are not as strong but still terrifying :

Mammon

Beel

Belphie

Levi, Asmo (Tie)

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #caineshcs #gentle reminder that i am noy saying that they're weak #all the demon brothers are stupid strong and the best of the best for a reson #i am saying that some are *physically* weak #but even then they're almost all HIGH above the human average #i can't believe i have to make this clear but oh well

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lovewheeler · 2 years

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brothers best friend mike who watches you from the window in the kitchen as you sunbathe <333 your brothers in the living room playing video games n mike made n exuse to get some water but rlly its just so he can stare at you and grind his dick against the cabinet in front of him like a perv <3333

a/n: bro do you want me to DIEEEE oh my god,,,for reference reader's brother is not one of the canon boys bc i am BROWN hello. also mike is AGED UP!!! HE IS 19!!!!

content warnings: honetly pretty tame but like mike is a perv so ,,, also reader is teasing him bc she knows n she thinks it's funny <3, brat!reader...thats it i think. mike's a fucking nerd. this got so long sorry. pt 2 perhaps? also I didn’t beta this I die like men. also pov switches around a lot sorry

“He’s in the living room, you know.” There’s a lilt in your tone when you walk into the kitchen, passing Mike where he stands at the fridge. You notice his hand freeze mid wrapping around a soda can and your lip curls up at the corner.

“Uh, yeah, i’m just – you know, soda,” He grabs it quickly, showing it to you as if you needed proof, “See?”

“Mm, yeah, Mikey, I’m not blind–” You smile, manicured fingers reaching for the soda to snatch it from him and giggling when he frowns, “You staying for dinner tonight?”

The brunette nods quickly, swallowing, “Yeah – the guys are, too –” God forbid you think he was staying so he could look at you more (he was), “We — we want to finish our campaign. You can come, if you want–”

“Maybe next time? M’trying to tan today–” You cut him off, already moving towards the back door; you watch his eyes scan down your body when he thinks you’re not looking, fighting the smirk that pulls at your lips. You can sense his nerves, see how his hands shake, and it makes you excited. Hungry, almost.

You sway your hips while you walk out the door, tiny shorts that you’d picked for this exact situation hugging your ass just right, tits bouncing when you put a bit of pep in your walk; it’s very obvious what you’re doing, even to someone as stupidly oblivious as Mike Wheeler.

The second you disappear behind the screen door Mike’s letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, gripping the counter with white knuckles and practically collapsing against it.

Why did you keep doing this to him?

He was so sick of it, so fucking sick – every day since summer started you’d go out to tan by your pool in the tiniest bikini (how many of those could you even own, by the way?) and the most sinful shorts, thighs squeezing out around the bottom and tits practically spilling from your top.

And then you do this stupid fucking thing – you’re doing it now, actually, he realizes it when he looks through the big window above the sink – where you shimmy out of your shorts only to reveal probably the most revealing piece of cloth he’s ever seen in his life. And you know he’s watching, and he knows that you know, because you always bend over to fish the shorts off the ground when they pool around your ankles, always in front of the window. Every. Fucking. Time.

Your brother would fucking kill him if he knew that Mike was eyeing his sister like a goddamn perv, watching her tan by the pool and popping a fucking boner while he’s at it.

Can’t you see he’s trying to be a good friend here?

Of course you can – you’re just a fucking minx who thinks it’s fun to tease him. He notices, he’s not stupid; he sees how you arch your back up from the chair as if you’re stretching, how you make sure he’s in view of the window while you lather sunscreen on your thighs. He wants to bash his head against the marble countertop.

Mike’s only brought out of his own thoughts when he realizes you’re looking at him – really looking at him, not coy glances like you usually do when you’re out there. This one’s bolder. More loaded.

His breath hitches in his throat when he sees you bring a pretty hand up to wiggle your ringed fingers at him in a cute little wave. There’s a smirk on your face. He leans forward, feeling his cock brush the counter and almost gasping. It felt good.

You think it’s cute how stupid he must think you are. Or maybe he doesn’t and he gets off on being known. Whatever it is, it makes you feel hot all over, like you’re doing something bad. You’re just glad he’s finally caught on to years of pining.

You’ve often wondered how bold you could get before he finally decided to fucking do something; he was driving you crazy, always trying to act so self righteous as if your brother wouldn’t fuck Nancy giving the chance. You were a spoiled brat, Mike knew that, he indulged you in it in every other way – so why not this one?

Your eyes survey the area around you, flicking around behind dark pink shades to make sure no one else but your intended audience is seeing. Once you’re satisfied you let out a little sigh, wiggling your painted toes and stretching out your arms, making a show of it all as your hands snake up to tug at your bikini top. It falls into your lap and you smile, not at him but for him.

Mike can’t believe what he’s seeing, and he thinks he should definitely feel embarrassed about how shamelessly he’s grinding into his own hand right now. He does, but the bliss he feels while looking at your tits outweighs it. He wants to bite them. His mind is swirling and he feels dizzy but he’s chasing something, all to fantasies about those tits spilling between his fingers while he fucks into you.

And then you stretch again, arms up to the sky, before you turn around and lay yourself down on your tummy – right at the time Mike feels his boxers get sticky. He groans inwardly, collapsing against the counter again with a heaving chest. He just came in his pants to the sight of his best friend’s little sister’s tits. That was fucking humiliating.

He doesn’t even have time to consider what the fuck just happened because your brother’s hand is coming up to clap against his back, making him jump and let out a yell.

“Dude, you good? Look like you just ran a marathon or some shit – hurry up, will you? We’re starting a new game.”

“U-uh yeah, I’ll be right there, I just gotta–”

“I’m making him help me with my homework. He said he took my bio class before and can help me with it – right, Mikey?” His blood runs cold and his face gets hot when he hears your voice, devastatingly sweet. How the hell did you get in here so fast? He tries not to frown when he notices you’re clothed again.

He only nods, unable to get anything out other than a stammering confirmation. How cute.

Your brother only groans and tells you guys to hurry up but doesn’t think anything of it – why would he? Mike had known you since you guys were in diapers – he was harmless. Supposedly. He turns to walk back to the living room and Mike sighs, all the tension visibly leaving his body.

Only to come back again when you saunter next to him, leaning over him to grab something from the sink and letting your tits squish into his back in the process. He feels light headed.

“I’ll be waiting for you – don’t clean up, by the way. Kay?”

He gasps and you can only giggle, suddenly pulling off of him and turning so you can skip off to your room. You knew.

“Thanks, Mikey!” You call behind you, and he watches your hips sway while you go. He realizes you had only been out there for five minutes max, not a shade darker. You’d planned this.

Little shit.

#mike wheeler smut #mike wheeler imagine #mike wheeler x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #bbf.

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slasherstories123 · 1 year

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Slashers reaction to Child reader getting into a fist fight bc some other kids were talking bad about the slashers

If you don’t feel comfortable with this you can ignore this❤️

Slashers reaction to their child getting into a fight

Parring: Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, and Michael Myers x Child! Reader

Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @emychan @charliedawn @sleepypersonblog @slasherscrybaby @anim3l0v3r @kawaistrawberry21 @l0sercat @sadskies @pink-apollo @bunnysenpai31 @turdmongler

Thomas Hewitt

The Hewitt family did their best for you especially when they put you in school, considering the right situation they were in, it was hard to put you in one and it was a miracle when they found one for you.

You’re a good kid, they all know this, so it’s a surprise when the school told Luda Mae that you were fighting a few kids at school.

She’s used to violence, but coming from you? She’d never thought you had in in you.

“Tell me dear, why did you fight those kids? she asked, taking you out of the school. You stayed silent for a few minutes, to which she understood.

Eventually, she you spoke up. “They were making fun of dad…” Luda Mae listened.

“They called him… a freak, a…a monster, a weirdo… I couldn’t take it. Dad did too much for me… for all of us.”

She gave you a small smile while rubbing your hand. “I can assure you that those kids are the least of his problems, but I am proud of you for sticking up for your father, I’m sure you can stick up for yourself too, your father Thomas would be proud too.”

She was half right. When Thomas found out he was worried that you’d get in trouble, luckily you didn’t. But he was proud of you, also telling you that you didn’t need to do that for him.

Vincent Sinclair

Lester was the one who picks you up and drops you off from school and back into town, and Lester was the laid back uncle who would only intervene if it was necessary.

In this case, he did, “say kid, you messed those kids up pretty bad back there, mind telling me what happened?” You mumbled something but he didn’t hear. He didn’t say anything else u til you got back to Ambrose.

You walked past Bo to which he scoffed in response, “what happened to them?” “They beat up a few kids at school.” He had a shocked look, “well it’s about time! I knew they had it in them!” “Bo! This is serious!”

Even though they were outside, Vincent heard them and rushed over to you. Checking you for any injuries you may have. “Dad.. I’m fine.” He held onto your shoulders with a small huff.

Vincent was always the worried father, but you understood why, he dosen’t want anything bad to happen to you, that’s it.

Since he taught you sign language, it made communication a lot better. “Why did you fight those kids?” You replied with no hesitation. “They were making fun of you, I couldn’t just stand by and let them talk down about you like that.”

He could tell by the way your fists balled up that you were still angry, he held into one of the fists and pulling you into a hug, his actions spoke for him. “You don’t have to fight for me” heck he’s already used to Bo’s remarks 24/7.

Jason Voorhees

He’s used to the “hurtful” words the kids may say, but he never expected you to take action on it. He stood there frozen when you beat up one of the kids who were begging for you to stop

Even when the other two kids tried to stop you, you fought both of them too. You were still angry, fists balled up while you were breathing heavily, getting ready to throw another punch

He stopped you just in time, the kids ran away as he held onto you. You eventually stopped trying due to his string grip. “Sorry you had to see that. They were making fun of you.”

He put you down and made you face towards him. “That doesn’t matter, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

You replied back, “No. I'm okay. They didn't get the chance to kah a finger on me.”

He doesn't know where to be proud or concerned, in this case, he's both.

He dosent blame you, if someone made fun of you he’d practically do the same thing.

But you can get in trouble if you get caught, Jason dosen’t want you to partake in violence so he wouldn’t want you to do it again.

Michael Myers

Out of all the others, he’s the more proud one.

A very proud father, Michael likes violence, but he has his limits. In this case, it was deserved, even though Michael could care less about what some kid can say about him, or anyone else for that matter.

He could fightthe kid but that wouldn’t be fair for obvious reasons

He stood back and watched you best up those kids, this tells him that he's been teaching you well on fighting.

“And if you talk bad about my dad again, I swear on his life I’ll bury your body in different states!”

Okay... He didn't teach you to say that.

Once the kids left, he walked up to you and placed his hand on your hewd as his way if saying that he was proud of you.

But that didn’t stop your anger though. He guided you home with his hand on your head, walking in the shadows of the town.

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leclerced · 3 months

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Max is the type of guy to have a polaroid of his gfs titties in his wallet.

But just imagine his gf fighting for equal rights and carrying a polaroid of his titties in her wallet.

Or maybe in a locked he gave her and she always struggles to find excuses to not open it when people ask whats inside.

