#I just wanna drop this it's so not worth the stress

[strawberry-jackalope]

my internship is gonna make my hair fall out from stress, I just know it

[satorena]

❛ UNPROFESSIONALISM ! ❜

⟡ content warnings. explicit content. foul language. ceo!satoru. secretary!reader. mentioned past flings. fondlīng. fīngerīng. afab!reader. p in v. unprotected. brēēding. squīrtīng. gojo satoru is his own damn warning. 4.9k.

⟡ serena's note. oh if y’all knew the lengths i went thru just to post this damn fic. . .

“ugh, this is such a painnn!”

“the sooner you finish your paperwork, the sooner you’re off, sir.” you sigh, arms crossed over your chest. you’re used to your boss’ childish antics by now, having worked side by side with him for nearly a year. you check the time on your watch, “work ended about half an hour ago— you might want to hurry up.”

“but y/n!” he drags out your name, voice all whiny and pitched in a telltale manner. he pushes himself off away from his desk, chair rolling back from the impact as he lolls his head back. “this shit is sooo lame. didn’t i hire nanamin to take care of the boring stuff? how come he isn’t here handling this god forsaken load of terrorizing agony?!”

you click your tongue, clutching tighter at the clipboard in your hold. you wonder if he’d been dropped on the head as a child, his lack of self-awareness so painful it makes you reconsider if the check at the end of the week is ever worth it. “he’s scheduled the week off to keep his wife and newborn in check. he signed off about a month ago.”

he snaps his head up so quickly, you’re positive he’s gotten whiplash. gojo blinks at you through big blue eyes and snowy lashes, a dumbfounded look on his face. he lifts his index to scratch at the corner of his lips, and cocks his head to the side, “ahh. . . ‘s that right? wait— nanamin’s a dad?!”

you feel the vein in your head inevitably tick.

“sir,” you let out an exhausted sigh, completely baffled by his ineptitude. he must purposely choose to do this to you, there’s simply no other explanation. “we attended his wife’s baby shower a few months ago—the one you mistook for a bachelor party and had me escorting the escorts back home.” you lift your pointer finger, brows cinched as the memory burns into your mind. he tilts his head to the side, affirming the idea of his cluelessness even more.

you raised a second finger, “we showed up to the hospital to congratulate them on their baby— and you got them that ridiculous cutout board of yourself that sings when you press on the—”

“the button on my dick, yeah!” gojo cackles as if it’s the funniest story ever, as if you hadn’t need to dump a bucket of water on the cutout figure to get it to shut up before he could get his company sued for emotional distress.

you huff, the stressful reminder of that unfortunate day having you anxiously tugging at the hem of your skirt, “yep. that’s the one.” between the baby’s obnoxious cries and exaggerated mecha-gojo moans, you’d rather not think about that encounter.

“and this whole time i figured she was his sister,” gojo snorts, wiping a faux tear from the corner of his eye. he sighs when his laughter dies down, and pulls him chair back into his desk. “man, his wife’s a babe. guess that explains why she looked at me all crazy when i called her fine the other day.”

“you sure that’s the only reason?” you mutter under your breath, the insult flowing off your tongue so naturally that you couldn’t help stopping it, even if you wanted to. that man was all kinds of deranged, his ego and head much bigger than it needed to be.

“ouch, that’s mean, doll.” gojo pouts, clutching at the material of his blazer above his heart. the back of his free hand lands on his forehead as he dramatically leans back into his seat. his eyelids shut tightly, “you’re wounding me. ‘m too young to die. i can’t go on like this— tell my mother i loved her. sign off my will for me, wouldya? make sure to terrorize nanamin some more. oh, and empty out all my search histories. wouldn’t wanna ruin my reputation. and get rid of my porn magazines beneath my bed. ‘ve got some pretty nasty stuff there. and check up on my kid every now and then. and—”

“alright, alright. i apologize.” you cut his rambling off before it spiralled into something far worse. there’s a full headache throbbing at your temple, your feet ache from your heels, and your stomach rumbles in hunger. you’re ready to go home now, but that won’t be possible unless your big man baby of a boss finishes up his task. “i’m sure you’ve a very suitable man. many would be grateful to have you. my apologies, sir.”

he peeks through an eye, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. his beaten-puppy look is quickly replaced by one you know far too well now— the look he gets after beating his rival company in terms of stock. the look he gets after successfully shitting on his higher ups. the look he gets after getting you to cum on his fingers after a long day— you’ve stroked his ego. “i’ve trained you well, princess. always flattering me, ohh, however did i get so lucky?”

whatever have you done to get so unlucky? “time’s ticking, sir. you can’t afford to pick up megumi late from practice again.”

“nanamin’s wife might be a babe, but you’re a gem, y’know?” your boss entirely ignores you, leaning his elbow onto the pile of work he’s now completely erased from his existence. he leans his cheek into his palm, fingertips tapping at the side of his head. “one helluva girl. i mean it— i really lucked out with ya.”

you cross your leg over the other, shifting your hips over the suede material of his couch. you recognize the sultry undertone to his voice, and your clear your throat, “is that so?”

gojo chuckles, flashing you all thirty two teeth, “i mean it’s not everyday you find a woman with your patience. god, you must be in love with me or something.”

you roll your eyes, despite the small smile that creeps up on your lips, “that’s certainly not why i stayed,” which wasn’t entirely true, but it’s not as if you haven’t inflated his ego enough today. “you may be a handful but your pockets sure are generous.”

“wouldn’t kill you to make a guy feel good about himself from time to time, ya know?” he fiddled the black pen between his fingers, twirling the object from knuckle to knuckle. he pauses when you don’t answer, noticing you noticing his finger movements. and so he proceeds with a smirk, “you’re always so tense all the time. . . tell me, when’s the last time you’ve been properly fucked?”

you nearly lose the grip on your clipboard at his audacity, the question throwing you off guard. though, you quickly keep composure— a fierce facade that’s always labelled you as the calm and collected kind. though, you’re doubtful it worked against your own boss.

“that’s an unprofessional question, sir.” you grit through teeth, nails scratching at the wooden back of your board. highly hypocritical of yourself, as you’re absolutely no better than he is— having already opened a window of no return that fateful night you accepted his invite to come inside his home.

“pretty sure we’re past unprofessionalism.” he pushes himself off of his desk, rising to his feet. your eyes trail his movements, from the index finger that hooks at his tie to loosen the knot, to the cock of his head to the side that has his hair bouncing, to the sound of expensive shoes clicking with every stride closer to you.

his presence can be oddly intimidating at times— you’ve noticed while working with him for a while. there’re moments like whenever he steps up on a podium in front of thousands of people, or when the elevator doors slide open and presents him to the building. despite his childish antics, he exudes an aura so enchanting that serves as reminder of that at the end of the day, he’s the boss.

you swallow, eyes following his lean figure until he stops right before you. it’s hard to read him in moments like these, when he’s so unlike himself (or maybe finally truly himself). his hands sit in the pockets of his slacks, legs parted enough to entrap your own legs between his, as he tilts his head forward. his irises darken behind tinted shades, bangs curtaining the raise of an eyebrow.

“unprofessional?” he repeats, and your eyes narrow at him, subconsciously gripping at your board tighter. it’s the only thing that you seem to have control over, since it clearly wouldn’t be this conversation. “you mean like that time i had you creamin’ all over my fingers in the back of my car? or unprofessional like that time you bent over my desk and came all over my face? or was it that night when i had to tie your hands together to keep you from runnin’ away?”

your gaze flickers away from his, the heat of embarrassment creeping from your neck all the way to your face. he wasn’t wrong— your relationship with him had passed morally ethical the moment you pulled him in closer to kiss you instead of pushing him away.

“we’re still at work.” you quip, the last bit of resolve tattering away the longer you feel his eyes on you. your roll your ankle nervously, thighs tightening against another.

“work ended half an hour ago sweetheart, remember?” he reminds you, voice as taunting as ever, and you sure as hell don’t need to see him to know he’s smirking. right side of his lips pulled with a moon crescent dimple on the side— he’s making fun of you. “forgettin’ already? can’t have my adorable secretary so overwhelmed that it’s meltin’ her brain. that should be my dick’s doing only, of course.”

you click your tongue, eyes casting back up to stare him dead in the eye. naturally, he’s already meeting your own, with the same damn smirk you’d predicted, “you have paperwork to finish, sir. better get on that quickly.”

“oh?” he laughs at your command, pulling his hands out of his pockets to rest at his hips. he runs his tongue against the top row of his teeth, and you hate the way your mind instantly travels back to days prior when you’d once had that same tongue working in and out of you.

he hums in faux thought, tapping his index against his chin. his lips fall into a pout before instantly stretching back to its default state, his infamous smile, “i suppose you’re right. come help me finish then, hmm? teamwork makes the dream work.”

you’re skeptical— you know him too well, but you’d rather divert the focus of attention from you to those papers. anything to prevent your mind from wandering off further into endless unprofessional possibilities. “lead the way, boss.”

he curtsies dramatically as you rise to your feet, stomping over to his desk. you notice he’s got shit done, and you’ll most likely be here for a minute. and so, you stand next to the chair he’d abandoned and pick up the pen, waiting for him to sit so you both could get started.

only you should’ve known you’d fallen right into his trap the minute you agreed to his ridiculous offer. you feel him pressed up behind you, lurking over your shoulder to study whatever you had going on. he’s unreasonably tall, frame so large it has you feeling frail in his presence, and his cologne so strong you feel it already clouding your judgement.

damn it all.

clicking your tongue, you tilt your head to the side to narrow your eyes, “well? are you not going to sit?”

gojo blinks at you, “how come? i enjoy the view here much better anyway.”

you roll your eyes, before turning back to his desk. he was a complete idiot if he thought you hadn’t already anticipated his next moves. the more your wrist flexes, mumbling the words you read on your sheets as you write them down, the more you felt him. you could feel the back of your thighs meeting the from of his, you could feel his bulge rubbing at your ass, you could feel his warm breath fanning at the slope of your neck.

damn it all.

“sales have risen to a—ahhn!” your pen falters in your grip, scribbling on the white sheet as it hits the desk. your eyelids shut close, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as a warm mouth kisses at that sensitive spot behind your ear. your palm lays flat against the surface of the table, side by side with gojo’s, body tensing as his mouth trails down lower.

“oh you bastard,” you mutter, shaky hand attempting to grab the pen in an unsteady hold. his chuckle rumbles deep from his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your back. you’re determined to stand your ground, despite the urge to push your hips back into him. he may have soft lips and an annoyingly hot voice, but you would not falter— no matter the moisture of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

you think you have it set in stone, the pen in your hold— albeit unsteady— despite his large hand creeping up your thigh. every trail of his touch leaves an electrifying feeling, and you’re sure he’s noticed your trembling knees if the way he subtly slid his leg in between yours to keep you steady said anything.

it’s when you’re ready to scribble out your mistake to replace it that he decides to plunge his canines to your jugular. the moan that erupts from you is squeaky, your hand clutching tightly at the pen as your back arches into his chest from the painful pleasure.

gojo nibbles and sucks at your skin, running his tongue over the throbbing area to soothe the pain, fingers trailing closer to your now aching core. you’re positive your skirt has now hiked up with how much your hips are pushing back into his, head lolled forward.

“aweee, what’s the matter sweetheart? ‘s too much for you already?” gojo coos, sultry voice sending chills from the shell of your ear down to your core, finally slipping his hand inside of your skirt. his fingertips brush at your clothed clit, the material of your thong shamefully damp in arousal. you huff, nails scratching at his desktop when his index and middle finger rub painfully slow circles at your clit. “but we’ve barely done anything? tsk, can’t afford slowing the company down because you’re too distracted to focus.”

your thighs and arms threaten to give out, body heating with lust and desire. you want to say you hate this, that this is against your typical work ethics, to tell him to fuck off and do the work himself. but the focus on your pussy really has you melting puddle, bottom lip tugged on to suppress any louder sounds to escape.

“y-you’re the worst.” you complain, though it fades into another moan when he pushes his thigh up in between your legs. you’re internally thankful, because had this gone any further, you’re certain you would’ve sunken to the floor.

“love you too, pretty girl.” he presses a kiss at your jaw, fingers pushing past your panties. fuck any resolve you’d held onto— you chuck the pen far away, planting both palms down as you allowed him to take control. every rub of his fingers at your clit had you dripping down his thigh, to where your hips shifted and rolled down his leg, dragging out that blissful heat in your gut.

“givin’ up already? y’didn’t put much of a fight this time, can’t say i’m a disappointed.” his free hand grips at your thigh and trails up to your hips, resting at your flesh to guide you down his leg. he’s all too enthralled by your sensitivity, gaze zeroed in on your expressions— from the slackness at your jaw to the way your brows furrow.

“just h-hurry up already,” you grit, eyelashes fluttering as your eyelids lift. your gaze meets his instantly, and gulp at the hungry look in his eyes. his skin is already flushed pink, lips parted as he pants heavily. “you’re no—ngh, better than i am, dickhead.”

“well aren’t ya damn mouthy,” gojo acknowledged, though clearly unbothered, as his fingers pinch at that bundle of nerve. you gasp, cunt clenching as it leaks more of your essence down on him. your head drops back against his shoulder, the slope of your back curving as you grip onto the closest thing in your vicinity— the hem of his blazer. “hm, whatever happened to my obedient secretary? always so polite and respectful, don’t tell me i haven’t trained you enough?”

“m-maybe you haven’t,” you pant, chest heaving as you feel his fingertips teasing the entrance of your folds. they’re slow movements, applying just enough pressure to ignite the spark in your guts but not enough to leave you wanting more. “can’t even do your damn j-job right and you call yourself boss? hah, wonder if mister geto would have this issue— fuuuck!”

“low fuckin’ blow, sweets.” gojo chuckles darkly, now two fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. he wastes no time to plunge himself inside, knuckles rubbing at your velvety walls. you clamp down on his digits, desperate to keep him in for the sake of that orgasm you craved. “and here i was ready to put this pretty pussy in my mouth. you’re dickless for a few days and catch an attitude wimme? that’s cold, baby.”

“dickless?” you cock a brow, teeth gritting as you focus all your energy left on delivering your next line. he always got so cocky whenever he had a slight advantage. “a-according to who—ooh, god, shit!”

“ooh god, shit!” gojo mocks you, a third finger now joining the others. he scissors your cunt open, the slick of your arousal simplifying the slide in. you’re dripping down to his palm, so wet despite the front you’re putting up. he knows you love it whenever he angles his fingers at this angle, the one that has you knees weak and ready to fold. “face it sweets, i’m the only one who treats this pussy the way it deserves. see how well she responds to me?”

and you wish you could negate or deny him, but unfortunately, you both know he’s correct. he’s only got his fingers inside of you and you’re already at your limit. your hips eagerly chase his fingers whenever he pulls out just to thrust them back in, the pad of his thumb drawing infinity signs at your clit. your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, knot in your tummy tightening from the stimulation.

“nghhh, ‘m gonna cum,” your hand slides down the slope of his forearm till where his wrist begins. you claw at the bone, clutching and grabbing at him eagerly. damn him and his damned fingers— driving you to mush with all six inches. “more, hah, need more— gimme more!”

“manners, pretty baby.” gojo coos at your ear, despite upping his pace. his hands reach all the right spots, pussy desperate to hold out to his fingers as they fuck your cunt open, soaking the digits in your slick. “c’mon girl, what’s the magic word? i know you’ve got it in you.”

“p-please! pleasepleaseplease—” you’re cut off by your own gasp as the dam in your stomach finally breaks. you leak on his fingers, squirting your juices as your muscles convulse, walls entrapping him in. your back arches away from him and you grasp at anything in your reach, your mouth gaped. you’re cussing like a sailor, vision blacked out beneath your eye lids as your hips twitch and stutter against gojo’s ruthless pace.

your high washes down, as you lose feeling in your limbs, falling face down to the desk. your skin is moist with heat, mouth parted as drool coats the abandoned paperwork beneath you. your body twitches with oversensitivity, thighs quaking as your last few spurts spray all over gojo’s thigh.

“don’t tell me you’re all worn out from a little foreplay?” your boss teases, his free hand delivering a blow onto your ass cheek. it recoils as you jolt, snivelling like a baby. you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, slacks falling next and pooling at his ankles. the next few moments happen in a blur, but sooner than you’d realized, you’d been turned onto your back with your legs propped over his shoulders and your folds were being played with again, the overstimulation having your toes curling in your heels.

“anddd there we go,” gojo strokes at his bricked cock, your essence serving as lube to coat his dick. he drags his fist from the base of his shaft to the tip, both your fluids and his pre cum mixture softening the jerk. “you fuckin’ water park. jeez, maybe i should plug this tiny cunt to prevent any further leakage, yeah?”

“fucking hurry already!” you don’t whine, or so you hope, though the grip of your legs at the back of his neck does tighten. with your skirt hiked up and your panties pushed to the side, gojo has a clear view of your twitching pussy, a hole designated intentionally just for him. he can already feel the cum in his balls ready to burst and fill your womb.

“and back to mouthy she goes,” he chuckles, using the leverage of his hand at his cock to slap his dick at your folds. the impact causes you to whimper, your hands clutching at the border of the desk. you wish you could wipe that smirk off his face, but fuck if the way he didn’t rub himself against you arouse you in ways that would surely haunt you after the orgasmic high faded away.

“take a deep breath for me baby, kay?” gojo instructs, thumb brushing over the skin above your hip bone, and before you’re able to retaliate, he slides in his dick.

his length is nothing to scoff at, and although you’ve already dealt with it in the past, all that prepping he’d done earlier seemed in vain. he bottoms out quickly, balls deep into you cunt. both your moans blend in harmony, overlapping one another as you settle with the aching stretch. your pussy clenches around his cock uncontrollably, both eager to push and pull him away.

“shittttt,” he whines throatily despite the huge grin on his lips. the flush pampering his skin has gotten significantly deeper, pale brows furrowed to the centre of his forehead. his hands grip at your plush thighs, fingers digging deep into your skin, surely enough to leave bruises. the bastard— he knew you’d be forced to wear your own slacks tomorrow to avoid suspicions.

