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ohcaptains · 1 year

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abby love spell

pairing. abby anderson x f!reader

synopsis. abby’s been handsy all damn day. can’t even take her hands off of you on patrol, where she should be focusing on something far more important...like staying alive. naively, you think watching a movie will distract her. it’s no use, really.

an. anyway slay. this is based off of this request that someone sent years, nay, millennia ago. what can i say, i was busy procrastinating writing and focusing on playing the game. again. pls enjoy, comment and reblog, etc. it makes the gay thoughts stronger<3 (not showing in tags so reblogs appreciated)

warnings. 18+. please do not read or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy my shit, i’ll find out. hand on throat (no choking), house wife kink, f!receiving penetration, strap on sex, lots of description of spit because i’m insane. references to oral, but no description. soz. maybe next time champ.

Something was up with Abby.

She’d always been an affectionate girlfriend, but today, she was stuck to you like glue. The pair of you, alongside Manny and Nora, had left for patrol in the morning. You had been busy making sure the truck was stocked, while Abby was busy trying to find a way to keep her hands on you at all times.

You were bent over the crates, checking and re-checking the contents, when her hands had slid onto your hips, thumbs looping into the belt buckles.

You went to flinch, hand coming out to grab hers, but you felt the familiar scabs on her knuckles. The familiar bumps of her veins – the map you knew off by heart.

“Hi Abby,” you sang, patting the back of her hand. Her chest pushed against your back, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Whatcha doing?” she asked, fully aware of what you were doing.

You answered her though – anything to keep her locked against you like this. There were a couple of layers of fabric between you, but you could still feel the heat radiating off of her.

“Packing the guns.”

Abby hummed, then grabbed at your hip, using it to twist you to face her. You grunted an oft! grabbing the lapels of her jacket to stabilise yourself.

“Shit – Abby,” you scorned, but she ignored you. Instead, she flexed her arms, and you couldn’t see the lines of muscles due to her jacket, but the bulge of her biceps was there all the same.

“Already got 'em, look,” she grinned, wiggling her brows, and you patted her chest, an amused frown on your face.

“What is with you?” you asked, smoothing out her jacket. “Ben put a little something extra in your porridge this morning?”

“I’m just my regular, goofy ol’ self – what do you mean?”

Her blue gaze flicked to your top, visible from underneath your open jacket.

“That’s my top,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Oh yeah – sorry,” you quickly spoke, glancing down at it, and thus not noticing the tick in Abby’s jaw. She always loved you in her clothes. Loved the way they draped over you – especially the jagged arm holes she cut into them.

The fabric would always hang loose at your sides, and she’d spend all day glimpsing at the drag of it over your chest. “Lights went out in the East block when you were at the gym. Had to get dressed in the dark—” you’re cut off, the surprise of Abby’s head dropping against your chest rendering your vocabulary to just one word, "Abby!”

“Mm,” she hummed, pushing her forehead between your breasts, “smells like me.” “Abby—” you said again, a giggle cracking at your lips. Your hands fumbled for her shoulders, shoving her away, or at least trying to – Abby was dead weight. You admired her strength. Loved it, but it was times like this when it was a hindrance to your mental stability. Finally, she stretched back to her height, shit eating grin on her face.

You were too busy transfixed on her features, that you didn’t notice her hands coming out to the bottom of your coat. Suddenly, she pulled the zip up to the top, and she knocked your chin up with her knuckle, leaning down to give you a deep kiss.

You went somewhere else for a second, the drag of her tongue knocking reality out of the way. Melted, succumb to her sudden overwhelming taste -- but she pulled away too soon.

“Cold out,” she grinned, hands rubbing at the length of your now-covered chest, and you were too dazed to respond.

It was like that all. Damn. Day.

She never once stopped playing around with you.

She’d boost you up walls, hands sliding under your thighs in an attempt to push you up. Hand at the bottom of your back to signal you to walk faster, hands on your hips to pull you out of the way.

Pulling you around like a damn rag doll.

Nice shot, she’d say, when it was actually pretty average.

Good girl, she casually praised, after you’d jumped and grabbed her arm, letting her pull you up onto a roof. That one had got you -- had to take a second to gather yourself as she spoke to Manny about which direction you were going.

Got to an abandoned warehouse and she pulled you to the side, sparing a few minutes to kiss you against a stack of boxes.

What’re you doing? You’d asked, and all she said was, kissing my girlfriend.

Now, you’re trying to watch a movie together.

Or at least, you’re trying to watch a movie – she’s too busy touching you to focus on the plot.

You’re comfy on your shared bed, resting on her broad chest as you sit between her muscular thighs, and she’s keeping you there by the arm she’s got slung around your front – bicep on your shoulder – as she lazily kisses at your neck.

It’s distracting, to say the least.

“’um trying to watch,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. The movie buzzes at you – an 80’s flick, all electronic beams, and bright colours. It’s about robots, and when Mel had brandished the disk in front of you last month, you’d been eager to have a watch.

Now, the direction Abby’s mouth is taking is far more interesting.

She scatters lazy, wet smooches over your neck, pausing before she places another as if she’s painting a picture. The drag of it makes you lethargic — makes you comfy and loose in Abby’s grip.

You want nothing more than to give into her touch. You’ve spent the whole day trying to shove down the overwhelming feeling of desire that she’d been pulling out of you. But you’ve been meaning to watch this movie for months.

No, you tell yourself. Focus. You breathe in, and shake your head, snapping back to the screen.

Abby hums. She’s so warm and soft -- her muscular chest surprisingly comfortable – that it’s lulling you into a sense of submission. You rest back against her, enveloped in her arms. Enveloped in the soft brush of her lips against your throat.

Focus, you repeat to yourself.

Got to give this movie back to Mel tomorrow, she’s been asking for it for weeks. “You can watch,” Abby whispers, brushing her mouth over your ear. The wetness of her lips forces a shiver down your spine. You try and run from it, shuffling in her grip, but Abby keeps you steady – lazily locked against you with her arm slung over your shoulder. “Just let me kiss you,” she breathes, placing a soft, delicate one on your ear lobe. Your eyes flutter again. She smells fresh from the shower. Smells clean, like her soap – pine and mint. Her hair is down too – you love it when her hair is down – and it hangs long, smelling like…strawberries? Your shampoo. Fuck fuck fuck. You shake your head, “can’t focus on the movie when you’re kissing me like that.” Abby smiles against your neck, and you feel it – feel it curve against your skin. “Sounds like a you problem.” “You’re an asshole,” you whisper, and she laughs.

“Just be quiet and watch the movie,” she orders, wide palm rubbing your bare thigh. “Quit whining.”

You grumble, mumbling something under your breath, but you do go quiet, and thankfully, she does slow her kissing. Resorts to nuzzling your neck instead, while her left hand continues to rub at your thigh.

It is nice, and you manage a couple of minutes of this, relaxing and watching the movie before you feel her hand sliding upwards.

You inhale sharply. Breathe in her scent. Wait for her to slow down. Wait for her to stop. Yet she never does.

Her long, thick fingers leisurely flutter over your bare skin as her hand inches to where you suddenly want it – God, do you – tantalisingly close to the boxers you’re wearing. Hers.

Your whole outfit is hers and you swear she’s going to touch you, or at least brush her fingers against you, but she pulls back. Slides her hand away, wide palm retreating to your knee.

Disappointment twangs.

You try not to think about it, but the buzz she’d sparked settles low in your belly.

The film continues with its garish colours and cheesy dialogue. Buzzes and crackles, its movie star taking up the screen for an up-close shot. You swallow down the fluttering of your heart.

She’s still kissing you.

Her lips are wet, exploring. Nose cold as it nuzzles against your ear lobe, breath warm as she breathes, and her tongue darts out, skimming over your throat before she kisses the spit away. You hum, hips pushing again, and Abby palms at your inner thigh.

“Shhh, baby. Can’t hear the movie with all your whimpering.” The breath of her whisper flutters over your neck, forcing goosebumps to rise to the surface. You roll your eyes back and try and convince yourself that it’s from annoyance rather than pleasure.

Her hand starts again, faster now, smoothing over your skin, not giving you enough time as she just brushes the tips of her fingers over your underwear, and your hand jolts out.

“Abby,” you warn, grabbing it. You intertwine your fingers with hers, stopping it in its tracks — clutching it on your lap, and Abby hums a laugh into your neck.

“Not gonna let me touch you there?” she teases, using the hand you’re holding to rub at your groin.

You’re betrayed by your own knuckles, the touch forcing your thighs to clench together, and hips to jolt up at the sensation. You hate it. Love it, really. She’s winding you up like a toy. “Abby,” you whisper, conflicted. The tv hisses its dialogue, music singing – a car crashes into a wall, and the antagonist cackles in delight. Who’s the villain again? Abby hums a pleased, “Hm?” into your ear. You don’t know. Just have to spit her name out. Get it out of you, before it’s back, brimming at your lips like an omission of truth.

She pushes her hand into yours, forcing your knuckles to rut against your crotch again, and fuck, your legs widen an inch, welcoming the feeling and silently begging for more.

She’s smiling, sickly sweet – you know it. Know her. Know she’s grinning from the gradual win.

You keep a hold of her hand as she rubs it into you, coaxing something warm and tingly to build between your thighs. Your face goes hot.

You suddenly can’t remember the plot of this movie. Try to come up with something convincing to Mel for when she asks for your review, but your temporal lobe has stopped working.

All you can think about is the sensation between your thighs, the comforting tickle on your chest from Abby’s hair, and the smell of her – familiar, all-consuming. She runs the tips of her teeth over the flesh of your throat, and “Abs,” you gasp, free hand grabbing onto her forearm.

Her tongue comes out, soothing the scratch from her teeth and you shift, shocked, hips bucking back against her, legs falling open, and she takes advantage – drops your hand and flattens her palm between your thighs, cupping your clothed pussy.

“Shit,” you gasp, clutching her strong forearm with both hands in surprise.

You can’t believe you’ve let her win.

She’s not even moving, just holding you, but the pressure is enough to force your thighs together, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Um’ gonna break up with you,” you quickly rush, eyes clenching closed. Abby cackles. Says, “Yeah?” “Mm,” you hum, nodding, fidgeting, trying to get her to fucking move. “Okay –“she breathes, stuffing her fingers low, thick of them pressing against you. Your mind goes fizzy. She talks. “--After I make you come though, right?” Your face clenches together, your mouth falling open. “You’re the worst,” you brandish, lying through your teeth. Meaning it wholeheartedly.

She hushes you, “Shhh, I know,” and watches your facial expressions change – watches you try to self-soothe.

“The worst,” you repeat, voice cracking. Somehow, Abby’s lips get closer to your ear.

“I know baby, but I’ll make it good, promise.”

Her admission forces your eyes open, and you look down at where she’s got you – thick fingers barely pushing against your clothed slit, and God, you have to – have to grind your cunt against her. One slight roll of your hips, up and up, then down, and you huff, curse under your breath because Jesus Christ.

“Or you’ll do it for me.” “Shut up.” “No – do it again.”

You do. With your hands holding the forearm she’s got buckled against your collarbones, you hitch your hips up, and she keeps her hand tense, making it good for you. Makes sure the ball of her palm pushes into your clit, and you sigh. A tremor shoots through your belly.

“Keep doing that,” she mutters, mouth close enough that her words echo through your brain. “I wanna see.” She grabs a fistful of your shirt and drags it up. The cool air hits the soft skin of your belly, but Abby warms you as her arm flattens against it, hefty and comforting.

You watch her strong arm transfixed. Watch the muscles tick as her hand flexes, the scars on her skin white and shiny in the dull buzz of the TV screen.

Her fingers rub at your pussy, and your hips move, back arches, grinding against her palm, your breathing hitching and catching.

She’s barely touching your clit, just brushing it, and the sensation slowly builds, pushing, making you reach down and fumble for her hand, pushing it deeper into you.

“Abs,” you choke, and she groans. Nods against your neck and admits, “wanted to fuck you all day.”

Heat rushes over you, forces you to clench together and pathetically whimper. “Been obsessed with me all day,” you breathe.

In your cloudy vision, you catch sight of the TV screen, the movie playing out to two people who couldn’t care less. Yet you try and focus, but it’s hard to multitask with her hand between your thighs.

The antagonist is being arrested, and you have no fucking clue as to why. Probably something to do with the car explosion – or was it a truck? Abby carries on kissing you, sucking at the soft skin, bruising you with her sweet lips and tongue, “m’ always obsessed with you,” she purrs, the hand she’s got strapped across your collarbones soothing the skin of your shoulder. “Mm, yeah – but something --” she rubs the ball of her palm over your clit, pushes it, this time, and your sentence catches. “Shit —” you hiss, eyes rolling back. A shiver runs down your spine as your brain short circuits. Desperately, you try to keep a hold of reality, try not to fall into the dizziness of it all.

Sometimes that happened with Abby. You didn’t mind, but you wanted to hold on to your consciousness for a little while longer. You huff, shake your head – try to remember your next sentence. “Something different about today.”

“Had a dream that I fucked you last night.”

Oh, you think, that’ll do it. You can’t help but grin -- delighted that you’ve managed to weave your way into her subconscious.

“Things were different, normal,” she explains, still taunting you with her hand. She’s pushing up, grinding up and down your clothed slit with an intrinsic kind of determination, using just enough pressure to make you delirious.

As she pushes her fingers low, your clit throbs. Your pussy clenches, tight and sore. You were never good at this bit. Never good at waiting. You clutch her hand, tense and fidgety, gut tightening as her fingers slowly push you to some metaphorical edge.

“Don’t laugh,” she adds, and you do, but not at her, more so at the situation. Your big, controlling Abby, asking you not to laugh at her. “M’ not gonna laugh at you Abs,” you pant, grinding slowly, breathing deep, trying to calm yourself down for this admission she’s so ashamed of.

She leans in close, mouth against your ear as if the TV can hear. All it does is add to the pressure, her voice so close, it’s like it’s in your own head.

“I dreamt that you were my housewife,” she whispers, and fuck, that’s not what you expected. That’s not what you expected at all. “That I came home,” she continues, sliding her fingers up and down, up, and down, and you’re wet against her. Soaked through the cotton, her fingers damp with your slick. Jesus Christ, she’s only been playing.

Hadn’t felt like she’d been trying all that hard, really, and here you are, making her hand all wet. You both watch her play with you – draw it out, fingers dragging, your hips trying to match her rhythm. “’n’ you were making me dinner, dressed up all pretty – heals on, nothing underneath.” “Y-Yeah?” you breathe, quick and short, the only sound you can make besides the quiet moans you’re mumbling. “And you waltzed up to me, said, honey, you’re home. N’ undid my tie.”

You’re wet enough that she can see the outline of your pussy through her boxers. Gently, she relaxes her palm and slides her middle finger through your slit, your legs widening, watching her, knowing what she’s doing before she does it.

“That’s it,” she mutters, finger pushing against your clit. “So fucking wet, s’so fucking hot,” she breathes into your ear, teeth on your earlobe and fuck, you nearly come.

Nearly burst, white-hot heat jolting through you, eyes clenching together, pussy clenching – want her inside of you, feels like you’ve never wanted her more than you do now.

She carries on, languidly rolling your clit around, tenderly pushing at the nerve.

“Then you dropped to your knees,” she coos into your ear, and fuck, in your haze you didn’t see her move. Didn’t feel her slide her hand over your throat, holding you still. You swallow against her palm.

“and unlaced my boots. Took them off for me, so good. So helpful.”

She keeps the pace steady. Hits the nerve at such an angle that you can’t run from pressure. Your pussy gushes, and words fail you.

Abby kisses your cheek, “You okay baby? Gone quiet on me.”