🫀

UGH!!!! this is all i want. i think a guy might have my titty polaroid in his wallet or smth but im never gonna ask what he did w them.

i can see them taking the pictures together, like they’re spring cleaning and she finds her old polaroid camera and a few packs of films and jokes about putting it to use. max would take it and start taking photos of the cats, and use up the rest of the film in the camera and pout when it stops shooting. probably think he broke it or something and start to feel bad until she takes it back and replaces the film. then she suggests taking photos of something else, and he’s like “uh, why? look how cute they are.” then follows the cats as they wander around the house, snapping more photos of them. she jokes, “i was thinking you could take pictures of my pussy but if you’d prefer those...” he whips around to face her, taking a blurry photo in the process because he was just about to take one of jimmy playing with a toy, and is like, “wait, you mean, you wanted to take nudes with this?” he’d immediately start stripping then ask her why she’s still dressed as he wraps his free hand around his cock, already half hard at the thought of what she’s suggesting. would have too much fun photographing each other and once all the film is gone, the camera is completely forgotten.

then after fucking, he goes through all the photos and picks out a titty photo and tucks it into his wallet after he checks with her that it’s okay. he’d hide it behind all of his other cards and such, in it’s own little pocket so he doesn’t accidentally pull it out with one of them and give someone a sneak peak at her tits.

she would definitely have it in a locket!! she has to go buy a printer so she can print the photo small enough, and she does it as a joke at first, but then never changes it. one day max asks her what she put in it and she shows him that one side is a picture of them, and the other is his tits. he’d think it’s so funny n cute and probably buy more lockets and fill them w funny photos instead of cute ones. or put a dick pic in one before he gifts it to her.

she would def lie and tell people the clasp is broken or something like that, or say it doesn’t have anything in it bc she doesn’t have a printer so it’s just empty! max giggling behind her bc its the dick pic necklace and he knows exactly why she can’t open it.

#ask #🫀anon #mv1

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gooeyringtown · 11 days

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Can you do a head canon on Barbie/Gloria in the same verse as the movie? Like they are a couple because OBVI, but with your interpretation on...

who wakes up first?

who is most protective?

who is quick to jealousy?

who is the big spoon?

yes absolutely!! i did quite a lot LMAO so i'm gonna put a little cut-off

*slight nsfw warning for some

who wakes up first? : gloria, usually. barbie is a HEAVYY sleeper and snores very softly and gloria thinks it's very cute.

who is most protective? : both. gloria primarily because barbie is new (at first) to the world and she knows how unnecessarily nasty some people can be. barbie is protective in the sense that she carefully watches how everybody speaks to and treats gloria, especially considering the fact that she knows how futile gloria can sometimes feel.

who is quick to jealousy? : both. but more-so barbie. she has big feelings and they're quick to get the best of her (gloria thinks it's hot)

who is the big spoon? : i love this one and i think barbie would be, even though she's the more gentle one. she loves the idea of being big and strong and protective over gloria, and gloria would adore it sm

who is more affectionate: barbie in public. gloria in private. (she's a huge softie for barbie and 100% always seeks her out for cuddles or a kiss on the cheek, or hand-holding, etc. especially after a day at work and EXTRA when barbie is being cute. which is always.)

who's most likely to apologize after an argument: gloria. i think they're both very rational, but barbie is a bit more stubborn and also an overthinker, so it can be tough to gather up her thoughts and feelings. by the time she wants to apologize, gloria already has.

who makes the first move and how?: both. but gloria starts it. she gets home from a really long, tiring day at work, remembering that sasha had mentioned a project she needed help on, and she's just exhausted. she walks into the house, though, to see barbie at the dining table helping sasha with said-project, nearly finished. dinner's also made on the stove. barbie beams at her and welcomes her home, giving her a big hug and gushing excitedly about how she and sasha worked so hard. sasha goes upstairs to put her stuff away, and barbie has pencil stains on her hand and face, her hair a little windswept, and she looks so simple and so perfect, and gloria says "kiss me." so barbie does.

who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?: gloria. she doesn't mean to be; she just has some of those days once in a while where everything can feel so difficult. she usually feels better with some alone time. barbie is very understanding of that and loves to set up gloria's home studio with some art supplies and candles and books just in case gloria wants to spend some time in there. she'll also make her some tea/coffee if gloria feels like it

who is the most romantic?: barbie. she is very silly at first as she gets the hang of it (she nearly gets arrested again for trespassing on private property to pick some of gloria's favorite flowers from a garden) but that woman is a LOVERBOY

who can’t keep their hands to themselves?: depends which way… if u mean generally touchy, barbie. if u mean in the saucy way, GLORIA.

who says ‘I love you’ first?: barbie. she says it very passively bc she thought it was obvious, and gloria cries. barbie is kind of like 🧍🏼‍♀️

what do they get up to on a night out?: i feel like they'd love to go to a pottery class where they make stuff for each other. or an arcade. but mainly i think they'd LOVE to go to one of those places where they give you a cake that's already made/baked and you just decorate it. they'd have so much fun and afterwards they'd probably stay up late at home, eating it in the kitchen and just talking for hours

who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?: barbie

who cried the most at graduation?: BARBIE LMAO. SHE WAS SOBBING.

who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law?: barbie bc she's like 'i've been there, girl.'

what do they like in bed?: barbie likes to be rough sometimes. she also has a thing for gloria whimpering/moaning right into her ear. little bit of a thing for size. and riding. gets super turned on when gloria gets off on her stomach. gloria likes a bit of dirty talk. queen of giving head. lovessss whispering against barbie's lips while she fingers her slowly. has a thing for marks/bruises, espeically leaving them. teasing/edging barbie is her favorite thing, to the point where barbie gets insanely frustrated (sometimes it results in her getting extra rough and flipping them over)

did any of their friends or family want them to get together?: yes. pretty much everybody. gloria's family thinks barbie is absolutely adorable and they could see how much happier gloria became with her around. sasha, ofc, is barbiegloria's biggest shipper but has to be cool about it

who felt romantic feelings first?: ok i think the obvious answer would be barbie, but i hc it as both. though gloria's were much more level and she was like "fuck." and internally panicked and tried to approach it reasonably, whereas barbie was like OH MY GODDDD IM IN LOVE 😭🥹🥹💘 SHE'S THE LOVE OF MY LIFEEEEEE

did either of them try to resist their feelings?: yes. gloria mainly because she feared the change would be too drastic for sasha and couldn't help but imagine if things didn't work out, how messy it could become

what would their lives be like if they had never met?: barbie would be that packaged box of perfection, but without substance and completely superficial. she would have never known imperfection and the joys of being human and the immeasurable beauty in all the mundane things like reading a book, trying a new food, hearing a pretty song. gloria would be lost to the feeling of those impossible standards and spend her life never being free. never feeling good enough. they truly do liberate one another

were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?: gloria was barbie's first everything. barbie was gloria's first love, and the only true one. also the one that outlived and outshined all the others

what’s their height difference? age difference?: gloria is 5'1 and barbie is 5'10 idc. barbie is like 34/35 and gloria is 37

who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?: gloria into barbie's ear, all the time. but once barbie starts doing it, she LOVESSS it. she's so cheeky. and gloria is always death staring her bc she knows damn well they can't do anything

what kind of nicknames do they call each other?: gloria calls barbie honey, mi amor, baby. barbie calls gloria love/my love, babe, and baby also.

who remembers the little things?: barbie mostly.

who’s the stricter parent?: gloria

who worries the most?: gloria. because barbie can be very not careful with some things (like she's still understanding the concept of fire being very hot)

who kills the bugs in the house?: barbie. but she feels bad about it later on and stays up thinking about it sometimes

how do they celebrate holidays?: with gloria's family!

who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?: barbieeeee. gloria can't resist that pout and sleepy face

Who’s the better cook?: gloria. her cooking skills are AMAZINGGGGG

who likes to dance?: gloria!! she loves dancing and is great at it omg. that woman can MOVE. she always makes barbie dance with her at family events or any parties where there's music and a dancefloor

bonus random hcs i have written down:

barbie is very athletic and plays beach volleyball and does karate. she works CRAZY hard to get her purple belt, all so she can let sasha have it because that's sasha's favorite color

barbie grows her own roses to make gloria a bouquet for mother's day

gloria teaches barbie how to swim. (barbie has to wear those little kid floaties)

barbie takes her youtube videos very seriously and will be up at like 1am watching a 45 minute video on some shit like how a gecko hatches or something. she'll bump gloria like 'babe look' even though gloria is asleep

they have a little thing they do where they get those paint-by-number sets and do them together. they're collecting them<33

sasha makes barbie do the fire noodle challenge (barbie is sick for like a day)

when barbie gets her first cut/scab, sasha gets her a band-aid and barbie tears up and is all like 'thank you so much sasha. it's beautiful' while petting the band-aid

sasha is like wtf

barbie learns about mood rings and thinks they're actually magical and is so excited to wear it

sasha is like 'i'm gonna tell her it's all based on temperature.' and gloria is all 'no you're not!!'

sasha is a d&d fiend on the dl and barbie asks her about it one day

they proceed to nerd out together

barbie becomes ENAMORED with dragons

barbie and gloria have a shared journal and they take turns writing in it every night before bed

they also have their own book club where they read a book together (barbie especially loves it bc gloria usually reads a chapter or two for them before bed while barbie lays hugging gloria's stomach and gloria plays with her hair.)

ok that's all for now... if i think of any more hcs, i'll make a separate post/pt.2 ☺️

thank you sm for the ask! i hope you like these!!🩷

#barbie 2023 #barbie #barbie x gloria #gloria x barbie #glorbie #barbiegloria #margot robbie #america ferrera #headcanons #glorbie headcanons #barbie movie #asks

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justkindalivin · 1 year

Text

Shotgun

a/n: AHHHHH hello!! I’m Lottie and I've been so horrifically obsessed with dealer Ellie that it's not even remotely okay. I had an idea for a fic and instead of requesting it from someone else, I decided why not write it myself! I’ve never posted any fics before bc I’m lowkey ass at writing so if any dialogue is awkward or the grammar is bad I'm so sorry :( Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy it, have a great day I love you ♡ part 2

I kinda modeled the reader after me subconsciously, so the reader is a bit shy and bi (sorry to my lesbian baddies I luv yall, its only one line). Also, I just made up a random roommate named Sam, very sorry if your name happens to be Sam.

Summary: After being dragged to a party by your roommate, you escape out to the porch for some air. Not realizing it was already occupied, you end up having a lot more fun at the party than you thought you would

warnings: language, modern!au, dealer!ellie, weed, shotgunning, collage!au, things get the tiniest bit spicy (only a tad)

wc: 1.6k

-------------------

The music pounded in your ears as you pushed past all the sweaty bodies in the middle of the room. Parties had never quite been your scene, but Sam had begged you to come with her and that girl does NOT take no for an answer

This all started with Sam bursting into your shared dorm, ripping your headphones out of your ears, and standing beside your desk with her hands on her hips. “Bitch, you never come out with me! It's like all you do is sit in the dorm all day, you gotta get out there!!” She excitedly screamed, pulling you to your closet to pick out what you should wear.