“no fuckin’ way ‘m already set to bust— hah, fuck, what in the magical pussy is this?” gojo groans, snowy hair bouncing with his head thrown back. the tighter you grip at his cock, the tighter he grips at your thighs and the deeper his breaths are.

you push yourself up to your elbows, giggling at the irony of the situation. “already huh? so it wasn’t the liquor’s fault last time.” surely you were no better, entirely stimulated and body excreting all kinds of fluids from all over, but the ball was now in your court, and you planned on taking advantage. “s-should’ve known.”

naturally, he doesn’t rise to your bait, instead moving his hips away from yours, slowly dragging his cock out until the only part left in your cunt is his pink tip. “don’t make me make you eat your words, sweets.”

you raise your hand and rest it right above his pelvis, eyes set straight on his. you’re both clearly eager and ready to go, but you still had your dignity to uphold. you drag your palm upwards his torso, nails trailing up his button-up top teasingly before clutching at his tie. with the strength left in you, you yank him down and closer to you.

the shift in position stirs his dick in your cunt, knees now pressed closer to your chest. he hovers over you, a newfound look in his eyes you aren’t ready to divulge into—he was a very expressive man after all. both your lips ghosts one over another, breaths hot and mingling. you feel fuzzy, all senses fucked but collectively drawing at a same conclusion: wanting him to fuck your brains out on this desk.

“fuckin’ hell that was sexy.” it almost comes off a whisper, his tone breathless as his eyes bare deep into your. you feel the warmth of his hands fading away in favour to cup at your waist.

you tilt your head to the side, nose grazing against his. your fingers fiddle with the hem of his tie, despite never breaking the eye contact. “you gonna rock my world now?”

nothing more has to be said as he engulfs your mouth into his, knocking the wind out of you. his tongue explores the warm cave of your mouth, no inch left untouched. you moan and kiss him back just as eagerly, sliding the hand from his neck tie to his nape. your fingers thread through his soft locks, nails scratching his scalp and tugging at the roots.

he whimpers pathetically, the pain sending courses of arousal straight to his dick as his hips slam right back against yours. his thrust is rough and deep— leaving you gasping, as he takes the opportunity to kiss you even deeper while simultaneously working on his strokes.

the curve of his cock reaches even deeper than his fingers could manage, rubbing at your gummy walls and stretching them even wider. the sounds of your bodies connecting, your skins slapping, both your fluids mixing— everything felt so wanton, so filthy. he was everywhere, so far in your stomach you swear you could feel him in your throat.

the stretch of his cock at your pussy sent a fiery feeling spreading towards all of your limbs. the squelching of your pussy tightening and clenching at his dick filling the room. he soon picked up his pace, railing into you with every fibre in his body, loving the way your body bounced up in reaction to his thrusts.

“s-shit, oh fuck— don’t stop, ngh, right there!” you begged, throwing your head back against the hard surface. you’d given up on trying to keep your eyes open, the intensity of his dick ramming into your guts so fierce, you’d never felt anything like it.

he takes a sharp inhale of breath, followed by a whiny exhale. you were driving him insane, your sloppy cunt greedily clamping on his dick as if it were its lifeline. “suckin’ me in so tight, shitttt baby, ‘s like you want me to fill this perfect pussy full of my nut.” he dives his tongue deeper into your mouth for extra measure. you’re in a turmoil of multiple emotions at once but you kiss him back— until your lips feel tender and your mouth tastes of his breath.

he was annoyingly intoxicating, whether you wanted to admit it or not. your body spoke every word you were ashamed to say, responding with his own almost too perfectly.

when he slips his thumb to toy at your clit, your toes curl in your shoes and you’re accustomed to the oncoming feeling all too well, nails clawing at his skin. your words come out all fumbled mixed with tongue and drool, “s-satoru, i— ‘m gonna, don’t you stop— fuck ‘s too much— hnng!” you pull away just slightly, eyes all dazed as they roll to the back of your skull.

“shit, oh shit, me too,” he swipes at the drool dribbling past your mouth. from there, he plants more kisses at your skin, nibbling at every inch of you. he’s rutting like a madman, pace unforgiving as he focuses on that same spot that has you mindless. he finds you prettiest when you’re this way— all obedient for him. “my pretty girl— where do i— fuck, where—”

“inside.” as if you’d wanted to kill him, just as quick the word left your lips, he emptied his balls in your cunt. he sobs, his orgasm wracking over his entire body as he slams and fills your pussy full of him. the mixture of sounds is downright sinful, and whether it’d been the focus on your clit or his inhumane stamina, you soon met your similar end.

you cream on his dick once more, legs trembling as your second orgasm washes over you. your mind gone dumb, you do nothing but lay as you take the pounding inflicted on your worn out pussy. with each stroke you see stars, breasts juggling at the match of his pace. it’s damn near painful, but in the best enjoyable way. you feel yourself getting fuller by the second as you spray more of your arousal onto him.

the high eventually comes down for you both, the room reeking of sex. you’re both panting heavily, muscles twitching from overexertion. you couldn’t recall the last time you’d been fucked to the point of a momentary blackout— but you’d be damned if you’d ever let him know. he was too busy crying over your cunt anyways.

after a moment of silence, “. . .shit.”

“what?” you hum tiredly, rubbing the back of your hand to your tired hands. god, you could barely muster enough energy to do just that. what did this man eat?

he skips a few beats, before sheepishly chuckling, the hand that’d once been tracing patterns at the skin of your thighs now moving to your side. your gaze follows his movements, and it’s only when he retracts his hand does your heart sink to your chest.

“we definitely fucked these papers up.”

. . . shit.

io baby.. if you ever end up reading this i did it :c

[tinylittlebab]

:/

[ourautumn86]

Is it ok if I ask for more police!ellie?????

a/n; ofc! :))

yes, sir

ellie williams x fem! reader

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, dom! ellie x sub! reader, punishment (r receiving), teasing, ellie being mean, spanking (r receiving), jealousy, possessiveness, kissing, make out session, praising, use of sir (ellie loves it), praise kink, degradation, fingering (r receiving), cum eating…

the training to enter the police corpse was hard. your body was always sore. and your stress levels were high. but it was worth it. you were helping people. making them safer. and that’s what mattered. or that’s what you repeated to yourself, ‘cause if you didn’t you’d actually forget about it and kill your fucking instructor.

ellie williams was a living nightmare. she was mean, and harsh, didn’t give a fuck about you or your problems. she wouldn’t have no crybabies on her team. she also seemed to despise you.

“what was that? i heard mumbling there.” she squinted her eyes at you, and you gritted your teeth.

“yes, sir.” you repeated, and she smirked.

“it’s nice to hear you can actually speak. you’re not dumb after all. but i’ll have to teach you to follow orders…” your muscles tensed. all of this ‘cause you had forgotten that today you were supposed to use long cargo pants instead of the short ones. fucking bitch… “20 push-ups.” you looked at her in disbelief and she arched her eyebrows like a ‘well?’. you dropped to your knees. “i wanna hear you count, understood?”

“yes, sir.” your palms made contact with the floor. you swore your teeth might broke by how hard you were grinding them. “one…”

she stood there, looking at you suffer as you managed to do the 20 non-stop. you knew that if you stopped to take a rest she’d add another 20, so even if your arms were shaking, you pulled it off.

“turns out you’re not as useless as i thought.” she smiled at you, and you swallowed the scoff that wanted to scape your throat. you almost fucked it up by rolling your eyes. “get up and out of my sight before i change my mind.”

“yes, sir. thank you, sir.” you said, getting up from the floor and leaving.

dina, your best friend, whistled as you walked towards her. you rolled your eyes now that corporate willisms couldn’t see you.

“she really has it for you.” she laughed and you sighed.

“she hates me. and i don’t even know what i’ve done!” you took a sip of your water.

“probably cause you look good all the goddamn time.” dina winked at you and you scoffed, bumping her shoulder.

“stop flirting with me or i’ll think you want to take me to bed.”

“and what if i do?” you laughed as she rose and lowered suggestively her eyebrows.

your body froze when you heard william’s voice screaming your last name.

“yes, sir?”

“you two take your bullshit out of my camp.” she scowled, giving dina a dirty look. “people are here to take their futures and training seriously, not to flirt and have fun.” you gulped. she had a fucking stick up her ass or what?

“yes, sir.” you gritted.

“don’t make me punish you again.” she warned before going away, the muscles of her back tensed through her white wife beater.

“fucking dick…” you muttered and dina snickered.

“dude she’s so into you.” your eyes shot open.

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

“that right there? pure jealousy.” she took a sip of her electrolytes drink.

“maybe she is into you.” ellie almost choked.

“you’ve gotta be kidding. did you see the way she looked at me? almost killed me.”

you rolled your eyes.

“you’re delusional. she’s not into me.” you looked at ellie just to find her already looking at you with her arms folded against her chest, quickly looking away with a frown.

oh?

“you’re the one being delusional. it’s obvious. that’s why she’s being a dick with you.” dina shrugged. “and you like her too.” you scoffed.

“me? woah. the sun is really making you hallucinate.” you put a hand on her head to feel the warmth on her hair.

“sure. call me crazy.” she was the one now rolling her eyes. “but you can’t fool me.”

“i’m not trying to fool you.”

your eyes met again, ellie‘s green ones staying put this time.

or maybe you were.

-

it was late at night. you had had to stay today to do your rounds, and you were fighting to not fall asleep.

it’s not like you could anyways…

“falling asleep?” you rolled your eyes at ellie’s voice.

“no, sir.” she had been rounding you for hours, making sure you stayed awake and teasing you.

“sure. you look about to pass out.” you scoffed.

“i wish. that way i would have to deal with you…” you muttered and her eyebrows rose.

“what was that?” she inquired, getting closer.

“nothing, sir.” you said and she hummed.

“really? ‘cause i definitely heard something. why don’t you speak up for me, hm?” she leaned over you, since you were sitting on a chair, her eyes harshly looking into yours.

you stayed silent, to what she smirked.

“what is it, huh? cat got your tongue?” your heart jumped into your chest when her index and thumb took your chin, making you look up at her.

“no, sir.” you answered.

“then go ahead. speak.”

“i said; i wish. that way i wouldn’t have to deal with you.” you gritted your teeth, cheeks blushing in anger.

“well aren’t you sweet…” she cooed, her hand trailing down to your neck before harshly pulling from you to pull you closer and up. her breath hit your face as she pushed you against the wall, making you let out a gasp. “is that the way in which you talk to a superior?” your chest puffed up with a deep breath.

“no.”

“no, what?” she squinted her eyes.

“no, sir.” she hummed.

“atta girl. see? it’s not that hard to be nice. although i do think you need a lesson, what do you think, princess?”

princess. princess. princess.

“answer me.” she ordered.

“yes, sir.”

“on your front. hands on the wall.” you followed once she freed you from her warm hand. you almost missed it. the skin on your neck was burning.

you gave her your back, placing your hands on the wall and she harshly pushed your head down, making your ass stick out. her eyes fell on it, her tongue dampening her lips.

“3 fucks up on a day. you really like trouble don’t you?” you shivered at the low on her voice, her hand on your hip. “pull down your pants.” she ordered and you froze. your cheeks burned. oh fuck. “did you not hear me? pull down your pants.” she repeated, and that’s when your shaky hands found the hem of your cargo shorts, undoing the button and the zipper. you knew you could stop this. you knew she wouldn’t push you. but you wanted it. you wanted her to punish you. see how far she would go. “that’s it. good girl.” she praised you as you pushed them down your legs, letting them pool down on your ankles.

you bit down on your lip as you placed your hands back on the wall. you were shaking.

her eyes took in the pretty lace panties you had worn that day, smirking. “these are pretty.” you shivered when her fingertips traced them. “you wore them for woodward?” you shook your head. “can’t hear you.” you jolted when she left a soft spank on your ass. your knees almost buckled. what was going on? how the hell had you ended up here? and why the fuck were you enjoying it so much?

“no.” you shakily said, and ellie hummed.

“you sure? you too seemed awfully friendly this morning. you fucking her?” you could hear the sting on her voice.

“no.” you promised, but she spanked you once again, this time harsher.

“manners.”

“no, sir.” you corrected yourself.

her hand roamed on your ass, cupping your cheek and squeezing, making you let out a muffled whimper that made her smirk.

“you really need a lesson, huh?” you nodded, biting down on your lip. “that’s what i thought. why don’t you count up for me, hm? i think 15 will do.” you almost moaned.

“yes, sir.” fuck. how much it turned her on when you called her sir.

“atta girl.”

“one.” you muttered when the first harsh slap hit your skin, bracing yourself. she was kind enough to not start strong, although you knew you’d be left shaking. “two…” your breath was growing shallow, and your legs were trembling.

“just like that. loud and clear for me, baby.” you whimpered.

“three, four…”

it stung. it hurt. but it hurt so good. you were sure you were soaking your panties.

by the time you reached ten your knees were wobbling and ellie had had to use her free hand to keep you upright.

“please, sir…” you moaned, tears stinging your eyes.

“just five more, come on, you’re doing so good… be good for me just for a little bit more, hm?” you nodded, and she smiled. “good girl.”

“eleven, twelve…” you whimpered. you were sure your ass would be glowing red. “thirteen, fourteen…” you took a deep breath, nails digging on the wall as her palm made contact with your ass one last time. “fifteen.” she caressed your irritated skin, hushing you.

“that’s it. now breath for me, doll. breath for me.” you followed her orders, taking deep breaths. she pushed you up, spinning you so you would be facing her. your cheeks were flushed red, your lips bitten and glossy, along with your glazed eyes. you looked beautiful. and she knew this was all her. and you were soaked. she groaned as her hand cupped your clothed cunt. “how pathetic, you’re getting wet over this?” you whimpered as her fingers pushed in between your slit, teasing you.

“please…” you begged, your hips jolting against her touch.

“please what? speak up.” she ordered.

“please, sir. touch me.” she hummed.

“seems a little spanking did the trick, hm? being so obedient… i think you deserve a reward, don’t you think?” you nodded, and she cooed, pushing your panties aside and making you moan when her fingers were finally touching you with no barriers.

“oh fuck…” you cried out, your clit throbbing under her touch. she hushed you.

“shh, it’s okay. i’ve got you. i’ve got you.” she circled your clit, and your legs buckled. her other hand took your hip, bruising your skin as she held you up.

“ellie…”

“nuh-uh. gotta ask nicely, baby.” she was teasing you, a smirk on her lips as her finger prodded at your entrance.

“sir…” a moan left your lips, and she groaned. that went straight to her cunt.

as a reward she pushed her middle finger inside, stretching your pulsing pussy. “so tight…” you moaned as she started to thrust it in and out, hearing the slick sounds your cunt made for her.

you were a moaning and whimpering mess by the time she pushed the second finger inside, curling them to hit your g spot. it was almost embarrassing how turned on you were, how close you were to cumming. her lips were on your neck, sucking bruises that she knew everyone would see tomorrow. maybe that’s what she wanted, for all of them to know that you were already hers.

there was something so primal in the way she had taken one of your legs to her hip to fuck her fingers harsher and deeper into you…

one of your hands were on her hair, tugging at her auburn strands as she fucked you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“you close, baby? gonna cum on my fingers?” you nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. “then go ahead, wanna see it drip down your thighs.” and you did, letting go as the band snapped and your cunt gushed all over her fingers with a long moan. she fucked you through it, circling your clit to extend your high. “that’s it. give it to me. good girl…” you moaned at the praise, panting as it subsided. you whimpered when she took them out, pulling her fingers up to her mouth to suck on them. “so sweet…” you couldn’t help but tug from her hair to kiss her, tasting yourself on her tongue.

that night turned out to be really long one…

-

[kleewie]

i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you (and i)

summary: dating tip? just don't. for celebrities, romantic relationships are absolutely forbidden. the slightest hint of one could ruin your career. but are you even listening to the lecture? doubt it, 'cause you're doing the complete opposite. (alternatively, a celebrity au featuring secret relationships.)

→ featuring: childe, & ayato (you can really tell who my faves are)

→ warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slight cursing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, tension, actual cursing, unreliable reader pov, gender-neutral reader (i apologize if i missed things, i haven't proofread it yet)

→ a/n: so, hi! long time no see? i was pretty stressed with college and well, i'm back! i began writing this last year and finally got the courage to finish it. but here it is and i hope you enjoy it :> please let me know if you like it <3 it really makes my day!

credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts!

beware, lengthy post ahead! more under the cut!

the debut.

“forbidden?” you repeat.

“absolutely forbidden!” your manager says. “a rookie with no fanbase? a scandal will ruin your reputation! you're absolutely forbidden from dating anyone.”

you sigh. he's being too overdramatic.

you will never be in a relationship, you're absolutely sure. how can you? with no time for yourself as it is, dating someone with the limited hours you already have sounds impractical.

besides, you're too busy training and practicing for auditions.

remembering it now, you want to laugh.

i told you so, your thoughts chastise.

god, you should've listened.

childe, the actor

“that's a wrap!” the director cheers.

your eyes glisten as you hold back tears. it's embarrassing, you think. so damn embarrassing.

you've been repeating the same kissing scene multiple times now. obviously, the director cheers for finally completing the take and not because you did a good job.

childe pats your back. “you did great,” he says, with a smile.

but you know the gesture so goddamn well. the same nonchalant cold grin he throws at everyone that he now directs at you? oh, he's angry alright.

for what reason? who knows. you're too busy wallowing in self-despair over how terrible your acting is.

the scene is supposedly simple. it involves the second lead, who happens to be you, confessing their love to the leading man, resulting to a spontaneous kiss.

yet, you're fumbling over the lines, acting so out of character, tripping over set, incorrectly initiating the kiss at awkward angles—the whole time-wasting squander.

“what's going on?” childe eventually asks, once he arrives at your shared apartment. his bag drops to the floor with a flop. “you're acting strange. the entire crew sees it, i see it, the director sees it—what if he decides to fire you? what will you do then?”

you swallow dryly. you left the set early hoping childe's hectic schedule prompted him to forget the whole issue. yet, here he is finally bringing up the conversation after what feels like a month's worth of tension.

as you sit on the sofa chair, your fingers massage the bridge of your nose. breathe in, breathe out. you repeat. don't cry. you try to calm yourself down as a sob tries to break through.

eight months, you've been a couple.

but, there are some things you're afraid to say.

each year, the biggest tabloid newspaper in the country releases an article on celebrity dating scandals. a month ago they released one single page article about a popular actor dating a newbie actress. it barely had any juicy details, just a simple paragraph of a somebody dating a nobody.

yet, it did not end well for them. and you're terrified; for when it could happen to you.

you imagine it. dozens of messages and multiple missed phone calls on your cell as your name becomes the next talk of the town. the headline reads: revealed! a nobody actress, the second-lead from the northland bank saga currently dates the nation's boyfriend, childe!

it terrifies you. you could lose your job. lose what you love doing the most. and you could get tossed aside like an old sweater under someone's bed, left to rot and decompose.

so, yes. you hesitated earlier at set because you don't want anyone to connect the dots. to look at the kiss between you two and notice something amiss. to speculate that there's more to your relationship than what meets the eye. to realize you look at him as more than a co-star. to see how much you're in love with him. to realize the both of you are dating.