“I think um gonna come,” you quickly admit, voice cracking. You’re clenched so tight that it hurts. Just begging for something, anything, to fill the need she’s building. Your thighs twitch and you feel her smile on your cheek, curved cheekily. She ignores you. Carries on.

“Dinner on the table for me, my favourite. Dessert in the fridge, beer on ice. Your pretty little face so excited that I was back.”

Your small voice shatters through her spiel -- “Did you fuck me against the table?” you whimper, imagining it. “With my dress and heels still on?”

Abby groans. Her fingers break their rhythm for a second, go sloppy – get distracted. You think about her bending you over the kitchen table, your hair in her fist and her strap in her hand.

She gets her rhythm back and picks up speed. Rubs your clit in tight, controlled circles, and you feel yourself get closer. There’s a familiar ache at the bottom of your belly.

“Yeah baby, I did,” she breathes. “Treated you like a lady. Made you come on my cock so quick that my dinner was still warm.”

“Abby,” you burst, cutting her off. Fuck, you hear it – hear how desperate you are. “You don’t wanna watch your movie?” she teases, using the hand on your throat to push your chin to her. She looks at you pitifully, blue eyes blown wide. “No,” you whine, teeth chewing at your bottom lip, making it swollen. You manage to shake your head, and she pulls your lip from your teeth, using her thumb to slide your spit over your chin. “Don’t wanna see how it ends?” she further taunts. “N-No,” you sob, nearly crying. Actually, no, you are crying. Yeah, your cheeks are definitely damp with something.

You sniff, and Abby goes soft. For a fleeting second, she switches -- kisses away your tears, and says, “shh, okay. I know sweetheart, I know.”

She pushes her forehead against yours, and you’re lulled into a false sense of security before she pulls her fingers away.

You shatter, gasp “No!”, and Abby kisses you, shuts you up, hands tugging your boxers down, quickly pulling them over your knees and discarding them onto the floor somewhere.

She tugs your thighs open, too, fully exposing you, and the cool air hits your damp pussy just as she stuffs her fingers back, sliding her thick middle finger through your slick before pushing it into your swollen, aching hole.

The world tips on its axis. For a brief, cataclysmic moment, you go somewhere else. Mouth open, eyes clenched close. The obscene pressure is overwhelming, and you clench around her finger, so tight that she groans into your mouth.

“Jesus,” she curses, “ease up baby, lemme make you feel good.”

It takes all of your willpower to loosen up, to relax. When you do, she slides out, then in, gently, slowly fingering you, warming you up, before she adds another finger, wet enough for the stretch, and you go blank.

You don’t say anything – can’t, no words, only sounds, loud and against her mouth. Cursing her out, moaning her name – garbled and sloppy, hands clutching her forearm, nails digging into her skin -- all sensation.

You can hear how wet you are, hear your pussy squelching around her fingers.

“'m gonna come,” you gasp, and Abby nods, kisses you, tastes your spit and coaches you through it, “That’s it, baby, just let it all out.”

Seconds later, it rushes over you.

Sucks you under and spits you out, your hips bucking against Abby’s quick-moving fingers as you come, wet and hot, spilling over and soaking the sheets. “m’ my god, my god,” you whine, the white-hot feeling never-ending.

Legs shaking, and Abby watches, praises you, says, “oh fuck, look at that,” and you can’t, it’d be too much. Instead, you whine against her cheek, back arching, body shuddering, her name spilling from your lips like spit.

“Abby,” you babble, “Abby, feels so fuckin’ good, you make it so good,” you drool, words sloppy, pussy clenching tight.

The sensation continues. You breathe her name again, Abby Abby Abby – a prayer on your swollen lips. Please, you whisper — please what?

Abby won’t let you come down. Your sensitivity spirals, but Abby doesn’t stop. Drags her thick fingers through your clenched walls, and you gasp, hands grasping out to grab hers.

You clutch her wet hand in your limp grip, whimpering, please, against her mouth.

“Okay,” she breathes, barely there. “Okay, I’ll stop.”

She pulls her fingers out of you slowly, kissing your forehead as you make a soft humming sound. You’re still so sensitive.

The heat has cooled, but the feeling still lingers, and Abby kisses your forehead again, quieting the dull ache that’s washing over you. Gently, she pulls her hand away from yours, bringing her slick fingers up to her lips.

You watch through half-lidded lids as she runs her mouth over them, humming in contentment. Pink tongue darting over the digits – you flush, your own tongue licking at your bottom lip as you study her.

You curl your legs together, thighs wet, feeling the pressure that’s still there. Abby sees you wince. She studies your features -- notes that your eyes haven’t lost their glaze, and now they’re edged with something wild, as if you’ve gotten a taste, but not enough to scratch the itch.

There’s a familiar softness to you, too. Almost lethargic, as you run your nail over her forearm, eyes flicking over her strong jaw and flushed cheeks.

“You were messing with me all day.”

It’s a whisper, words tentative. Abby licks her lips, noting how your glassy eyes follow the movement. “Messing?” she repeats, inching forward, and pressing her forehead against yours. You close your eyes, a small, contented smile on your lips, then lick them, teeth coming out to chew. “Hm.” “You like when I mess with you?” she teases, and you hum again. The smile you’re donning builds, bubbling into a nod.

She can’t help but reach out, and gently run her thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip, tugging it free from your teeth. You sigh, body leaning into her touch. “You’re very distracting…” She slides her wide palm over your cheek, dragging it to the back of your neck, then holds you there, inching her head to the left and brushing her mouth over yours – a small hint of you on her lips. “…S ’almost dangerous.” “’ m sorry,” you quickly breathe, come drunk. Drunk on Abby fucking Anderson. In your hazy and small headspace, you suddenly feel bad. She must know because she shakes her head, “don’t be.”

Her breath flutters over your lips, hand flexes at the back of your neck. That pressure that she’d subsided, is back. Feels suddenly critical.

“s’my fault for thinking I have any self-control.”

You want to kiss her. The desire sweeps over you, crashing like a wave. You go to move, but she whispers, “wanted to fuck you in that abandoned warehouse,” and all you can do is ask, “Why didn’t you?” A laugh rattles through her.

“nearly did.”

You think about the blood on her hands, think about the smear of it as she pulled your hips against hers, mouth hot and desperate. She’d sucked a quick bruise under your earlobe, and you’d melted.

Electric had shot through your belly, warming between your thighs.

Abby, you’d moaned, and she’d just about growled. Teeth had nipped at your tender skin, just this side of mean, and your brain had short-circuited.

You forgot about the impending danger around the corner — all you could think about was Abby, with her wandering hands and soft lips. The way she licked away the scratch and kissed you again, said, we gotta get this thing over with so I can take you to bed.

“Would have, too, if I wasn’t so damn responsible.”

She tuts at herself, annoyed at her regiment. She licks the spit off of her lip and you pout, I wanted to do that, you think.

“I like the responsible Abby,” you manage to mutter, bumping your mouth against hers, “She keeps me safe.”

Abby hums. Her eyes close as if she’s bathing in your omission. Abby does keep you safe. She’s strong, capable — a brilliant teammate and when she needs to be, a leader. She quiets the anxious thumping of your heart, and when she’s got you like this — floaty and soft — quiets it completely.

“Please kiss me,” you suddenly breathe, overwhelmed with the desire to have your mouth on her. “I’ve been waiting patiently.”

At the back of your neck, you feel her hand flex. She brushes her mouth against yours again, gently teasing, “You have, haven’t you?” her brows raise – followed by a sickly sweet smirk.

There’s something about this space you’re in that makes even the smallest of mockeries big and meaningful.

“I have,” you just about plead, and Abby’s smirk twists, a flash of longing bleating over her features, before she catches your lips, kissing you deep and long -- your resulting moan cracking through the bedroom.

Her tongue comes in, wet and warm, forcing you closer — forcing you to just about clamber into her lap, damp inner thighs sliding against her sweatpants.

Abby pulls away, eyes dark and cloudy as she whispers, “Want me to get the strap?” and the only answer you find is, yes.

You watch as Abby drags the leather straps up her thighs, then crawls onto the bed, buckling up one side as she moves. Immediately, with an instinct she’s drilled into you, you get onto your knees to do the other, hands fumbling around the leather.

You’ve done this countless times before. Know what notch she likes it on. Knows she likes it tight, likes when the leather stretches over her thighs, marring them red. She lubes it up as you buckle her up tightly.

“So helpful – such a good girl, you know that, huh?”

She moves to kiss you, and you giggle into her mouth, catching the back of her head as she pushes you into the bed. Her strap brushes over you, and you sigh, humming at the sudden wet sensation.

She tastes like you. Tastes like musk and mint and Abby. You tongue your way into her mouth, suddenly wanting more. Wanting her, carnally. Spent all day with her -- you spend most days with her, but it’ll never be enough.

You break away from her, slowly blinking, watching a trail of spit connect the two of you. She’s propped up on one elbow, watching you.

Her eyes are navy blue under the shadow of the light, the freckles on her nose hidden, but you know they’re there. Know how they sprinkle out evenly as if they were painted there before she was handed off to her mother.

“I like being helpful,” you admit. Something flashes in her eyes. Her features shift, once playful, now soft, and her hand comes out, brushing your hair away from your forehead.

Instinctively, you move into her palm. It’s warm – calloused, familiar. You move to nuzzle your nose into it.

“I like that you let me come along on patrols,” you whisper.

You don’t see it, but Abby’s face twitches, “I don’t let you do anything – I want you there.”

There’s a beat before you respond, too busy running your nose over her palm. When you turn to her, you flash her a cheeky smile, “So you can mess around with me.”

Abby sniffs a laugh, but she shakes her head, “So you can save my ass when I eventually fuck up.”

“s ’never happened. I don’t remember.”

“Selective memory.”

Her fingers move, forefinger resting under your chin and thumb coming up to slip over your bottom lip. Abby swears she sees your eyes glaze over again. She loves this. Loves when you get like this. It lets her know that you trust her, trust her to do what’s best.

“You with me?” she just about purrs. You hum. She watches as your body goes limp like she’s pressed a hidden button. You shift, your legs open wide, and your breasts bounce with the movement. If you were watching, you’d see eyes shift over your body – hungry and desperate.

You breathe in a sigh, and it rattles in your chest. “Yeah—” you whisper, “---think so. You make me feel so dizzy, Abby.”

Your eyes flutter closed, tongue coming out to catch her thumb. Your teeth go over it, and the hood of her nail drags over your gums, your bottom teeth pushing at the soft flesh. The sensation goes directly between Abby’s thighs. Still, she shows her usual concern. She cocks her head to the side.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, yeah?” “Yeah Abby,” you whisper around her finger, “s’never too much though. You know me.” “Promise?” she asks, ignoring you. “Promise,” you repeat, then, “I can still taste myself on you.”

Your tongue closes around her finger, wetting it – warm and soft. Abby briefly thinks: this is what she feels like inside. She goes red at the thought. An ache builds – she suddenly wants to be nestled deep, watching you come undone again.

You suck her finger further, eyes still closed, lost in the motion. The intoxication makes you grab a hold of her wrist, keeping her steady as spit pools under your lips, dripping towards your chin.

“Is this what I did in your dream?” you suddenly ask, blinking up at her. You catch her dark eyes, and she notes the spit that’s drooling over your tits.

“When I was on my hands and knees for you?”

All of the willpower Abby had left snaps in two. She suddenly shifts, moving you by shoving her big, strong hands under your thighs and spreading you open.

“Lemme fuck you,” she babbles, hitching your hips up. You watch her try to gather her nerve, but she talks and talks as she shuffles you around – “I gotta fuck you baby. Gotta – gotta make it good, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding, seeing her lose her cool. “I gotta.” “Okay,” you whisper again. You reach over with your hand, smoothing it over her cheek, begging her to look at you, but she just takes the hand and tries to get you situated. Moves the pillow, and makes sure your hips are pushed wide enough. “Yeah – I just, fuck. Yeah, fuck. Lemme – please?” she suddenly stops, like she’s caught herself before she falls off the ledge completely. The soft skin of your thumb smoothes over her cheek, and you nod, flexing your hips up, “fuck me, Abby.”

The roles shift and ripple. When Abby gets so turned on, she gets desperate — pleads and begs instead of tells.

But when she’s got the strap stuffed against your wet hole, the roles snap back.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, suddenly overwhelmed. You’re still a little sensitive, and now lightheaded and dizzy with delirium, all you can do is pout against her pretty mouth, eyes glazed and wide. “Shhh, baby. Shh shh shh,” she punctuates. She looks down at where you connect, and slides the strap across your sopping folds, listening for your reaction. You huff, whispering her name – then jolt up when she brushes it against your clit, hands coming for the back of her head again.

“Abs,” you gasp, scuffed knees pressing on her hips.

“Um gonna make it good, okay?” she soothes, “don’t I always make it good for you?”

She does. Abby knows you like the back of her palm. Knows all your buttons, knows when to push them – how. Knows when it’s too much, or when it’s not enough. Her eyes flash open, blue and alive, and she kisses you as she stuffs the head against your hole, slowly sinking in, burying deep.

“Oh my fucking God,” you sob against her mouth, clenching, so fucking full that you have to arch your back. Your breath hitches, letting Abby know that you’re filled up tight.

“Abby,” you whine, hands reaching for your tits. You squeeze them, fidgeting, going a little frantic at the sensation. Abby watches – sees.

“Shhh, shhh, shh,” she hushes, brushing her lips against yours, kissing you sweetly. The tenderness makes you sob, the taste of her tongue intoxicating. It lulls you, quiets you, and she pulls away, ordering, “Hands in my hair, baby, know you like em’ there.”

You do as she says, sniffling, trying to calm yourself down. She’s dragged this out slowly, though. You hadn’t realised how much you wanted her until she stopped.

She reaches over you, grabs a pillow, ordering, “Hips up, high, sweetheart – that’s it,” before she stuffs it under you, the movement jostling her cock, but when you relax back, legs high on her back, Abby stuffs you again, the new position forcing the strap to hit something devastating.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck – “you curse, eyes flashing white. “‘um gonna come so fast, Abs.” “S’okay baby,” she soothes, slowly pulling out of you. She brushes her mouth against yours as she whispers, “I’ll just fuck you until you can’t anymore.”

God, it must take minutes.

Must be minutes – maybe even seconds – of her slowly fucking up into you, splitting you open on her cock, before you’re feeling the familiar swell flood your pussy.

You’ve got your fingers laced in her long, blonde strands, and you’re pretty sure you’re scraping your nails against her scalp, but Abby’s too busy murmuring how pretty you are to notice.

In your almost drunken haze, you notice how pink her lips are – all swollen from her teeth and wet with spit – and you can’t keep your eyes off of them. They spill compliments all over you.

Bathe you, before pressing them to your mouth, swallowing your desperate cries.

Abby’s got one hand at the nape of your neck, and the other is clutched around your left knee, keeping it locked up against her upper back. The position means you can’t run from her.

She’s an all-consuming presence, and it’s almost too much. She moves her hand, but you don’t dare move your knee. It’s locked there, and the position she’s put you in makes you delirious. Then she doubles the pressure with her thick fingers against her clit.

“Jesus – fuck, Abby,” you curse, eyes rolling back, the world going dark. You’re so wet that she can’t catch a grip, and her fingers swirl sloppily over your clit as her face clenches together, as if she’s doing it to herself.

“So fuckin’ wet,” she grunts against your lips, her face a snarl. You don’t see it, but she shakes her head. Shakes her head and then speeds up, fueled by the desire to make you wetter. Make it worse better for you.

The change in speed forces your eyes open. You grab onto her shoulder, hiccuping a sob, wet, hot heat pulsating between your legs.