You and Sam had been randomly paired as roommates but quickly got close despite how different the two of you seemed to be. Sam was always out at parties being social and seemed to know absolutely everyone on campus. You on the other hand... well were almost the exact opposite. You always joked that you were like the crotchety old man of your floor who only left for food or class, and just wants all those damn kids to quiet down while you’re trying to sleep.

“Sigma Nu is throwing tonight, you HAVE to come with me. I’ll be lost without you please please please!”

Sam was, in fact, not lost without you. She had practically ditched you the minute some frat boy asked her to play pong with him, leaving you alone and painfully sober in a sea of drunk college kids. As much as you loved Sam, she always seemed to do this whenever you come out with her. She’d beg that it wouldn't be fun without you but would leave as soon as you got there and you’d be stuck on babysitting detail for her drunk ass for the rest of the night. After about the fifth push and second drunk couple not noticing you leaned up against the wall and making out basically on top of you, you decided to leave in search of some desperately needed air. Weaving through sweaty drunk people should be a fucking Olympic sport because holy shit- you barely escaped with your life. After going through the kitchen, you finally found your way to a sliding door, quickly getting it open and stepping out into the cool night air.

“Jesus christ why did I fucking come here,” you say under your breath, leaning against the porch railing and putting your head in your hands “And I can't even leave because I have to make sure Sam’s okay- god damn it”. Scrubbing your face with your hands, you look up at the sky and get lost in your own head until the sound of someone clearing their throat startles you.

You quickly whip around, hand on your chest, to look at the other person who has also been occupying the porch without your noticing. A girl with short auburn hair and beautiful green eyes stands leaning up against the house. Her face is dotted with freckles and she’s wearing a comfy-looking flannel over a plain white tee, one hand shoved into the pocket of her jeans and the other holding a joint between two fingers. She is, without a doubt, one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever seen. You’re so entranced by her that you barely even notice when she says something to you.

“oh...uhm- what?” you oh so eloquently reply, internally debating if you should throw yourself off the porch to make your escape from this awkward ass interaction. The girl smirks as her eyes scan you up and down- if you didn’t know any better you would think she was checking you out.

“I said are you good? No offense but you kinda seem like you're freaking the fuck out” She repeats, smirk still present on her face as she brings the joint up to take a drag from it, blowing the smoke in your direction.

You blush, embarrassed that someone had been witness to your mini breakdown. “Yeah, I’m good. It's just a lot, you know? I don’t go to parties too often.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you cringe internally. Don’t go to parties a lot? You seriously couldn't think of anything cooler to say? Way to embarrass yourself in front of the hottest chick you’ve ever met. Your downward spiral continues until the girl breaks the quiet with a chuckle

“I get that, frats aren’t really my thing either but I get good business here so... here I am”. You nod your head, looking back up at the sky. “I’m Ellie, by the way. What's your name gorgeous?”. Your face feels like it's on fire, your brain practically short-circuiting trying to process that this actual goddess just called you gorgeous. You quietly tell her your name and when you look back at her, she has a wide smile stretching across her face. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Holy shit this girl is going to be the death of you. You’re sure that your face is going to melt off from how hard you’ve been blushing, the ability to speak has left you altogether. You’ve had flings in the past, with both boys and girls, but no one has ever been so brazenly interested in you. You find yourself desperate to know more about her, maybe run your hands through her hair and cup her face as you lean in for a- WOAH. You’re goin wild right now, you need to cool down

“So um... what do you sell?” You ask, trying to change the topic and give yourself some time to chill out. Ellie looks at the joint in her hands, then back at you with raised eyebrows. “Right right, sorry stupid question” you huff while looking down, embarrassed yet again by your lack of rizz. Ellie lets out a full-on laugh, pushing herself off the house and making her way over to you.

“You ever smoked before, pretty girl?” she asks while leaning on the railing next to you, so close you can feel the heat radiating off of her. Looking up, you’re surprised to see that her face is so close to yours that your noses are practically touching.

“A few times, not a ton. I cough a lot though, so it's kinda embarrassing to do it with other people”. Ellie taps off the ash at the end of her joint, seemingly contemplating something before turning her attention back to you

“Well if you’re down to smoke, we can try a different way that maybe will help you cough less. That is, only if you want to”. You’re surprised by how quickly you accept her offer, asking her what she had in mind. Ellie moves from beside you to directly in front of you, planting her empty hand on your waist and bringing the joint she held in her other hand up to your face. “Okay, so it's called shotgunning. Just open your mouth after I take a hit, sound good?”. All you can do is nod, mesmerized as she brings the joint to her lips. The moon reflects off her soft skin, the end of the joint burning a deep orange as she inhales. After her hit, Ellie looks over at you and you do as she said.

Flicking away what little is left from her blunt, Ellie cups your face with her now empty hand and brings her mouth to yours. As she’s kissing you she blows the smoke into your mouth, but you can barely concentrate, too focused on the feeling of her lips on yours. After only a few seconds, Ellie pulls away but keeps her forehead pressed to yours and you blow the smoke in her face as you both giggle.

You reach up and brush away a bit of hair that had fallen to cover Ellie’s eyes, running your fingers down the side of her face until you are cupping her cheek as well. You look at each other for a beat before you both lean in, lips meeting again. Ellie caresses your cheek before her hand moves to join her other one on your waist, finding their way under your shirt and stroking the skin there. She tries to deepen the kiss, licking your bottom lip which you playfully deny. Suddenly, Ellie pulls away for a moment to lift you up onto the porch railing. Your legs fall open and Ellie steps between them, connecting her lips to your neck and kissing down the side to your collarbone. Letting out a breathy moan, you grip the hair at the base of Ellie's neck and throw your head back.

-SCHWOOP-

The noise startles you and you pull away from Ellie, much to her annoyance. Looking at the sliding glass door, you notice some obnoxious frat boy has thrown it open.

“Hey, you deal right? I need a pre-roll if you have em”. Talk about a fucking cock block. Ellie all but growls into your neck, whipping around ready to give this dude the verbal thrashing of his life when you stop her by placing your hand on her shoulder.

“It's okay, I need to find my roommate and get going anyway. But um... do you have your phone on you? Maybe I can give you my number and we can do this again sometime?”. Ellie smiles at that, pulling her phone out of her back pocket and handing it to you. Feeling bold, you give her one last kiss on the cheek before heading past the frat guy and back into the house.

You really hope she texts you.

----------

an: tf kinda noise does a sliding door make? Def not schwoop but thats all my brain could come up with lmao. so thats my first ever fic, my writing could use some work so i’m def open to any feedback! Stay super freaky, have great vagina, I LOVE YAAAA

#ellie williams x reader #the last of us part two #dealer!ellie #ellie williams #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams x female reader

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atlabeth · 7 months

Text

between colleagues - anthony lockwood

part 2

summary: besides, what's a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?

a/n: i have missed him!!! there is just something so fun about writing for l&co and anthony specifically i truly love their world and i love him!! this was originally going to be the entire thing in one fic but i decided to post this on its own and test the waters with you all because i am TIREd of writing long fics. free me from my prison. this is literally my third fake-dating fic bc i never get tired of the trope but lmk if you want to see more

wc: 3.1k

warning(s): fem!reader, mentions of: canon typical job stuff, a child dying (mentioned in passing. literally half a line), and a good ol fashioned breakdown. but this is almost completely fluff bc that's all in the background

You groaned as Lockwood pushed the door open, working through the knot in your shoulder while you all walked inside. You tossed your rapier into the umbrella stand, not even bothered by the clatter, and began unbuckling your belt.

Winter was the worst season for ghost hunting. As if it weren’t already freezing enough dealing with Visitors and their effects, your most recent job was almost fully outside. You considered it a miracle hypothermia didn’t get you before any sort of ghost-touch.

“What are you groaning about?” Lockwood asked, glancing back at you. “I think tonight went rather well.”

He’d removed his jacket, and his white undershirt was dirt-stained and damp with sweat. Though he looked unaffected as ever on the surface, the quickened rise and fall of his chest said, in his own way, he was just as exhausted as the rest of you. You raised an eyebrow, but Lucy beat you to the punch.

“You think every night goes well if we come back alive,” she said wryly.

“It’s not the best measurement,” George added. He tilted the iron charm over the door back into place then set his bag on the floor. “Tonight was rough, Lockwood. Even by your ridiculous terms.”

Lockwood looked at you. “Anything you care to add?”

You grimaced as you rubbed your shoulder. “I’m never breaking down a door for you like this again.”

You did feel a bit like an action hero in the moment, but you regretted it soon after. Even more so when it didn’t even matter in the scheme of things—the source ended up being buried by the locked shed, not in the shed itself. At least you were now last in the rotation of opening suspicious doors.

“You offered to,” Lockwood defended.

“Because you said you would handle all the supply calls for the next week,” you said dryly. “And it looks like that may need to happen soon.” You held up your belt—once packed with salt bombs and magnesium flares, you’d emptied it completely trying to save all your lives. It was a sad sight.

He frowned. “Even the flares?”

“Even the flares,” you said.

“I’m all out of them too,” George said. “Surprised we didn’t start a full-on forest fire in the backyard.”

“I thought those would last longer.” Lockwood’s frown deepened. “They were quite expensive.”

“At least we got paid a fair bit,” Lucy said. “And we did indeed get away with our lives.”

“Barely,” George grumbled, kicking off his boots. He tossed his rapier haphazardly to the side, not even bothering to deposit it into your umbrella stand, and dropped his belt on the ground, still boasting a whole two remaining salt bombs. Your lip curled at the trail of chaos. “I’m going to bed. No one bother me for at least fifteen hours.”

Lucy smiled, shaking her head as he walked off. “Dramatic, but he’s got the right idea. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“See you, Luce,” Lockwood said.

“I’ll be quiet when I come in,” you assured, and she gave an appreciative nod. Lucy dropped a stack of envelopes on the kitchen table before she went upstairs—it was her job to pick up the mail, and you were honestly surprised she remembered after all this.

“You’re not mad at me,” Lockwood said, glancing at you as he went over to pick up the mail, “are you?”

“No,” you sighed, and you flopped onto the couch, “just dramatic. More so than George tonight.”

He chuckled and leaned against the counter, making deft work of the envelopes as he sorted them into piles. One for the never-ending junkmail that graced your door, and four others for each of you. “Good. I can never handle you being mad at me.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. “You’re off the hook this time, so don’t worry.”

“And I appreciate your mercy immensely,” he said. Another glance over at you. “You look exhausted. Are you sure you don’t want to turn in?”

You shook your head. “Our post-job detox is the most important part of all this. I can hold out for another hour.”

It was hardly a detox, but it had grown to become a necessity for you and Lockwood, sitting together and talking through everything in the wee hours of the night.

One extremely tough case left you reeling harder than usual—children always got to you, and the girl’s death was particularly grisly—and apparently, Lockwood could tell.