“it's not easy.” you say, releasing a sigh.

two years you've been in the business. rookies barely get any roles as it is. being in a well-received rendition of an old romance drama is a once in a blue moon opportunity and you can't risk someone finding out about your relationship.

“camera shy? no—you've kissed heaps of actors for that school drama.”

you mumble, “two people aren't heaps of actors, tartaglia.”

“then what is the problem?”

childe saunters to where you sit. he leans towards you and presses his palm on the head of the sofa, trapping your body between his and the chair. childe's eyes meet yours and you instantly look away.

he knows you well enough to comprehend that look on your face. the way you hide your clammy hands behind you, the manner of your eyes staring only at your feet, how your body tucks itself into the corner of the seat.

“me?” childe whispers.

he places a hand under your jaw. his thumb softly pushes your chin upwards so your eyes meet his.

“why?” he pleads.

“you won't understand.”

“i will if you tell me,” he says, holding your gaze. seeing how you relentlessly persist on keeping your mouth shut, he shakes his head. “oh, please tell me.”

you hesitate. you tell him and then what?

you could say: hey, childe! i'm afraid of our relationship being discovered. i'll be hated by your fans. you'll be constantly drained by my crying and whining. your reputation would take a hit regardless of how popular you are and—and then he'll finally realize how exhausting and annoying it is being with you.

your self-deprecation loves to pull you deeper into its sapping embrace. you're nothing, it mouths. childe would dump you and find some other actor or actress to date. god. it would be so easy. with his popularity, good looks, and charming personality, he'd find a better and talented rising-star the moment he chucks you out the front door.

so, you shake your head firmly.

“tell me, please.” he whispers.

you cross your arms, and look away.

“are you sick?”

you shake your head.

“somebody hurting you on set?”

again, you shake your head.

childe pauses, “...do you have feelings for someone else?”

“no!”

“then what is the damn problem?”

“nothing!” you exasperate, furrowing your brows together.

childe takes your reluctance as distrust and it ignites his irritation. do you not trust him? is he that insignificant to you? what are you hiding? hell, did you fall for the main lead of the show, zhongli? or do you not love him anymore? god, he can feel himself suffocate in resentment.

is he so unimportant that you'd prefer to keep the problem to yourself? it makes his blood boil; how he'd do anything for you, but you'd rather keep it to yourself and suffer alone.

“tell me.” childe scowls as he watches your lips quiver.

you keep your mouth firmly shut.

“fine, hold your tongue.” he sneers, “i understand. i really do, baby. it's not about the cameras, the flashing lights, the audience.”

childe brushes his lips against yours, “you wouldn’t kiss me like that in public, though, would you?” he releases his hold on your chin and his sharp eyes meet yours. “it’s only behind closed doors when you care to act like we’re each other’s.”

with a hooded jacket in one hand and a face mask in another, childe swiftly leaves the apartment with a slam of a door.

leaving you alone with your wretched thoughts.

more under the cut!

despite walking out the flat hours ago, childe still reverberates jealousy and anger; pure envy at how normal you act around everyone else yet, around him you're too guarded; and angry at himself for saying those awful words to your face.

he smacks his forehead on the steering wheel. childe acknowledges how childish he's been acting. you aren't ready to talk, and he shouldn't be forcing you to speak out your difficulties.

surely, the stress is piling up on you. he knows the hours you've been working on set, memorizing lines, practicing moves—again, he thumps his head on the wheel.

stupid, he curses. control your damn temper next time.

he reaches for the box of blueberry cheesecake on the front passenger seat. subconsciously, he drove two hours (and back) to the bakery's main branch as its side branches were sold out of your favorite cake. and he knows how much you love the pastry.

however, his body slouches in the parked car outside the apartment. the long drive works miracles with his anger, but the courage to actually walk inside and apologize never comes.

the ding of a text draws his attention. ‘go inside and beg for forgiveness, brat.’ yoimiya, a fellow actress from the same company as him, says. the woman is always in the loop and well-informed.

a shiver goes down his spine. if you told yoimiya about the argument, he's absolutely sure you're furious. you'd only speak to her as a last-ditch effort; knowing her personality she'd pummel him to bits while you watch.

as a result, he stands inside the apartment, one hand knocking on your bedroom door. however, instead of tasting blood, he hears your stifled sobs. the abrupt sound convinces him to turn the knob and enter the room.

the illumination from the hallway brightens the bedroom, shining a bit of light on your face. you lay on the bed with your knees to your chest, with a blanket over your waist. your reddened cheeks and tear-stained eyes makes his stomach churn.

“please don't cry, baby.” childe cooes, kneeling by your bedside. he leans over you, his fingers gently grip your cheeks. “i'm so sorry.”

the sudden apology sprouts pools from your eyes. his thumbs brush the water off your face and softly says, “i shouldn't have said—please, don't cry. it's my fault for taking my anger out on you.”

“i'm afraid of losing you,” you whimper. “if they find out—oh god—they'll tear me apart. i'm nothing compared to you. i'd lose everything. i might even lose you—”

“never, i will never leave you. no matter what happens,” childe interjects.

you furrow your brows, sobbing. “i'm no one—too difficult,” you hiccup. “you'll throw me away. i'm too whiny and too draining. if they find out... you'll see all the comments about how ugly—”

“breathe, baby.” he settles himself on your bed and softly places you on his lap. “you're gorgeous. you're not draining, and frankly, you're cute when you whine.”

you bury your face into his neck and continue, “i'm serious, childe. you'll get exhausted. the articles will talk about you too!”

“articles, mhm. they're just articles.” he hums.

irritation begins to set in. was he this clueless? you release another sob, “they're not just articles. they'll nitpick every single thing you do! oh—look at this newbie getting together with childe. oh, they suck at acting! why is childe even—”

childe gently places his palm on your neck, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “are you talking about the tabloid from last month?”

you sigh, “what else am i talking about?” and instantly you sense his laughter resonate. “are you laughing?”

“you're adorable, baby.” he breathes, nuzzling his face on your neck.

“you're making fun of me! what the hell, childe?”

he releases a sigh, pausing his laughter. “the tabloids every month. they're paid. companies pay them to talk about their idols for publicity.”

your face contorts into confusion, “who would willingly—they talked about lumine all month because of the article! you know she's my favorite actress. why would they willingly put her on the spotlight like that?”

“publicity, baby.”

you shake your head, “it makes no sense.”

“oh, it does.” childe hums. “of course, they'd seek permission first. it boosted views for her drama, didn't it? lumine did say she got extra for the views and switched apartments.”

“yeah, wait—you knew this whole time and didn't bother to tell me?”

he chuckles, “that's what you get for keeping these things to yourself for a month.” he squeezes the bridge of your nose.

“you're terrible.”

“love you too, baby.” he teases, “and besides, if a tabloid threatened to do something—” his thumb gently traces the skin around your neck. “—i'll keep you safe.”

a soft smile graces your features. “...i'm just not ready for anyone to find out. yet, anyway.”

childe hums, “we'll do it on your terms, okay? whenever you're ready.”

“sure, i guess you can keep me for a while longer. until you throw me away and find the next rookie to—”

childe's soft laughter sparks a flutter in your stomach. he would never do such a thing. the moment he first laid his eyes on you on set, heard your beautiful laugh between takes, listened to your jokes while practicing lines, and god, seen your angelic smile? the things he would do to keep you as his.

“never.” a cheeky grin appears on his lips, “i'll take care of you.”

bonus: five years later

your phone rings. the vibration continues on and off, signaling multiple inbox messages. you swipe your phone to see texts from several of your close friends.

‘i know you told me you were okay with it, but i didn't think he'd try to do it so soon. i tried but he's too hardheaded.’ says yoimiya.

‘congratulations! when's the wedding? i'm kidding. don't kill childe.’ says thoma, an actor from your same company.

‘sorrows, sorrows, prayers.’ says venti, your current co-star.

you even receive a message from childe himself.

‘good morning, baby. i'm completely fault-free. simply honoring your wishes as a devoted fiancé should.’

attached to a message was a link to a video entitled: please don't kill me honey.

you click the link.

the video's blurry, as if taken by a cellphone. you recognize thoma as the person videoing the whole scene, as he turns the camera to face him before focusing it on a woman—seemingly a fan of childe. she wears merch from his most recent drama.

a fan goes on stage chosen by a random lottery draw. the said fan wins the chance to interview childe, who was the guest of the day for talk show, and ask one question.

the girl hastily walks on stage, holding a microphone given by staff.

“um. hello, childe!”

the audience screams as the huge video screen focuses on your lover's face. he waves a quick ‘hello’ and the crowd yells louder.

the girl hesitates, “are you dating anyone right now?”

childe twists the microphone in his hands. “hm? right now... i'm not dating anyone.”

the crows sighs in relief, utterly happy their favorite leading actor continues to be single.

but you see the outline of a smirk flashing on his face, and you instantly know there's a deeper meaning to that sentence. “but, it's difficult to say... since we're not really dating as of the moment.”

quietly, you hear the voice of yoimiya whispering, “don't do it.” the camera now focusing on her, trying to get herself on stage. thoma flips the camera around to face it on himself, waving a hello, apparently enjoying the drama. he then focuses the camera on the wide screen, featuring childe's face.

to add mayhem into the mix, childe continues, “i don't think being engaged to your partner falls under dating. we're way past that.”

the interview ends with the audience screaming their lungs out in disbelief, while childe's laugh resonates the whole auditorium.

ayato, company director

“oh, them?” ayato's steady gaze meet yours, pressing his lips in a tight-lipped smile. “they're a friend of mine.”

friend. it echoes in your mind, repeating incessantly. friend. friend. friend.

dread creeps into the pit of your stomach akin to a quick flick of a lighter. after all this time, your stomach lurches. is that all he thinks of you?

god, you need a drink.

the businessmen before you smile, prompting you to return the favor. subsequently, you humbly introduce yourself as just an ‘actor in the industry’. and they laugh. of course they do.

who wouldn't know you? a multi award-winning movie and television star with piles of nominations. so modest, they say. so kind, they praise. you grin, the smile not reaching your eyes, thanking them for their compliments.

but you're so accustomed to their fake smiles, ingenuine flattery, and sweet talk; you never truly know what's actually honest and real—eyes flickering to your azure-haired partner—no, who's honest and real.

you swallow the thought down.

as if aware of the invisible daggers thrown his way, ayato's gaze meets yours. his lips are pressed firmly together, eyes devoid of warmth.

not now, his expression conveys.

you narrow your own eyes, irritation burning through your corneas. as much as you want to start an argument in front of his investors, you agree to his silent insistence. after all it's his gala; one he's tirelessly prepared for over several months.

so you bite your tongue and smile: one honed by years of acting—fake yet strangely genuine.

it's not strong enough. you say, sipping wine with shaky hands. earlier, you left ayato to his fellow businessmen using the excuse of needing a bathroom break, a reason to which he obliged.

you stare at the elaborate party before you, wishing you could go home. the gala swiftly dissolved your social battery, aided by forced mingling and bitterness. a friend, your consciousness repeats. always a friend. so you sit on a chair by the wall, sipping drinks like water.

suddenly, the hairs of your neck stand on end. you sense his presence behind you, prompting a glance through your peripheral vision.

“careful, darling.” ayato's says, tone smooth yet laced with warning. “i'd rather not have you collapsing. your lovely face wouldn't compliment these filthy floors.”

you tense immediately, shoulders stiffening. “reverting back to pet names, i see?”

ayato's hand now rests on your shoulder, his thumb brushing your soft skin. “what seems to be the issue? i doubt it's due to the eight glasses of wine you've consumed in one sitting.”

you roll your tongue in your mouth, practicing the words. let's break up. you bite your tongue. let's see other people. besides, he wouldn't care would he? it's not as if he's been acknowledging you as someone he's been dating, has he? hiding your relationship from his business partners is one thing, but concealing it from closest friends? his family? that's an entirely different matter altogether.

a friend, he says to his business partners.

a star from the company, he answers to his closest friends.

a companion, he whispers to his family.

you're sick and tired of it. all of it.

raising the wineglass to your lips, you drown the drink in one go. you raise two fingers signaling the waiter for another drink.

ayato sighs and you think you feel his hand on your neck tighten, ever so slightly. “you've reached your limit with wine, dear.”

soon, the waiter arrives with three more glasses on his tray. ayato's disapproving glare compels the waiter to scurry across the ballroom floor, steering clear of you.

you click your tongue and begin, “who says so?”

“your fiancé,” he mutters, voice dripping with venom.

you immediately scoff. “sure. for your sake, i'll pretend you mentioned that earlier.”

before ayato could retort, the presence of another individual calls his attention; his younger sister, ayaka.

“brother, the sangonomiya heir's requesting your presence.”

he sighs, irritation etching his features. yet, you blink, catching a subtle shift in his expression—seemingly twisting from annoyance to something resembling relief at the mention of sangonomiya's name.

you swallow the bitter thought.

“watch them for me, could you? i'd rather not have them find a server willing to disobey my instructions and serve them a drink,” ayato whispers, his tone betraying a hint of tension that doesn't go unnoticed.

ayaka nods. her consent prompts the older brother to depart, heading towards the misty rose-pink heir who stands at the opposite side of the ballroom.

ayaka says the inevitable, “you should let him know it bothers you.”

“...i'm not sure what you're referring to.”

her gaze follows yours, observing the giggling and cheerful countenances of the kamisato and sangonomiya heirs. they seem to be enjoying their time together. as always, you remark.

“they're just close friends, you know.”

you click your tongue. “like how him and i are just friends?”

ayaka sighs, understanding your implication. “you know what i mean.”

sangonomiya's hand on your partner's shoulder elicits an exasperated sigh from you. “thoma told me they were to be married if i wasn't here.”

“the man always running his mouth—” she takes a calming breath before continuing, “—but brother's very fond of you. i'm his sister, i should know.”

“then how come after dating him for five years, he still calls me his friend.” you pause, a hand sliding into the right pocket of your outfit. you absentmindedly play with the engagement ring inside. “i'm his fiancé, aren't i?”

“he has his reasons. petty reasons.”

you bite your tongue. or he's embarrassed of you.

you met the kamisato company heir two years after your debut as an idol. as you shifted towards acting, you developed a close relationship with his sister, a seasoned actress from the same company. eventually, she became the bridge that strengthened the bond between the two of you.

you dedicated yourself nonstop, evolving from a rookie actor to a multiple-nominee and winning star; all in the pursuit of being able to openly show off your relationship with ayato without it tarnishing your reputation.

however, when you're prepared to finally reveal your relationship, he isn't.

and it leaves you wondering, is there someone else?

you mean, you're hesitant to doubt the love of your life. but considering he's kept your relationship a secret from everyone for years, it's obvious he's adept at keeping things hidden.

even from you.

and the thought sours your mood.

excusing yourself once more to use the restroom, using the premise of consuming ten glasses of wine, you bid adieu to your favorite kamisato (at the moment). you instead head towards a secluded balcony away from prying eyes.

you stare at the garden below. your eyes quickly blink back the tears threatening to fall. not now, you hiss. don't do this to me, not right now.

“i assumed you would have retreated to your room by this point.” his voice murmurs, unnervingly composed.

you turn around to see your partner holding a glass of wine. his features remain blank, inscrutable.

maybe it's because of all the wine you've been drinking. you can't seem to tell between what's real or not.

“what did you discuss with kokomi?”

“i wasn't aware you were both on a first name basis.”

“answer the question.”

he smiles, “business as always.”

you huff and wrap your hands around your arms. “of course. just business.”

ayato immediately picks up the anger in your tone. he lays his palm on your forearm, gently pulling you towards him. “look at me,” he pleads, with a subtle trace of irritation in his voice.

you turn to look at his face, eyes glaring.

“i felt your glares the entire night.” he begins.

you shrug, smiling innocently. “...what ever do you mean?”

“don't toy with me, darling.”

as he enunciates his answer, it's as if the final thread of your patience snaps. does he still continue to feign innocence and lie to your face?

last month he proposed and you were overjoyed. you then expected a shift in your relationship; the final unveiling of your engagement to the public. you gave him your permission, a definitive “i'm ready for everyone to know.”

yet thirty days later the engagement remains concealed leaving only a few of his friends (thoma) and a few family members (ayaka) knowing about your updated relationship.

if it was the ayato from two years ago, he would be delighted—ecstatic even—to reveal the truth. he might have used the gala today as an avenue to scream to the world, this person and i are in love.

but he didn't.

so the weight of your feelings began to drag you down; it almost feels suffocating in a way. as if a ribbon labeled, he's ashamed, tightly winds around your insides, intricately tying them all together into a sophisticated bow sowing distrust whispering; he's hiding something.

your suspicions, coupled with his frequent visits this month to the sangonomiya estate, fueled your frustration until it erupted. if only he ceased pretending innocent, perhaps you would able to smile through the whole facade.

if only he didn't ask.

“i'm not naive. if you developed feelings for kokomi then you shouldn't have proposed.” you snap. “was it out of pity? did you feel so damn guilty that you chose to go through with the engagement instead of being honest about your feelings?”

ayato furrows his brows, mouth tightening in anger. “what are you talking about? i discuss private affairs with kokomi. business affairs.”

you laugh; one infused with irritation and disbelief. “don't tell me then. keep your stupid secrets.”

“do you want me to jot down a damn list detailing every single thing i do in a day?” he growls. “i won't divulge company secrets just because you feel like throwing a tantrum.”

your hands drift to the tie around his neck, tugging the crooked tie straight. “no. go ahead and keep your secrets.” you pause and roll the words with your tongue, “you're clearly very good at keeping secrets. you’ve kept me—us—as a secret for so long, so of course you’d be good at keeping fucking secrets.”

anger flares across his face. “you desired our relationship to remain a secret, and i respected your wishes.” he sneers, “i wanted to let the damn world know how much i'm in love with you yet, it was the opposite of what you desired.”

ayato releases his grip on you and strides back into the ballroom, but he halts right at the door to the balcony. “so don't dictate when i should reveal the truth simply because you've grown sick and tired of keeping me as your dirty, little secret.”

he finally departs; and you stay, tears pooling, with a profound ache in your heart.

ayato waltzes around the room in a nonchalant dance; yes, good to see you. he lies. how's business? he couldn't care less. enjoy the party! no, he wants everyone in the damn room to feel his wrath.

although he yearns to set the entire ballroom ablaze, ending the party prematurely would be ill-manned of him. so, ayato continues being a gracious and honorable host.

but he feels hollow. he envisions himself freezing the entire room in an icy gust, everyone turning into statues. he wants to sprint back into your arms and plead for you to listen.

he doesn't understand what came over him. why he lost his temper like that. typically, he'd manage your outbursts with composure and understanding. what happened? he doesn't know.

he attributes his outburst to the mounting pressure. the chronic lack of sleep and continuous exhaustion coming from his title as heir. perhaps it's the truth gnawing his skin; despite his powerful position atop the company, it can easily be ripped away with the flick of a wrist.

instead of spending time with his fiancé—he doesn't know if he still deserves to call you that, you probably threw away his ring the second he left the balcony—yet here he is, engaged in conversations with business associates he cares little about.