Your eyes roll back again, mouth comes open, fingers clench tight and Abby sees it. Knows you’re about to come so hard that she’ll feel it. “Abby,” you gasp, and she nods. Presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips and soothes you with, “I know.” “S’gonna be – b-big, fuck. M’ clenching so fuckin’ tight.”

Abby feels your back arch into her, your tits pushing against her chest. She keeps at her steady rhythm – tilts your pelvis and bucks her hips with an unrelenting tempo, catching the sight of the strap, white from you.

Your orgasm blindsides you.

You’re silent as you come. Mouth open against hers, clenching so tense and tight around her cock that it almost hurts. Then, Abby sees you release, gushing over her cock as your hips stutter and legs shake, your orgasm washing over you, knocking you for a loop.

She groans at her sight, then hears you sob, strangled, followed by, oh my god Abby, oh my fuckin’ – then it’s all whimpers, your pussy still pulsating around her strap.

Abby slows her pace.

She ignores the pressure between her own thighs, and instead, kisses the drool off of your lips, shakingly saying, never seen you come so hard like that twice, s’gotta be a record, and you’re so fucked out that you don’t even laugh.

Your eyes are glazed over, sweat pooling at your hairline, and your mouth is still hanging open as if you’re trying to find something to say. Abby kisses it shut. Tries, again, to ignore the throbbing of her clit. Tries to ignore the desire to fuck you into the mattress and make herself come.

You’re still shaking for fucks sake, but Abby can’t stop. She’s already pushing it by slowing, humming against your mouth, the sounds almost a whimper.

Her face is snarled together, jaw clenched, and she sees your brow furrow. Feels you clench your fists to her chest, wondering why she’s still fucking you. When she drops her head into your neck, you understand.

“I’m sorry—” she sobs, wide palms dragging under your shoulders and latching onto them. “I’m – fuck – feels so good.”

You snap out of your delirium. Or it twists at least. You spread your legs, ignoring the pressure behind your clit – the sensitivity that never had a chance to subside. Now, you’re here for Abby.

“S’okay baby,” you drawl, voice trembling, but fuck, your girlfriend is desperate. You hitch your hips up and press against her tight, so she has to grind against you to fuck you, and Abby loses it.

The added pressure against her clit forces her to moan, the sound muffled by your throat.

“Use me, okay?” you whisper against the shell of her ear, hands in her hair, clutching her to you. “use me to come.”

“S-shit, okay,” she whimpers. “Okay okay okay—” lost to her pleasure, Abby sloppily rocks into you. She picks up the speed, sinking into your wet and swollen hole, splitting you open and moaning your name so loud that it rattles through you.

“I’m gonna come,” she whimpers, then, “holy fuck, um gonna come.”

Heat rushes over you, overwhelming. All consuming. You’re suddenly filled with the urge to kiss her.

Taste her on your tongue, and just this side of mean, you use her hair to move her, dragging your mouth against hers, letting you see her red, sweaty face and fucked out eyes.

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper, nodding, meeting her thrusts as she fucks you. “You gonna come inside of me?” you whisper, pouting, “You gonna fill me up?”

Realistically, you know she can’t. So does she, but that doesn’t stop her from nodding, hips rocking against yours. Going, “Jesus – fuck. Fuckin’ dirty.”

She hides her red face in your shoulder again, as if she’s almost embarrassed by how desperate she is.

“My fuckin’ dirty girl,” and grunts, and she punctuates it with a snap of her hips, knocking the sensitivity up tenfold.

It feels so good, and if she carries on this way, you’re likely to come again, but by the clutch of her fingers and drag of her breathing, you know she’s not going to last long enough.

Know that it’s not about you, though. Know that she’ll likely catch her breath for a second and begin all over again. Abby was like that. One was never enough.

Her high-pitched, shaky breathing brings you back. It’s there – even if you can’t see her face, you know it.

“Gonna come for me Abby?” you whisper. Then, with your wet mouth against her ear, you whimper, please baby, please come for me.

She does. You feel her body clench against you, a strangled gasp muffled against your neck, and then she’s shaking, orgasm washing over her and taking her under.

You soothe her through it. Rub her muscular back, drag your nails over her spine, and kiss the side of her head. When the aftershocks cool off, she laughs. The sound rumbles against your neck, shocked and alive.

“Holy shit,” she curses, giving your neck a sloppy kiss. Your skin is still electric, but it slowly sparks out, bottoming to a dull delicious numbness. A slow, lazy smile pulls at your lips.

Your head is still a little fuzzy.

Abby hands slide out from under your shoulders, and she presses them besides you, pushing herself up, long blonde hair falling around your head like a curtain. Her cheeks are blushed red, eyes wiry and alive.

You feel yourself staring at her. Abby stares back. She shifts idly, cocking her head to the side and leaning to kiss you. With her tongue in your mouth, she whispers, “’m gonna move.”

Gently, she slips out of you, kissing away the scrunch of your brows and pout to your lips. She quickly unbuckles the strap, pushing it to the side before leaning down again, wide palms pushing your thighs apart to try and distill the pressure there.

“Okay?” she breathes, putting all of her weight onto her elbows.

“Mm,” you hum dreamily, leaning up to give her a messy kiss, “That was really hot.” Abby kisses back, humming in agreement, “Feel like I just found out the meaning of life.” “What?” you laugh, scrunching your face at her.

You raise your brows, laughing, “the meaning of life is coming while fucking me?” “Yep,” she grins, bumping her nose to yours. She turns to the TV, the credits rolling.

“Should we start the movie again?” she asks sincerely, but you shake your head, fingers tightening in her hair.

Lazily, you slip your tongue into her mouth, wrapping your legs around her lower back and using your feet to push her ass into you. She groans, trying to catch up, but you pull away just when she matches your rhythm.

You lick your lips and lean back, your mouth curling into a delicious grin. Abby watches you reach out, your thumb running over her bottom lip, and she catches it in her mouth just as you say, “Still wanna taste you.”

more abby smut

#abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us hbo #abby anderson the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson fan fic #tlou2 abby anderson

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parkersbliss · 2 years

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gracie 😭 i just realized that i cant technically release anything i write for five yet bcs...

✨i really wanna change my un✨

the current one is like, solely from my prev obsession on a show and besides the fact that i cant think of any, i also am getting tired of the thought of changing every single link of my previous works :( pls this is so hard wdyt should i make a new acc instead :<

also i have like, 4 prompts already and im currently on 0% progress on all of them. perfect. -✨

if your old account has like no value or there’s nothing there you want to keep with a new blog, then I would say just make a new one!!

cause I changed my user once and yeah it was a pain to re-link everything 😭😭

i mean I got like 30 requests and made 0% progress so twins 😭😭 but a thing that always help me is like putting on music and just writing ideas like little bits of dialogue or small scenes!

#new blog new aesthetic #that could be fun #cause yeah re doing is hard #but like if you wanna keep stuff yk #also I’m pretty good with user names 😏#i could give you ideas #gracie answers 💛#✨ anon

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patrice-bergerons · 10 months

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Quick FAQ on Tumblr, "Value", and the Proposed Crab Day

Motivation: I see a lot of misinformation circulating on the dash re the proposed crab day and I wanted to offer a simplified and judgement free perspective using core principles of finance.

Q: We keep being told that tumblr's been making nothing but a loss for years, and yet, if it is so unprofitable, then why is no one is shutting the website down? Is it really in need of our money if it's already owned by a multi-billion dollar corporation?

This is in fact not as much of a paradox as it appears to be because "value" in corporate finance terms is a function of present and expected future profits (adjusting for the fact that profits you expect to be earn in the near future are worth a lot more than equivalent profits expected to be earned much later in time).

This means that you can have a company or a product that is currently making a loss (i.e. costing a lot more to run than the income it generates) and it might still be worth some (or a lot of) money as long as you expect it to generate enough profits going forward. Uber for example has been making a loss for years and is still valued at billions of dollars because people think it will eventually generate a lot of profit.

Q: What does all of that mean for tumblr, specifically?

Given how unprofitable tumblr has been historically it's actually a pretty good sign that management has a plan to try and make it profitable because it means they haven't thrown in the towel yet!

But if they fail or if they decide that no matter what they do tumblr will remain unprofitable, then they wouldn't have much business incentive to keep running it. This is why participating in crab day or spending some money on tumblr in general is a good idea, if you can afford it and if tumblr is a service you would like to keep enjoying into the future. And if the answer is no to either of those questions, that's ok too--don't let anyone guilt you on this.

Even more questions-and-answers under the cut! My inbox is also open for any (good faith) questions you might have.

Q: But we all use tumblr religiously--isn't that enough?

Not quite. Tumblr's current state means that the existing userbase is not enough to make the site profitable. For that to change, either the existing userbase needs to become more profitable, or tumblr needs to get a lot more new users--or have a combination of both.

Q: Can crab day really solve all this?

Once again, not quite. A one time cash-injection is not equal to sustainable income, which is what tumblr ultimately needs. This means tumblr will still need to court potential new users and that entails some change to the design and/or the perception of the site. (I love tumblr but guys, if we are real for a second, last time I told my coworkers that, they asked me if I also had a myspace account.)

Q: So why participate then?

Because it will still help. While some change is inevitable and necessary, if we the existing users put our money where our mouth is, it would send a strong signal to management that we value the service they offer and that they should take our preferences into account in designing the site's future also. Also some cash, even if it is a one time deal,

Q: I heard people who came up with the idea are transphobic Christian fundies--do you really want to associate with people like that?

I don't. But who the blogs behind this idea, as people, are has no bearing on the merits of the idea itself.

#crab day #save this hellsite #im gonna say something i never explicitly have #and ask that you rb this if you agree with it #finance is confusing! and the more we get the message across #the better i think #for keeping tumblr around for a long time

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 days

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How finfluencers destroyed the housing and lives of thousands of people

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

The crash of 2008 imparted many lessons to those of us who were only dimly aware of finance, especially the problems of complexity as a way of disguising fraud and recklessness. That was really the first lesson of 2008: "financial engineering" is mostly a way of obscuring crime behind a screen of technical jargon.

This is a vital principle to keep in mind, because obscenely well-resourced "financial engineers" are on a tireless, perennial search for opportunities to disguise fraud as innovation. As Riley Quinn says, "Any time you hear 'fintech,' substitute 'unlicensed bank'":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/01/usury/#tech-exceptionalism

But there's another important lesson to learn from the 2008 disaster, a lesson that's as old as the South Seas Bubble: "leverage" (that is, debt) is a force multiplier for fraud. Easy credit for financial speculation turns local scams into regional crime waves; it turns regional crime into national crises; it turns national crises into destabilizing global meltdowns.

When financial speculators have easy access to credit, they "lever up" their wagers. A speculator buys your house and uses it for collateral for a loan to buy another house, then they make a bet using that house as collateral and buy a third house, and so on. This is an obviously terrible practice and lenders who extend credit on this basis end up riddling the real economy with rot – a single default in the chain can ripple up and down it and take down a whole neighborhood, town or city. Any time you see this behavior in debt markets, you should batten your hatches for the coming collapse. Unsurprisingly, this is very common in crypto speculation, where it's obscured behind the bland, unpronounceable euphemism of "re-hypothecation":

https://www.coindesk.com/consensus-magazine/2023/05/10/rehypothecation-may-be-common-in-traditional-finance-but-it-will-never-work-with-bitcoin/

Loose credit markets often originate with central banks. The dogma that holds that the only role the government has to play in tuning the economy is in setting interest rates at the Fed means the answer to a cooling economy is cranking down the prime rate, meaning that everyone earns less money on their savings and are therefore incentivized to go and risk their retirement playing at Wall Street's casino.

The "zero interest rate policy" shows what happens when this tactic is carried out for long enough. When the economy is built upon mountains of low-interest debt, when every business, every stick of physical plant, every car and every home is leveraged to the brim and cross-collateralized with one another, central bankers have to keep interest rates low. Raising them, even a little, could trigger waves of defaults and blow up the whole economy.

Holding interest rates at zero – or even flipping them to negative, so that your savings lose value every day you refuse to flush them into the finance casino – results in still more reckless betting, and that results in even more risk, which makes it even harder to put interest rates back up again.

This is a morally and economically complicated phenomenon. On the one hand, when the government provides risk-free bonds to investors (that is, when the Fed rate is over 0%), they're providing "universal basic income for people with money." If you have money, you can park it in T-Bills (Treasury bonds) and the US government will give you more money:

https://realprogressives.org/mmp-blog-34-responses/

On the other hand, while T-Bills exist and are foundational to the borrowing picture for speculators, ZIRP creates free debt for people with money – it allows for ever-greater, ever-deadlier forms of leverage, with ever-worsening consequences for turning off the tap. As 2008 forcibly reminded us, the vast mountains of complex derivatives and other forms of exotic debt only seems like an abstraction. In reality, these exotic financial instruments are directly tethered to real things in the real economy, and when the faery gold disappears, it takes down your home, your job, your community center, your schools, and your whole country's access to cancer medication:

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2012/jun/08/greek-drug-shortage-worsens

Being a billionaire automatically lowers your IQ by 30 points, as you are insulated from the consequences of your follies, lapses, prejudices and superstitions. As @[email protected] says, Elon Musk is what Howard Hughes would have turned into if he hadn't been a recluse:

https://mamot.fr/@[email protected]/112457199729198644

The same goes for financiers during periods of loose credit. Loose Fed money created an "everything bubble" that saw the prices of every asset explode, from housing to stocks, from wine to baseball cards. When every bet pays off, you win the game by betting on everything:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Everything_bubble

That meant that the ZIRPocene was an era in which ever-stupider people were given ever-larger sums of money to gamble with. This was the golden age of the "finfluencer" – a Tiktok dolt with a surefire way for you to get rich by making reckless bets that endanger the livelihoods, homes and wellbeing of your neighbors.

Finfluencers are dolts, but they're also dangerous. Writing for The American Prospect, the always-amazing Maureen Tkacik describes how a small clutch of passive-income-brainworm gurus created a financial weapon of mass destruction, buying swathes of apartment buildings and then destroying them, ruining the lives of their tenants, and their investors:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-05-22-hell-underwater-landlord/

Tcacik's main characters are Matt Picheny, Brent Ritchie and Koteswar “Jay” Gajavelli, who ran a scheme to flip apartment buildings, primarily in Houston, America's fastest growing metro, which also boasts some of America's weakest protections for tenants. These finance bros worked through Gajavelli's company Applesway Investment Group, which levered up his investors' money with massive loans from Arbor Realty Trust, who also originated loans to many other speculators and flippers.

For investors, the scheme was a classic heads-I-win/tails-you-lose: Gajavelli paid himself a percentage of the price of every building he bought, a percentage of monthly rental income, and a percentage of the resale price. This is typical of the "syndicating" sector, which raised $111 billion on this basis:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/a-housing-bust-comes-for-thousands-of-small-time-investors-3934beb3

Gajavelli and co bought up whole swathes of Houston and other cities, apartment blocks both modest and luxurious, including buildings that had already been looted by previous speculators. As interest rates crept up and the payments for the adjustable-rate loans supporting these investments exploded, Gajavell's Applesway and its subsidiary LLCs started to stiff their suppliers. Garbage collection dwindled, then ceased. Water outages became common – first weekly, then daily. Community rooms and pools shuttered. Lawns grew to waist-high gardens of weeds, fouled with mounds of fossil dogshit. Crime ran rampant, including murders. Buildings filled with rats and bedbugs. Ceilings caved in. Toilets backed up. Hallways filled with raw sewage:

https://pluralistic.net/timberridge

Meanwhile, the value of these buildings was plummeting, and not just because of their terrible condition – the whole market was cooling off, in part thanks to those same interest-rate hikes. Because the loans were daisy-chained, problems with a single building threatened every building in the portfolio – and there were problems with a lot more than one building.