It took a couple days of gentle prodding, but one night, after being completely out of it in the archives with him that day, you broke—completely. Full on sobbing. Wholly embarrassing to do so in front of your boss, especially when he, George, and Lucy didn’t seem half as affected by it all.

It turned out he was just better at covering it all up—Lockwood understood it all a lot better than you thought. He just sat with you in the living room and talked with you, talked you through it. There was a lot of crying, a fair bit of permanently swearing off ghost-hunting, and more than a bit of hatred against the entirety of the United Kingdom.

By the end of it, though, after you’d cried yourself into a headache, gone through a quarter of a box of tissues, and actually worked out your problems with Lockwood’s help, you felt far better.

Lockwood thereby forbade you from holding in your feelings until they burst, and so it became a routine—it was cheaper than therapy, and most therapists, save for the few former agents working in the field, couldn’t understand it anyways. You usually slumped on the couch, Lockwood usually leaning against the counter. Sometimes with tea, often with tears, always with slightly morbid jokes.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” Lockwood asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“It’ll heal,” you said. “It’s mostly just sore. I’ll stay away from my rapier for a few days, sleep on my other side for once, and everything’ll be fine.”

“Good.” The ruffling of paper stopped for a moment, and his voice was slightly sheepish when he spoke again. “Are you still up for that meeting with the Caldecotts tomorrow, then?”

You groaned and screwed your eyes shut. “Lockwood, it is three in the bloody morning. You scheduled the Caldecotts for eleven.”

“I didn’t know that this job would go on for so long!” he defended. “The last few have all wrapped up before midnight. It’s not my fault this Visitor was particularly elusive.”

“I am drenched in sweat, Lockwood,” you said. “Half of my coat is burnt from plasm and the other half is frozen solid. There is still dirt under my fingernails, my boots are covered in spiderwebs, and I haven’t slept in twenty-three hours. And you want me to be ready to deal with Lorena Caldecott, the most annoying woman I think I have ever met, in eight measly hours?”

“Yes,” he said brightly. That just got another groan out of you.

“They made you in a lab, Anthony Lockwood,” you mumbled. “That’s the only explanation for how you’re still going.”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll phone them first thing tomorrow morning—well, later this morning, I suppose—and see if I can push it back another day.”

“And if not, you’re doing this on your own,” you said, finally opening your eyes again to see him walking over. He handed you your stack of mail—hardly a stack, really, only consisting of four envelopes—and smiled, irritatingly pretty even with smudges of dirt on his face. There was a reason he got away with so much, and that smile was half of it.

Lockwood said your name cloyingly. “Come on. You know I do interviews best when we’re together. You keep me on track.”

“I knocked down a door for you, Lockwood!” you proclaimed. “Is that not enough to get me out of this?”

“I took the supply calls,” he said, “and I’m pushing back the meeting. We’re even now.”

“Fine,” you said, extremely grudgingly. “But you’re getting them to push it back at least until tomorrow, because once my head hits the pillow, I don’t think I’ll be up for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Promise,” he said with a nod.

You sighed, finally righting yourself so you could look at your mail, and glanced up at Lockwood as you picked them up. “You get anything interesting?”

He shook his head. “Unless you consider a letter from Fittes begging me to buy the newest edition of their manual interesting.”

You hummed and looked back down at yours. You slipped your finger under the seal and tore it open, chuckling a bit when you took it out.

“How about you?” Lockwood asked.

“25% off my next Dorothy Perkins purchase,” you said, holding the coupon up. “Very thrilling.”

“Incredibly so,” he nodded. “When’s the last time you even got something from there?”

You huffed a laugh as you worked open the next envelope. “I bought a dress for my cousin’s graduation last year. Haven’t worn it since.”

“So doubly thrilling,” he said.

You’d opened your mouth to shoot back, but instead you frowned as you pulled an embossed card out. You skimmed through it quickly enough but got the meaning all the same.

“Huh,” you said. “My cousin is getting married.”

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “Dorothy Perkins cousin?”

You shook your head, still frowning. “No. Maternal aunt’s son. Dorothy Perkins was paternal aunt’s son.”

“Ah,” he said dryly, “how could I have made such a mistake?”

You didn’t even have the energy to retort back as you stared at the letter. “I suppose I’ll need to pull out that dress again. It’s an invite.”

“Congratulations,” Lockwood said. “Are you going to need time off?”

“I don’t even know if I should go,” you mumbled, leaning your head against the side of the couch.

“Why wouldn’t you go?” he asked with a frown.

“Because I haven’t seen my family in a while,” you said, “and I haven’t seen this side of the family in an even longer while.”

Lockwood shrugged. “Then it’ll be a nice reunion.”

“Lockwood,” you said, “I’ve lied to them.”

“…Okay,” he said slowly. “About what?”

You winced. “They think I have a boyfriend.”

He still seemed lost. “Strange thing to lie about.”

“You don’t understand.” You sat up, putting the letter to the side. “My family’s from Liverpool, right? We’re all so busy that we never really have time to meet up, but I make it a point to call my mother a few times a month so she knows I’m still alive.”

Lockwood nodded. “Yeah, I know. You usually call her after every rough case.”

“Right. Because my mum hates my career,” you said. “I thought she was going to have a heart attack when I told her I’d scored my first job with Tendy’s. I thought she would actually pass away when I told her I quit Tendy’s for you.” You glanced at Lockwood. “She thinks you’re a lunatic, by the way.”

He shrugged. “Many do.”

You smiled and shook your head. “She hates that I’m an agent, but so long as I stay alive, she says she can deal with it. But she has a rule on our calls that I can’t talk about our jobs—says they give her nightmares. So instead, she talks about every facet of my personal life.”

Lockwood’s eyes finally flashed with understanding and he nodded. “Hence the boyfriend lie?”

“Hence the boyfriend lie,” you echoed. “She will not stop bothering me about it—apparently the dating life of her daughter is more important than anything else. So on our last call, I just lied and told her I had one to get her off of my back.”

Lockwood actually had the nerve to laugh. “And how did that work out for you?”

“It worked fine,” you said, “and it was going to continue to be fine. But then Will had to go out and get engaged, the dolt.”

“So just go on your own,” he suggested.

“I can’t show up alone,” you grumbled. “Not only would it be completely embarrassing, but the questions would start up all over again.”

“Then don’t go.”

“I can’t not go!” you exclaimed. “Will’s a lovely cousin.”

“You just called him a dolt,” Lockwood said.

“I call you a dolt all the time,” you said. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

Lockwood chuckled and shook his head, and that was when an idea came to you. There was a slight furrow in his brow when he glanced back at you.

“I don’t like that look.”

“Come to the wedding with me,” you said suddenly.

Lockwood’s expression sobered even further. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s the perfect solution!” you exclaimed, moving to the edge of the couch as you clasped your hands together.

“You want me to be your pretend boyfriend,” he deadpanned. When you nodded, he shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” you asked. “You’re quite possibly the best candidate for it all. We’re best friends, we know each other well— God, I’ve talked about you enough in general to my mum that she won’t even be surprised that it ended up being you.”

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose. “Won’t they look down on you dating your boss?”

“You’re hardly my boss,” you said.

“I pay your salary,” he said. “You live in my house. My name is on the door.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you said. “Besides, you owe me after tonight!”

He frowned. “We just agreed that we were even.”

“Well, I lied,” you said. “My shoulder is in excruciating pain from knocking that door down, and the only way for it to heal is for you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

He gave you a wry look and said your name. “Come on. This is an awful idea.”

“It’s a brilliant idea,” you said. “You get a chance to dress up and charm an entire family—you live for that sort of stuff, Lockwood. I finally get my family off my back with some actual proof and I actually get a break for once.”

You saw the uncertainty on his face and you huffed. “Don’t give me that look. This is the exact sort of plan you’d come up with and try to force on me if it meant we’d get a hand up.”

“I know,” he said grudgingly, “that’s why I don’t like it. It’s dangerous when you start learning my tricks.”

“Please, Lockwood,” you begged. “I’ll do all your chores for the rest of the month. I’ll shake Lorena Caldecott’s hand with a smile on my face.”

“That is tempting,” he said wryly. “I can never fold my dress shirts the way you do.”

“Wrinkle-free dress shirts,” you said with a gesture. “And— and, I will cash in my favor with Arif. Discounted doughnuts for the next three months.”

Lockwood’s eyes widened. “You’ve got favors with Arif?”

You shrugged. “I helped him out a couple times with ghost things.”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You really are something.”

“Discounted doughnuts, Lockwood,” you continued. “Discounted doughnuts and wrinkle-free shirts and my best behavior for the Caldecotts, no matter how sleep-deprived I am.”

“…This really means a lot to you,” Lockwood said after a moment, “doesn’t it.”

You nodded. “My family— my mum—will never lay off if I show up alone. If you’re on my arm, you talk a bit about yourself and compliment me a few times and charm them with literal ghost stories, then I’m off the hook for good.”

Lockwood pursed his lips, his arms folded across his chest as he thought it through.

“Please,” you said. “It’ll just be one night.”

After another moment, he let out a sigh almost as dramatic as your earlier ones, but his lips quirked up at the corners.

“Fine,” Lockwood said. “I’ll go with you.”

Your eyes widened. “You will?”

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. “It— it’ll be fine—you’re right. We’ve been living together for the past year and a half—we know each other well enough to sell it. And with half the agency going out for it, I can write off any hotels or dinners as business expenses.”

That got a laugh out of you too, and you shook your head. “You are my savior, Lockwood. Truly.”

“Just means we’re back in your court on favors,” he joked. “And you know what? I think this could actually be fun.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “Besides,” Lockwood smiled wryly at you as he stood up from his spot against the counter, “what’s a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?”

You huffed a laugh and finally managed to pull yourself back up into a sitting position. You cracked your neck and rubbed your shoulder, grimacing a bit at the soreness but thankful that it wasn’t worse. “Can we work out the rest of the details later? I’m exhausted, and I know you’ve got to be running on fumes.”

His smile softened and he nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Later today, I suppose.” He frowned as he looked at the clock. “God. It really is late.”

You hummed in agreement as you unlaced your boots, trying your best to avoid the spiderwebs when you took them off. That was your number one question about the Problem—why the hell did spiders have to gravitate towards ghosts?

“Get some sleep, Lockwood,” you said, setting your boots with everyone else’s shoes. That mess was an issue for another day. “You’ve got to be refreshed—those supply calls aren’t going to make themselves.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t completely bite back his smile. “Best behavior for the Caldecotts, love.”

“And nothing less!” you exclaimed without turning around, pointing in the air as you continued up the stairs. You heard Lockwood laugh behind you, and the sound brought out a smile of your own.

It was now nearly four in the bloody morning. Your shoulder still ached, your coat was beyond repair, and you would have to scrub beneath your nails for at least ten minutes before you settled in tonight. But somehow, Lockwood still had you smiling and feeling better about the whole experience.

For god’s sake, you fought ghosts on a daily basis. You’d been training with a rapier since the tender age of eight. Your skills rivaled some of Fittes’ and Rotwell’s best—who cared what your family had to say about you?