“brother?” ayaka calls. she finds him leaning against a railing of stairs. “i closed off the gardens.”

ayato swallows. he last saw you sneaking towards the grounds. “they're still on the grass?”

“yes.”

“they'll catch a cold.”

“they will.”

he glances at his sister. “they think i'm unfaithful.”

“i know,” she says matter-of-factly. “have you offered them any evidence to convince them otherwise?”

ayato stays silent.

“i know you care about them, brother.” ayaka sighs, “however, surprising them with a specially crafted ring and being petty when your entire relationship is at stake may not be the wisest move.”

he sighs.

“most especially if they suspect that your frequent visits to the sangonomiya manor are fueled by romantic feelings for its heiress, and not for their own wedding ring.”

after a while, ayato spots you lying on the grass in a starfish formation, having finally swallowed his pride. his eyes glaze over your features: red eyes, cheeks marked with tear stains, and an exhausted expression.

“can we talk?” he begins.

you spare a quick glance before turning your attention back to the night sky. “there's not much to talk about.”

“i'm not cheating,” he asserts.

“i know.”

“do you know, or have you resigned yourself to not knowing?”

“hm,” you hum. “a part of me entertains the thought of you cheating. yet an even smaller part absolutely knows that if you were truly cheating, you'd be more discreet. who, in their right mind, would inform thoma that you visited her manor?”

he chuckles, a laughter-less sound escapes him. “i understand i've been secretive. you have every right to assume i'm up to something indecent. but i have my reasons.” ayato confesses, kneeling beside your body. he places his hand inside his suit pocket, pulling up a black small box.

you instantly sit up. “you're horrible,” you cough, eyes widening as he opens the box to show a ring. “this entire time you were—god.”

“i placed a special order,” he mumbles. “i visited each day to ensure it was flawless, right down to the smallest details.”

“i'm so sorry.”

“don't be, love.” he breathes, “you had your reasons, and i was insistent on keeping it a surprise.”

relief floods your features. “good,” you whisper before tears well in your eyes.

the sound of your sobs breaks his heart. he immediately wraps his arms around you, brushing his lips on your cheeks.

“i'm sorry, darling,” he murmurs, kissing the skin above your brow. “i'm sorry for worrying you.”

“goddamn sadistic,” you sob. “you knew i was freaking out, but you just watched!”

he grins, “i have to admit, you look cute when you're jealous.”

a groan escapes you. “don't make me throw away both rings.”

“is that so? i should've ordered twenty spares.”

“no.” you scold.

“oh? look at my darling, so jealous,” he smirks, nuzzling his face into your neck. you then feel his lips press into a straight line. “you're not something i would ever try to hide. i would never be ashamed of our relationship.”

you laugh, “prove it.”

your smile faces seeing the smirk on his face. in that exact moment, you know that kamisato ayato, the preposterous god in human flesh, plans to do something grand and explosive to prove you otherwise.

“do not.” you begin, “we've talked about this. you cannot—you absolutely will not bribe the government to declare our wedding date as a national holiday!”

bonus: ten minutes before the clash

“is it getting warm in here, or am i sensing the intense gaze of your loving fiancé on me?” kokomi laughs, sipping a glass of champagne.

ayato takes a peek, and he chuckles upon seeing your irritated and jealous expression. “they certainly are.”

“please do not involve me in your lovers' quarrels. everyone knows we're just close friends.”

“they do.”

“have you told them?”

“...it may have slipped past my mind.”

kokomi shakes her head. “sadistic.” she slips a black box into his palm. “clear it up. i do not want to be murdered by your future partner.”

ayato glances at you from across the room as you engage a conversation with his sister. “mhm, i could, but their jealous expression is too endearing.”

“sadistic,” she repeats. “absolutely sadistic.”

he chuckles.

“also, kazuha mentioned that you've been referring to them as your companion. correct that.” she continues, “and stop calling them your friend!”

“they asked me to when we started dating.”

she rolls her eyes. “you're so petty. stop trying to provoke them!”

“anyways, everyone knows we're engaged,” he corrects. “their whining face is the cutest.”

“sadistic.”

“kokomi?”

she tilts her head and hums, “yes?”

“ever wondered how much it costs to propose a national holiday?”

author’s note: lmao. so in this modern au ayato actually succeeds in turning your wedding date into a national holiday. the government actually appreciates his donation because a.) they always accept goodwilled (lmao) funds and b.) ayato's an important pillar to the gov and they don't want to upset him 'cause petty rich boy tantrums tilt the economy (how sadistic).

so, ayato's the heir of the company where you are employed at as an idol turned actor/actress. kokomi is the heiress to a big jewelry corporation. lmao they were both engaged together when they were like five but they instantly broke it off because well, they both threw five year old tantrums.

plus thoma telling you that they were to be engaged was just a fact he blurted out when you asked about kokomi (he manages to omit the five-year-old part because he's careless + he didn't think it matters because anyone can tell ayato's intensely in love with you)

[elsweetheart]

crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

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

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

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

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Where?”

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

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

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

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

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

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

“Uber.”

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

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

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

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not a brat.”

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

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

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

“Then what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So big.” You mewl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

[starsinthesky5]

wanna get out of here? | joe burrow x reader

description: an impromptu getaway is exactly what you and joe needed

a/n: ahhh my second fic!! all the love on my first one gave me the motivation to go and write another one :) i hope you all like this one!

warnings: smut (hope it’s not too bad since it’s my first time writing it LOL), language

word count: 6 k

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Wednesday 

The sounds of hammering rain and thunder were all you could focus on as you were sitting on the couch, curled up in a blanket trying to finish an overly complex project for work. You had been trying to finish the final section for the past week but you simply could not get rid of the restless feeling that had engulfed you over the past few days. 

Joe, on the other hand, was sitting right next to you. He was staring at the TV which had on some random rerun episode of The Office. Normally, he’d be laughing along to the show no matter how many times he had seen the episode, but today he was quiet & agitated. He had been overwhelmed this past month with intense rehab for his wrist injury; on top of which he had his off-season workouts every day which had also been incredibly vigorous. He was mentally and physically burnt out and needed something to take his mind off of everything. He noticed that you also had been swamped with work which caused you to be on edge the whole week, preventing you two from having any real 1 on 1 time like you usually do, and he wasn’t having it. 

You were typing away on your computer, another idea that would probably lead to nothing, before you heard the TV turn off. 

You turned your head to Joe and saw his blank face. “Everything Okay?” you questioned while reaching for his hand. 

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked while interlocking your hands, still looking expressionless. 

“Joey there is literally a monsoon happening outside right now,” you deadpanned as you squeezed his hand. 

“Not out there. I mean do you wanna get out of Ohio?”.

“Who are you and what have you done with my fiancee,” you laughed. 

“What?” he asked, looking quizzical as if he had no idea why you said that.

“You, the same man that never leaves his house unless it’s business or football related. And sometimes due to a forced social activity, or occasionally to have fun, wants to leave Ohio? You’re practically a turtle that stays in its shell all day,” you say before going back to your work project. 

Joe is slightly taken aback by what you said. Deep down he knows you aren’t wrong, he doesn’t go out very often, which made what he said next even more necessary. 

“Let’s go to the Bahamas this weekend. I can call up Ted and get a jet here and we can leave Friday morning. I’m thinking we stay at a lowkey house on a private beach for maybe 4 days,” he says.

You think he’s just messing with you but when you look over at him, he looks serious. 

“Where is this coming from?” you say with worry in your voice. In the 5 years, you and Joe have been together, he’d never sprung an idea of a vacation on you by himself, it was always mutual. And you’d never left the States before either. You close your computer and turn to face him. 

“I’m just so fucking tired,” he says with a sigh. “These past few weeks have been really intense and I just need a break.” 

Your face drops as he continues. He’d been under so much pressure lately with OTA’s slowly approaching and training amping up; plus all the background noise. He’d start throwing in the next month or so and deep down he was nervous. He didn’t know how it was going to go and if all this rehab was even worth it if he was never going to be able to get back to where he was. 

“And you’ve been stressed out all week because of work and it feels like we haven’t had just ‘us’ time,” he adds. 

Joe was right. He’d be gone all day with either rehab or workouts and the only time you two would get together would be dinner. And by dinner, you’d be too exhausted to do anything but eat and rush off to bed. 

You spend a few moments contemplating his offer. It would be nice to get away for a few days and you both needed the change of environment badly. 

“Okay, let’s do it," you say with a smile as you pull him in for a hug. 

“But just so you know, since we’d be leaving in 2 days, I’m going to be an absolute nightmare when it comes to packing,” you say before planting a kiss on his cheek. 

“Oh, I'm well aware. You only get 2 days to stress about packing and not a whole week like usual,” he laughs. 

Thursday Evening 

You both spent the majority of the day planning your impromptu vacation. You found the perfect beach house on the other side of Nassau, away from the main part of the island. It was hidden by palm trees and had a private beach which made it easy to unwind without any prying eyes. You would spend the week there and pick out a few activities nearby to occupy your time. You also chose a few places to eat although you both decided to cook at home for the majority of your stay. 

Currently, you were sitting on your closet floor attempting to pack your suitcase but were majorly failing. Packing was never your strong suit, especially if you had to pack the day before a trip. The closet looked like a war zone, things were everywhere. 

“This is the wrong time to not be able to find anything,” you say to yourself while getting up once again to hunt for missing items. 

Joe walked into the closet and saw you frantically pacing back and forth looking for something. 

“Babe, are you Okay?” He asked while sitting down on the stool. 

“Have you seen my new white bikini? Or my sunglasses? Or my tank tops?” You asked, aggravated that you couldn’t find your stuff.

“I literally cannot find anything,” You added before giving Joe a look. He knew that look all too well, you were 1 misplaced item away from having a full breakdown. 

He got up from the stool and walked over to where you were, put his hands on your shoulders, and said “Y/N you could wear a potato sack and still look amazing. Stop stressing about it, this vacation is supposed to get rid of the stress. Not add onto it,”

You let out a deep breath and say “You’re right. It’s just us anyway. I’ll just pack some nice dresses and stuff whatever in the suitcase,” 

“The fewer clothes the better,” Joe smirks and says before leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips. 

“You’re insatiable,” you say against his lips. 

After you finish packing your suitcase, you get ready for bed since you have a fairly early flight. It took Joe about 15 minutes to pack his things, which came as no surprise since he is the biggest outfit repeater you know. You’re just about ready to doze off before you feel Joe’s hand creep up your leg and squeeze your thigh.

“Mmm Joe not right now,” you say half asleeply. “Go to bed,”

“Not that,” he states. “I can’t fall asleep,” he mumbles. 

You let out a sigh before turning to face him. No way you’re getting any sleep now. “What’s wrong,” you say as you move his messy curls out of his eyes. 

“I don’t know, I just can’t fall asleep,” he says. 

You knew Joe too well to know when something was bothering him. His confession earlier was only the tip of the iceberg. Something was bugging him and you needed him to talk to you.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours,” you say as you play with his curls. 

He stayed silent for a few heartbeats, not knowing if he should unload his heavy thoughts on you right before a vacation. But he knew that it was just you. You’d always listen to whatever he had to say, no matter the time or place. 

“Just everything.” He says, meeting your eyes. “Rehab has been going great and training has been too, and I should be happy about that but I just can’t get rid of that feeling,”

“What feeling?” You question.

“Feeling like I won’t be good enough. I know what people are saying; overpaid, overrated, no rings, injury-prone. And they aren’t wrong. I don’t have anything to back up why people think I’m a top 3 quarterback,” 

Your heart breaks as he continues to talk. The fact that Joe feels like he isn’t good enough is mind-boggling to you. He’s one of the best damn players you’ve ever seen and you wish you could do something to get rid of his doubts, but you knew that that was something he had to do on his own. 

“But you do have things to back it up. You had one of the greatest college football seasons ever. Winning the Natty and the Heisman was only the start of your legacy. You were drafted by an organization that was in desperate need of saving and you made an impact that not many could have done,” you say as you see a small smile on his face.

“You had a shitty rookie season with tearing basically everything in your knee, but you worked hard and came back better than ever fucking before. You went on and led the team to their first playoff win in 30 years and went to the fucking Super Bowl in your first full season,” you add.

“Yeah, you didn’t win. But you put the entire league on notice and showed them who the hell you are. And then you did it again next year even though you didn’t go all the way. This past year was rough and didn’t go the way anyone would have expected, but this is part of what makes you, you.” you say with a smile as he stares deeply into your eyes. 

“You thrive when there’s adversity. It makes you work harder for what you want and it always pays off one way or another. You always come out better and stronger. You are a great quarterback and are absolutely more than good enough. You’re going to have your moment soon, and I know it,” you conclude. 

Joe stares into your eyes for a few more heartbeats. You knew exactly what to say to bring him back down from whatever cloud he was stuck on and he was so thankful for you. 

“I love you,” he said as he pulled you onto his lap, pressing kisses all over your face. 

“I love you more, always,” you laugh as he kisses the hell out of you. 

You two spent the rest of the night in each other's embrace. You finally felt at peace once you heard Joe’s soft snores fill the room and finally got some sleep.

Friday

You both got up pretty early for your flight, taking a quick shower before packing the car and heading to the airport. After boarding the plane you both took off your shoes, pulled out your fav blanket, and got comfy. 

“Are you excited?” Joe beams.

“Excited is an understatement, Burrow,” you smirk. “Getting you out of Ohio might be my favorite part,”. 

“I’m so looking forward to getting some sun and swimming in that big pool,” he says, referring to the massive pool that’s a part of the house you rented.  

“It’s like you’re a whole new person,” you smile while leaning your head on his shoulder. He smiles and kisses your forehead before pulling out his laptop to turn on a movie. 

“Oooo what are we gonna watch?” you excitedly question. 

“I was thinking of either ‘Grown-Ups’ or ‘21 Jump Street’,” he responds.

“Hmm, let’s do Jump Street, it’s been a while since we watched that,” you say. 

You spent the rest of the flight watching movies, playing a few card games, and eventually taking a small nap before the plane landed. 

A few hours later

After the plane landed, you both drove to your house for the week and it was like something out of a fairytale. The house overlooked the beach and the crystal blue water. Lush green palm trees surrounding the house provided ample privacy, especially for the large open pool in the backyard. You two settled into the house before changing into your swimsuits for a nice afternoon dip in the pool. You did end up finding your new white bikini, which was perfect for the occasion. 

Joe walked out of the bathroom and saw you brushing your hair in the mirror. His eyes trailed down to your bare legs, up to your perfect ass, then to your toned stomach, and straight to your chest. You looked so sexy and he was in heaven. He walked up to you and hugged you from behind, his warmth causing you to melt into his arms. 

Your eyes met his in the mirror, “Like what you see, Burrow?” you teased. 

“Absolutely,” he chuckled as he swayed you two back and forth, pressing a kiss on the back of your shoulder while sliding his hand down to your ass. Joe was grinning like a love-struck fool as he watched you close your eyes and melt into his embrace. He was making you feel more relaxed than you’d ever been before and you both were loving it. 

You both ventured out to the pool and sat down on the pool chairs, hoping to get a quick tanning sesh in before a swim. A few minutes in, Joe found himself staring at the pool when he got an idea. 

“I’m gonna jump into the pool,” he casually said.

You quickly turned your head to him and said, “Are you crazy, the water will get everywhere,” You gasped.

“It’s just us though, nobody around to complain. Besides, I can’t do it in the pool at home since we spent way too much money on redoing the backyard. At least here there isn’t any vegetable garden at risk of being destroyed,” he smirked before quickly running back to the patio door and launching himself into the pool, not giving you a moment to lecture him. 

The water did in fact get everywhere but it was worth it when you saw Joe come up from the water. He shook his head back and forth to get the water out of his hair before he took his hand and attempted to slick it back. Your eyes navigated to his muscular chest which had stray water droplets sliding down his abdomen, back into the water. God, he looked so hot like this. 

“Like what you see, Burrow,” he teased as he noticed your expression. 

“Yes, in fact I do. Very much actually,” you say while getting off the chair. “And I’m not a ‘Burrow’ yet, still gotta wait a few months before that,” you say as you make your way into the pool. 

“Well, you’re practically already my wifey sooo,” he trails off before swimming over to the steps and helping you into the pool. 

You giggle at his words. He couldn’t wait to marry you and he never failed to make it known. 

You immediately latch onto him when you're in the pool. This was pretty normal for you both. You’d always use him as a floatie and make him do all the work while you just lay on him and relaxed. 

A few moments later you release yourself from his embrace, making him slightly confused at the sudden loss of contact. 

“Y/N come back,” he whines out.

“Someone’s clingy today,” you say while playfully rolling your eyes and swimming away from him. 

He stared at you for a few moments, a sad look on his face while you continued to swim around and away from him. You felt bad that you’d left him hanging but you were having too much fun teasing him. 

“Come and catch me shiesty,” you yelled. He hated it when you called him that. That nickname was only for football-related individuals to use and he thought it was a little cringe whenever you would use it. Not in a bad way, it’s just he preferred you calling him other names that football-related people can’t use. You knew how he felt about it but you also knew that this would for sure set him off. 

“Oh you’re done for,” he playfully growled before swimming after you. The pool was massive so you had just enough space to get away from him. 

You two were swimming circles around each other, occasionally splashing water into each other's faces in hopes of catching each other off guard. Your arms began to get tired of swimming around so you stopped by the ledge to take a breather while Joe was settled on the other side of the pool. 

Before you knew it, Joe had swum over to you and pulled you back into his arms. 

“Got you,” you whispered against your ear. 