This ruination wasn't limited to Gajavelli's holdings. Arbor lent to multiple finfluencer grifters, providing the leverage for every Tiktok dolt to ruin a neighborhood of their choosing. Arbor's founder, the "flamboyant" Ivan Kaufman, is associated with a long list of bizarre pop-culture and financial freak incidents. These have somehow eclipsed his scandals, involving – you guessed it – buying up apartment buildings and turning them into dangerous slums. Two of his buildings in Hyattsville, MD accumulated 2,162 violations in less than three years.

Arbor graduated from owning slums to creating them, lending out money to grifters via a "crowdfunding" platform that rooked retail investors into the scam, taking advantage of Obama-era deregulation of "qualified investor" restrictions to sucker unsophisticated savers into handing over money that was funneled to dolts like Gajavelli. Arbor ran the loosest book in town, originating mortgages that wouldn't pass the (relatively lax) criteria of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. This created an ever-enlarging pool of apartments run by dolts, without the benefit of federal insurance. As one short-seller's report on Arbor put it, they were the origin of an epidemic of "Slumlord Millionaires":

https://viceroyresearch.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Arbor-Slumlord-Millionaires-Jan-8-2023.pdf

The private equity grift is hard to understand from the outside, because it appears that a bunch of sober-sided, responsible institutions lose out big when PE firms default on their loans. But the story of the Slumlord Millionaires shows how such a scam could be durable over such long timescales: remember that the "syndicating" sector pays itself giant amounts of money whether it wins or loses. The consider that they finance this with investor capital from "crowdfunding" platforms that rope in naive investors. The owners of these crowdfunding platforms are conduits for the money to make the loans to make the bets – but it's not their money. Quite the contrary: they get a fee on every loan they originate, and a share of the interest payments, but they're not on the hook for loans that default. Heads they win, tails we lose.

In other words, these crooks are intermediaries – they're platforms. When you're on the customer side of the platform, it's easy to think that your misery benefits the sellers on the platform's other side. For example, it's easy to believe that as your Facebook feed becomes enshittified with ads, that advertisers are the beneficiaries of this enshittification.

But the reason you're seeing so many ads in your feed is that Facebook is also ripping off advertisers: charging them more, spending less to police ad-fraud, being sloppier with ad-targeting. If you're not paying for the product, you're the product. But if you are paying for the product? You're still the product:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/04/how-to-truth/#adfraud

In the same way: the private equity slumlord who raises your rent, loads up on junk fees, and lets your building disintegrate into a crime-riddled, sewage-tainted, rat-infested literal pile of garbage is absolutely fucking you over. But they're also fucking over their investors. They didn't buy the building with their own money, so they're not on the hook when it's condemned or when there's a forced sale. They got a share of the initial sale price, they get a percentage of your rental payments, so any upside they miss out on from a successful sale is just a little extra they're not getting. If they squeeze you hard enough, they can probably make up the difference.

The fact that this criminal playbook has wormed its way into every corner of the housing market makes it especially urgent and visible. Housing – shelter – is a human right, and no person can thrive without a stable home. The conversion of housing, from human right to speculative asset, has been a catastrophe:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

Of course, that's not the only "asset class" that has been enshittified by private equity looters. They love any kind of business that you must patronize. Capitalists hate capitalism, so they love a captive audience, which is why PE took over your local nursing home and murdered your gran:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/23/acceptable-losses/#disposable-olds

Homes are the last asset of the middle class, and the grifter class know it, so they're coming for your house. Willie Sutton robbed banks because "that's where the money is" and We Buy Ugly Houses defrauds your parents out of their family home because that's where their money is:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/#homevestor

The plague of housing speculation isn't a US-only phenomenon. We have allies in Spain who are fighting our Wall Street landlords:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/24/no-puedo-pagar-no-pagara/#fuckin-aardvarks

Also in Berlin:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/16/die-miete-ist-zu-hoch/#assets-v-human-rights

The fight for decent housing is the fight for a decent world. That's why unions have joined the fight for better, de-financialized housing. When a union member spends two hours commuting every day from a black-mold-filled apartment that costs 50% of their paycheck, they suffer just as surely as if their boss cut their wage:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/13/i-want-a-roof-over-my-head/#and-bread-on-the-table

The solutions to our housing crises aren't all that complicated – they just run counter to the interests of speculators and the ruling class. Rent control, which neoliberal economists have long dismissed as an impossible, inevitable disaster, actually works very well:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

As does public housing:

https://jacobin.com/2023/10/red-vienna-public-affordable-housing-homelessness-matthew-yglesias

There are ways to have a decent home and a decent life without being burdened with debt, and without being a pawn in someone else's highly leveraged casino bet.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/22/koteswar-jay-gajavelli/#if-you-ever-go-to-houston

Image: Boy G/Google Maps (modified) https://pluralistic.net/timberridge

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obsessive-valentine · 11 days

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How would Dark-Yandere!Farmer react to finding reader taking Polaroid photo shoots of his retired senior dogs in silly clothing like sunglasses, hair clips, etc. Btw love your writing keep up the good work!🫶🏼

Dark-Yandere!Farmer x GN!Reader

TW - Readers def developing Stockholm Syndrome or something of the sort, nothing else though this fix is sweeter as an apology for the intense one last time about reader being punished. This was meant to be a qick paragraph or two as an answer but I got to deep into lore and this sweet scenario as it’s a side of him we don’t see much. Thanks for the idea glad you’re liking this blog❤️

I’ll proof read later

You’d expressed an interest in his old cameras after he let you rummage through a few boxes he’d stored away. In a box he’s got a old digital camera a Polaroid one and then a really fragile one that’s much older than the rest, you didn’t dare pick it up in fear it would fall adapt just by touch. Then at the bottom of the box, a few images, some developed film some printed. You recognised him in some home images or family portraits, he looked like a happy kid with a cheesy grin sometimes even pictured on this very farm but most of them look to be taken in a small town house.

It’s weird to imagine at one point he was just a normal kid, living a normal life, photos of him blowing out candles on his birthday or with some older family members reminded you that no ones born ‘bad’. Makes you wonder why he’s the way he is now, what happened?

A part of you wanted to take one of those sweet images of him as a child and hide it away, to uncover and re-remind yourself he’s not a living monster but a human and a kind one at times. To ground yourself when he gets angry and all you can see him as is a living demon. To set the aspiration that if he was once so -he can be again.

You recognised a woman from the images as his mother because he kept a image of her in the bedside draw, she looked loving and kind. But he’d never talk about her, answering your careful questions about her with “she was a good mother” or “she was an admirable woman” he seemed emotionally withdrawn about it so you didn’t push it. You figured since she’s dead he’s just remembering her face.

The rest of the pictures seemed to be from the building of this farm, dated on the back in scruffy hands writing, maybe by his father or grandfather. You could look through this pile of history for hours, not just to learn more about your captor but about the history of this place and the his family that he’s so reluctant to talk about.

The ladder to the attic creaks behind you and his distinct heavy boots land with a thud and groan on the ladder steps “what’s got you so occupied up here?” You felt like you’d been caught looking in something you shouldn’t have despite having permission “j-just these cameras, I had a polaroid camera once” you turned to him showing him the old camera, he now off the ladder and standing over you.

“Hmm, old thing -maybe older than us” he gently took it from you hands to inspect it “probably still works if you want it, not any use just sitting up here” he hands it back “thank you” you reply with a smile he waves you off and crouches down beside the box with you. He shuffles through it completely ignoring the images from his past and he rummages in search of something “No film stacks though, I’ll pick some up from town next time”

“Really?” You look over at him in excitement, he shrugs “sure” he stands up ready to head back down stairs “had I known you’d be so happy I’d have gotten you one sooner” he chuckles at your excitement over something so small.

To you it’s much more than a old camera to take up some free time when you get bored. It’s yours, you can control it, keep it for your own. You don’t have much things that’s yours anymore but the collections growing.

...

You’d basically forgotten about getting film for your camera as a week or two had passed. But he hadn’t, he returned to the truck once again being one of may shops he had to stop at. But this time he didn’t have heavy bags of stock or material and tools for the farm but just 3 small boxes that he could carry in just one hand.

He sat down in his seat and extended his hand to give you the boxed, you furrowed your brows in confusion until you read one of the box’s. A big smile plastered you face when you got to the word ‘film’ “that should be enough to last you a long while” “thank you” you grinned giving him a quick hug out of appreciation.

Once you both pulled into the driveway of the farm you had already thought up many picture opportunities, and you couldn’t wait to get to it. The car parked and he gave you the go ahead “You can finally get to your photography, take some pretty pictures” you practically ran to the house to retrieve the camera.

...

You’d been in the house for a hour or two at this point and he’d began to get a bit concerned, usually you’d come outside now and then or spend the afternoon in the barn playing with the animals. But no sign of you. He put the final nail into the fence he was fixing and decided to come check on you.

He got to the front door and could hear you laughing before even opening it “good boy Berty, you’re so handsome” his curiosity peaked at those words, he quietly made his way to the room you and presumably Berty the elderly farm dog was in and observed from the door frame.

There you sat, infront of Berty whose dressed up in various items and fabrics mimicking clothes. The camera clicks and your silent as you watch it develop, Berty still sits patiently. “We got the picture, look at how dapper you look” you praise him and he gets exited leaving all the items fall off his as he runs up to you to get pet.

“When I said pretty pictures I was envisioning landscapes or with artistic vision” he jokes still standing in the door way unable to not smile at such a bizarre but cute sight. You stand shocked for a moment, he’s not one to creep up on you, it when you see his amused smile you loosen back up. “This is artistic vision, and Bertys my muse, look at how handsome” you joke and show him the photo “it’s something alright” he almost laughs out.

“Hey, this is worthy of a museum, the composition the choice of colours the muse, it all tells a story” you continue to joke, he just shakes his head unable to wipe away his smile “as long as your happy, I guess” “I am, thank you again” moments like this you forget everything you went though and are able to exist in ignorance.

Those moments are becoming more frequent now especially since he’s began to become more relaxed, he wasn’t as authoritarian anymore, your sure if you pushed it he wouldn’t have a 2nd thought of going back to the way things were. There’s always that lingering threat but it’s not as pronounced anymore. You’re starting to see the love he has for you, sometimes unconventional and deranged possessiveness but moments like this, seeing him smile and joke you can delude yourself into believing he’s a normal partner.

He brings you in closer by the hips “you’re so cute” his grin is akin to the little boy in those pictures, you’ve seemed to restore a part of his childish cheer. He pecks your lips “I bet the barn animals are missing you, maybe you should take this photography session to them, I’m sure they’ll appreciate the attention”

And that’s what you did, dressed up the chickens though they didn’t stay still -the cows were great models -but a few animals tried to eat the accessories and clothing which made things harder. The farmer got less work done than normal that afternoon as he found it quite amusing and cute watching you through the cracked barn door trying to wrestle a bow onto a goat.

#yandere oc #yandere #x reader #yandere farmer #Val-Asks

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 6 months

Text

I'll Be Home for Christmas - Bob

Pairing: Bob / Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Some Crying and Slight Angst; No Physical Descriptions of Reader; Reader is a Teacher; Use of "You" but No Y/N

Summary: Bob promised you that he would be home for Christmas.

Master List

Dating a naval aviator wasn’t easy. Bob's schedule was erratic and never usually worked in their favor. He could be in one place one day and a completely different continent the next or out in the middle of the ocean. And it wasn’t easy to communicate with him when he was deployed. Emails and letters were about all you could usually manage.

For Bob, you would do it all over again to keep him in your life. But that didn’t make the holiday season any easier.

Bob, along with the other Daggers, had been deployed for the last six months. Somewhere in the Pacific, that was all that you knew. He told you that they would be docking today and so you waited outside the school where you worked, anxiously waiting for his call. The call about whether or not he would be home in time for Christmas or not.

Fiddling with the necklace that he bought you for your one year anniversary nearly three years ago now, you sucked in a breath when your phone started to ring. The photo of you and Bob on the hike you took on his birthday last year.

“Bobby?” you called softly, answering the call.

“Hi, honey,” he returned, his voice sounding clearer than it usually did on these types of calls. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you,” you replied, smiling bashfully. “What about you?”

“Exhausted.”

“What time is it over there?”

“Pretty late.”

“Well, thanks for staying up to talk to me,” you stated, a bit concerned about Bob. He was uncharacteristically short with his sentences. “How’s Phoenix and the boys?”

“We’re all good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get the care package that I sent you?” you asked softly, fiddling with your necklace.

“Oh, yeah, I did, Honey. Thank you for sending it.”

“Did you send a video over to Leslie? She was putting a movie together for the kids.”

“Yeah, I did, Honey. She’s got it.”

“Thank you for doing that. The kids will really appreciate it.” After a moment of silence on the other end of the line, you asked, “Are you okay, Bobby?”

“I’m fine,” Bob replied, his voice cracking a bit.

“Bobby.”

“Honey, I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I'm not sure that I’ll make it home in time for Christmas,” Bob revealed, causing your heart to shatter in your chest.

“It’s okay, Bobby. It’s not your fault. There’s always other holidays.”

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just focus on coming home safely. Whenever that is.”

“I will. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I really miss you,” you replied, your voice breaking at the end.

“I really miss you too. And I’m so sorry, Honey.”

“Stop apologizing, Bobby. Just come home safe and that’s good enough for me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, Honey.”

“Bye, Bobby.”

Hanging up the phone, you sniffled and wiped your tears away. You let out a steadying breath, trying to calm yourself down, before grabbing your bags and heading inside the elementary school where you worked.

It was the last day of school before Christmas Break and so, it was your class’s Christmas party. You got to school early to set up, but now you might need to use the time to gather yourself. Opening the cabinet, you smiled sadly at the photos of Bobby that you put up. Hanging up your coat, you wiped your tears away and quickly moved to start setting up.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, just a few miles away from your school, Bob was holding his head in his hands, looking like he was going to be sick. The other Daggers were gathered around him, all having returned home just a short while earlier.

“He’s this beat up about it?” Hangman sighed, leaning on the car. “All he did was a little lie.”

“It’s a wonder that you’re still single,” Phoenix replied dryly, shooting him a look.

“I made her cry,” Bob whispered out quietly as Fanboy patted his back.

“She’ll get through it, Bob. And you only had to lie to her for a couple hours,” Fanboy reasoned, motioning for the other Daggers to speak up.