You were right. This wedding would be a piece of cake with Anthony Lockwood by your side.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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astrobei · 1 year

Note

hey :) so i was wondering if you could incorporate 3, 12 and 50 into a single one shot ? bc that would be Amazing but if you don't want you you can just pick whichever haha

challenge accepted !! this was super fun to write thank you !! :^)

3, 12, and 50 for touch prompts: hiding face in neck + pushing a strand of hair behind their ear + putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

If you’d asked Mike, a few years ago, how he thought he’d end up dying, he’d have a few different guesses. Clawed to death by monsters, maybe, was up at the top of his list for a while there. Shot to death by government agents also made the top five more than once, which was kind of worrying. And it was probably very concerning that getting stomped on, impaled, or eaten by an alien supermonster hivemind was on there at all.

Suffice it to say that he didn’t die in any of those ways, since Mike is currently, in the present moment, alive. But probably not for long. He’s seen some shit, and he hasn’t even graduated college, and maybe it’s a little bit pathetic that after all of that– the monsters and the Russians and the end of the world– that this is how he really dies: backed up against the wall at some completely questionable house party, being flirted with by Will Byers.

At least, that’s what Mike thinks is going on here. If he’s being totally honest, he doesn’t have all that much experience in the flirting department, considering that the one person he’d ever dated hadn’t done much flirting and the one person he had maybe wanted to flirt with hadn’t–

Well, it doesn’t matter. Said person is doing it now, and for all of Mike’s past reminiscence and speculation on the topic, he didn’t think it would be happening like this.

“You look nice tonight,” Will is saying, barely audible over the low thrum of music in the background. They’re not even somewhere particularly loud– the hallway is a blessed reprieve from the chaos of whatever is happening in the living room, but Will’s voice has dropped into something low and intentional. He smiles. “You should wear more green.”

Oh, god. Mike is going to die.

“Uh. Really?” he says, in what’s definitely not a squeak. It comes out assured and confident and–

Oh, who is he kidding? Will’s smile grows, surely delighted at the unfortunate crack in Mike’s voice. He leans in a bit closer, and it’s barely a few inches, but he might as well have just pushed Mike up against the wall and–

“Yeah,” Will whispers, so soft that Mike has to lean in another inch to hear him. He reaches a hand out and runs a thumb along the hem of Mike’s sweater, the side of his wrist brushing softly against Mike’s collarbone. Mike’s heart stops dead, still and unmoving and seized up, right there in his chest cavity. “It’s definitely your color.”

“Oh,” Mike breathes, and yeah.

So Will might be flirting with him, is the bottom line here, and the issue isn’t so much that it’s unwelcome– the opposite, in fact. Mike feels a little bit like if he weren’t caged in by Will’s arm on one side of his chest and the adjacent wall on the other, then his soul might be just flying right out of his body altogether. It feels like maybe it’s already halfway there, because Will’s gaze is steady, eyes sparkling with amusement even in the dim light of the hallway, and wow, are his hands shaking?

For his own sake, he hopes not.

And the issue isn’t that it’s unwelcome, but more so that in all his years of existence and all the crazy shit he’s seen, somehow, being flirted with by Will Byers was lower on the list of things Mike thought might happen to him someday than interdimensional portals or his telekinetically gifted ex-girlfriend.

“You look nice too,” Mike gets out, in a surprisingly even voice. Will does look nice, so this isn’t a difficult sentiment to portray by any means. He’s swapped out one of his usual sweaters, big and worn comfortably around the edges and all down the seams, for something a little more fitted. It’s a soft cream color, and Mike doesn’t know where Will got this, because he’s been shopping at the same stores the entire time since they moved here for school and none of them carry clothes like this. Mature, a little grown up, and really, really attractive.

Will lets out a small, pleased noise. “Yeah?”

“How many drinks have you had?” Mike peers suspiciously down at him, because it’s not like Will is an idiot, per se, or super uptight about these sorts of things, but he’s not usually this– this bold. If Mike is going to be blunt about it, Will has never been this bold before and maybe it’s about time, but that doesn’t mean Mike is any more ready for it.

Not that he’s complaining. Oh, god.

“One,” Will grins. “Why? How many have you had?”

Christ. Mike swallows, and says, “Like, half. It was nasty so I just– um. Left it there. Heads up, by the way, don’t drink the jungle juice.”

“Noted,” Will laughs. It does something to Mike’s stomach, watching the way his shoulders relax, like he’s comfortable and at ease here, standing in front of Mike all up close and personal in a dark corner of a dark hallway with– oh, god– no one around.

“Yeah,” Mike says, kind of lamely, and notices belatedly that his gaze has settled somewhere around the general vicinity of Will’s mouth sometime in the last forty seconds or so. Maybe longer, if he’s being totally honest, but who’s counting, right?

(Mike. Mike is counting.)

“So anyway,” Will continues, without missing a beat. “You look really good in green. I don’t know why you never wear colors.”

“It’s not on purpose,” Mike insists, even though it kind of is, because it’s a lot harder to accidentally look like an idiot if all of your clothes match by default. “I don’t know, I just– I don’t have a reason to?”

“Okay, well,” Will starts, and then he moves forward until their chests are almost flush against each other, and Mike is seriously, seriously backed into a corner, even more than he was before. Both metaphorically and extremely literally. “It looks nice with your hair,” Will murmurs, and reaches a hand up to tug lightly at a strand falling loose around Mike’s face.

Will smells really nice, actually, like the good cologne he wears on special occasions, and Mike doesn’t know why he dressed up so nice to go to a party where you have to scoop your drinks out of a bowl with a red plastic cup, but hey. Again, he’s not complaining.

“My– my hair?” Mike asks faintly, because it’s just his hair, and he hasn’t ever given it much thought before now, because it’s only hair. Black and just long enough to land on this side of inconvenient, but suddenly Will has one hand in it and it’s not just hair anymore, but maybe the best thing to ever happen to him.

Will nods. He looks a little pink, which is quite possibly the most endearing thing Mike has ever seen, and it’s also more of a confidence booster than it probably should be, that Will hasn’t turned into a total smooth-talking Casanova out of literally nowhere. That maybe he’s losing his shit just as much as Mike is right now.

“Yeah,” Will says, and yeah, his voice catches just a little bit on the single syllable, and Mike bites back a pleased smile. “It looks really good with your hair,” he says again, then tucks the loose strand carefully behind Mike’s ear. “So that’s one reason.”

“I hardly think that’s good enough reason to redo my entire wardrobe,” Mike says, egged on just a little bit by the way Will is definitely turning more pink by the second.

“It brings out your eyes too,” Will murmurs, looking steadily up at him. It’s hard to tell exactly what he’s thinking– half his face is drowned out in shadow and the proximity is rendering Mike kind of useless altogether– but Mike thinks maybe he has a guess.

He blinks. “My eyes?”

“Mhm.” Will strokes the pad of one thumb over the skin there, just over his cheekbone. Mike instantly forgets how to breathe. Christ. “They’re pretty.”

“I– are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Stone-cold sober,” Will assures him. “Why? Who’s asking?”

Me, Mike thinks, me, me, me. What he says is, “Um. Someone.”

Will raises an eyebrow, but he keeps his hand right where it is– resting on Mike’s cheek, thumb under his eye, and oh, god. Mike is going to die.

“Someone?”

“You don’t know him?” Mike tries.

“Shame,” Will says noncommittally, and it sounds like he might be on the verge of laughing again. He steps back, the vacuum-seal proximity between their bodies vanishing in an instant as the air of the room rushes in all at once– stifling, stuffy, a little warm and sweaty and immediately, it’s like the noise in the place has been cranked up to ten.

Was it this loud in here all along?

Mike is going to scream. He’s going to die, right here in the hallway, and then he’s going to scream some more. “Where are you going?” he asks, and it comes out a bit petulant and a bit needy and way, way too thrown off-guard for his liking, but he can’t find it in himself to care. The lingering warmth of Will’s palm against his cheek is something he’s already missing like it’s a physical thing.

“Who’s asking?” Will says again, and dear god, if Mike had known before what it would have been like to be flirted with Will Byers, he would have, like, grabbed a couple witnesses and signed off an early copy of his last will and testament, bequeathed his meager belongings to whomever they may concern, then laid himself down to die in peace.

“Me,” Mike blurts out this time, taking a step forward from the wall and grabbing Will’s wrist. “I’m asking because I think you shouldn’t go and you should just stay here with me and– and flirt with me some more, because, um. That was nice, and I liked that, even if I thought I was going to die for a minute there, and if you go then– um. You can’t flirt with me anymore?”

Will smiles for real this time, wide and shocked and pleased. “Yeah?” And it’s a little shy when he says it, like maybe he didn’t actually expect this to go anywhere, like he didn’t expect Mike to grow a fucking pair and stop melting into the floor long enough to reciprocate.

“Yeah,” Mike whispers, and he’s just started to pull Will back towards him, Will already stumbling a little with the motion, when he hears a voice from around the doorframe they’re currently maybe ten feet away from.

“Mike? Will?”

“Shit,” Will mutters, eyes wide. “What the hell is Max doing here? I thought she was upstairs.”

Mike opens his mouth to answer when a second voice responds, “I swear I saw them go through here,” and it might be Dustin and it might be Lucas but all that’s really important is that whoever it is is close, and Mike doesn’t know if he has the cardiac strength in him to go through all of this again later, and all of his brainpower is currently being used to not pass out on the spot, and–

Lucky for him, Will has his shit marginally more together. “Here,” he’s saying, then there are fingers wrapping around Mike’s forearm and before he can fully process what’s happening, he’s being dragged in the opposite direction. Will throws open a door, then shoves Mike inside.

Mike wrinkles his nose. “It smells like feet in here,” he says, and he can’t see Will’s face because it’s pitch black in– wherever they are– but he’s willing to bet real money that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Coat closet,” Will says simply, “now shut up.”

Okay, yeah, makes sense. There’s something heavy and soft brushing up against Mike’s side, and he takes a couple steps backwards until he can feel the wall behind him. God, okay. This is fine. This is fine. This is–

“You know,” Mike says, as if this will distract him from his unnecessarily sweaty palms, “you didn’t have to ambush–”

Quick as lightning, Will claps a hand over Mike’s mouth. “If you want to kiss me,” Will hisses, and, okay, he’s pressed up against Mike again, which is fine, it’s great, actually– “I’m going to need you to shut up.”

The footsteps come closer. Mike holds his breath. He thinks maybe Will is too because he can’t hear him breathe, and he’s gone tense and still where he’s pressed up against Mike. A voice that’s definitely Dustin’s is grumbling, “Man, if I find them and the taco place down the street is already closed, I’m going to kill him.”

Mike bites back a laugh. The taco place closed twenty minutes ago, which he knows, because he’d been on his way to find Dustin when he’d– when he’d run into Will in the hallway.

Oh, god.

“Are they gone?” Will whispers, as if his hand is not currently over Mike’s mouth. He clears his throat like hello, and Will drops his hand. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“Who said I wanted to kiss you,” Mike says hoarsely, and Will’s hand pauses somewhere between his collarbone and sternum.