“I guess you did,” you whispered back. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous by the way,” he said looking down into your eyes. “I love this bikini on you,” 

You blushed at his sweet comments. He never failed to tell you how pretty you looked. 

“Ya know, I look even better with it off,” you tease. 

Joe’s face dropped immediately when you said that. He’d been horny since he saw you in that bikini but had to compose himself since you both were looking forward to swimming in the pool. But now that you’d gotten your swim time in, nothing was stopping him. 

He slowly pressed you against the wall of the pool and kissed his way up your neck right up to your sweet spot. 

“Joe,” you moaned out. 

“What baby?” He asked, knowing exactly what you wanted.

“I need you,” you whined.

He looked at you momentarily before lifting you out of the pool and rushing you inside to the large bedroom. You let out a squeal as he pushed you back onto the bed. Joe climbed over you and situated his body in between your thighs, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You stayed kissing each other for a few minutes before you felt something hard poke at your stomach.

“Getting eager now aren’t we,” you tease. 

“Please, I’ve been waiting to get you in this bed since I saw you in this bikini,” he grinned. 

“Then I suggest you do something about it,” you replied.

Joe smiled and started to untie the strands of your bikini top before tossing it to the side. He kissed his way down to your perfect breasts, swirling his lips around your sensitive bud which caused you to let out a breathy moan.

“Joe,” you moaned out while shoving your hands in his hair. 

He spent a few moments sucking on your breasts before he continued his way down. He pressed a few sloppy kisses on your stomach before eventually making his way down to where you needed him the most. He slowly peeled off your bottoms which was driving you insane.

“Joe please,” you whined out.

“Patience is key, baby,” he teased. 

He threw your bottoms to the side as he made his way back up to your heat. “You’re so wet,” he says while ghosting his fingers over your folds.

“Joe I swear to god-,” You suddenly felt his warm tongue lapping at your folds which caused you to let out another moan, “Ohh Fuck”. 

He buried his warm tongue inside your core as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. He moved one of his hands up to cup your breast as the other was firmly on your thigh. Joe moved up and started to rhythmically suck on your clit which made you see stars; something which he made you see often. “Joey, fuck don’t stop,” you said breathlessly.

“You like that?” he chuckled against your core, sending vibrations throughout your body. Those 3 words always managed to get you more horny than you already were. "Yeah," you whispered.

He went back to lapping at your folds as he used his thumb to rub your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers was sending you over the edge. You started to arch your back which caused you to lift your hips slightly but Joe pushed them back down as he continued to send you into a frenzy. You fisted your hands into his hair and started to pull on the loose curls which caused Joe to let out a soft moan against you. 

“Joe I’m so close,” you whispered as you pushed his head closer to your core. You felt a familiar warmth in your belly as you were moaning Joe’s name out (which was driving him insane). Joe thrusted one of his fingers into you, causing the imaginary rubber band in your lower belly to snap; feeling a familiar gush of liquid pool below you. You were overcome with a feeling of pure pleasure and satisfaction as he cleaned up your mess with his skillful mouth. He pressed delicate kisses on the insides of your thighs before moving back up and pushing his lips against yours again. 

“You’re so hot,” he said in between kisses. 

You felt a blush creep up on your face. “I’m flattered Mr. Burrow, but have you seen yourself”. 

“Shut up,” he chuckled before going back to kissing you. You stopped kissing him after a few moments and said “Joe, I need you inside me.”

“Your wish is my command babe,” he replied as he pulled down his swim trunks and threw them to the side. His cock was rock hard and the sight of it had you sizzling with anticipation. 

Your core was slick with your arousal which made it easy for him to push his dick into you. The tip slowly teasing your folds before he buries himself inside of you, causing you to let out a loud moan. You will never get tired of the feeling of him inside you. 

He started slowly thrusting into you which made you wrap your legs around him, wanting him deeper asap. 

“Joe, Fuck,” you moaned out. “Faster baby,”. 

He began snapping his hips against you, faster & harder than before. “God, you feel so good Y/N,” he moaned out. You brought him in for another kiss, this time quick, messy, and sloppy. He continued thrusting into you and you bucked your hips each time to match his movements. The sound of your arousal and skin-hitting skin filled the room as you two were caught up in the euphoria that was happening between you. 

Joe buried his face into your neck, sucking on your sweet spot, as your hands found themselves in his hair again. You were on Cloud 9 right now and it was all because of him.

“Joe, don’t stop. Shit, you feel too good,” you moaned. You felt him move deeper inside of you as he repeatedly hit your cervix. 

He continued to pound into you, making you feel like nothing else mattered but this moment. You both felt your arousal building up, begging to be released. 

“Fuck Y/N, I’m close,” he panted as he slowed down.

“Me too,” you whimpered. 

He picked up the pace of his thrusts once again, this time moving one of his hands down to your heat, toying with your clit. “Fuck,” you moaned out for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered. You felt your walls clench around him, signaling you were almost there. Joe felt you clench around him and pinched your clit which set off your orgasm. Your chest heaved up and down as you whimpered out his name while seeing stars again. He continued to thrust into you, chasing his pleasure. 

“Y/N,” Joe moaned out. You knew he was close by the way his thrusts started to become sporadic. 

“Come on baby,” you encouraged while pulling at his hair and kissing his neck. 

After a few rough thrusts, Joe let out a loud moan as you felt hot spurts of his cum fill you up. He collapsed on top of you as you both panted, needing a moment to recover after the workout you two just had. You moved one of your hands to his back, softly sliding it up and down to help him relax.

“I love you,” he softly said as he kissed your cheek, making you smile. 

“I love you more,” you whisper in his ear as he buries his face into your neck again. 

The next day 

The next morning was pretty chill for you both. You had breakfast at the local beachside cafe, stuffing your faces with delicious fresh fruit from the island before embarking on a pleasant morning walk on the beach. 

“This is nice,” Joe says as you both walk hand in hand alongside the water, a content look on his face.

You look up at him and smile, “Very nice,” you giggle. “Although, I don’t know how you’re not uncomfortable with walking on the beach in shoes,” you question while looking at your bare feet and then his shoes. 

“You never know when a crab might come up and pinch your toes,” he says with a straight face. 

“Righhhht,” you say while relishing the feeling of sand between your toes. 

“So, what should we do today? We pretty much have the whole day since we’re cooking at home tonight,” he says while squeezing your hand. 

“Hmmm,” you wonder for a second. “We could go out on one of the boats?” you carefully question while looking up at your fiancee. 

Joe did not like going on boats. He hated the idea of being out on the open water with no way of getting back to shore other than using the boat. He always questioned what you would do if the boat broke down or even started sinking. You always told him the sinking part was highly unlikely, but you blamed yourself for that worry because you’ve made him watch Titanic with you one too many times. He also didn’t like how you couldn’t see what was in the water. But lucky for you, the water in the Bahamas was crystal clear. 

He stayed silent for a few moments, making you a little sad since you wanted to experience something new with him. 

“Let’s do it,” he says while flashing you a smile. 

You looked up at him, a little surprised. “Really?” you beam. 

“Yes, now let’s go before I change my mind,” he says before stopping to pick you up. He doesn’t give you a moment to respond because he throws you over his shoulders causing you to let out a squeal. He leads you both back to the house so you can get freshened up.

You both got changed into your swimsuits before walking over to the docks and renting a boat for the day. You weren’t sure how you managed to get Joe to go on the boat, but you certainly were not complaining. 

The driver had taken the boat not too far from shore, which kept Joe’s mind at ease. You swam in the water for a little bit and enjoyed a few drinks. 

“Mmm, this like the best Mai Tai I’ve ever had,” you say while taking another sip. Joe was currently in the water in front of you, while you were seated on the steps of the boat, legs partially in the water. 

“Come in the water,” Joe says while splashing some water onto you. 

“Mmm, I think I’m good up here,” you tease while placing your drink to the side.

Joe swam closer to you and said “Nope.”

You were confused at what he meant but then you felt his wet hand wrap around your wrist. 

“Joe, don’t even think about it,” you playfully growled, knowing exactly what he was about to do. He didn’t listen and pulled you into the water, causing a big splash. You came back up to the surface with a frown.

“Someone’s mad,” Joe laughs. You swim over to him while he is fully anticipating an ass-kicking but is pleasantly surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

You laugh and say, “If this is mad, let me be mad more often,”.

A few hours pass and you both are sitting on the boat in the net seating area that was right above the water. Joe had put on one of his many bucket hats and shades and was laid flat against the net, soaking in the golden sun. You were applying another layer of sunscreen before noticing his chest turning red. You knew he’d be a pain in the ass if he got sunburnt so you took the bottle and moved closer to him. 

You squeezed out a dab of sunscreen and started applying it to his chest. He flinched at the sudden contact before realizing it was just you. 

You felt him flinch and laughed, “Daydreaming, Burrow?”. 

“Maybe,” he smiles while taking off his shades. He looks down and sees you applying sunscreen on him, “Oh, thanks,” he says while meeting your eyes. 

You let out a playful sigh and say, “What would you do without me,”.

“For real,” he says. “I’d be walking around like a tomato,” he laughs. 

After applying the rest of the sunscreen, you lay back against the net and Joe lifts one of his arms, motioning for you to curl up next to him. He rests his hand on the small of your back while you tangle your legs with his. 

You lay there briefly, soaking up the perfect scene before breaking the silence. “Are you enjoying this? I know boats aren’t really your thing and I hope I didn’t force you into this,” you softly say. 

“Of course, I’m enjoying this. I will admit, I was a little nervy when getting on but you’re here with me so I’m fine. Besides, If the boat breaks down at least we’d be stranded together,” he jokes. 

“I guess that’s true. Better than being stranded with a bunch of randos too. I’m glad we could get a boat just for the two of us,” you reply. 

“Yup. This isn’t as bad as I thought. I can see everything below us too so no risk of a random shark popping out,” he deadpans.

“Like that would actually happen,” you say while softly hitting his chest.

“You never know,” he says while shaking your shoulder in an attempt to scare you.

You spent a few minutes messing around with each other before the driver came out to tell you that you were heading back to the island. You both got up and sat on the bench, your back pressed into Joe’s chest and stared out into the open waters, taking in the view before it was time to go back. You were mindlessly sliding your hand along Joe’s leg while he had his arms around your waist, gently squeezing your soft skin. Everything about this moment was peaceful. Joe felt at ease for the first time in a long time and he had his favorite person to thank for it. 

Once you got back to the house, you both took a nice shared shower before starting your dinner prep. Before arriving at the house yesterday, you had stopped at the local market to pick up some groceries. 

“So, what are we making tonight,” Joe asked as he sat down on one of the barstools. 

“I was thinking of shrimp-avocado tostadas and some of that wine we picked up yesterday?”

“Sounds delicious,” he said while rubbing his belly.

You let Joe fry the tortillas and make the avocado mixture while you cooked the shrimp and assembled the tostadas. While you were assembling the dish, Joe found a few candles in the cabinet and got an idea. He went outside to the backyard and set up the candles on one of the patio tables, setting the scene for a nice sunset dinner. He picked out a few flowers from the front of the house and put them in a vase to use as a centerpiece. He then poured the wine into 2 glasses, setting one on each side. 

You had finished plating the tostadas and didn’t see Joe anywhere. “Joe? Where are you,” you yelled out.

“Out here! Bring the plates outside,” he yelled back. 

You were a little confused but went along with it. You walked outside with your dinner and saw Joe setting the table and your heart melted. 

“Joe, this is so romantic,” you cooed while putting the plates on the table. 

He gave you a warm smile before pulling out one of the chairs for you to sit in. You sat down as he settled into the chair across from you. You both devoured the tostadas while making small talk about your plans for tomorrow. After you finished eating, Joe took the plates and set them inside; he suggested you both finish up your wine on the daybed since you would get a comfier view of the sky. 

Later that night, per your suggestion, you and Joe were sitting in the bathtub surrounded by bubbles and a few candles. You felt so relaxed even though you’d only been here for 2 days, and it was all because of Joe.

“I’m glad we finally get to have ‘us’ time,” Joe says while rubbing your thigh under the water. “I missed just being able to sit with you and do nothing. This past month felt so repetitive, I feel like we barely saw each other,” 

“Me too. We needed this,” you said as you pressed yourself into his chest a little more. Your back was to his chest and both your legs were tangled under the water. This was your favorite position; the warmth radiating off of his body felt like a big hug. 

“Thank you for doing this by the way,” you add.

“Doing what?” He questioned.

“This trip. I needed it more than I thought I did. Getting away from home and the change of environment was much needed. I think if I stayed in Ohio for another day I might have spontaneously exploded,” you joked, causing him to let out a soft chuckle. 

“Anytime,” he replied while kissing the nape of your neck.

“Do you feel better?” You asked. “I hope you were able to get your mind off of things. Your stuff was a lot heavier than mine,”

He lets out a content sigh and says, “Actually, yeah I do feel better. I think I just needed to get out of the chaos and get out of my head. This trip has helped me decompress and realize that not everything has to be so stuffy all the time,” Joe says. 

“Exactly,” you chirp as you lean your head back to place a kiss on his neck.

“I can’t do anything about what people are saying, they’ll always talk. But what I can do is work hard to get back to where I’m supposed to be. And I won’t be able to get there if I’m constantly pressuring myself,” he says. “Letting loose and having fun is a part of that journey. I need that balance,” he adds.

“And this is a great start,” you say while smiling up at Joe

“Yes it is,” Joe says while pressing another kiss to your forehead. 

You both had spent the rest of the night talking about the rest of your exciting activities planned for the final 2 days of the trip. You even talked about a few fun things you could do around Cincinnati when you get back home so that you could keep the work-life balance that you both so desperately needed. 

“This impromptu vacation might have been the best idea you’ve had so far,” you tell Joe as you both are about to fall asleep. 

“We should get away more often,” Joe grins.

--The End--

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.9

Chapter Summary: Joel nurses you back to health and you come to a startling realization about your future together.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of some injuries, fluff, protective Joel, soft Joel, little bit of angst, lots of feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

After arriving back in Jackson, you ended up spending nearly three weeks in the infirmary. Your injuries were worse than you thought. From what you could remember, Bill said you had some internal damage along with several fractures and sprains. The cut in your leg was infected, but fortunately Eugene's group did manage to successfully trade for the rest of the antibiotics before everything happened in Salt Lake City.

You ended up sleeping quite a bit in those weeks, but Ellie told you later that Joel hardly ever left your side. She had said she would get into arguments with him, trying to convince him to take turns at your bedside so he could go home and rest, but he refused.

"I don't know which one of you is more stubborn - you or him," Bill mumbled to you as he gently removed the IV from your arm. You chuckled, your eyes finding his broad form outside your bedroom talking quietly with Tommy, just out of earshot.

"Definitely him."

You were grateful Bill let you go home, but he insisted on doing house visits twice a day until you were on your feet. Most of your superficial wounds had healed but you were still very tired and weak. Bill could see improvement every day, and he said that's all that mattered.

On his way out, Bill stopped to check in with Joel, no doubt updating him on your condition and any medicine he would have to administer for you. You watched his face as he listened intently, his brow furrowed as he looked down at the bottles Bill handed him. You had to stifle a giggle when you saw him squint at the label and hold it further away from his face.

While Joel and Bill continued to talk, Tommy slipped past them and into your room, giving you a grin as he plopped down in the chair next to your bed.

"Lookin' good," he said, making you laugh and then wince, gingerly touching your ribs.

"Liar," you said, and he chuckled, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the scabs and yellow bruises with a sigh.

"Just wanna let you know, we cut off all trades with 'em," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone.

"I figured. I know they had a lot of things we could use - "

"We'll find those things somewhere else. Not worth it," he said, cutting you off.

You nodded and cast your gaze to the side.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he replied, tapping his foot on the floor. "Maria said she was gonna stop by later after work, you think you're up for it?"

"Yeah, of course," you said, although you honestly couldn't tell these days. It seemed like you fell asleep at the drop of a hat.

"How's Ellie?" you asked him. Whenever you asked Joel, he frustratingly just gave you the most basic information. She's fine. She's in school. Think I saw her with a couple girls the other day.

"She's adjusting real good. She's been stayin' with Julia, but I'm not sure it's a permanent solution for either of them." He eyed you carefully as your gaze drifted over his shoulder at Joel, who was walking Bill down the steps to the front door. "You got any ideas?"

"Me?" you asked, looking back to him now and raising your eyebrows in surprise. You knew what he was implying, and he just nodded.

"I would love it if she wanted to stay here, but I'm pretty sure Joel wouldn't like that, and I really don't want to push him right now. He's so stressed, Tommy. I can see it in his eyes. He's not sleeping well, and I'm worried about his blood pressure -"

"Have you talked to him about it? About the kid?" Tommy asked, and you shook your head.

"No, but he made his feelings pretty well known when she first got here."

"Lots happened since then. He might surprise you," Tommy said, standing up with a grunt. You frowned and opened your mouth to question him further when Joel walked through the door, his gaze falling on his brother.

"Just headin' out, don't worry, I know she needs her rest," Tommy said, sneaking you a wink as he headed towards the door. You thanked him for visiting and listened to them walk down the stairs, their voices fading the further they got until the door closed and all that was left was Joel's heavy footsteps slowly coming back up. He reached the door and leaned against the frame as he gave you a small smile, but you could see how exhausted he was. His eyes looked bloodshot and his shoulders sagged.

"Come here," you whispered, and he quickly pushed off the wall to come to your side.

"What'dya need, sweetheart?" he asked, glancing at the cup next to your bed, making sure it was still filled with water. "Hungry?"

"No," you said, shaking your head, but he looked at his watch and mentally did the math.

"You'll have to eat somethin' soon with your meds, what can I make you?" he asked, and you shook your head again.

"Can you please just lay with me for a while?"

He hesitated but you reached out to drag your fingertips against his wrist, urging him closer to the bed, and he gave in.

"Alright, only for a few minutes," he said, rounding the end of the bed and collapsing onto the covers with a groan, sliding his eyes closed in relief.

"I wish you'd rest more," you murmured after you gingerly rolled yourself onto your side so you could look at him. "I'm worried about you."

He chuckled and turned his head to the side to look at you in disbelief.

"You're worried about me? You're jokin', right?"

You reached out to lightly brush a stray curl away from his eyes, choosing not to reply. You knew it would be a losing battle anyway.

"Can't rest," he said, staring at you with his eyes all soft. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to rest again."

"Why?" you asked, your brow furrowing.