“She’ll forget all about it once she sees you,” Phoenix replied, looping her arm under Bob’s and pulling him to his feet. “Now, come on, we’ve got some shit to do before the big reveal.”

~~~~~

“One, two, three, eyes on me!” you called, clapping on the numbers and then pointing at yourself. When you saw that all of the kids were looking at you, you added, “Alright, do you guys remember when we made those care boxes? For the service men and women?”

Various kids shouted out that they did remember, causing you to nod and smile. Since you worked in a Navy town, many of the kids in your class had parents or other family members in the Navy. The care packages had been a personal project that you decided to bring to your class, since you knew that a lot of the kids would be in a similar position as you—wishing that someone that they loved so much came home for Christmas.

“Alright, well, Ms. Sullivan put together a video of them opening the boxes that we put together. So, if everyone could sit in their seats quietly, we’ll start the movie.”

You dimmed the lights before the video started up and slowly sat in your seat, waiting for Bob’s video to pop up. Kids in your class would yell out when they saw their family member, which made your heart both swell and break at the same time. The video continued on until Bob’s familiar face appeared on the screen.

“Hi, everyone,” he called, waving to your class.

“It’s Mr. Bob!” one of your kiddos yelled out.

“Yeah, it’s Mr. Bob,” you mumbled sadly before you paused, frowning slightly as you examined the video more closely. “Is that the cafeteria?”

“What?” Ms. Sullivan asked, trying to hide her smile.

“That’s the cafeteria,” you stated, getting to your feet.

Walking up to the screen, you scrutinized the image of your boyfriend as he pulled out the items from the box, including ones that you definitely didn’t put there. Confused, you turned to Ms. Sullivan when the door opened and the lights turned back on.

Looking at the door, you spotted Bob standing there in his flight suit, beaming at you with such a loving smile that your knees wobbled. Choking out a sob, you sprinted over to your boyfriend, causing your kiddos to scream and cheer. You wrapped your arms around him, sobbing tears of joy as he pulled you to his chest.

“It’s Mr. Bob!”

“He came from the video!”

“What are you doing here?” you cried, fisting the back of his flight suit. “I thought that you couldn’t come home.”

“I’m sorry, Honey, but I lied. Can you forgive me?” Bob asked, rocking you back and forth.

“Of course, I forgive you,” you choked out as Bob wiped your tears away. You snuck a chaste kiss before straightening up. “I love you so much, Bobby.”

“I love you too, Honey. And I’m really relieved that you forgave me because otherwise this would be really awkward.”

“What are you . . .”

You held a hand to your mouth as Bob slowly got down onto one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket, causing your kiddos screams to reach new heights. Bob opened the box and you swore you almost fell to your knees. He looked at you with those big blueberry blue eyes, which were filled with so much love and devotion.

“Will you marry me, Honey?”

“Say ‘yes’!”

“You have to say ‘yes’!”

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Bobby,” you replied softly.

He stood up and you pulled him in for another chaste kiss that promised more when there weren’t thirty-five six-year-olds staring at you. He slid the ring onto your finger, where it would stay forever. Turning to your kiddos, you laughed and tried to wipe your tears away as they raced towards you guys. Bob squatted down again, accepting high fives and a few hugs, which only made you fall more in love with him.

As if that was even possible.

School was released shortly afterwards and after cleaning up the Christmas decorations and Bob hauling stuff out, the two of you walked out to your car. The Daggers told you that everyone would celebrate your engagement tomorrow, but tonight, it was just you and Bobby.

“I told you that I’d be home for Christmas,” Bob replied, opening your door for you.

“You did,” you agreed, pressing a less appropriate kiss to his lips. “And I think that the only time you’ve ever successfully lied to me.”

“And the last,” Bob promised, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Merry Christmas, Honey.”

“Merry Christmas, Bobby.”

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #bob x reader #bob fluff #bob floyd #bob #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd x you #bob x you #bob floyd x you

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daizymax · 8 months

Text

a little pampering | lfl (m)

summary: your kind, attentive boyfriend helps you unwind after a long day with a massage and a little more.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 5.6k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established (but new) relationship; profanity; mentions of food; graphic sexual content; clit play & vaginal fingering; some breast & nipple play; a tiny bit of spit play & finger sucking; dirty talk; oral (m receiving); penetrative piv sex with condom use

author’s note: re-written, re-titled and re-uploaded from my old blog. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

Technically he has good timing, but as you set your things down and kick off your shoes, you aren’t sure if you’re really in the mood to answer his call. Not after the day you’ve had. But it’s Felix, and the relationship is still new, so you answer anyway.

“Hey.”

“Uh oh, what’s wrong?”

Normally you don’t mind how observant he is; that’s one of the things you have come to admire about him. But you don’t want to unpack your hard day on him, so you feign ignorance.

“Hm? Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine,” you say, then promptly change the subject. “I just got home. How was your day?”

“It was alright,” Felix answers pleasantly. His smooth, deep voice is always soothing. Just a few words from him and you’re already feeling your mood lift a little. “I was just calling to see how your day was. When you didn’t answer my last text, I figured it turned into a rough one towards the end.”

You ignore his correct suspicion for the time being to quickly check your messages. There it is, the missed text from a few hours ago asking if the two of you could meet up for dinner tonight.

“Shit, I’m just now seeing it,” you say. “You’re right, work was rough and I was just crazy busy this afternoon, I’m sorry.”

“No worries! Does dinner sound alright, though? We can go anywhere you want.” When you make a noise somewhere between a ponderous hum and a non-committal grunt, Felix laughs knowingly. “Okay, that’s fine.”

His easy acceptance of your hesitation doesn’t make you feel better. If anything, it only makes you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I just don’t really feel up to going out tonight. I’m tired and my neck is killing me. I kind of just want to stand under a hot shower for, like, half an hour, then pass out in bed.”

“Ah, poor thing. Can I at least bring you dinner, if I promise not to overstay my welcome? I’d still love to see you tonight, even for just a little while?”

His offer is sweet, but you don’t exactly like the way he’s pressing to see you tonight. Even when worded as questions, even with his assurance that he won’t stay too long, it comes off as kind of pushy to you. But to be fair, Felix has been nothing but respectful and understanding and kind to you in the couple months you’ve been dating him. Is a well-intentioned offer really something to refuse? Or something worth getting into an argument over?

You blame your sour thoughts on your terrible day and decide you probably would feel a little better if you let him dote on you with a simple meal and some company, so you accept his offer on the condition that he bring enough food for himself as well.

---

Felix arrives at your door with two bags of food and a smile.

Even after his own long day of work, he looks fresh and pretty. His blond hair is parted, freckles on full display against his honey skin. He smells good, too. Something clean and floral wafts into your nostrils, even through the smell of the food.

“Hey you,” you say. “Thanks again for bringing dinner, you really didn’t have to.”

“Hey you,” he echoes, stepping inside when you allow him by. “It’s my pleasure, really. Thanks for letting me come over. I hope you don’t mind, I brought dessert, too. Nothing special, just some ice cream. If we don’t eat it tonight, you can just keep it and save it for another time.”

You thank him again for the thoughtful gesture, and he wastes no time helping you put dessert into the freezer before dispensing the rest of the food onto some plates.

By the time the two of you settle across the table from each other, you feel silly for your negative thoughts earlier, even if they were brief. Maybe one day you will decline his company, but right now, this feels exactly like what you need: a nice meal and your boyfriend’s comforting presence.

“This is really great, Felix.”

He beams. “Dig in, babe.”

You expect him to ask for the details of your stressful day, but he doesn’t bring it up. Instead, he talks of his own day, and you learn a few new tidbits of information about him as he talks — the way he likes his coffee (extremely sweet), the time of day he showers (in the mornings, though he thinks nights would be better actually), the amount of time it takes for him to commute to and from work (about 20 minutes each way). It’s odd how mundane things like that are always fascinating at the start of a relationship.

Partway through the conversation, you stretch your stiff neck, and Felix notices your discomfort. He lumps his mouthful of food into one cheek and asks, “So what did you do to your neck?”

“I don’t even know,” you mutter. “It’s been a few days now. I don’t know if I slept on it wrong or what.”

“Poor thing,” he tuts again. “You’re probably ready for that shower. I’m just about done here, I can go ahead and show myself out and leave you to your rest.”

“No, stay,” you blurt. “I mean, I do really want to shower, but maybe we can watch a movie or a show or something when I’m done, if you want?”

He looks a little surprised at your suggestion. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you’re sure I won’t be overstaying my welcome? I really don’t mind if you want to kick me out now so you can get on with your evening. You don’t have to—”

You reach over the table to brush your fingertips over his knuckles, and he promptly shuts his mouth. “Felix, it’s okay. I want you to say, if you want to stay.”

He smiles and relaxes. “Alright, cool.”

After the table is cleared, you insist he make himself comfortable in the living room and find something for the two of you to watch when you return.

The pressure of the hot water and the encapsulating steam is everything you’ve been dreaming of all afternoon. And even though you have lovely company waiting, you decide to take your time and savor the water pelting your aching muscles until it turns lukewarm and you drag yourself back out to dry off and put on some comfortable clothes.

Felix certainly looks comfortable perched on your couch. He smiles brightly again when he sees you. “Feeling better, sweetheart?”

You stretch your neck experimentally. “Physically? Not really. Mentally? So much better.”

“Well that’s something, at least.” He fluffs open the blanket on his lap and says, “Come here.”

The scene is too tempting to resist. You cozy up beside him and wrap your arms around his middle as he does the same with you.

Felix sighs, then you hear him inhale softly. “You smell good.”

“So do you,” you say, sniffing his sleeve.

“Thanks.” He shifts one arm to reach for the remote on the table beside him. “Is Sci-Fi okay?”

You nod and lay your cheek against his shoulder. “Sounds good.”

“Cool.”

Half an hour into the show, your neck twinges in protest over your otherwise comfortable position, and you groan quietly as you pull yourself up to sit up straight. You’d been so content to cuddle with your warm, pretty boyfriend.

Felix pauses the show and looks over at you. “You okay?”

Before you can answer him, you bump your fingers into his hand when he reaches for the back of your neck first. His fingers are soft, and you can’t help but sigh at the tender pressure he puts on the sore tendons.

“You do feel tight. Tense,” he says, gazing at your skin in concern while he rubs gentle little circles into it with his thumb. “I might be able to help a little more than the shower did, if you want.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You do massages?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been told once or twice that I’m decent at it. Think it’s worth a shot?”

You shrug back. “Yeah, sure, why not. Thanks, baby.”

Once you’ve situated yourself so that your back is facing him, Felix places his hand at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Right here, isn’t it? Down into your shoulder, too,” he says, measuring the damage with delicate prods of his fingertips.

“Y-yeah,” you mutter, then clear your throat. “Yeah, like all along there.”

With that confirmation, he takes a firmer grasp of your knotted muscles to try and smooth them out. You hiss at the sensation, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Felix hums knowingly. “Sorry. Try to relax, but tell me if it hurts too much.”

He takes hold of your opposite shoulder just to steady you as he works the pained one. He rolls his fingers along the column of your neck, pressing his thumb at the base of your skull with a calculated pressure, then pinches the muscle of your shoulder.

“Feel okay?” he checks when you let out an indecipherable sound.

“It does hurt a bit,” you admit, “but it feels good, too.”

“Good.”

He repeats his motions over and over until he’s built up a nice rhythm of gentle squeezes up and down your neck and firmer, longer squeezes along your shoulder. You start to feel weightless, boneless, and you lean into his chest at the lulling ministrations.

At one point he sweetly kisses the side of your head without pausing his work, and it occurs to you then that you haven’t kissed him in days.

To remedy that, you start by turning your head towards him. Felix smiles when he meets your eyes, and you lean closer to kiss his lips. He doesn’t have time to react outside of a tiny, surprised grunt before you’re pulling away with a pleased grin.

He grins back wider. “Another,” he says, puckering his plump lips into a cute, inviting pout.

You giggle and oblige, this time holding the position longer. He kisses you back with the smallest movement of his jaw. Greedily, you decide it isn’t enough, so you reach to hold the back of his head and part your lips further to coax him into doing the same.

A sigh through his nose breaks across your cheek at the same time the tip of his tongue dips between your lips. You meet it softly, deepening the motion by tilting your head even more so there can be no gap between you.

The quiet sounds of your lips breaking and reconnecting fills your ears soothingly. His fingers have stopped massaging you in favor of simply holding you close to him, but you don’t mind. In fact, you’re already thinking of a better place for him to put them right now.

When you start to guide his hand down to your chest, Felix whispers your name against your lips. He doesn’t elaborate, and you’re not sure what he thinks he’s trying to say, but you don’t comment back.

Instead, you cup your hand over his and squeeze so he’ll take the hint. He doesn’t say anything more, just fondles your breast as requested by your body language. You arch into his touch and moan into his mouth, partly for sexy effect to keep him going, but mostly because it’s exciting to have him touch you like this for the first time.

Your moan encourages him, just as you suspected it might, and he adjusts his hold on your breast to run his thumb across the nipple starting to poke through your thin shirt. He doesn’t mention the lack of a bra, but you can tell he finds the easy access exciting by the way he hums again. He switches to your other breast to pay it some equal attention, rolling your stiff nipple between his thumb and forefinger gingerly, then pinching it just to hear you react with a light gasp.

“I’m really glad you let me come over tonight, Y/N,” Felix takes the time to mention, as though this makeout and groping session is the highlight of his whole day. The thought makes you want to take things even further.

“Me too.” You twist your torso to face him even more, and his hand slips from your breast to your lap. “Felix? I want you, baby.”

He licks his already wet lips, dark eyes shimmering as he glances between each of yours. “You mean… have sex? Right now?”

You nod silently, and there is a split second of hesitation on Felix’s part where you can almost see the gears turning in his head before he swears under his breath and surges forward into another kiss, feverish with new intent this time.

He returns his hand to your clothed chest without guidance this time, but you think of something even better, so you bring his hand up through the bottom of your shirt instead. You’re sure your own body temperature is rising with your desire, but his palm is nearly searing on your bare skin.

He starts to lose focus on kissing while he’s feeling you up, and so do you. Every roll and tweak and squeeze sends a pulse of arousal between your legs. It gets to the point that you start rubbing your thighs together needily, and Felix — being the kind, thoughtful, observant person he is — takes notice.

“Fuck, babe,” he swears. His hand smooths down your warm stomach to the band of your leggings and stops there. “Getting kind of horny?”

You giggle because he sounds kind of precious saying it aloud. It’s already been established that you want to have sex with him — of course you’re horny.

“More like a lot,” you say, nipping his bottom lip with your teeth.

Felix smirks deviously. “Hm. I see. Let me help you with that, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t push his fingers into your pants right away. Instead, he cups your pussy over your clothing with a confidence that both surprises and delights you. Then he starts to drag his fingers up and down, back and forth. Your toes curl and loosen depending on the pressure of his moving fingers and how often he brushes across your swelling clit. You’re barely kissing him at all at this point; more like hovering right against his lips, which are still smirking ever so slightly.

“Feel good?” he murmurs.

“Y-yeah.” You spread your legs a little wider, and Felix uses the extra space to grind the heel of his palm over your clit now. “Oh fuck,” you gasp over the new, rougher sensation.

Unlike with the massage he was giving you, he does not build up a steady, diligent rhythm of repetitive motions. He alternates without pattern between the grinding of his palm and the tickling of his fingers along your covered slit. It feels unbelievably, surprisingly good, but you’re getting frustrated by both the teasing and the barriers separating your burning skin from his.

“Felix,” you whimper. “I need more, please...”