“Well,” he hears Will say, still entirely invisible in the dark save for a few dots of faint light coming in through the slats in the door. “You don’t have to kiss me. If you don’t want to.”

For the first time all evening, Will sounds a little hesitant. No, Mike thinks. He can’t have that. He shakes his head, even though Will can’t see him. “Let’s not be too hasty here, okay, I didn’t say that.”

A pause. “Yeah?” Will says, a little shy, almost. “You want to kiss me?”

Screw it.

“I do,” Mike says, as earnestly as he can find in himself to muster up, and he hears Will breathe in sharply somewhere in front of him. “I really, really want to–”

To Will’s credit, kissing in the dark probably wouldn’t work out for anybody. Mike is a few inches taller and the angle is a bit off, and it’s pretty impressive, if he’s being honest, that Will’s mouth lands mostly on his. Which should also not be rendering Mike as totally speechless as it is– being kissed on the corner of his lips in an awkward, clumsily endearing sort of way– but Will has always surprised him. “Shit,” Will says, pulling back slightly, “sorry, I was trying to guess where you were, and I–”

“It’s cool,” Mike hears himself say, and he didn’t mean to say it, but it seems that his brain has sort of kicked itself into autopilot mode, because he’s reaching out before he can really think about what he’s doing. His hand brushes Will’s shoulder, and he moves it up against the side of his neck, and says, hesitating, “Here– let’s try this.”

“Okay,” Will says softly, not even a whisper with how quiet it comes out. Mike drags a hand into Will’s hair, brings the other one to cup his cheek, and slowly, slowly moves forward.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Mike murmurs, tracing a thumb over the curve of Will’s lower lip, grounding himself. “Um. Just so you know that I’m, like, coming in.”

“Okay,” Will says again, and then Mike kisses him.

It’s instantly better this time– so much better, Mike thinks, immediately going lightheaded with the sensation of it. It’s like every other sense is dialed up to eleven in the dark– Will’s hair soft against his hand, the scent of his cologne, the faint taste of orange soda on his lips. The soft, startled noise Will makes in the back of his throat, cut off like it escaped him before he could stop himself, and that thought is enough to make Mike’s stomach swoop in a dizzying sort of way, that Will really wanted to kiss him so badly that he just couldn’t help himself, that maybe he thought about it in all the same ways Mike had. That maybe he came up with a hundred and one ways it might happen and maybe this was a possibility, in Will’s mind– a coat closet in the dark, barely one drink in.

“I can’t see you,” Will says, pulling back so that their lips are just barely brushing against each other. He’s got his hands on either side of Mike’s neck, like he’s anchoring himself lest he drift away entirely in the dark.

Mike lowers his hands, pulls Will in by the waist– the solid planes of his back, the soft fabric of this sweater, this goddamn sweater– and says, “You’re the one that kissed me in the dark, you idiot.”

Will makes a small noise of affront. “You’re the one that asked me to,” he says, a little smugly, which technically isn’t the most true statement, but Mike supposes that he had kind of set himself up to be kissed, so maybe he should let this one slide. And then Will runs a thumb along to his chin, tilts his face down, slowly, slowly, and kisses him again– and Mike can’t remember what exactly it was he was protesting.

Maybe Will had been onto something, because Mike is pretty chuffed about not being able to actually see the person he’s kissing, especially when that person is Will, who Mike spent a disproportionate amount of time wanting to look at even before this whole thing went down, but this is pretty nice for now, he thinks, as Will presses him a little more firmly into the wall. And that’s also nice, because Mike thinks he might be dying, and the solid parallel weights of the wall behind him and Will in front of him might be the only thing keeping him from keeling over entirely.

“Okay,” Mike says, pulling back, which is nowhere close to his top ten most intelligent moments of all time. Or even twenty, maybe. “You–”

The rest of the sentence gets lost to the sands of time, because the door is flying open so fast that Will flinches, and Mike tightens his grip around his waist on instinct. “What–”

“Oh,” Max Mayfield is saying, arms crossed. “This is where you two disappeared to.”

Mike closes his eyes, and prays to whichever higher power might be listening for a rapid, painless death.

Nothing happens. Figures.

“Come on, man,” he hears Dustin say, “we were looking for you guys!”

“We know,” Mike says, and then immediately wants to sink through the floor and disappear at the way his voice cracks, just a little. It’s barely noticeable, really, but his friends are like sharks in blood-infested waters. Lucas’ smug grin grows so wide that Mike considers just leaning over and smacking it off his face.

“Oh,” he says, far too gleefully for Mike’s liking, “so is this what you meant by I’m going to go look for Dustin, Mike?”

“Didn’t realize I took up residence near Will’s tonsils,” Dustin grumbles.

Will groans, dropping his head to Mike’s shoulder. “Never talk about my tonsils again,” he mumbles against Mike’s collarbone, but he’s smiling. Mike can tell, even if he can’t see him.

“Not even if they’re inflamed?”

Will doesn’t pull away, just shakes his head and tightens his arms where they’re wrapped around Mike’s neck. Despite himself, despite the way his face feels about a million degrees warm right now, Mike smiles. “No,” Will says simply. “All of you go away.”

“Yeah, I bet you want us to,” Max says, “but I’m serious. We gotta go. Someone just threw up on the couch and it’s nasty in there.”

Mike wrinkles his nose. “Way to kill the mood.”

“Mission accomplished,” Max says, and wiggles her car keys in the air. “I’m leaving in five, with or without you.”

“I don’t want to stay here with the puke sofa,” Mike admits, pulling away with no small amount of reluctance. “So we should probably–”

“Yeah,” Will agrees, pressing a kiss to Mike’s cheek. “Now come on. I want to be able to see you when I kiss you this time.”

It’s a good thing the hallway is still dark, because Mike goes very, very red.

#oh this was so fun #tension my beloved #thank u for this prompt i did giggle like a maniac the entire time i wrote it #the world needs more flirty confident will byers i think #who cares if this is ooc it's MY canon !!!#let mike wheeler be charmed and flustered!!!!#let him be wooed and reduced to a blushing mess!!!!#it's what he deserves!!#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fic #fun sized fics

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lewmagoo · 1 year

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little lambs and big, bad cowboys | rhett abbott

description: in which you find yourself entirely at his mercy

warnings: STRICTLY 18+, consensual non-consent, corruption kink, kind of predator/prey, fingering, unprotected piv sex, choking, overstimulation, daddy kink, light bondage, squirting, size kink, creampie, subspace, aftercare bc it's important, i think that's everything lol

pairing: rhett abbott x wife!reader (fem pronouns used)

notes: this was so much fun to write. i haven't written much cnc so bear with me here. if you can't handle this sort of thing, don't feel obligated to read! be considerate of your own limits and well-being first and foremost

Your hands were trembling.

The energy thrumming through you had you on edge, buzzing with excitement. You kept glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until closing time.

When the clock struck 5, you would close your quaint little bookshop and eagerly await your husband’s arrival. Except, he was not your husband in this scenario. No, he was simply Rhett Abbott to you, a man whom you’d only encountered a few times.

Together, you had planned out the entire situation. He would walk into your shop right at closing time, under the pretense of finding a specific book. Innocent enough, but what would follow was far from innocent. In fact, it was utterly filthy, and just the thought of it made you clench your thighs together beneath the flowy sundress you wore.

It was his favorite dress of yours, which was specifically why you’d donned it that day. The hem brushed loosely against your mid-thigh, and the neckline plunged only just so, enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of your chest. Modest enough that no one else would really bat an eye, but Rhett would be drawn to it like a fly to honey.

It was ironic, really. In this scenario, you were behaving like the one he’d lured into his sticky, sweet trap, when in reality, it was you who had him wrapped around your finger, to the point where he would willingly try something like this.

You had discussed it in depth before this moment. It was not something you took lightly. You needed Rhett to be on the same page as you, and you took the time to set up very clear boundaries. You could stop at any time. All that needed to be uttered was a single safe word from either of you and the scene would be over instantaneously.

Rhett’s willingness to participate in this stemmed from his deep trust in you, and yours in him. You both knew you would never do anything to hurt the other, at least not without explicit consent. That was why it was so easy for him to agree to this. He’d never do such a thing with anyone else. Only you, because you made him feel comfortable enough to express his desires and kinks without fear of judgment.

He made you feel the same, which was why you’d brought it up to him in the first place. And that brought you to the present moment, where you excitedly awaited his arrival through the front door. Your eyes continuously flickered to the clock on the wall, ticking away. Had time started passing slower than normal? It sure felt like it.

You busied yourself with monotonous tasks. Wiping down the counter. Clearing out the cash register for the night. Tidying up the book display shelves. And finally, at 5:01 p.m., Rhett Abbott walked through the door of your bookshop.

You caught his gaze, and he offered you one of those crooked smiles of his that made you weak in the knees. Out of respect, he took his hat off of his head. “Evenin’, miss. Just need to pick up a book.”

“I-I’m afraid we’re closed, Mister Abbott,” you stammered, already slipping into the part of the timid church mouse you’d pledged to play.

“Oh I ain’t gon’ be more than a few minutes, I promise. I would’ve come earlier but I was busy.”

“Okay. Just please make it quick, I really should be getting home soon.”

He raised a brow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why? Your daddy have you on a curfew?”

“Something like that,” came your whisper.

He gave a single nod, and turned to peruse down the aisles. But you didn’t miss the way he turned and locked the door as he did. It made your heart flip in your chest, and your breath catch in your throat.

While he searched for whatever book he was looking for, you made your way back to the counter, clasping your hands together when you realized how much they shook. You felt silly, being as giddy as a schoolgirl, but you couldn’t help it. That was the effect Rhett had on you. Always had been.

A few moments later, he appeared at the counter, and his presence made you jump, because you hadn’t even heard him come up.

“Oh!” You exclaimed. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No ma’am, I didn’t.”

“Do you know the title or author? I could always look it up for you.”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I’m lookin’ for the Encyclopedia of Knots and Ropework.”

Of course he was. Even outside of this roleplay, it was a fitting book for him to be interested in. He was always trying to improve his rope techniques, not only because it was useful for day-to-day, but also because it was useful in the confines of your bedroom.

He held your gaze, his eyes intense and sharp. Had they gotten even bluer, somehow? You didn’t miss how those same eyes shamelessly flickered down to glance at your chest. They widened slightly when he realized what necklace you were wearing. Delicate gold, words small enough that one might not realize what they said unless they looked closely. Daddy’s Girl.

Rhett had gotten it for you as a joke, because you called him daddy within your dynamic. But it had quickly become a turn-on for both of you whenever you wore it. Like now, for instance. He swallowed as his eyes shifted back up to yours. You didn’t miss the bob of his Adam’s apple as he did so.

“Actually, I think I have that book in the back,” you managed to speak up. You were warm with need for him already and you’d barely even begun. “If you’ll just wait right here.”

You turned on your heel, stepping into the back storage room to search for his requested book. Although you’d instructed him to wait outside the room, he followed you anyway, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you.