He shook his head, his eyes still pinned on yours and you watched them slowly fill with tears. You gave him a look of concern and inched a bit closer to cup his face, the pad of your thumb swiping over his rough beard as you waited for him to open up.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, his voice thick as he tried to hold back his tears. "It's all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault -"

"I keep lettin' you down. Over and over again," he continued, a tear slipping down his cheek. "And I just wanna tell you that I understand now. 'Bout all of it. Why you're so scared 'bout havin' a family or gettin' married. And it's fine, I won't bring it up again, alright?"

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" you asked, searching his face for answers.

"I can't - " he paused and took a deep breath before trying again. "I can't take care of us. I thought I could but it's clear I can't when all this bad shit keeps happenin'. But if you'll still have me, I'll be right here, okay? I'll take whatever you wanna give me, I don't care 'bout any of that other shit anymore. I just want you."

"Slow down," you said, trying to wrap your fatigued mind around what he was saying. Your grip on his jaw tightened before you continued. "You never let me down, do you understand me? You are the only fucking thing that kept me going the past few years. Without you, I would be dead. I would have died that very first day. I owe you my life, Joel. How do you not see that?"

He just shook his head, refusing to accept what you were saying, so you kept going.

"I should have just been honest with you, but it took me a while to figure out why I was so scared about - "

"You don't need to explain - "

"Let me finish," you said, and he clamped his mouth shut. "It's not you, Joel. Well, it is. But not for the reason you think."

He frowned, blinking back tears as he waited for you to continue.

"It's because I love you so much that it scares me." You could feel your own tears forming now, but you tried to push through. "If something were to happen to you out there and I was left all alone, I don't know how I could go on." You swiped away a few tears that fell as you spoke. "And I'm terrified of getting married because if you die, that day will haunt me, Joel. Every single year when the anniversary comes, I - "

You stopped for a moment, your breaths coming in short gasps. He tried to shush you and pull you closer, but you shook your head.

"I'm not strong enough," you finished with a small sob. This time, you let him pull you into his chest while his big hands cradled the back of your head, patting down your hair, soothing you.

"Does that make sense?" you blubbered, pulling back to look at him.

He nodded slowly, his eyes raking down your face.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Thought I wasn't gonna get you back after they took you. Thought I lost you forever."

The two of you sat in silence for a minute, lost in each other's eyes, the truth finally spoken and swirling around the quiet room as you both clung to the other, just grateful to be alive.

"But you did get me back," you finally said, breaking the silence. "You did that. You saved me. Again." You ran your finger gently over his bottom lip and he gave the tip of your finger a little kiss.

"You might think you can't keep me safe, but in reality, you are the only reason I'm still here." The puzzle was finally piecing together in your mind as you spoke.

"That's not true," he said immediately. "Every situation that's put you at risk could've been avoided if I had protected you more. I wouldn't have to save you if I didn't put you in harm's way in the first place."

"But this is the world we live in, Joel. None of us will ever truly be safe ever again. And it's not because of something you did. It's just a really shitty hand we were all dealt and now we have to figure out a way to make the most of it and survive." You paused for a moment, something in your brain finally clicking as the words came tumbling out.

"We can't let fear run our lives," you said softly.

He looked at you, your gaze fixed on the wall behind him as what Maria said so long ago finally made sense. It was like you were seeing through the fog. Like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and you could breathe deeply for the very first time.

It took you and Joel to finally have a raw and honest conversation, but you thought you understood what she meant now.

"You okay?" Joel asked, clearly confused. You let your gaze fall back to him and you grinned.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly, then tugged him forward so you could press your lips against his, your fingers curling around the back of his neck to hold him against you.

You weren't afraid anymore.

A few days later, you woke up to the sound of the front door downstairs swinging shut. Your eyes snapped open and you strained your ears, trying to listen to the muffled words through the closed bedroom door.

"Told ya to be quiet, she's tryin' to sleep," you heard Joel say.

"Sorry, the fucking wind took the door from me and this stupid backpack is so heavy. Why do I even need to go to school? Who cares about this stuff anymore?"

"I do, 'cause it keeps you out of trouble and outta my hair."

"Ha, yeah right. You know both those things are impossible, old man," you heard Ellie scoff.

"How the hell old do you think I am?"

"The way you can barely read the instructions on the back of that pasta box? You don't want me to answer that."

You grinned as you listened to the two of them bicker amongst themselves. You weren't sure when it happened, but at some point in the past several weeks, Joel and Ellie finally seemed to have a breakthrough in their relationship. You wanted to ask, but you didn't want to draw attention to it. The two of them were so alike in so many ways that you knew if you pointed it out, they would pull back and stop making progress. So in the meantime, you just enjoyed listening and watching them whenever you got the chance.

With a small grunt, you pushed yourself off the mattress and swung your legs over the side of the bed, taking a moment to catch your breath before reaching out and using the end table to support your weight so you could stand. Walking was getting easier; the worst part was still the healing gash in your thigh. Bill said the knife one of Amy's men used must have cut through some muscle, so you were slowly building your strength back up by taking very short walks around your bedroom every day.

With small, careful steps, you managed to get to your bedroom door and open it quietly, listening to Ellie helping Joel make spaghetti in the kitchen while she told him about her day. You stopped at the top of the stairs and peered down.

"Ellie?" you called out softly.

You heard a spoon clatter on the counter and Joel's heavy footsteps jog to the foot of the stairs. He looked up at you with a towel in his hand, worry etched across his face. Ellie quickly joined him and looked up at you with a grin.

"What's wrong? Why're you up?" Joel asked, taking the steps two at a time.

"Nothing!" you said with a smile as he reached the top and wrapped an arm around you gently to help steady you. "I just wanted to see Ellie."

"I thought you were asleep," she said, bounding up the stairs.

"C'mon, let's get back to bed," Joel urged. You sighed and allowed him to lead you back to the bedroom, but you chose to sit on the edge of the bed instead of getting back under the covers like he clearly wanted you to do.

"Come on, tell me what's going on out there. Joel's not much of a gossip," you told Ellie with a wink, and Joel huffed somewhere behind you, fixing the sheets.

"Well, Maria wants to get married the second you're back on your feet. Says she wants to do it before she starts showing," Ellie started, and you felt the mattress dip with Joel's weight next to you.

"Yeah, she told me that already. What else? How's school?"

"It's alright. I met a few girls, we hang out sometimes."

"That's great!" you told her, happy that she was acclimating well. "How's Julia?"

Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes at the mention of the older school teacher who graciously let her live with her.

"She's nice, but she's just got such strict rules. I've gotten into it with her a couple times when I was late for curfew," Ellie admitted, looking down at her fingers twisting in her lap.

"It's important that you listen to her, y'know. She's just lookin' out for you," Joel said softly, and you had to tuck your chin against your chest to hide your smile. He was so sweet with her now, like he had known her his whole life, and it took some time getting used to hearing it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ellie said sullenly. "I just get so bored. She spends her evenings planning her lessons or knitting. Knitting! It's so quiet over there, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind."

"Well, why don't you move in with us?" Joel asked with a shrug. Both you and Ellie froze, your eyes widened in shock. You slowly turned your head to the side to look at him, unable to form words.

"What?" he asked, swiveling his head back and forth when neither of you said anything.

You were about to respond when Ellie jumped up excitedly, about to wrap her arms around Joel's shoulders, then stopped herself.

"Really? Can I?" Her eyes darted between you both, a huge grin plastered across her face.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly with a nod. "Yeah, of course you can." You tried your best to blink back the tears that were quickly forming.

The three of you heard some hissing coming from downstairs and Joel leapt up, muttering about the water for the pasta as he clattered quickly down the steps, leaving just you and Ellie.

"Holy shit," she said, still grinning.

"Uh, yeah, 'holy shit' is right," you said with a chuckle.

"You didn't have anything to do with that?"

"Me? Nope," you said, quickly shaking your head. "Although it was on my mind, I just never found the right time to talk to him about it."

"Wow," she muttered, sitting on the bed next to you. "Guess he doesn't hate me, after all."

"Told you," you said, nudging her shoulder with your own.

You sat in silence for a moment, deep in thought while you listened to Joel muttering to himself in the kitchen. A smile played across your lips at the sheer domesticity of it. A feeling that you never thought you would get to experience just fell into your lap when you least expected it.

"I never got a chance to ask," you began, and Ellie turned her attention back towards you. "Does anyone else know?"

She shook her head.

"When you were passed out in the truck on the way back, Joel told me he had to tell Tommy and Maria but then he got so distracted with you at the infirmary that I guess he never got around to it."

You hummed and nodded, wondering if Joel truly forgot or if he changed his mind. Either way, you knew it would have to come out some day, but you had hoped it would be on Ellie's terms.

"And what did he tell Tommy? About the Fireflies?"

"The truth. Well, mostly. Just left out a few things. He told him they were working on a vaccine and that they kidnapped you, obviously."

"But how did he explain why they took me without telling him they really wanted you?" you asked, your pain killers making it tough to keep up.

"I told them they took people to experiment on," she said. "I thought that's what they were doing, anyway, at first."

You chewed your lip for a moment, eager to learn more but careful about pushing her too far.

"How did you guys find me?" you finally asked. You had tried to get the story out of Joel multiple times already, but he kept dodging the question, and the curiosity was getting the best of you.

Ellie's body stiffened next to you. She straightened her back as she took a sharp inhale of breath.

"He didn't tell you?"

You just shook your head slowly.

"Well, we, uh, went back to my aunt and uncle's house," she said, dropping her eyes to her lap. "He figured out they were the ones who called the Fireflies to come take you. Or, I guess me, but whatever."

"Oh," you said softly. You hadn't expected Ellie to know about any of that.

"It's alright, Joel told me after you were taken. That you thought they might've sold me off," she said, as if reading your mind.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry," you said, but she just shook her head.

"It's fine," she said, but you could see in her face she was hurt. After a moment, she added "it worked out in the end, right? I found you guys."

You gave her a tight smile as you felt the swell of emotions rising up your chest, squeezing your throat. You cared for Ellie so deeply that you were almost inclined to agree with her. Even though you were just as happy to have her in your lives, it still made you sick to think about what she had to endure to get there.

Then, you realized Ellie never elaborated about their return visit. You glanced over at her and wanted to ask, but decided against it. She looked upset enough, and if it was anything like you saw at the hospital, you preferred not to bring it up.

Joel startled you both by appearing silently in the doorframe.

"You girls ready to eat?"

Girls. The way he said it warmed your heart.

"So long as you didn't burn it," Ellie said teasingly as she stood up from the bed. "I'll bring some up for you," she said to you over your shoulder as she headed down the stairs.

"C'mon, lemme help you get back in bed and I'll get your tray," Joel said, but instead you held out a hand to stop him, making him look at you.

"Thank you," you whispered, cupping his face with both hands.

"For what?"

You smiled at him and he lifted an eyebrow at you, amused but curious.

"For giving me a family."

It took a few weeks, but your bones eventually healed and you were able to get back to work. Maria would only schedule you for half days and you argued that you could do more, but by the time you got home after only four hours, you had to admit you were exhausted.

Bill told you it would take some time for you to feel like yourself again, that it was completely normal and that you would need to build your strength back up. You had to constantly remind Joel you needed to start doing things for yourself, but he would still do whatever he could to keep you from getting up too much.

Joel heard you sigh from the bathroom and within seconds he was in the doorway, buttoning up his dress shirt with a tie draped loosely around his neck.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," you said quickly as you continued to stare into the mirror and fidget with your hair. "I can't get my hair to look the way I want it."

"I think you look beautiful," he said, sauntering over with his shirt still untucked to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, gazing at you in the mirror while he planted a quick kiss to your neck.

You sighed and tilted your head to the side, encouraging him to explore your neck more. You arched your back just a bit, pushing yourself back into his hips, causing his arms to stiffen around you.

"No funny business," he murmured against your skin, and you grinned.

"Not even a little funny business?" you teased, and you felt him chuckle lightly against your back.

"Nope. We're gonna be late," he said, pulling back suddenly but giving you a small tap on your ass with his palm before he walked away.

You glanced at the time and gasped quietly. He was right. Tommy and Maria's rehearsal dinner was in ten minutes, and even though it was just a handful of you at their house, you still didn't want to be late. Maria spent too much time planning this wedding and the last thing you were interested in doing was setting off the short fuse she had developed over the past couple weeks.

Quickly, you put on some old lipstick and fixed your dress before turning off the bathroom light. Joel was just finishing up knotting his tie, leaning forward a bit with his lips parted as he watched himself carefully in the mirror above your dresser and you had to resist the urge to push him down on the bed right then and there.

Ever since your energy slowly began coming back, so did your desire for Joel, but he was adamant about waiting until you were feeling better, which just left you feeling crazier by the day. You weren't sure if it was because you were finally on the mend, or maybe it had something to do with your breakthrough with him, but you found yourself feeling a lot needier than usual.

"Ready?" he asked you before running his fingers casually through his curls once more and walking over to you. You nodded, your lips pressed together as you glanced down at the blue shirt and navy slacks he picked out.

"You look good," you told him, your tone suggestive. He smirked and took your hand, leading you out of the bedroom.

"Ellie, we're leavin'," Joel called out to her, ignoring your compliment. "There's leftovers in the fridge!"

"Okay!" she called out, the sound of her music softly flowing through the floorboards as you made your way downstairs.

"Should we bring any pain killers in case you start gettin' sore?" Joel asked.

"No, I'll be fine."

"You sure? 'Cause-"

"Alright fine, we can bring them," you relented, just eager to get out of the house at this point. You pocketed them in your small purse and the two of you headed out towards Tommy and Maria's house, luckily arriving with two minutes to spare.

"How are you feeling?" you asked Maria as she greeted you with a warm hug.

"Me? What about you?" she said with a laugh.

"Oh, I'm fine! I want to hear all about you and what the future hellraiser is putting you through."

"She ain't fine," Joel said behind you, turning his head away from his brother. "Bill said-"

"Bill said I need to work on building up my strength. To me, that's fine," you told him, and he rolled his eyes.

"You two are so alike, it's scary, you know that?" Maria asked, leading you into the kitchen for a drink. You smiled and waved when you saw Carrie and Jake, along with Eugene and another woman who you thought was named Tina, but you couldn't quite remember, rounding out the rest of their wedding party.

"So really, how have you been feeling?" you asked her, taking the glass of wine she offered you.

"Nauseous, but it's getting a little better. And tired. Oh my god, I'm so tired all the damn time, it's crazy!"

"Oh, wow," you said, taking a sip before adding "you aren't even showing yet. How far along did Bill say you were?"

"I'm close to the end of the first trimester, thank god. He says that's when the nausea usually goes away and I should get some energy back," she said, checking the oven briefly before straightening back up. "But enough about me. How are you two?" she asked, nodding subtly towards Joel in the living room with Tommy and now Eugene.

"Better. Much better. We had a good talk after we got back, and I think we're on the same page," you said, glancing around the room at the others, making sure they were out of earshot.

"What page is that, exactly?" she pushed with a smirk.

"He's okay with not getting married or having kids," you replied with a noncommittal shrug. She narrowed her eyes at you and you frowned. "What?"

"Is that what you really want, though?"

"Well," you said, glancing around once again before lowering your voice. "I've come around to the whole marriage thing, but I don't really know how to tell him. I feel like I keep jerking him around and I don't know what to do."

"You need to be honest with him," she said immediately, and you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I just made this huge fuss -"

"It doesn't matter. This is your life, you have to do what's right. He might be confused at first but you know he will be so fucking ecstatic he will forget all about it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," you said, glancing over your shoulder to watch him laugh with Tommy, a glass of whiskey in his hand. "I just need to figure out how to tell him."

"And kids?" she asked, causing you to whip your head back around.

"I'm not there yet. But maybe one day," you finally admitted, making her squeal out with excitement and causing the rest of the guests to look your way.

"Sorry! The chicken just came out perfectly!" Maria said with a giggle. You laughed with her as you locked eyes with Joel and he raised a curious eyebrow at you. You shrugged and gave him a quick smile before turning back to Maria.

"Alright, enough of that. What can I do to help?"

"You sure you ain't in any pain? Maybe you should take somethin' before bed," Joel said as he watched you wince when you leaned over to take your heels off.

"I'm okay, I promise. It's the damn shoes," you explained, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing your calf. "Was I this annoying when you were hurt?"

"Worse," he said with a grin before sitting down next to you and taking your legs over his lap, his own fingers taking over, rubbing the sore muscles and doing a far better job.

"Thank you," you said breathily as you closed your eyes and leaned forward so your head was resting on his shoulder. You sat in silence for a moment, his strong hands digging into your calves, content to be in your shared home with Ellie safe and sound, right down the hall.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

"Something's different," you said softly, your eyes still closed.

"What'dya mean?" he murmured, his lips pressed against the top of your head.

"I feel... safe," you said, opening your eyes a bit and staring at the wall across from your bed, his fingers still working your legs.

"That's good, baby," he whispered.

"No, I mean..." you paused, searching for the words, not sure how to say it. "I mean I'm not scared anymore."

His fingers paused as he absorbed your words, trying to figure out what you were saying.

"That's... good," he repeated, not quite understanding. You sighed and tilted your face up to look at him, your arm stretching up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a soft kiss. Another time, you thought. You'll figure out how to explain it another time.

You slipped your tongue past his lips, your fingers raking through his hair as the hand that was once on your calf slowly migrated up past your knee and to your thigh. Greedily, you nipped at his bottom lip and leaned backwards so you were flat on the bed, Joel partially on top of you while your lips moved faster, leaving quick, desperate kisses against his mouth.

"Hang on," he whispered, but you kept going, your heart slamming in your chest. Now that you felt him on top of you again, it was sparking a fire between your legs.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked jokingly, pulling back a bit and pinning your wrists into the mattress, your chest heaving.

"Please, Joel," you begged, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

"C'mon, you know you ain't ready yet. You're still healing," he mumbled sweetly, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

"I am ready," you promised, but he just shook his head.

"We got a big day tomorrow," he whispered in your ear before sitting up, his weight no longer pressing against your upper half. "Let's just go to bed."

You pouted as you sat up next to him and he grinned.

"Ain't gonna work on me, sweetheart."

Then, an idea occurred to you. You shrugged and stood up, walking towards the bathroom as you slowly unzipped your dress, letting it pool at your feet only when you were in the safety of the small room. You turned around, hand on the door, only wearing your underwear as you took in Joel's slack jawed expression, his eyes slowly raking up and down your nearly naked frame.

"I'm gonna shower," you said quietly, his eyes still glued to your body. "You wanna join me?"

You could see the conflict in his face, trying so desperately to hold back and keep a clear head.