“I know, I’ve got you.” He finally dives his hand into your pants, but he still only touches you over your underwear. “Mm, this does feel good, doesn’t it?” he says, alluding to how damp and sticky you’ve become. He traps your swollen clit between his index and middle finger and gives it a vibrating shake, and your thighs automatically clamp together on his hand, which makes him chuckle. “You still seem tense, Y/N. Relax for me. I’m taking care of you. Gonna make you come just like this.”

The whine you let out is pitiful even to your own ears. How easily he’s turned you to putty in his capable hands.

He wraps one arm across your stomach while the other flexes beneath the blanket at your crotch. You can’t see anything he’s doing down there, but you can sure as hell feel it all.

He keeps two fingers focused on your clit with tight, firm circles and increases his pace. Your soon-to-be-ruined panties not only add to the friction he is creating but also keep his fingers from slipping around too wildly. The concentrated pleasure races through your veins as fast as he can rub at the stiff, sensitive bundle of nerves.

The edge he’s been dragging you toward looms— “Right there! F-Felix… Please, j-just like that, please…”

“You don’t have to beg, sweetheart. Just let go,” he says. His voice is pitched lower than you’ve ever heard it, which very well could be what launches you straight into your body-tingling climax.

You gasp when it hits and clutch his forearm tightly — not to stop him, just to let him know, as if he couldn’t already tell you’re coming from the way you’re stuttering mindless expletives and desperately humping against his hand.

Felix almost moves his fingers away too soon, but you whimper and hold him in place for a little while longer to wring that last bit of ecstasy out. He coos something apologetic that you can’t quite make out through the static in your ears and continues drawing dwindling circles into your clit.

After a few more, he hooks his middle finger through the side of your panties and slowly glides it through your bare folds for the first time, from the bottom of your soaked opening, up between your puffy lips, all the way to your clit still pulsing at the top. You twitch weakly at the onset of sensitivity, but he doesn’t linger or torment you with overstimulation; his finger is gone almost as quickly as it came.

You slump against him, and Felix presses a sweet kiss to the first part of you he can reach, which is your sweaty temple.

“You’re amazing, Y/N. Feeling alright?”

In the midst of calming down and catching your breath, you have to laugh at his compliment when he was the one who did all the work.

“Yeah, I feel great. That was so good.”

“Good. There’s more orgasms where that came from, if you’re up for it.” He plants another quick peck on the crown of your head and gives your pussy one last pat through your panties with a flat, open palm before finally withdrawing from the cramped, humid space of your pants.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder again and give his lips a quick kiss. “I think it’s your turn for some pampering now.”

Felix doesn’t protest, only shifts with you as you transition from sitting between his legs on the couch to kneeling between his legs on the floor.

“Is this okay?” you ask, rubbing one of his knees.

Your pretty boyfriend nods. “Yeah, definitely.”

You start to run your hand up his thigh towards the enticing bulge between his legs, but he puts a hand over yours to stop you. You give him a concerned look because you thought he was good with this; he just said so.

“Listen, I’m not, like… impressive, okay?” he says.

Oh. That’s what he’s worried about? The size of his dick? The thought of him being self-conscious about it saddens you, honestly.

You give his thigh a squeeze. It feels firm and warm to your touch. “I’m not the kind of person to rate your dick based on size, baby. I promise you.”

Felix smiles shyly, face flushed pink. “I know, I know. I know it’s about how I use it. I guess I just wanted to, I don’t know, warn you? Not warn you but, like, prepare you, or something?”

He’s nervous, which in and of itself is completely understandable. This is the first time you’ll be seeing his dick. He wants to make a good first impression, and his size is one of the first things you’ll notice. You don’t want him to worry about it, though, so you go back to reaching for the zipper on his pants, and he lets go of your hand.

“Trust me, I’m more than prepared to suck you off, baby,” you say with a grin.

“What about your neck?” he asks.

“I’ll be alright.” A little soreness in your neck is not going to stop you from doing this. No way.

Felix lets out a breathy laugh at your determination and lifts his hips to help you get his pants down. His dick twitches beneath his boxers when you reach for them next.

As soon as you remove them, you think you can see what he was talking about. There are certainly longer and thicker cocks out there, and maybe he is slightly smaller than what could be considered ‘average,’ but by god, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen a prettier cock in your life. It’s rock solid, wrapped in a plump vein, and the tip is blushing a darker shade of pink than his face. You’re already more than pleased with it.

“Baby, your dick is perfect,” you say, reaching for it. He’ll probably think you’re exaggerating for the sake of his confidence, so you elaborate, “Perfect for me to swallow whole, and more than enough to fill me up. It’ll feel amazing to have you fuck me hard from behind, or with my legs on your shoulders in missionary, you know? You’d hit me just deep enough to hurt a little bit but not too much. You even fit perfectly in my hand. See?”

You swear you feel his cock pulse harder in your hold. The skin is so warm and smooth, silky yet stiff. You cannot wait to get your mouth on it, or have him stuff it in your pussy.

Felix breathes a short laugh; he sounds a little winded all of a sudden. “Fuck, I can’t wait to do all of that with you,” he says. His head falls back against the couch, and you’re glad to see him relaxing.

You nod. “Me either, baby. Can I start by swallowing you whole?”

Another twitch of his cock, which is clearly in agreement of its own, but you wait for his words.

“Yes, please,” he says, so politely.

You scoot a little closer on your knees, then bend forward to take his leaking tip into your mouth. Felix gasps as soon as you seal your lips around him, and he practically shivers when you lick at his slit. You love how sensitive and responsive he is. You can already see yourself worshiping his cock for hours. Maybe not tonight, but hopefully some time in the very near future.

It’s fun hearing his voice go from high-pitched and whiny to deep and almost tortured sounding, depending on whether you’re tracing the vein on his cock with your tongue or hollowing your cheeks around the flared mushroom head. He fits in your mouth so perfectly, just as you told him he would. His cock stretches your lips, but not enough to make your jaw sore; his length extends into your throat, but it’s not terribly troublesome to deep-throat him. It seems he especially loves breaching your throat and feeling the tight muscle flexing around his tip. Those sounds — the desperate little gasps — are quickly becoming your favorite.

Just when you’ve really gotten into a rhythm, however, he hisses “Wait wait wait,” and reaches out for your shoulder to gently ease your face away from his cock. It drops with a wet little plop against his lower stomach, glistening in your spit now.

“I’m gonna come if you keep going like that,” he says to your confused look, chuckling a little. “You’re actually about to suck my soul out.”

You laugh and rub his thighs. “I’m just taking care of you like you did for me.”

“I think I need to eat you out for ten minutes to even the score now.”

“There’s no score,” you say, still laughing, “but if you’d rather move on to something else, I have condoms in the bedroom.”

Felix sits up. “Lead the way.”

He leaves his pants and underwear behind on the living room floor, and you take his hand to bring him into your bedroom.

He’s been in here a couple times before already, but he’s never taken you by the hips and pulled you into a steamy kiss in here before. He’s never watched you strip your clothes for him in here before, or stripped his clothes for you in here before.

He’s never lowered you onto your mattress and followed on top of you before.

The feeling of his weight on yours is nice. His skin is so smooth and muscular; he’s been hiding those abs under his baggy clothes all this time. You kind of want to take more time to admire his body, but you’re not about to interrupt the feeling of his lips on your neck and throat; he’s found a sensitive spot, and it’s winding you up tighter to finally be fucked.

“Where’s the condoms, sweetheart?” Felix asks, as though he can hear your screaming thoughts. He scatters kisses along the tops of your breasts.

“In here,” you say, reaching for the drawer on your nightstand.

Felix reaches too, fingers bumping into yours as he finds one of the packets. He may have been nervous and self-conscious about his dick size, but he’s confident when he tears open the foil and tugs the latex over his erection. As soon as he’s ready to go, he asks, “So, did you want me to fuck you hard from behind, or missionary with your legs over my shoulders?”

God, he’s perfect.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” you say.

He smirks again. It looks extra devious on his angelic face. “Alright, well, at the risk of being cheesy, I think I want to see your face when you come this time, so legs up it is.”

You giggle. “So cheesy, baby. But that’s fine with me.”

Felix helps you into position, practically pulling your legs up for you to get the backs of your knees hooked over his shoulders. The tip of his covered cock bumps against your inner thigh, then the entrance of your pussy. You can feel how wet you still are — and how hard he still is — just from that minimal contact. He brings a hand down to better line himself up, and you can’t help but whimper when he presses a little harder on your hole. So close, but still not close enough.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” you say.

He pushes in, slowly but all in one go. The angle is perfect for him to hit just the right spot inside your walls, just like you knew he would.

Felix’s eyes roll back in his head in pure bliss, and he hugs your thighs to help balance you and to brace himself against all this pleasure.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. He leans a little more of his weight forward, unintentionally testing the flexibility in your legs. His core strength is impressive. “Is this okay, babe? You good?”

You bring your hands up to cup his face and purposely clench your walls tighter around him. “I’m fantastic. You can move whenever you want.”

He does just that, retracting the tip of his cock to the edge of your entrance before sliding in deep again, nice and slow. His movements are even and firm, tip to base, over and over again as he acquaints your pussy with his cock and vice versa.

“Oh f-fuck,” you breathe. “That’s so f-fucking good, Felix, so fucking deep.”

He groans and drops his hands from your thighs to plant his fists in the mattress instead. He fucks you faster, harder, battering that sweet spot inside you and driving you into the mattress. You can feel his balls slapping against your ass with every powerful push, and you can feel that your arousal has already leaked onto them, too. There’s going to be a hell of a wet spot on your sheets later, but you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Felix chants under his breath in time with his thrusts. His eyes have been closed since he started moving faster, but he opens them again now. You meet his gaze and bite your lip, and he leans in to kiss you, pulling your bottom lip between his own teeth. His lips graze across your cheek and down your neck.

“You feel amazing inside me,” you tell him, fingers twisting into his hair at the back of his head.

Felix brings his hands around to your backside to take your ass in his hands and hold you even closer to him. “Got me so fucking close already, Y/N,” he grunts into your mouth.

“Then come for me.”

He shakes his head; long, blond bangs sweeping the freckles on his cheeks. His thrusts stutter before evening out again. “Not before you. Will you touch yourself for me?”

You smile and nod, bringing two fingers up between your lips and accidentally bumping Felix’s lips in the process. He surprises you by catching them in his mouth immediately after you’ve wet them with your own.

“Jesus, baby,” you whisper, heavy gaze on the way he sucks your fingers so well, if only for a quick second or two.

His brown eyes are smoldering, burning into yours, and you nearly forget what he just asked you. He watches you bring your wet fingers down between your rocking bodies to finger your clit. Your walls instantly clench tighter around his cock, and he groans straight into your ear.

“So fucking t-tight, babe. Your pussy fits s-so perfectly around me, fuck.”

Felix takes your free hand and presses it into the mattress beside your head, leaning more of his weight into you again. Your legs are aching from maintaining this position, but it’s worth it to have him hitting your g-spot over and over again at this angle, and your orgasm is so fucking close now.

It’s clear Felix is close, too. His forehead and upper lip are dotted with sweat, his hips are getting more and more erratic, his breath is stuttering. He rakes his eyes from yours, down to your jiggling breasts, down to where your fingers are playing with your clit, and repeat.

“So gorgeous,” he whispers with a sweet peck to your lips. Far too sweet for the way he’s plowing you up the mattress, which somehow only pushes you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, gonna come,” you moan, squeezing his hand tighter.

Felix squeezes back and goes in even faster, determined in his thrusts. “Do it, sweetheart. Come on my cock.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to do so. A few more perfect pushes against that sweet spot inside you and a few more flicks of your fingers and your orgasm quakes through you, hot and molten from your core all the way down — up — to your curled toes. You can’t help but tug Felix’s body even closer with your legs as you tremble through your high.

“God damn,” Felix swears as he watches you come; he couldn’t see it this well on the couch earlier. Your eyes are shut, mouth fallen open, body squirming under him from all the pleasure he’s helped bring you.

And your pussy, fuck. You can’t seem to stop clenching, and it draws out his own climax. He can barely get the words out to tell you. “Shit, c-coming, babe— ungh!”

He lodges his cock as deep as it can go and finally unloads his cum into the condom with a low grunt. You peek your eyes open in time to witness his own mouth dropped open in bliss. He gives a few more firm thrusts to finish off his orgasm, then gently eases your legs down. You wince a little as you become more aware of the muscles you’ve been straining, and Felix gently kneads your hips with his fingers.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Can’t feel my legs,” you pant, smiling up at him, “but in a good way. That was amazing. You okay?”

Felix is trying to catch his own breath, but he still giggles. “I’m great!” He runs his hands up your legs from ankles to hips, then gives the sides of your ass a couple pats. “Be right back.”

He hops off the bed with a surprising amount of energy and dashes into the bathroom to trash the condom. When he returns, he has a towel in hand.

“Is it okay to clean up with this?” he asks.

You give him a tired thumbs up, and he smiles as he helps clean up the lingering wetness between your legs. He tries to do something about the wet spot on the sheets, too, but you tell him not to worry about it; you’ll just change them in a bit.

For now, you reach out to bring him back into bed and into your arms, and he easily obliges.

“Just lie with me for a bit, please?” you murmur, halfway to sleep as you play with his hair.

Felix snuggles tighter against you and hums. “Of course.”

“Might pass out any second,” you warn him.

He kisses your throat. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Rest.”

You yawn. “Want you to stay with me.”

His body is so warm and solid. His voice is deep and honeyed. “I’m here. Right here.” A few beats of silence go by, then he adds, “I’m really glad you let me come over tonight, Y/N.”

You hum, “Me too,” just before drifting off.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

#felix smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #a little pampering #daizymax

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megalony · 9 months

Text

I Was Worried

This is my first time writing Evan Buckley from 911 but I am in love with that show and re-watching made me want to write. I'm open to take any requests for Buck or Eddie from the show. I hope you all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) tries to convince everyone at the station that she is fine, especially her boyfriend Buck. But when she takes a bad turn out on a call, he gets panicked.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Whatever you're cooking smells good," Buck folded his arms and leaned forward onto the counter, pushing his hips out and arching his back a little to stretch out.

It didn't really matter to Buck what Bobby was cooking, it could have been anything from cats to crocodiles and he would eat it. Half a bowl of cereal wasn't enough to keep Buck going through a hectic morning shift and it was almost two o'clock now, way past dinner. He was starving and he was desperate to eat anything Bobby cooked.

"Pasta bolognaise," Bobby looked up from the large serving bowl he was pouring the pasta into, smiling when he could see Buck's eyes widening happily.

"And garlic bread." A smile worked its way onto (Y/n)'s lips when she walked past Buck and patted his shoulder as she went. She knew her boyfriend like the back of his hand and he was very food orientated.

She felt his hand graze her lower back as she passed him and grabbed the plates from the side to set the table. They didn't know how long they would all get to eat so dinner was usually fast. Set the table within a minute, everybody down and chug the food and drink to get as much as possible before a call sounded. Half the time they gobbled food and ended up with twenty minutes left to spare and they actually got to sit and digest their food and talk. But more often than not, food was partially eaten and left to go cold while they hurried out on a call.

(Y/n) could feel a headache burning behind her eyes and igniting through to the back of her head.

For over a week now (Y/n) had been feeling off, her headaches were becoming more common and persistent and she was feeling sluggish no matter how much sleep she managed to get or how she tried to eat enough and regular to keep her energy up.

Buck had said she was starting to come down with something and now (Y/n) was slowly beginning to believe him.

When the plates were all in place and utensils were laid out in the middle of the table, (Y/n) curled her hands around the back of one of the chairs and took a second to clear her foggy head. It felt like someone was slowly pumping her head full of air and any moment it was going to burst.

"Alright, are we ready?" Chimney clapped his hands and approached the table with a grin as Hen and Eddie followed behind.