You knew he was there, so you purposely moved so your dress rode up, exposing your bare ass beneath it. Rhett gritted his teath at the sight, unable to tear his eyes away. When you bent down again, he caught a glimpse of your pussy, and he couldn’t bite back the groan that rumbled in his chest.

You gasped, whirling around. “M-Mister Abbott, you shouldn’t be back here,” you squeaked.

He smirked, the blue of his eyes darker now. “Sorry, I got impatient. But I couldn’t help but admire how pretty you look. All sweet an’ innocent, like a little lamb.”

“Oh…th-thank you?”

Rhett stepped forward, boots heavy on the floor. “Mm,” he hummed. Another step closer. Instinctively, you stepped back, but he kept coming, until your back hit one of the bookshelves.

You gasped, eyes widening as you reached back and touched the cool wood. “Mister Abbott, sir, what are you doing?” But you knew full well what he was doing.

“Admirin’ you up close.” He reached a hand up, running his fingers over the cool metal of your necklace. “This little necklace says you’re daddy’s girl. That what you are? You his innocent little girl?”

You shuddered as he nudged a thigh between your legs. “Yes sir.”

“Huh,” he remarked, hand moving to play with the strap of your dress. “It’d be a shame if someone were to come along and ruin his pretty little girl. There’s a lot of bad men out there, y’know.” And I’m one of them.

“I-I don’t think—”

“Shh,” he shushed, pushing his jean-clad thigh further against you. You could feel the rough denim against your cunt. Surely your pooling desire would soak through the fabric.

The hand that had been playing with your necklace wandered down, skilled fingers toying with the little bow at the neckline of your dress. You watched, chest heaving slightly as he pulled the tie, and the top part of your dress came down, revealing your breasts.

You whimpered, but quickly remembered you were meant to remain in character, so you lifted your arm to cover your chest. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” you whispered.

A positively Cheshire grin spread across his face, and you felt very much like a poor, innocent mouse in the clutches of a cat who liked to play with his food before devouring it. “Why not? Nobody’s going to walk in. I locked the front door. So we can do anythin’ you want, sugar.”

Warm fingers brushed over hardening nipples, and you took in a breath, head falling back against the shelf behind you. “N-no one’s ever touched me there before,” came your whimpered confession.

Rhett made a sound deep in his throat, and he began to lightly pinch and tug at those buds. In the meantime, your hips involuntarily moved against his thigh. He could feel your arousal soaking through, and he growled.

He was going to corrupt you, this sweet, unassuming lamb that trembled under his touch.

“I can touch you other places, too,” he lulled, his face so close to yours your noses brushed. A large hand fell from your chest, soon resting over your stomach. Then, he trailed further down, until his fingers curled around the hem of your dress and he lifted it up to reveal your nakedness underneath.

You let out a gasp of surprise and pulled the fabric from his hands. “Mister Abbott!” You scolded.

“Just one little peek, darlin’. It won’t hurt anything.”

But when he lifted your dress again, you were emboldened, and again, you snatched it out of his grasp. He raised a brow at that, and you jutted your chin out in defiance.

“Stupid girl.” Then, he took both of your arms in his hold and forced you to turn, your back pressed to his chest as he wrestled you down across the desk beside you. You put up a bit of a fight, but certainly not enough to hurt him or slow him down in any way. He handled you in a great feat of strength, and it sent a jolt of desire through you.

Once he had you pressed into the oak, he yanked your dress up to expose your bare ass. You tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he pressed his weight into you with a grunt. “Hold fuckin’ still.”

“But sir, I-”

Then, he reached around, clamping his hand over your mouth. “Shut your mouth ‘fore I shut it for you.”

Once he was satisfied with your silence, he stepped back, hands gripping your ass so he could fully admire your glistening pussy. His fingers parted your folds, and he hummed, enjoying the view. “S’ pretty. Nobody’s ever touched you like this before, have they?”

“N-no sir. You shouldn’t be touching me there, either.”

Suddenly, he slotted his middle finger into you, and you gasped. Moments later, he added his ring finger to the mix, long digits easily locating that spot inside you that made stars glimmer behind your eyelids.

You lost yourself for a moment, moaning lowly at the feeling. He knew exactly how to move those fingers to draw the most salacious sounds from you.

But you remembered you were supposed to be in character. So you reacted like the damsel in distress you were playing. “Mister Abbott, please. This isn’t right. If my daddy finds out about this, he’ll—”

“He’ll what, sweetheart? He’ll beat me to death?” He leaned in close, mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “You ain’t escaping me, lamb. ‘M gonna have my way with you whether you like it or not.”

His words sent you clenching around his fingers, and he hummed in satisfaction, wicked smile tugging at his mouth. “You like the thought of that, don’t ya? The big, bad cowboy takin’ what he wants?”

“No sir!” You cried. But you did. You loved the idea. Loved that Rhett had agreed to do this with you.

“The way your pussy’s squeezin’ my fingers tells me otherwise.” He fucked those same fingers into you harder, faster. The sound of your growing wetness was obscene, and it went straight to his cock.

When you squirmed again, he pressed his weight into you, inhibiting you from moving, from escaping. The fact that you couldn’t see what he was doing behind you made it all the more erotic. You didn’t know what to expect and it sent a thrill through you.

But he paused for a moment, and suddenly, a warm, gentle hand was pressed against your spine. “Color?” He asked, in a tone that could only be described as your Rhett.

“Green,” you sighed. His fingers were still inside you and you were in heaven.

A soft kiss to your shoulder blade, and then it was back to business. Those fingers inside you curled upwards, and you whined, shivering. It was pathetic, really, the way you were literally dripping around those thick digits.

All too soon, he slipped them out of you, and all at once, those same fingers were tapping at your lips. “Clean up your mess,” he gritted.

“No,” you refused, turning your head away.

He grunted, hauling you up and turning you around. With his clean hand, he gripped your jaw. “I said, clean up your fuckin’ mess, girl.” You let him wrench your jaw open, and he shoved his glistening fingers past your lips, allowing you to taste yourself.

Once he was satisfied, he removed his fingers from your mouth, proceeding to smear the mix of your cum and spit all over your lips. The gesture almost made you come right then and there.

Then he kissed you, hand holding the back of your neck, blunt fingernails digging into your skin. When you parted, he spoke again. “Lay down on the desk.”

You almost obeyed immediately, but a positively delicious thought came to mind. Without warning, you dropped your weight quickly, and it surprised him enough to loosen his grasp on you as you went down. As soon as he did, you scrambled to your feet and rushed out of the room.

Rhett grunted in surprise, and his heavy footfalls could be heard behind you. But you were faster than he was, and you ran up and down a few aisles of bookshelves until you stopped in the middle of one, dead silent as you listened for him. But suddenly, the surrounding area was dead silent, save for your rushed breathing.

It gave you pause. Had he stopped following you?

Just as you thought you were safe, the creaking of a floorboard got your attention, and you whirled around, just in time to see your cowboy stalking toward you.

You tried to slip away, but he already had you, hand shooting out to catch you. He was much, much stronger, thanks to upper body strength that was unmatched. Blame it on riding all those bulls and hauling heavy bales of hay.

“No!” You cried as he wrestled you down to the hardwood. You struggled in his hold and he let out a growl.

The clink of his belt buckle drew your attention, and he quickly pulled it from its loops, binding your wrists together behind your back. “Woulda brought my fuckin’ rope if I knew you were gon’ try to get away.” He cinched the belt and made sure it would hold. But a moment later, his tone softened. “That ain’t too tight, is it?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just right.”

So, back into character he slipped.

You heard the telltale sign of him unzipping his jeans, shoving the rough denim down his thighs. Work roughened fingers were at your slick opening again, and when they brushed over your clit, you jumped.

“Feels good, huh?”

“No.” Yes.

“Keep lyin’ to me, girl. I’ll have you creaming all over my cock soon enough.”

You couldn’t help but moan at his words, pushing your ass up toward him. Behind you, he shoved his jeans down far enough to free his hardness, stroking it firmly in his hand before he shoved your legs apart and pulled your hips back.

“I don’t know if it’ll e’en fit inside you. Wonder if you’ll be able to take the whole thing.”

The plush, pink head was dragged through your dripping wetness, and you whined at the feeling of it catching on your entrance but never quite slipping inside.

Feebly, you continued your facade, though you were moments away from throwing in the towel and begging your husband to fuck you. “W-we can’t,” you whimpered. “Please, Mister Abbott.”

He lowered himself so his mouth was against your ear again. He seemed so big, hulking above you, and it made you feel helpless in the most thrilling way imaginable. “What? Did’ya really think you were gonna save yourself for someone special? Soon as I fuck you, this pussy belongs to me. You’ll be ruined for any other man.”

“Don’t.” But please, do.

Again, the head of his cock slid over you. You were so wet it was almost embarrassing, and Rhett admired the way you glistened. He could clearly see that this was turning you on to no end. He was in the same boat. He hadn’t realized just how much he would get off on this, but he was enjoying every minute of it. It felt so forbidden, so naughty. And it was thrilling.

He knew he couldn’t handle teasing you any longer. So, without warning, he pushed his hips forward and filled you in one thrust. The sudden intrusion surprised you, and you cried out, jolting against the floor.

He was so fucking big, and from this angle, he somehow felt even bigger. His cock was thick, so the stretch was almost uncomfortable, but it felt so good all at once. However, you knew how much he loved making you feel small, so you decided to get him going.

“I-it barely fits. S’too big,” you squeaked.

He groaned deep within his chest, jaw going slack. “And you’re gon’ lay there and take every inch of me, lamb.”

He shunted his hips forward again, and you whined, eyes drifting shut. Feebly, you put up a bit of a struggle, trying half-heartedly to pull yourself out of his grasp. But he shoved you back in place. “Fuckin’ take it.”

“No! Get off me!”

A rough hand came up to cover your mouth, and again, he thrust into you, rough and deep. He built a steady rhythm, and it wasn’t long before you were gasping and moaning pathetically against his hand at the feeling. You weren’t sure that you even had it in you to fight against him anymore. It felt too good to pretend you didn’t like it.

Above you, he grunted deeply, and the way he fucked you was almost animalistic. He was heavy against you, overcoming your every sense.

You could feel him. The bump of his cock against your spongey walls. The roughness of his jeans against the backs of your thighs. The softness of the flannel he wore against your back. You could smell him. That simple cologne he always wore. That heady, natural scent that could only be described as Rhett. And you could hear him. Short groans and sighs. Barely contained growls when you clenched around him. Like he was a wild animal and you were his prey.

He’d finally lowered his hand from your mouth, pressing his palm against the floor to brace himself. It allowed your wild, unbridled moans to spill forth, filling the entirety of your little bookstore. If you got any louder, surely a passerby outside would be able to hear. But neither of you cared.

Suddenly, his hips slowed, and you felt his hands on your own. “Wanna watch your face while I have my way with you,” he rasped before he undid the belt around your hands, tossing the leather aside. He soothed your wrists with his fingers before he pulled back, leaving you empty.