Finally, he forced himself to shake his head. You pouted again then shut the door, but not before sliding your underwear down your legs first, giving him a little show.

The water had barely gotten warm enough to step under the stream when he ripped open the shower curtain and stepped into the tub. You looked at him and smirked.

"I thought you said -"

He silenced you with his mouth covering yours, pushing you up against the cool tile while his knee slotted between your legs and his hand slowly drifted down your stomach. You gasped and smiled against his mouth when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed him.

"You need me that bad, huh?" he murmured against your mouth, and you nodded.

"Yes," you whined, arching your back off the wall, your wet body pressing up against his as his fingers dipped inside you and dragged them back out, smearing a mix of your arousal and water expertly over your clit.

"Can't be too loud, now," he reminded you, swallowing your breathless moans as his fingers circled faster. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding on tightly as he brought you to the edge way too quickly, months of not being touched by him finally coming to a head.

"Joel," you whispered, burying your face into his neck as you felt the muscles in your stomach tense. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you up just in time. Your legs went lax, your arms and Joel the only thing keeping you upright as you felt the coil in your belly snap, your sounds muffled against his skin and the water beating down around you.

"Better?" he asked when you finally found the strength to hold yourself back up. You nodded, your eyelids drooping, but you still slid your hand down his stomach. Right as you were about to wrap your fingers around him, he stopped you.

"Not tonight," he said, and you frowned. "It's late. We gotta get to bed."

If you weren't so exhausted, you would have put up a bigger fight. You leaned into him as he gently massaged shampoo into your hair, your eyes closed, blindly letting him direct you under the water to rinse before he got started on your body, his strong hands spreading the soap over your skin in circles.

He helped you get out of the tub and wrapped you in a towel as he dried your hair, his own body dripping water all over the floor. You lazily watched him work, a slow smile creeping across your face. He noticed and raised an eyebrow at you.

"I like it when you take care of me," you explained, and you swore you saw a little bit of pink dust his cheeks. He led you to bed, tucking the cool sheets around you as he brushed your damp hair away from your eyes. "Want you to take care of me forever," you mumbled as your eyes slid shut. He smiled, then his hand froze as his lips pursed in thought.

I feel safe.

I'm not scared anymore.

He finally understood what you were trying to tell him, and his heart began to flutter excitedly in his chest.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark @merz-8 @sarahhxx03 @oscarissac2099 @motherjoel @silas-222 @b3l1nd5 @rocket-raccoon-silvie @missladym1981 @angie2274 @maried01 @ashleyfilm @alltheotps @mybworlds

[sh1-n0bu]

hey hey!! new anon here,,

not sure how to write this but I'll try

could we get a scara x amab reader, with praise, overstimulation, and if you're comfortable body worship? (for scara ofc) i wanna make him cry 🛐

also !! can i be 🍷 anon?? <3

♡︎ 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x dom!AMAB!reader

warnings: praise, overstimulation, body worship, dacryphillia, overall very soft and fluffy

notes: of course you can be 🍷anon! slowly but surely clearing out my inbox and thinking on holding a 3k followers event. if you guys have any ideas, lemme know!

wanderer — formerly known as scaramouche, balladeer and the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers — has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything. so when you, his assistant since day one, had suddenly proposed your affections for the angry gremlin he rejected at first.

but that never deterred you. you would try over and over again. asking him out on dates, offering him some help, cuddles if he was being restless and stressed, holding his hand while he undergoes the painful weekly tortures of il dottore — you did it all for him.

and one day, scaramouche did indeed cave in and decided to accept your nth suggestion for a date. it wasn’t like he had liked you or anything, he just wanted to make you shut up quickly. he’s lying, he loved you way longer than you did him.

since then, going out on “dates” had become a usual thing between you two. you two would meet up in certain places, hang out for some time, talk for a bit, hold hands if scaramouche is feeling gutsy enough and say your goodbyes.

it had continued on for so long until it suddenly came to a stop when scaramouche had to go to sumeru with il dottore to take buer’s gnosis. of course the plan worked and the second harbinger came back with the gnosis but no scaramouche.

for some time after that, you seriously thought you were tripping absolute bonkers. everyone kept saying the sixth seat of the harbingers had been vacant and the name scaramouche or balladeer doesn’t ring a bell. you even held an audience with her majesty, the tsaritsa as well and yet she said she doesn’t remember!

that was until you decided to desert the fatui and go to sumeru yourself to find out just what the fuck was going on. it took incredibly long time — sumeru’s rainforest and desert aren’t the most hospitable places for someone so used to the cold like you — but after a whole half a year of searching, you managed to see him again.

him. the one who stole your heart. the one who caused you to desert the fatui despite knowing the punishment would be death. the one that cradled your heart gently in his hand since you’ve been assigned to be his assistant.

and by the archons was it worth the whole thing. to be chased down by the people who were once your comrades. to suffer heatstrokes in the hot desert of sumeru. to continuously get pelted by the rain and thunder in the rainforests of sumeru. by the archons was it all worth it when the moment you two locked eyes. it was as if your first meeting all over again.

by the archons was it worth it when he recognized you, dropping the scrolls in his arms as he runs up to you. it was worth it when he came to a stop in front of you — hesitating. waiting. wondering. before finally muttering “fuck it” and getting on his tip toes to plant a kiss on your lips. it was worth it all — even as you gently broke him down and rebuilt him again a whole new in your arms in the comfort of your now shared home.

scaramouche has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything.

but wanderer was a bit different. he preferred to be alone, alone with you. a bitter tea and your voice going “yuck!” whenever he made you take a sip, lying and promising he put sugar in it this time. a shy stolen glance at each other and a peck or two followed by the silence of each other’s presence. “lonely together” you once called your relationship. he couldn’t agree more.

even as his first time is taken by you — the doll couldn’t be happier.

even as he whimpers and whines whenever you praise him, planting kisses on his skin as he blushed a beet red. weakly thrusting his hips back to meet yours under the dim lights of the lit candles. desperately reaching back, tangling your hair in his hand to tug you down for a sloppy kiss to try and hide his moans when you called him your “good boy”, “pretty doll” and your “one and only”.

a weak sob and sniffles resounding in your shared home as wanderer comes on your cock for the nth time. how many times had he cum by now? he’s too hazy and lust ridden to even keep up count.

tears kept falling down his face as he unconsciously grind back into your cock, wanting more. a cacophony of keens and moans and shrill sound resembling a squeal coming out of him as he feels your tip hit his prostate again. archons, he wanted to feel that again and again. feel himself get broken down by your hands, by your lips, by the soft praises coming out of your mouth, by your dick just fucking into him so good to the point his mind becomes a mush.

when you gently put him back together again — wiping away the sweat and cum staining his skin, when you cradle him gently as you two share a quick bath together, when you wrap your arms around him and hug him close to yourself — the pupet couldn’t help but smile.

a genuine, unadulterated smile of happiness spreading on his face as he hears your words of affirmation. in soft moments like this, the puppet couldn’t help but whisper out weakly in a hoarse voice.

“you, [name], my heart…” before slipping off into a dreamless state.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

I’m back in my silly nonsense again and I do have a request, if that’s ok, I seriously don’t wanna annoy or stress you out hun but I do have a specific request in mind.

A sadistic yandere doctor x reader

It starts out simple enough like the reader goes in for a simple checkup and there’s a new doctor taking care of them and it escalates from there, every appointment with the new doctor becomes more unnerving and unhinged until escalating to abducting his “patient” and keeping them to himself

I dunno this sounded better in my head and plus you’re more creative than I am😅 I had this lil idea for a while and I’d figure it was worth a shot to ask, thanks for putting up with my silly shenanigans 😅

CW: Abduction, drugging, obsessive yandere, former bully reader, foul language, trypanophobia and mild iatrophobia

I took this ask and fucking R A N

The line between hatred and love is much thinner than one would like to believe.

(Reader) sat stiffly in the waiting room, staring at their phone while scrolling, not paying attention to anything that passed their eyes. Time was not moving fast enough, and it felt like they were about to have a heart attack while waiting for the doctor, fifteen minutes past their scheduled appointment time. They nearly jumped when the nurse finally called their name, not bothering to offer even a polite grin to the nurse as they were led back to get weighed, praying to whatever was listening that their deodorant didn't fail them. Sweat glued their shirt to their back, but (Reader) refused to take off their jacket.

Going to the clinic was always a hassle, and if it wasn't for the pain in their neck that refused to ease up they would have continued to avoid it like the plague. The nurse brought (Reader) back to an empty room, and left them there again, now waiting on a paper sheet that crinkled obnoxiously whenever (Reader) shifted and was ten times colder than they were in the waiting room. (Reader) took a shaky breath and continued to scroll absentmindedly on their phone.

A soft knock at the door was enough to make (Reader) drop their phone, diving for it as a nurse wheeled in a cart. "Hello, dear, how are we today?"

(Reader) popped back up, flushed. "Peachy."

"Lovely." The older woman grabbed a chart and read over (Reader's) information. "I'm going to take a quick little blood sample and get you checked in for Dr. Campbell."

Their face felt cold with how quickly their previous embarrassment faded into fear. Both at the thought of getting their blood drawn, and in confusion at hearing a new name. "Actually, my doctor is Dr. Kowl." (Reader) tried to correct the nurse.

The nurse smiled brightly. "Dr. Campbell is our newest doctor, he'll be taking over for Dr. Kowl when he retires. Can you remove an arm from your jacket please?"

(Reader) slipped their left arm out for the nurse, holding in their breath and averting their eyes while she pulled out a clean needle. Even if they couldn't see it, just knowing that it was getting closer to their arm sent a rush of adrenaline up and down their body so quickly that (Reader) was afraid it would knock them out. They swallowed a lump of snot threatening to choke them, rolling their eyes back to look at the ceiling as they ignored the tiny prick of pain.

"All done."

The sleeve was rolled down before (Reader) turned their head, a tight grimace plastered on their face. "Great."

"Dr. Campbell will be with you shortly." The nurse's demeanor was warm, but (Reader) couldn't feel it past the cold crispness of her scrubs. Clinic doctors weren't as bad as hospital or ER doctors, but they still were not pleasant to be around.

• 17 years ago •

A chubby boy with dark curly hair obscuring his eyes nervously watched (Reader) from afar, working up the courage to go speak to them. (Reader) had a bruise on their neck, partially hidden by their hoodie, and the young man was worried for the stranger in his high school. Tugging on his baggy shirt awkwardly while shuffling his feet, he made his way to the sad looking teen, struggling not to lose his nerve. "Hey.." he struggled not to stutter. "I was just, uh, wondering if everything was.. okay?"

The look of loneliness and emptiness on (Reader's) face was gone so fast that the boy thought he imagined it, now only seeing disgust and rage.

"The fuck you just say?"

• Present •

A young doctor with wavy brown hair stepped into the room, his downward turned eyes widening every so slightly, a bright, welcoming smile contrasting his surprised gaze, as he entered (Reader's) view. (Reader) was equally shocked, taken back by how handsome their new doctor was. "How are we feeling today?"

Hearing that typical doctor's greeting paled (Reader's) complexion, reminding them that no matter how hot this man might be, he was still a doctor. "I, uh, got a pain. It won't go away."

Dr. Campbell nodded, gently touching (Reader's) jaw as he tilted their head, watching their face carefully as they grimaced at certain angles. "Have we already taken X-rays?"

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong. Urgent care said it was a pulled muscle, I'm just here for a follow up." (Reader) noted how the new doctor searched their eyes uncomfortably; it was as though he was looking for something specific. "Is there something wrong?"

The doctor removed his hands, smiling again, but this time the smile seemed disingenuous, almost melancholy. "I'm sorry, I just.. you look like someone that I used to know." His jaw clenched under his smile. Dr. Campbell swiveled away, rolling to the computer and tapping on the keyboard for a couple of minutes before clicking his tongue. "I'm sorry, (Reader), but it looks like something went wrong with the blood sample we just took. Can you roll up your sleeve for me so I can get a new sample?" He asked while already reaching into his drawer, grabbing a fresh syringe and three vials.

(Reader) sighed, frustration displayed openly on their features. "Really?.."

• 17 years ago •

"Cry, bitch!" (Reader) snarled, kicking the new kid in his ribs. His only real crime was not knowing that, despite the lack of piercings, (Reader) was practically the leader for the high school's most notorious delinquents. The only reason (Reader) hadn't been expelled was because their grades never dropped below an A-, and the school prioritized their placement as the second best school in the country over a few accusations of harassment.

"Hey (Reader), who's your new friend?" Nate asked while sauntering over with the rest of (Reader's) friends.

"Dunno. Hey new kid," (Reader) bent down, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and yanking his head up, "what's your name?"

The kid could barely speak through his sobbing. ".. Ichabod."

"HA! What kind of name is that?!" Lily cackled hysterically.

"From now on, I think you're going to be my new best friend.. ain't that right, pussy?"

His dark brown eyes couldn't help but fixate on (Reader's) neck as they glared down at him, the bruise shaped like fingers was so dark that in the lighting it looked like it was bleeding. "Well, that's the worse fucking name I've ever heard in my life. No wonder you're such a pussy.

• Present •

"I'm here for Dr. Campbell? I have a twelve-thirty about some blood results?" (Reader) grumpily muttered, pissed that they had to be back at the clinic only a week after their last appointment. Hearing Campbell's name, one of the receptionists smiled, fluttering her lashes and biting her lip subtly.

Her colleague saw her reaction and made a noise of approval. "That new doctor, he's quite the charmer, isn't he?"

"Stop!" The younger woman smiled harder, rolling her eyes. The whole thing made (Reader) grossed out. Yeah, the man was cute, but not when you're on the job. "Besides, he's.. unavailable."

"What? I didn't see a ring on his finger."

'They have forgotten me.' (Reader) puffed out their cheeks and patted their sides loudly, hoping the two medical professionals would get the hint and just sign them in.

"Apparently, he only became a doctor because of his highschool sweetheart. He said he had somebody whose 'attention' he 'wanted'." She sighed dreamily. (Reader) sighed also, but only out of frustration.

"Hey." (Reader) snapped, embarrassing the two receptionists as they looked to (Reader), mouths open like (Reader) was an apparition. "Twelve thirty. (Reader). Is there any paperwork I need to fill out?"

"Sorry! No-"

"Great." (Reader) interrupted the lady, heading over to the horribly uncomfortable chairs a few feet away. However, nearly as soon as (Reader's) butt touched the seat their name was called out, startling them on the speed.

They raised their eyebrows but didn't complain, heading back past the smiling nurses with disdain.

Dr. Campbell met (Reader) in the hall, sneaking up behind them. "Not big on smiling, huh?" The tall man grinned, feeling immense joy at the way (Reader's) face blanched and their muscles tensed.

"I'll smile for some good news." (Reader) forced a smile onto their face, the faux sign of friendliness not reaching their eyes.

He held out a hand as if to say 'after you', directing (Reader) to an open door.

• 16 years ago •

Ichabod couldn't look away from (Reader), studying their shaky visage as (Reader) barely held themselves together, teetering in the corner of the dirty basement. It was interesting, the first real emotion Ichabod had ever detected from (Reader) besides disgust.

Fear.

The group of 'friends' all drunkenly sat around Lily's older brother while he tattooed the minors in his dingy home. (Reader) was trying their hardest not to barf as the gun entered their friend's skin rhythmically.

"(Reader), check it out!" The dumbass child held up his arm, proudly displaying a jagged dog. "What'd ya think?"

"It looks like shit." (Reader) spat. The horror was masked by their hatred, fooling everyone except Ichabod. He stared a little too hard, finally drawing the attention of (Reader).

(Reader) could see by the look in Ichabod's eye that he saw their dirty little secret. Rage buzzed throughout (Reader's) body. "Why don't you give one to the pussy?"

Gasping, Ichabod went weak, experiencing something close to betrayal. He never felt an ounce of companionship from his 'best friend' but he was always looking for something from (Reader), he just couldn't understand what. Nate jumped up, launching towards the group's punching bag with sadistic glee.

(Reader) went blank, as they often did, showing neither pleasure nor anger as their friends closed in on Ichabod. "What about it? Since you're not fighting back, I take it that means you want one?" They paused, almost hoping for a reaction other than fright. But Ichabod was frozen, pleading (Reader) with his large teary eyes.

• Present •

"Fine. Hey Marty, why don't you write-"

"This better be the last time." (Reader) finally opened their eyes, too blinded by their phobia to question why their doctor's face was pink; why his large eyes were half lidded; and why he was smiling at them like they were the most attractive person he's ever seen in his life.

Dr. Campbell shuttered, eyes glazing over as he watched (Reader's) face contort, sweat beading on their forehead as the needle pierced their arm. (Reader) was so focused on not crying that they had no clue the look their new doctor was giving them. Being able to see this side to (Reader) was a privilege, one reserved for best friends.

"This should be the last test." His voice which usually oozed like honey quivered oddly, tickling a memory (Reader) couldn't quite recollect.

"Yeah, well, bit aggravating that both times I've gotten my blood drawn, something went wrong and it needed to be taken again." They pulled on their jacket with a huff. "Arm's beginning to look like a junkie's."

"Well, I do apologize for that. You can schedule your next appointment at the front desk. Your results will be in by next Thursday, we'll discuss them together then."

"Great." (Reader) left the room as quickly as possible, the agitation felt from being trapped in a doctor's office trumping how woozy they were. The nervous adult left the doctor behind, unaware of his erection hidden under his clip board. Dr. Campbell pocketed the blood sample, casually readjusting his pants through his pocket as he did so.

His smirk faded into something haunting, something damn near evil. "Last appointment, huh?" The doctor couldn't help but roll up his sleeve, his hard on becoming almost painful in the position he was sitting. A faded blue ink tattoo fuzzy with age and poor in quality marred his arm like a beautiful blemish.

• 15 years ago •

Cigarette smoke drifted up towards the gloomy clouds, the senior leaning against the fence that separated student and faculty parking lit a new cigarette as soon as the last one finished. Ichabod recognized (Reader) from behind, and found himself incapable of running and hiding, pulled in to his tormentor's side against his will. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of (Reader's) face, one eye completely swollen shut and their skin dark purple. Their one good eye stared at nothing, unblinking and dead.

(Reader) didn't look at Ichabod, knowing there was only one person dumb enough to approach them when they looked like this. No matter how hard they pushed him, he never stopped looking at them with that pitiful sentimentality. "Don't hang out with us at lunch today." Nate failed another history exam, and would be looking for someone to take his anger out on. (Reader) didn't know why they were sparing such a little bitch from getting his ass beat. Maybe they were just bored of him.