(Y/n) tried to keep smiling and slowly shuffled away from the table and towards the cupboard near the sink where they kept the glasses. She couldn't stop her breaths from becoming shaky when her fingers curled around a glass and started to tremble.

"(Y/n), you coming?" Bobby glanced back over his shoulder when he approached the table with the food. She was awfully quiet all of a sudden when normally she would be first at the table to dish out the food and pour out the drinks.

When he didn't receive an answer, he glanced over at Buck who was halfway between the kitchen and the table before he stopped in his tracks and looked across at his girl. He looked back at Bobby with furrowed brows but waved his hand out at them to signal that they could go ahead and get sat down. He turned on his heels and headed over to where (Y/n) was stood in front of the kitchen counter with her back to him.

"Babe… you okay?" His voice was quiet but when he reached out to rest a hand on (Y/n)'s arm, he could feel her subtly shaking. "What's wrong?"

"Buck…" Her head was splitting like someone was banging a drum so harshly that her head was ripping open at the seams. The thudding of her heartbeat pulsed beneath her skin and pounded through her head so badly that she couldn't even see anymore. All she could make out were the black and white sparkles blinking in front of her eyes.

She could feel Buck's hands both coming up to rest on her shoulders and his lips merged against the back of her head but she couldn't hear what he was trying to whisper to her. Everything was turning to static in her ears.

Both Buck's arms moved to bind around (Y/n)'s waist when her knees gave out and she buckled. Her fingers slipped off the edge of the counter and her arms fell limp at her sides.

"Oh shit!" Stooping over, Buck braced himself a little better and slowly moved down until he was kneeling on the floor with (Y/n) hoisted up against his chest. Her head fell forward onto her chest as her legs curled up beneath her but she was still shaking. Buck kept one arm secured around her lower waist and moved his other arm round so he could carefully rest his palm against her temple and tilt her head up so she could lean her head back on his shoulder.

With a mouthful of garlic bread, Eddie pushed his chair back and jogged over to the pair while Hen busied herself grabbing a medical bag from near the stairs.

"Alright, here we go." Eddie knelt down in front of Buck and reached out for (Y/n)'s crumpled legs, carefully pulling them so they were straightened out and she was laid a bit more comfortable up against Buck. He pressed his fingers against (Y/n)'s wrist as Hen came over to them. "Pulse is a bit fast, not too bad. (Y/n), you with us?"

A muffled groan escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she tried hard to open her eyes but the lights suddenly felt like spotlights shining down on her and they were burning her eyes. She could feel Hen carefully taking her arm and sliding a blood pressure cuff up over her elbow and the tightening sensation sent a shiver down her spine and cleared her mind just a little.

"Open your eyes, babe," Buck coaxed while he smoothed his hand up and down (Y/n)'s arm. And something tingled to life in his chest and bubbled through his blood when he felt her hand shakily reach back and squeeze his thigh.

"Do you feel dizzy or sick?" Hen shone a light across (Y/n)'s pupils when she finally managed to open her eyes and something flickered on her face like a brief smile when she managed to follow Hen's finger from left to right.

"Dizzy… I- I'm good, probably just hungry." (Y/n) shuffled herself a little higher against Buck's chest so she was sitting up properly and she could feel the blood rushing back down to her feet and the storm in her head was starting to calm down, finally.

"You blacked out and you think you're good?" Buck rolled his lips together when Eddie gave him a look. He wasn't being rude but he knew (Y/n) better than any of them, he knew she was more likely to brush this under the rug than consider there might be something more serious than just a little dizzy spell. He for one didn't want to act like this was something small when he had said for the last week that she was coming down with a bug from how uneasy she felt and the constant headaches.

"Alright, if she thinks she's gonna be okay then let's all try and eat lunch, but you're benched today (Y/n). Any callouts, you hang back here to be safe I'm not taking any risks."

(Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line to supress the groan burning at the back of her throat. She didn't want to hang back and wait around for them to come back off a call when she could be needed, she was here to do her job not sit back and worry. But she could see Bobby's reasoning, she would be a liability today if she went on a call and felt rough or this happened again. It was a safety measure.

She let Eddie take her hands and Buck loop his arms beneath hers so they could hoist her up between them. Her legs felt wobbly like setting jelly but she could shuffle them towards the table without worrying that she was about to collapse again.

It was just a blackout, she probably needed something to eat.

Loosening the suspenders on his shoulders, Eddie pulled them off his arms and shimmied out of his overalls and boots. He picked them up and shuffled tiredly through into the locker room, smiling softly when he glanced over and saw (Y/n) sat on a far bench near the glass wall.

"How you feeling?" He dumped his things into his locker but when he didn't hear a response, the smile slowly slipped from his face and he glanced back over at her.

He knew Buck had been worried for the rest of the shift when they went out and left (Y/n) behind at the station. She had kept herself busy, they all saw the tidy kitchen and the mopped floors implying she had been desperate to occupy herself when she got left behind for the afternoon. Buck had been the first one to run up to her when they got back and make sure she had been fine while they had been out. He worried; a lot.

"(Y/n)?"

Eddie walked over and gently perched himself beside her on the bench before he clasped his hands together in front of him and stooped over a little. His head tilted to the left to try and see her since she was sat at an angle but he sucked in a sharp breath when she turned to face him.

Her hands were full of used, bloodied tissues and there were streaks of blood smeared all across her mouth and chin and a lot of dried blood caked around her nose.

"What happened?" He was careful when he gingerly reached his hands out to tilt her head back. It looked like the blood had mostly stopped now but there was a hell of a lot on her face and the pile of tissues she had crumpled up in her fists.

"I had a headache, then the heavens poured out my nose for over five minutes. Has it stopped?" (Y/n) tightened the tissues in her hands until she could feel them starting to shred and pull apart between her fingers.

She had barely walked away from Bobby after reassuring him she felt much better, and her nose started to pour like a tap. Her head started to go fuzzy and heavy like it did earlier and no amount of tissue or pinching the bridge of her nose seemed to stop it. And Buck had gone for a shower so he didn't have to bother when they got home, the last thing (Y/n) wanted to do was run to him and ask for help. She would only panic him more than he had been earlier and she didn't want that.

"Yeah, I think it's stopped, are you sure you feel alright? You know this doesn't look so good." Eddie couldn't help but feel nervous, constant headaches, blacking out and a nosebleed on a large scale weren't signs of something minor.

"I feel better than this morning… Eddie, please don't tell Buck. You know he worries."

(Y/n) swiped the last crumpled tissue against her face before throwing them all in the bin. She would have to dart into the bathroom and wash her face clean of the blood if she didn't want Buck or any of the others realising what had happened or getting the wrong impression.

"I won't." A nosebleed could just be that and not mean anything else, it could be a one off and Eddie certainly wouldn't want to worry Buck unnecessarily.

He wouldn't say anything; yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft smile flooded (Y/n)'s face when the man whose name was John, grabbed her hand and held it tightly to her heart. He needed reassurance and (Y/n) would help him as much as she could and calm him down, it was all part of the job.

"Am I dying?"

"Of course you're not, we won't let that happen. We're going to free your leg and get you to the hospital, you'll be right as rain soon." It always felt easier to reassure someone with minor wounds like this.

It was when the victim had organs spilling out or a crushed chest or third degree burns that wouldn't heal that made (Y/n) panic about giving reassurance to them. When she knew there was no way she could guarantee they would survive, telling them everything would be okay felt like a lie and that wasn't always the best course.

But this man only had a leg crushed by some rubble and a few broken bones, nothing fatal that they needed to worry about. He was going to be fine and (Y/n) knew it.

"Alright, I'm going to let go of your hand so we can get ready to move you, okay?" (Y/n) gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she let go and moved so she was crouching behind him with her hands hooked under his armpits.

Eddie was going to lift the metal beam from the man's leg and Buck was in position to free his legs and help slide him onto the board so they could carry him out. He was the last person trapped in here, everyone else was out and taken care of and after this, the team could head back to the station and wait for the next call of the day.

(Y/n) wasn't sure if it was the dust and smoke filtering through the air that was making her head spin or if it was the headache she'd had since this morning but whatever it was made her feel off. Every part of her felt sluggish and slow and her head felt like it had cotton wool stuffed in it.

"Go!"

On command, (Y/n) pulled him back and lifted him up and she and Buck quickly laid him down on the read board and shuffled him up until his head was safely in the foam brace to keep his neck still and straight.

"Alright let's get out of here."

(Y/n)'s arms had never felt so limp and heavy than they did when she lifted her end of the board and followed Buck back through the small break in the wall they had created to get in. Her hands were tensing and twitching in the grooves of the board and it felt like her centre of gravity was shifting more to the left like the world was tilting at an angle. It made (Y/n) want to lean to the left to balance herself back out but when she tilted her head, she felt like she was about to topple over.

She had carried people out like this thousands of times, she'd hooked people over her shoulders and ran from burning cars before and gone quicker than this but today she couldn't seem to catch up. Buck was going too fast and her feet were heavy and weighted in her boots but she did her best to kick the rubble out the way and keep up. She could feel Eddie close behind and her eyes focused on looking up at Buck.

He was wearing his overalls and his coat and helmet so she couldn't see the way his biceps would twitch and strain or the way he would hunch up his shoulders to tense his muscles and go faster, but she could imagine the way his body would move beneath the jacket.

As soon as they were outside, all of them were coughing from the wave of fresh air that hut them like a truck.

Something burned in the back of (Y/n)'s head like she'd been struck with a knife and as soon as they were clear, they set the board down as close to the ambulance as they could manage. Two paramedics filed over and Buck busied himself reeling off the injuries John had sustained.

Forcing herself to smile, (Y/n) leaned down and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"T-they'll fix your leg and have you up and walking in no time, you will be okay." She couldn't wait to hear his response or wait for a thank you or even a smile, she had to move.

Her feet stumbled beneath her and she could feel herself beginning to shake down to her boots. She didn't feel good. She wasn't sure where she was heading, she just had to get away from the victim so she didn't worry him and be away from prying eyes.

When she couldn't walk any further, (Y/n) threw off her helmet and unzipped her jacket and launched it down on the floor. She was sweating, she was cold, she was burning up and shaking and feeling sick all at once.

"(Y/n), hey, what's up what's going on?"

Running her fingers over her face, (Y/n) turned her back to Eddie and shook her head. She didn't know what was going on or what the problem was but there was just something that didn't feel right. Her head was pounding like it was going to explode and since she'd blacked out, it had been progressively getting worse. All of her symptoms had been getting worse whether she wanted to admit it or not.

There was caution in Eddie's movements when he gingerly placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her round to face him but when he did, he could see that her eyes weren't able to focus on him.

"I think you should sit down,"

"I… wh- I want-"

Eddie couldn't fathom what she was trying to say or what words were passing through her lips, none of it made a sentence or any sort of sense but it didn't matter.

(Y/n)'s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she tumbled down like the collapsed building behind them and Eddie couldn't catch her in time to break her fall, but that didn't matter either. He barely managed to go down on his knees when (Y/n)'s limbs tensed and tightened up like she was a puppet whose strings were being pulled.

Both her hands bent at odd angles and her arms pinned against her chest that pushed off the floor while her head started to tremble and jerk back and forth.

She was having a seizure.

"Cap! Captain, go get Buck! Now." Eddie threw his helmet to the floor and leaned over (Y/n) whose body was taut and tense and looked like she was shivering all over. He was the least bit relieved to see that she wasn't fully thrashing around on the floor and her arms and legs weren't being thrown about at all angles, it was more her head that was jerking than the rest of her body.

He carefully turned (Y/n) over so she was laid on her left side and tried to keep his hand pressed against the back of her neck to keep her head forward. He had no way of knowing if she was going to be sick or if she might bite down on her tongue and make it bleed. Either way, he couldn't risk her choking.

"Hey, what-" Whatever Buck was about to say fizzled into the air when he looked over at his girlfriend, laid on the floor spasming and shaking.

He'd never seen her have a seizure before.

"What happened?!" Fury boiled over in Buck's voice as he roughly grappled with his helmet and chucked it down to the floor before he went down on his knees in front of (Y/n). "Babe? (Y/n), baby it's me, you're okay, it's alright." He tried to keep one hand on her arm to let her know he was there while he pushed his other hand beneath her neck and the floor to feel her pulse and check her airways were still open. They couldn't be trying to intubate her while she was seizing like this.

"Hen, get over here! Don't let that second ambulance go, get it here now!" Bobby waved Hen over and pointed over at a paramedic who was about to take the other empty ambulance away from the scene now that all the people were accounted for and safely being transported.

"Has she had an accident, hit her head? Had a reaction to something?" Hen kneeled down next to Buck and took Eddie's place keeping (Y/n)'s head tilted forward while she tried to clip a monitor onto (Y/n)'s finger and listen to her heartbeat.

"No, nothing. She, she doesn't have seizures, this isn't normal." Something violent flashed across Buck's pupils as his jaw locked shut.

This wasn't normal for her, (Y/n) didn't get seizures or get seriously ill other than the odd bout of flu or a cold. She had never collapsed before, never had a seizure and she hadn't hurt herself or had any reaction to anything that would bring this on. Nothing had happened to her today or even this week for this to happen, Buck had kept a close eye on her to make sure she was alright. Clearly she wasn't.

"Okay, okay I think it's starting to wear off. (Y/n), it's Hen can you hear me?"

(Y/n)'s arms stayed pinned against her chest like she was protecting herself from something and her body started to calm down with the shakes but her upper half was still tilting and pushing back and forth like she was being pushed and pulled.

Hen gently pulled up her eyelid to flash a light across her pupil but her eyes were only half visible, still looking up towards the top of her head. Now that she had stopped shaking, Hen tried to listen to her heartbeat and put a blood pressure cuff on her arm.

"Buck…"

"I'm here baby, it's me." Reaching forward, Buck carefully slipped his hand into (Y/n)'s half-curled fist that felt tense and stiff and unusual to him but he knew he could feel her fingers trying to press against the back of his hand. It was enough to make his erratic heartbeat calm down and he brought her hand close enough so he could kiss the back of her hand before he pressed it against his chest.

"Her pulse is steady and her blood pressure isn't too low, she's stable enough. Get her on the stretcher, she needs an MRI."

"On three, Buck. One, two, three." Eddie slipped his hands beneath (Y/n)'s shoulders and Buck lifted her lower half and legs and they carefully laid her down on her back on the stretcher the paramedics wheeled over. She felt so tense and stiff like she was in rigamortis, Buck had never felt her so taut like that before and he hated it.

"I'll ride along with you," Hen patted Buck's shoulder nd glanced over at Bobby for confirmation. One nod of his head was all it took for Buck to shed his jacket which he handed to Eddie before he and Hen climbed in the ambulance.

"We'll meet you at the hospital,"

He wouldn't be able to focus on shift without being by her side and making sure she was alright and everybody knew and understood that.

"Buck, it hurts," (Y/n)'s words were slurred and she could barely keep her eyes open for long but he managed to make out what she said and it broke his heart.

He shuffled closer to the stretcher and brought her hand to rest against his cheek to let her know he was still here with her. He leaned his head to the side a little so he could kiss her wrist and he rubbed his other hand up and down her arm and shoulder to try and stimulate her and keep her awake with him.

"What hurts, baby?"

"My head." (Y/n) tried to lift her free hand to rub her temple but her limbs were so stiff she could barely curl her fingers to her palm.

"It's okay, the doctors will make you better, don't you worry baby. Just keep talking to me, eh? The team will come up and meet us at the hospital, they're all worried 'bout you."

"Stay with me," (Y/n) tried to smile and managed a half smile in Buck's direction and she tried to keep her eyes on him and his baby blue orbs that were staring down at her intently. She could feel his fingertips grazing up and down her skin and his wet lips pressing on her wrist like he was kissing her pulse and helping her heartbeat calm down.