You whined, but he shushed you as he turned you over onto your back. You were thrumming with the warmth of desire, so much so that it took everything in you to keep up your act as you spoke again. “Mister Abbott, p-please just let me go.” But don’t. Don’t you ever let me go.

When your hands weakly pushed at his chest, he grabbed them, pressing them above your head. His face was hard set in a scowl. He looked so angry, so dominating, and it made you shiver. But as if a switch was flipped, he softened, free hand coming up to brush over your quivering bottom lip.

“What’s your color, chickadee?”

You hummed. “It’s green. Neon fucking green.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that. “Glad to hear.”

Then the switch was flipped again, and his entire demeanor changed. His jaw was hard-set, brow furrowed. “Don’t e’en bother trying to fight it. You know you want it,” he taunted, and you felt the heat of his cock against you again.

He slipped into you for a second time with ease, pulling your legs around his hips so he could go even deeper. He watched the place where your bodies met, enamored with the way you took all of him. It set something off within him, and he picked up the pace, jarring your entire being as he fucked you.

Then he brought his hand between your thighs, fingers rubbing against your buzzing gathering of nerve endings. Then, he released the hands he held above your head, and wrapped that hand around your throat.

He knew the exact amount of pressure to apply. His fingertips pressed firmly against either side of your neck, slowing the blood flow and making your head spin. That’s when you lost yourself. Rhett hadn’t been expecting it to happen so soon, but he could clearly see it in the way your eyes rolled back and your body arched off the floor.

Moments like these made you feel like you were having an out-of-body experience. It was as if you were hovering over yourself, watching the scene unfold.

It was also a surefire way to make you come. Which, in the heat of the moment, Rhett had forgotten about. You let out a strangled cry, and suddenly you were gasping out, “c-coming! Coming! Daddy, I’m coming!”

That was it for you. Your reluctant facade was gone. The character of the innocent little lamb, as Rhett would say, was forgotten. Now you didn’t even care. You just wanted him to keep going. Wanted him to fuck you until you were incoherent.

And as you came, your husband watched in awe. Your mouth parted in a silent scream, your eyes locked with his, and you convulsed beneath him. Your cunt tightened around him like a vice, and he let out a determined growl. He wasn’t about to fall apart this early on.

Instead, he focused on you. As you came down from your unexpected high, he eased his hand off your throat, mindful that you would be a bit dizzy from the rush of blood.

He’d stopped moving, instead lowering his weight to rest gently on top of you. His lips brushed against your own. “You okay, sweet thing?”

Your eyes, still glossy and unfocused, flickered up to his. “Y-yeah. That was…I didn’t mean to come that fast.” You might’ve been embarrassed, but Rhett gave you no reason to be.

He smiled. “S’okay. I ain’t finished with you yet, anyway.”

Then his lips were on yours in a dizzying kiss, and he slowly built his rhythm back as he rolled his hips into yours. You whined into his mouth, hands fumbling for purchase at his shoulders. All muscle and sinew, strong from hard labor.

He wrapped your legs around him, bringing him impossibly closer. With each press into you, you could feel the coarseness of the neatly kept hair that gathered at the base of his cock, brushing against your oversensitive clit.

When you caught his gaze, he looked at you in amusement. “Where’d all that fight go, hm? Few minutes ago you were beggin’ me to stop. Now you’re taking it like a good girl should. Decide you like it all of a sudden?”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

But you couldn’t voice an answer. Your words died in your throat each time he fucked into you. He pulled up to shove your legs up further, knees toward your chest, which gave him a better angle, hitting it impossibly deeper.

You let out an unabashed wail at the feeling, and Rhett grunted at the feeling if your desire quite literally dripping from you, down the shaft of his cock, and further.

The sound as he pushed into you was obscene. A filthy, wet squelch that might’ve embarrassed you if you weren’t thrumming with need.

It only spurred your husband on. He fucked you harder, faster. His fingers applied such delicious pressure on your clit. His mouth nipped at your breasts, tugging on pert nipples. And it wasn’t long before you were catapulting into him, coming unraveled around his dick all over again.

He watched you, amazed at just how sensitive you were. “Shit, this really got you going, huh?” He breathlessly remarked after you’d come down.

You smiled, a little dumbly. “Mm,” you squeaked.

Rhett took a steadying breath, willing himself to last just a little longer. “What do ya need, chickadee? You wanna keep playing? Or do you just need me?”

“N-need you, Daddy. Just you,” came your slurred response.

He nuzzled into you, nose bumping against yours. “Yeah? Already goin’ small on me?”

But you couldn’t answer. He could tell, though. Your eyes were glassy, almost tearful, and you were pawing at him like a little kitten. So he soothed you, kissing you slowly, tongue delving into your mouth, which you sucked on gently.

He smiled against your mouth as he broke away. “Here, suck on this instead of my tongue,” he urged, sliding his thumb into your mouth, which you happily accepted, suckling greedily.

He picked up his pace again, sinking back into your impossibly slick cunt. He was considerably more gentle than he had been. Gone was the rough, mean cowboy who held you down and told you to take it.

Instead, he was replaced by your tender husband, so attentive to you when you were like this. He always knew how to get you to this state. A small and pliant state of mind, where you’d do anything he asked of you, because you wanted to please him so badly. Wanted to be good for him.

It hadn’t started out this way. Getting to this point in your dynamic has been a journey. Rhett had struggled with assuming a role of dominance. Not because it didn’t interest him, but because he was afraid. Afraid he couldn’t be what you needed. But you’d worked through those insecurities together as time passed. Now, you shared a healthy relationship and a balanced dominant and submissive dynamic.

It made you feel safe enough to be like this with him. Vulnerable. Emotional. Raw.

It all shifted then. There, in the middle of your little book store, sprawled out on the hardwood floor, the desperate, intense fuck melted away into lovemaking.

Rhett stayed close to you, keeping his movements predictable so you wouldn’t spiral. The feeling of him inside you, filling you in the way that only he could, sent tears springing to your eyes.

He kissed you again, and whispered words of encouragement. “Takin’ me so well.”

You held tightly to him, arms around his neck, keening with each push and pull of his heavy cock within you. You could feel him pulse and spasm, feel the fullness of his balls pressing into you. God, you wanted all he had to give. Wanted him to spill into you, to leave you full of his cum.

But you couldn’t find the words to beg for it. All that came out were pathetic whimpers and incoherent babbles. He gave you his fingers to suck on again, pacifying you.

“Gon’ give you what you want, chickadee. Promise.” He knew what you were whining for. And he was so close. Especially when you clenched around him the way you were, your sensitive walls fluttering in anticipation of another orgasm that would soon wash over you.

The heat of eroticism surrounded you both, and it felt like the room was engulfed in flames, stoked by the intensity of your oneness.

You let him take you, let him use your body to chase his own pleasure. And in the midst of it all, your hypersensitive body plummeted over that edge again, soaking him with your release as you wailed brokenly around his fingers, a muffled “Daddy!” bubbling from your hoarse throat.

And Rhett couldn’t handle it any longer. Buzzing electricity crackled at the base of his spine, as if he’d just been struck by a bolt of white hot lightning.

His jaw fell slack, and his head dropped to the crook of your shoulder. You moaned, sobbed, pleaded with him to give it all to you. And he did.

He came with a raw, gravelly moan, hips stilling slightly as he pumped his seed into the very center of your being. You took all he had to give, your hands tangled in his dark locks as he trembled against you.

A few more pulses of his cock within you and his rapture came to an end. His chest heaved against yours as he caught his breath, and a moment later, he lifted his head to fully look at you.

“You okay?” He asked, voice wrecked.

“Mhm,” was all you could muster. Tears were gathering on your lash line, and before you knew it, they were trailing down the sides of your face.

His face softened with concern. “Oh, sweet thing.”

“‘m okay, Daddy,” you squeaked, “j-just felt really good.”

Carefully, Rhett slid out of you, leaving your aching walls empty. You made a sound of protest, but he shushed you, moving to sit with his back against the bookshelves, and helping you settle against him.

You ended up straddling him, your face tucked into the curve of his neck, your chest pressed to his. You needed this, the intimate closeness after such an intense scenario.

Rhett’s hand ghosted along your back, grounding you as his fingertips drew patterns. “Did so good for me,” he praised.

But after a moment, you let out a distressed whimper. “Making a mess,” you despaired as you glanced down, realizing his cum had seeped out of you and onto his thigh.

He shook his head, guiding your face to look at him. “It’s okay. I brought some stuff to clean up with. Let’s go get it.” He knew you couldn’t bear to be separated from him, and certainly not here, out of the comfort and familiarity of your own home.

So he helped you stand, pausing only to yank his jeans back up, leaving the top undone. He guided you to the back room, despite the fact that you were walking on the legs of a newborn fawn.

He helped you take a seat on a spare chair before he began rifling through a bag you hadn’t even realized he’d brought in. Soon enough, he retrieved a pack of gentle wipes.

Moments later, your legs were parted as he tenderly wiped you clean. He could see how swollen your delicate folds were, so he was as gentle as could be.

Once he was finished, he grabbed a folded blanket from the bag and wrapped it around your shoulders. “Gon’ get you home in a minute so I can take care of you proper,” he assured you with a squeeze to your thigh.

You hummed sleepily, watching as he went about gathering everything. He knelt to put your shoes back on your feet, which had been lost in the scuffle, mysteriously.

Then, he helped you stand and smoothed your dress, adjusting it so you were covered again. The entire time, you were hardly present, fading in and out of a blissful state, allowing your husband to care for you.

He finished closing up shop for you so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, and then, he led you out to his truck, which he’d parked around back to avoid prying eyes. Sometime during your tryst, the sky had gone dark, and night had fallen.

Once he had you situated in the passenger side, he came over to his own side, climbing in beside you. Immediately, you scooted across the bench, needing to be closer to him.

He wrapped an arm around you and kept it there as he drove. You let your eyes drift shut, comfortable and safe, trusting that he’d get you to your distination.

And he did. He pulled into your driveway, and eased you out of the truck’s cab, guiding you across the front of your property and into the house.

He looked after you for the rest of the evening. Getting you ready for bed, making you a quick dinner, giving you water so you wouldn’t become dehydrated. And you let him, because it gave you such comfort to be cared for by him.

By the time you were in bed that night, you were feeling a little more grounded, and able to speak.

“Thank you,” you said as he climbed into bed beside you. “For taking care of me. For acting out that fantasy with me.”

Rhett’s mouth quirked into a smile, and he lifted one brawny hand to cup your cheek. “‘course. Had a lot of fun with it. More than I was expecting.”

It was your turn to smile. “Me too. I really liked feeling all helpless under you like that. Kind of embarrassing how much it turned me on.”

But he shook his head. “Nothin’ to be embarrassed about. We both enjoyed ourselves, that’s what matters.” He leaned in to kiss you, and you melted into his warmth.

“So this means we’re definitely trying this again?” You asked as you broke apart, resting your head on his bare chest.

“Mhm,” he eagerly hummed. “And again. And again.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He shifted to kiss the top of your head. “I ain’t done corrupting my sweet little lamb yet.”

“Well, she’s all yours for the taking, whenever you want.”

He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

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