"I ain't going anywhere, baby." Buck smiled down at her and he could feel himself slowly starting to calm down. Maybe this was just a one time thing, maybe she would just need her head checking out and some tablets and be perfectly fine. That was what he was hoping for. But when he looked down at her again, his smile started to fade. "What's wrong with her eyes?"

He glanced between Hen and (Y/n) until she carefully leaned over and pulled (Y/n)'s eyelid higher to get a better look. Both her eyes were trembling from left to right so rapidly it was making Buck's head hurt just from looking at them.

"Baby, talk to me… what's wrong?"

"She's having another seizure." Hen held her wrist and checked her vitals before she sat back down but kept close watch.

"But she…" Buck didn't know what he wanted to say. He'd never seen someone have a seizure like this. Sure, (Y/n) was tense again like her muscles were about to snap, but she wasn't shaking or spasming and her head wasn't moving. Nothing was moving apart from her eyes, he'd never seen anything like it but then again, the fire department didn't deal with seizures all too often.

This wasn't right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buck's knee juttered up and down like he was a drummer hitting the bass beat over and over again and it caused his elbows to shake and his neck to strain. He had his shoulders hunched over, his elbows perched on his thighs and his entwined hands propping up his chin.

Something burned to life in his chest when the rest of the team came down to the waiting room to sit with him and wait for any news. He didn't have much of a family out here apart from Maddie who was currently still on shift, but the station had become his make shift family.

He almost clocked himself in the jaw when Eddie gently elbowed him and pointed over to the doctor who was fastly approaching them.

Panic was all Buck could feel and in a moment of desperation, he turned his head until his eyes locked on Bobby who got the silent plea. He advanced over to Buck, laid a hand on his shoulder and followed him to meet the doctor a few feet away from the rest of the team. If it was bad news Buck didn't want everyone else listening in, he wanted to hear it for himself first but he wanted Bobby there too. He was like his dad now and he needed that support.

"Is she okay?" Buck tucked his hands into his pockets to stop himself from scratching his arms to pieces out of nervous habit.

"The MRI showed she had a small bleed on the brain which we've managed to fix, the pressure caused the seizures."

Buck didn't know what to make of that, he wasn't one of the paramedics, sure he had the basic training. He could do CPR, he knew the basic recovery positions and he could help someone in respiratory distress, but this was beyond him.

"What caused the bleeding?" Bobby tightened his hand on Buck's shoulder, it mattered more to know why this happened than how they fixed it.

"We ran a few blood tests which showed her red blood cells were shredded, this is caused by a condition, TTP. It's brought on by pregnancy."

Buck's shoulders slumped and his mouth hung agape as he turned to look at Bobby as if for confirmation and reassurance that he was hearing this correctly. (Y/n) was pregnant. She never said anything to him or to anyone else, surely she couldn't have known about this either. He was going to be a dad. He was gonna have a baby.

"Is she- I- is she okay, though?"

"With medication and close monitoring she will be fine, you can go see her now. Congratulations."

In an instant, Buck had his arms around Bobby, reeling him in for a crushing hug and a breathless laugh before he reeled back and shot down the corridor. He had to go and see her right now, (Y/n) had to be the first person Buck talked to about this, she had to be the one to see his ecstatic face and feel how fast his heart was beating out of his chest at this news. He had to reassure himself (Y/n) was indeed alright after today, he couldn't get excited or relieved until he saw with his own eyes that she was alright.

"Baby," Buck could barely speak from how breathless he felt as he stumbled into (Y/n)'s room and his eyes set on her.

She was sat up in bed, her lips rolled together to supress a smile and tears drenching her exhausted features. He ignored the horrid look of the IV cannula in her hand and the white patch taped to the side of her head where he guessed they had managed to drain the bleed on her brain. All he could focus on was how she was trying to smile at him and just looking at her had his eyes watering.

(Y/n) couldn't help but giggle when Buck hazardly collapsed on the side of the bed and wound his arms tightly around her middle. She smiled when he nuzzled his face in the crook of her shoulder and kissed her neck while she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head.

"I- I was so worried,"

"I know… are you happy?" Deep down, (Y/n) already knew the answer to her question but she had to ask anyway, just to be sure. She could feel him laugh into her neck, unable to believe she even had to ask him that and his arms tightened around her until he was pulling her up and crushing her into his chest trying to stuff her into his heart.

"Happy, are you kidding? I'm gonna be a dad!"

#evan buckley #evan buck buckely #evan buckley imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #911 fox #911 #911 imagine #eddie diaz #imagine #bobby nash

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ken-dom · 9 months

Text

Ken After Dark

Ken x reader

2.3k words

Gorgeous artwork created for this fic by the wonderful @dranna 💖

Summary: Ken has a dirty secret that you’ll only discover if you skip girls night.

Author’s Notes: I have two headcanons for Ken — excited, needy virgin sub!Ken who cries after sex, and smug, secretly slutty dom!Ken (who also cries after sex if you praise him).

I originally posted this to my main blog but I'm re-posting all my work here to have everything in one place due to an unresolved tagging issue on my main.

Warnings/content: NSFW, 18+, dom!Ken, f!reader, Ken has a huge praise kink, blow job, voice kink if you squint, crying, aftercare, reference to bitter competition between Kens, it’s still light and fun in places so expect talk of disco pants during the blow job and references to the stupid shit he says it’s a Ken fic what do you expect

Ken pulled away, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, leaving you breathless beneath him.

‘You like that?’ he smirked, voice dark and low. It wasn’t the voice you were used to hearing from him at the beach; light, fun… eager. It was almost dangerous, and it caused your legs to tremble.

And yes, you did like it, that hot-blooded kiss that spread from a warm tingle on your lips to searing heat pooling at your core, so you nodded, burning up under the intensity of his gaze as he awaited the answer he craved.

‘Yeah? Well, there’s a lot more where that came from,’ he growled, grabbing your jaw and roughly dragging you back to him for a deeper, more ferocious kiss that frankly didn’t last long enough. ‘I can show you things you couldn’t comprehend.’

Bet Ken couldn’t comprehend them either, Ken thought bitterly as he rolled his hips to press his erection into your thigh with a loud groan. The sensation soothed his nagging jealousy for a moment.

‘Show me, Ken,’ you cooed, desperate for more.

‘Only if you beg.’

Your eyes widened at his response, his commanding voice rolling through you like a vibration.

‘Please, Ken- I- I need you to show me…’ you breathed, hypnotised by the deadly glint in his eyes.

Yeah, that’s right, beg. You’re begging me. Not Ken.

‘On your knees,’ he snarled against your lips, one hand swiftly slapping and then grabbing a handful of your ass. ‘Now.’

You followed his instruction without question, slipping down onto the floor to kneel before him as he stood above you, freeing himself from his disco pants and guiding your lips to his impressive cock. He smiled down smugly when he heard the gasp you couldn’t contain at the sight of it, sparkling precum already leaking from the angry red tip, shaft throbbing within his fist.

When you’d let your thoughts wander, you always imagined Ken would be a gentle lover, easing you into a slow and gentle lovemaking session with soft touches and tender caresses and lingering kisses, focussing entirely on your pleasure before thinking of his own and delighting in sharing himself with you.

This, however, was shaping up to be a fantasy you’d never quite dared to explore, but oh, it felt so dirty and so unexpectedly good.

You suckled teasingly at the tip for a moment, taking your time to taste him. But Ken was impatient. He thrust himself hard into your mouth, choking you slightly as his length reached the back of your throat, and you began to suck, lapping at his slit each time you bobbed your head and pulled back. You were surprised to discover that you were causing him to tremble, his legs growing weak at your ministrations.

‘Ohhh… uhhhghh- UGH!’

A thrill ran through you at the desperate sounds of his pleasure. He was louder with each thrust, with each lap of your tongue and the hollowing of your cheeks, with each muffled hum you couldn’t quite get out around a mouthful of his cock, and every vibration they sent through his core.

You glanced up to see that he was biting his fist with his eyes tight shut, trying (and spectacularly failing) to keep the noise down. With every passing second you craved more, so you sucked harder, bobbed your head faster, worshipped his cock with your tongue, and before long, the first that had muffled his moans was useless.

With a final cry that would have woken the whole street if it wasn’t for girls night occupying all your neighbours a couple of streets over, he firmly wound his fist back into your locks and sharply pulled you away, your lips slipping off his length with a light pop, leaving only a string of saliva connecting you to his leaking, swollen cock as you gazed up at him.

He was a picture, breathless and flushed, barely able to keep himself together.

‘On the bed,’ he snapped after a shaky, deep breath, lips curling in delight as he watched you wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and scramble back up onto the sequin duvet.

Ken might be the coolest but he isn’t getting his dick sucked like this tonight, Ken thought, a rush of power spreading through his body, making him chuckle delightedly.

He crawled over you, pinning your wrists above your head and biting his lip as he took the sight of you in, your swollen, wet lips and dilated pupils making his cock twitch. One light stroke, he thought, and he’d be done for, so he kept himself propped up avoiding the warmth of your body against his twitching length.

‘That felt… mmh… sublime,’ he rumbled, eyes gazing longingly into yours as he bit his lip, and you swore a glint of the Ken you knew flashed behind them somewhere.

His eyes sparkled, his cheeks flushed, and you thought he would snap out of this and make love to you like Beach Ken would. Needy and whiny and considerate…

He blinked, shook his head, whipped off his jacket and top and glared at you again, a snarl playing across his pretty lips.

‘I need to fuck you now. You deserve my cock for sucking it so good. Do you want that? Do you want me to make you mine?’

Nodding eagerly, you placed your hands gently on his chiselled chest, breathless as you caressed his perfect body. Ken’s eyes slid closed and he turned his face away, and for a moment you thought he was crying. But before you had a chance to show him any more softness, or notice that he had actually let out a soft sob at the tender way you’d touched him, he gripped your hips roughly to hold you firmly in place beneath him, devouring you with his eyes once again as he pushed himself inside.

Your eyes rolled back as he stretched you, sculpted hips digging hard into your flesh with each delicious thrust, fucking into you so hard you weren’t sure the bed would hold up.

You leaned up to kiss him, but he stopped you with another command; one that he really needed, and his orgasm was so near that he needed it now.

‘Tell me you- ah!- notice me? Tell me I’m- ahh!’

He sounded weaker somehow, quieter, as he tried to hold off his climax for just a few more seconds. He was trying to uphold this seductive, dominating version of himself, but he couldn’t quite keep it up with his peak nearing so rapidly and thoughts of you treating him softly filling his mind. All jealous thoughts of Ken had been overtaken by thoughts of you. There was only you. He needed you.

‘T-tell me… please-’ he whimpered.

‘You’re so hot, Ken,’ you panted, ‘you’re… mmh- amazing at kissing, god, I never would have imagined how good, ohh!- and you’re sexy and handsome and… Ken, I- I need you, my body aches for you- I’m so close-’

Ken intoxicated your mind, fucking you with such abandon you couldn’t quite think of any more words. It was just him. Everything was him, from your fingertips to the depths of your aching core.

You clawed at his back, and his orgasm ripped through him, harder and more satisfying than any he could remember. His throbbing cock was helped along by the timing of your own climax, walls clenching tight around his length and heels digging into his back as his fists gripped the sheets, until he finally collapsed on top of you.

‘Wow,’ he grunted against your chest.

As soon as the last drop of his glittery seed had filled you and he had begun to soften, he pushed himself up to roll off you, turning away as you lay shaky and breathless beside him.

You expected him to leave. As much as you’d enjoyed your experience with this new After Dark version of Ken, it also left you questioning whether he would be decent enough to even kiss you goodnight now he’d got what he wanted. You were just another doll he’d used and had his fun with. Tomorrow he would move onto another. You’d never see him the same way at the beach again, that was for sure.

Shivering, you slipped the covers up over yourself, waiting for the moment he would pull his shimmery pants back on and make an excuse to get back to… whatever he actually did in his free time. Apart from this, of course.

As you sighed and turned away too, not wanting to experience the humiliating sting of actually having to watch him leave, you heard what sounded like a whiny sob.

‘Ken?’

Peering over at him, your hand hesitated midair before softly caressing his shoulder. He was trembling, you realised, and when he moved his own hands away from his face you saw that he was crying, too.

‘Ken… didn’t you like it?’ you whispered, humiliation prickling at your cheeks.

He began to wail then, pressing his face into the nearest pillow in an attempt to muffle the sounds.

‘You said I’m hot,’ he sobbed dramatically, ‘you… you really think that? You said you ache for me! No one has ever even said I’m a good kisser… until today I thought I was only good at beach! Is it too much to want to hear that I’m hot now and again? But you actually think I am! And you… need me? I’m needed?’

He expected you to kick him out. They always did. He was pathetic. The brief moments of feeling safe and in control he experienced during these encounters was never really worth it in the end. He always ended up alone again.

As he resigned himself to picking himself up off your bed and moving on, the comforting warmth of your arm wrapping around him, scooping him to your chest to hold him close caused him to gasp.

‘Everything I said was true,’ you said softly, lips ghosting against his ear. ‘You’ve been doing this because you’re lonely, haven’t you?’

He nodded, shame running cold through his veins. Who would want him now?

‘There’s no need,’ you soothed, pressing your lips gently against his ear, ‘you are wanted, Ken. You are so incredibly wanted.’

You felt him relax a little in your embrace then, and he sighed, a long and trembling sigh that steadied his uneven breaths.

‘We could do it again? Softer, maybe…’ you leant over to place a lingering kiss on his damp cheek. ‘Slower, too… let me show you another way, Ken?’

‘Show me,’ he whined, finally turning to you. ‘Please.’

You hooked a leg around his waist, dragging his hips to yours as you kissed him softly, playfully nipping at his lips between deeper moments of finding his tongue to dance with yours.

‘This feels so good,’ he breathed weakly into your mouth, a sad smile pulling at his lips. It was overwhelming, all this affection he’d never before felt.

‘You feel amazing…’ You guided him back to you, feeling his arousal against your core and shifting your hips to take him in once again, rocking slowly to find a much more peaceful, connected release. ‘You feel… incredible,’ you whispered, voice breaking, ‘and you need this, don’t you baby?’

A tear rolled down Ken’s cheek. Lost for words, he simply huffed in disbelief, smiling against your lips.

‘You’re so good at this… at making me feel good… god, I need you, Ken, I need you…’

You guided his hand between your flush bodies to the apex of your thighs, his fingers finding your aching clit as you showed him how to touch you.

He was utterly taken with you, not just consumed with hunger for a hard fuck just to feel desired for a few seconds. Now he was simply filled with awe, eyes wide, watching your face contorting in pleasure he was giving you.

‘That’s it, oh, Ken, don’t stop! You’re doing so good… so goo-ohhh!’

That’s all it took. He came again, harder than before, trying to maintain eye contact with you but falling so weak he could only sob madly into the crook of your neck as he emptied his seed inside you for the second time.

The strength of his grip on your shoulder, the way his head dropped to nestle against you as he panted through his pleasure, the elegant fingers dancing across your sensitive nub, his thick cock buried, seed emptying inside you as you writhed against one another… you could only scream his name as your pleasure reached heights you’d never known.

You slowed the rolling of your hips and held him safe to your chest again.

‘That was amazing. You’re amazing,’ you soothed, fingers stroking through his soft hair.

Ken’s overwhelmed tears quickly turned into tears of joy, his grip still firm on your shoulder and his face pressed against your chest.

‘Please may I… stay here tonight?’ he muttered quietly, nervous you’d take back your affections at the thought of actually sharing your bed with him for more than this.

‘Like a sleepover?’ you smiled excitedly, tilting his chin up so you could see him.

Ken smiled dreamily. ‘Yeah. Like a sleepover.’

‘As long as I get to brush your hair and cuddle up to that hot body of yours and… maybe hold your hand at the beach tomorrow?’

He blushed madly, hand seeking yours, fingers interlocking. ‘You really like my body?’

‘Who wouldn’t like your body? Who wouldn’t like you? Come here.’ You pull him up until you’re face to face again. ‘I really like you Ken.’

‘I really like you, too.’

You really meant it all. All thoughts of Ken or being turned down in favour of girls’ night had long since faded from his mind.

All there was now, was you.

#not s f w 💀#ken #ken x reader #ken x you #ken smut #ken x y/n #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling!ken #ryan!ken #ryan gosling #rg!ken #ryan gosling ken #ken barbie #barbie movie #barbie 2023 #ken-dom writes #ken fic #kenergy

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