Ichabod flinched like he had just been hit, trying to will (Reader) to look at him, to explain themselves.

"Actually.. I'm done with you." They finished off their cancer stick, and dropped it into the gravel. "Stop hanging out with us."

"Why?" It was the only thing he could force himself to say.

(Reader) wondered why themselves. Would a therapist have been able to understand? See past their anger, their disgust? The only reason why (Reader) started bullying Ichabod was because he was new, and no one told him that (Reader) wasn't worth his sympathy. They knew he saw it, the bruise on their neck, and they could see it in his stupid face. And it pissed them off. Everyone knew-

(Reader) wasn't someone to pity.

Watery eyes threatening to overflow shook under the force of his tumultuous feelings as the baby faced young man got in (Reader's) line of sight. Even getting decked would be better than being ignored. But there was nothing in (Reader's) eye. He was invisible to them. "I hate pussies."

• Present •

"So, just a pulled muscle?" (Reader) grimaced, raising their hands in annoyance.

Dr. Campbell smiled, showing off all his pearly white teeth. "Thank God it wasn't something more serious."

"Great." Slapping their knees, (Reader) stood, ready to leave and hoping to never come back again. However, their body was stopped at the door by a strong hand gripping their wrist painfully, a deep scarlet staining Dr. Campbell's face and what was visible of his neck. "What?"

"Have we met before?" His face was smiling but his voice was on the verge of cracking.

"Yeah. Three weeks ago. When I first came in."

Long eyelashes nearly pushed his glasses off his nose. The doctor had (Reader) trapped in his arms at this point. "Are you sure? Are you sure I don't look familiar?"

The rising feeling of anxiety quickly morphed into anger, just as it always did, just like when they were a little kid. It took every ounce of self control they had to not knee the new doctor in the nuts. "Am I supposed to?!" (Reader) raised their voice, clenching their fists, feeling their entire body tense as it prepared to fight.

A laugh escaped him, jerking uncontrollably as he felt himself nearly cum just from seeing the old (Reader) trapped in his arms, unable to escape him, knowing that they were just masking their fear, just like that day in the basement all those years ago. "Thank you.." The look in his misty eyes grossed (Reader) out. "Thank you for not changing."

• 15 years ago •

"What?" Ichabod asked in disbelief. The office attendant spoke clearly but her words just didn't make sense.

(Reader) had been missing for nearly a month before Ichabod had the courage to ask anyone where they went. His tan skin had already begun to heal, the bruises left by (Reader's) shoes and the cuts left from their punches had faded. The only memory he had left of them was the tattoo on his arm he kept covered up. If he ever wore a short sleeve shirt it would be over, the pain would end, but he would also never see (Reader) again, and he couldn't have that.

"(Reader) doesn't go here anymore, sweetheart. They got their G.E.D so they could graduate early. One smart cookie, that one."

'But that's impossible.' Ichabod thought to himself. He knew (Reader), knew them better than anyone else. He was special. There was no way he couldn't have known about this. He was closer to (Reader) than their piece of shit friends, and that's why (Reader) hurt him! Deep down Ichabod just knew that (Reader) only hurt him because he could see them for who they were. No one else knew how scared (Reader) was. No one else cared about (Reader's) home life. Only he did.

Only Ichabod knew how terrified (Reader) was of needles.

Through the tears and spit, hiding his body from his parents so they wouldn't know what was happening at school, lying to teachers when they voiced their concerns about potential bullying, Ichabod had convinced himself that what he and (Reader) had was special. Because only he saw how scared they were. He told himself that it wasn't because no one else cared about the "future criminal", but because he was special to (Reader), and only he was allowed to see them vulnerable. That was a privilege for best friends only.

'Was it because I didn't give them enough attention?'

He walked through the hallway without a limp, without a hunched back, just like a normal student. It disgusted him. The walls were plastered with students' artwork, motivational posters, and recruitment ads. A smiling man in a white lab coat caught Ichabod's attention, pulling him out of his dark emptiness and showing him the solution to his problem.

"I'll make you see me."

• Present •

"Stupid son of a bitch!" (Reader) moved at a fast pace through the parking garage, nearly jogging to their truck. They had been doing so well, such a good job, but one moment in a stranger's arms and their mind was invaded by a voice they hadn't thought about in almost a year.

Their mother's words tumbled from their lips as they fished for their keys, shaking with apprehension disgust. "Fucking coward, fucking pussy, goddamnit, good for nothing-"

The old familiar tingling of adrenaline, the need to punch something.

Reaching their truck didn't provide any relief. The keys they were searching for kept evading their fingers as though they had a mind of their own. In the black of their tinted window another figure approached their reflection. (Reader) angrily whipped around, ready to start swinging. Behind them stood Dr. Campbell, wearing a baby blue short sleeved polo tucked into a pair of black slacks. The collared shirt exposed his muscular arms and accentuated his broad shoulders. He would have been so attractive if (Reader) didn't know what he looked like in a lab coat.

"I'm glad I caught you! I didn't have a chance to apologize in there, you rushed off before I could explain myself."

"Don't make up excuses for being a pervert." (Reader) snarled, ready to lash out like a cornered animal. They still couldn't feel the keys in their pocket.

The man smiled so sweetly at (Reader) that it made them want to bite him. "It really hurt my feelings. I thought that maybe you just didn't remember me." His eyes looked down at his feet, but he wasn't an actor, and (Reader) could see plainly that there wasn't a drop of sadness in the man before them. "But I guess.. I do look different than I did back in highschool."

His right hand reached out towards (Reader) to caress their cheek. They almost smacked him away, but a small, shitty tattoo on his arm drained them of their blood faster than a gun shot wound, feeling their bravado leak out of them so quickly that they didn't have time to remember to be pissed.

(READER'S) BITCH

Before they could recover and throw the first punch the hand clamped over their mouth, and a needle was revealed from behind his back in the other hand.

They struggled, but Ichabod hadn't spent his years in med school working out to impress (Reader). Eyes wide with horror watched the needle approach their neck helplessly, and Ichabod could almost cry at the beautiful sight before him. The fear that only he was able to see, only he was allowed to experience, God he could have fucked them right there and then, but he controlled himself. This had all been planned out, and he couldn't fuck it up just because (Reader) was shaking beneath him so cutely.

The needle went into their neck, injecting a drug to knock them out for a few hours. (Reader) screamed silently into his palm, and he watched as they recognized the adoration in his eyes with terror. (Reader's) keys were pulled out from Ichabod's back pocket, dangling teasingly in front of (Reader's) face as they went limp. "You said you hated pussies." His smile was mocking as (Reader) went dark, unable to stay awake. There was so much they wanted to say. They wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. To tell him he wasn't a pussy, that they were never speaking to him when they called him that.

They didn't understand why he looked down at them so kindly. (Reader) hoped that if he killed them it would be a swift death. They felt that they deserved it after all this time.

What he had in store for them was much, much worse than death.

[spookysteddie]

Call It What You Want

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!reader

18+ Minors DNI

part two

cw: unsupportive parents, hint at mentally abusive mother, negative media attention, talk of sex tape, food mentions (they go on a dinner date), reader is in therapy. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I've decided to make this a series that is loosely based off of reputation by Taylor swift. It literally all came to me in a dream last night lmao. If anyone has requests for these two and wants me to create lore pleeeeaaaseee request it. This is so fun for me!

...

Do not disturb was the best thing that could’ve ever been added to phones. Specifically because, without it, you would’ve gotten less sleep than you did (thanks to Eddie). 

Your phone is filled with messages, emails from the press asking for comments and messages from your parents. You’re barely awake before checking the tabloids and, as expected, you and Eddie are the top headlines. Everyone has something to say about your escapades last night, videos of you at the concert, photos of you getting out of the car with him and videos from the club. 

Social media influencer and rockstar Eddie Muson seen out together since miss Asher confessed her love for him

Good girl y/n Asher and Bad Boy Eddie Muson spotted together 

Is y/n Asher going down a dark path?

Social Media influencer shedding her good girl image as she parties with Corroded Coffin

You knew there would be some drama associated with you partying with the band. You knew there would be fans who would be disappointed in you. You also knew there was a high possibility someone would have photos of you around little white lines, leading to some assumptions about you. 

You didn’t care. 

You check your parents texts next and your stomach drops.

Momma: What are you doing out with that man?! Do you know his reputation? 

Papa: The last thing you need is your reputation being ruined! You will ruin your future if you continue with him.

The phone is taken out of your hand before you can respond to them, Eddie locking it and placing it behind you before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving light kisses on your bare skin. 

“You shouldn’t read what those pricks have to say.” He continues to leave kisses along your skin, “most of them talk out of their asses and don’t understand.” 

He’s right, of course you know that. You’ve had the most misogynistic shit written about you that you knew they would never write about the man behind you. You could smile weird and all of a sudden you’re the biggest cunt ever. You can never win. 

You sigh, settling into his hold. It’s not that you care about your reputation, shit like that changes faster than the weather and it’s not worth it to stress about it. But also, this is your job and the last thing you need is to lose sponsorships because you’re fucking Eddie. 

“I know. It’s just annoying cause no one is writing mean shit about you. It’s always about me and my life.” 

He hums, “nothing like good old fashion misogyny.” He says it with a shit load of sarcasm, knowing misogyny is not a good thing at all. But it makes you giggle all the same. 

“Wait!” You sit up, almost smacking him in the face with your head, “the poll! I wanna see it.” 

He grins as he hands you your phone. You ignore your parents, deciding you’ll deal with them later, and open up instagram. You win by a landslide, 86% of your followers voted you as prettier. 

Eddie laughs behind you. You turn to look at him, a huge grin on your face, “you owe me a date, Munson.” 

His eyes fall to your lips, making you lean in a little closer, “hows tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect,” you whisper as you close the gap and kiss him. 

… 

You can’t avoid your parents by the time you get home. They’ve been calling you for hours (hours you spent tangled up with Eddie in his bed). You know for a fact that it’ll be worse if you continue to ignore them. 

They answer within the first ring, “About time you called us back. We’ve been calling you for hours!” 

“Yes, momma, I know. I was busy with Case and Anna.” 

You hear her exasperated sigh from your mother, “yeah? For what? Cleaning up the mess you made last night?”

You’re trying to keep your composure, not wanting to yell at your mother, no matter how many times she made you feel horrible about any little decision you made. She was still your mother. 

“Case and Anna knew about all of that. Ran it by them first like I’m supposed to do.” 

Your mothers attitude only grows, “so what they just approved of you running around with someone known to do drugs? Are you doing drugs? So help me God, y/n, if I find out your doing drugs, I will fly out th-” 

“Mom, I am not doing drugs. I went to his show, somewhere I’ve been before by the way, and then we went to a club. Which is something I do on the weekends anyway. I don’t see the big deal.” 

You hear her huff, “don’t you dare give me attitude, little girl.” You hate when she calls you that. It’s been her little tool your entire life. She's done it to make you feel small, to make you feel insignificant and, try as you might, it gets to you. 

“You better not be seen with him again, got it?” 

You can feel the anger getting to you, “mom, I am 25 years old. I don’t need you to tell me who I can and cannot date. He was very respectful actually. Didn’t pressure me to do anything. Now, I have some things to film before tonight.” You hang up before she can say anything else, throwing your phone onto your vanity and running your hands down your face.  

Hana clears her throat from where she’s leaning against the door frame. You know she heard that entire conversation. You’d told her when you got home everything, including your parents non-stop calling.

She hands you a coffee, made just how you like, “how was that?” 

You take a slow sip, savoring the sweetness, “same old mom. Thinks I’m ruining my life and my reputation.” 

“Well, do you think you’re ruining your life and reputation?” 

This is one thing you love about Hana is she doesn’t baby you. Ever. She always allows you room to feel your feelings before she gives you her opinion. But she also makes sure you are able to give a name to what you’re feeling. And right now, you’re feeling frustrated. 

“No. Hana, he was amazing. He was respectful and he always asked what I wanted. And god the sex was fantastic,” you sigh wistfully. “And we’re going out on a date tomorrow. Just him and I. And I was really excited but of course my mother likes to ruin everything.” 

Hana sits on the chair next to the vanity, taking your hand, “Listen to me, if you have a good feelin’ about it, I say go for it. I didn’t get any strange feelings or vibes last night, the opposite really. Also, fuck a reputation. Taylor Swift’s was six feet in the ground and look at her now. Do what makes you happy.” 

You can feel the tightness in your chest, backs of your eyes burning. All you can do is pull her into a bone crushing hug.

… 

You’re pretty much over your mothers comments by the next night. Of course your therapist heard all the details and said, basically, exactly what Hana did. She also told me that I am an adult and I am more than able to make my own choices when it comes to things like drugs and alcohol.

She’s right of course. 

And so, because of this realization that isn’t a realization, you keep the date with Eddie. In fact you’re more than excited to go. To see him again. You filmed all your content, posting the other nights ‘spend the day with me’ video you made.

You’ve even gained a shit ton of followers as well, most of them fans of the bands. Now, don’t get it twisted, the uptick in followers also means an uptick in hate comments and unfollows. You don’t care. Those people are entitled to follow whoever they want and the mean people clearly just have a lot going on in life. It comes with the territory. 

Eddie, however, has texted you non stop and follows every single social media account you have. Even commenting on the videos and photos you posted. That got the press talking more and birthed a shit ton more butterflies into your belly. 

Eddie didn’t give you much information on what this date would be. All he told you was to dress nice and bring a jacket because it’s ‘getting chilly and you can’t catch a cold.’ You tried explaining that’s not how colds work but he wasn’t having it. And so, you pick out one of your favorite dresses, short and black that makes your tits look killer, with stockings that snap onto a garter hidden under your dress. Of course you added a long trench coat just to keep you warm. 

Eddie picks you up at 7pm on the dot, not a second later. Again, the bar is in hell because the fact that he is on time makes you want to kick your feet like a little girl. He looks delicious, dressed in his black jeans and a black button up. He grins when you open the door, the chilly night air tickling your legs.

“Give me a spin, Miss Asher,” he smiles. 

He takes your hand, spinning you around a few times. Once semi quickly and once very slowly, drinking you in like he’s been in the desert for years. It’s kindling to the fire inside your heart, warming you from the inside out. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He kisses your cheek, never letting go of your hand. 

You can feel your entire body heat, a shudder wracking through you. “You’re beautiful too. So, so, pretty.” 

You watch a blush tinge his cheeks, “no one has ever called me pretty to my face… and meant it.” 

He opens the door to his car as he speaks, making sure you don’t hit your head getting in before running around to the other side and settling in the driver's seat.

“Well, for the record, I do mean it. I mean, who in the hell looks that gorgeous first thing in the morning?” You giggle as you say it, fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

He takes your hand, squeezing it twice, “you.” 

That makes you smile the entire way to the restaurant. 

… 

This is the most beautiful date you’ve ever been on. 

Eddie had it all planned out perfectly. There was no press standing outside, waiting to take candid shots. He rented out the entire restaurant so that there would be no interruptions, just you and him and the small waitstaff. Flowers litter the floor, a small walkway leading to the table, a bottle of your favorite wine sitting in ice. 

You smile, looking up at him with hearts in your eyes. He can feel his heart racing, scared you aren’t going to like it or it’s too much or he’s scared you away. It feels like it’s forever before you answer him. “This is beautiful, Eddie. You didn’t… you didn’t have to do all this. But it’s so appreciated.” 

He gives you a swift kiss, his heart feeling like it’s going to burst, “you deserve it. You deserve to feel appreciated and cared for.” 

“Well, that is exactly how I feel right now.”  

Eddie pulls out your chair, letting you sit before he takes his own. The candles on the table flicker, casting Eddie in the most beautiful glow ever. He’s radiant, beautiful, and you don’t know how anyone could hate him. You felt like you could see his soul when he looks at you, kind, sweet, angelic. 

The waiter interrupts your thoughts, introducing himself and pouring the wine. And once all the food is ordered, it’s just you and Eddie. Suddenly, you’re nervous. 

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” You cringe slightly at the generic question. You’d talked to him all day yesterday between filming and his studio time. Releasing a new album takes a lot of time, more time than more people would think. 

“It was good. I feel like we finally have the sound we’re going for nailed down. S’gonna be similar to what we always do, of course. But I felt like, based off the songs we wrote, we needed a more,” he sipped his wine, thinking about how to describe the sound. “... sensual sound. Sexy if you will.” 

You giggle a little, “so you basically wrote about your groupies.” You’re joking, of course, not really caring about the people who came before you. Kind of. 

He raises his brows, shaking his head, “no. I actually spent most of yesterday rewriting the songs I wrote. Not all of them, but a good few.” 

“Oh! So did you record at all yesterday?” Again, it’s a generic question, but you’re genuinely interested in the process and how his mind works. 

He nods, “we did! It’s fucking thrilling to get what’s in my brain into actual art. I can’t believe I get to do this for a job.” 

Eddie's eyes practically sparkle as he talks about how exciting his job is. You love to see it, honestly. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on stage, fans screaming and singing the songs he wrote back to him. You can imagine that’ll get someone real high. 

He interrupts your thoughts, “can I ask you a question?”

You freeze, stomach falling to your ass. It’s never good when someone starts off like that. You grab your wine trying to hide your shaking hands, “yes of course!” 

“To me, it feels like there is something missing in a few of the songs. I’m pretty sure it’s y-your voice,” his stutter makes you feel a little better inside. He’s nervous. “So I was wondering if you’d wanna record some things with me?”

“Eddie, I can’t sing.” 

He smirks because you didn’t say no. “You don’t have to. I just need your voice. For the record, when I say record some things with me I don’t mean like sex videos… unless you’re into that.” You both laugh at how ridiculous he is, but a small pulse between your thighs tells you that you might be into making a little movie for just you and him. 

“While sex videos could be fun, that shit is so scary. Anyone can hack into whatever we use and boom… careers over. As for my voice, absolutely. I’m honored actually.” And you are. To have your voice be on something forever is so fucking cool. Of course, the internet is forever, but to you, it’s different when it’s music. 

“One more question…” 

You nod, motioning for him to continue. 

“Can I use your moans in a song?” 

You nearly choke on your wine, eyes going wide. “My-my moans? Like from when we have sex?” 

“Mhm. They are so fucking beautiful, baby. As much as I want to keep every part of you for myself, your moans would fit perfectly in this one song I have.” 

You have to be 50 shades of fucked up because you’re actually fucking touched that he thinks that part of you is pretty enough to put in his music. No one has to know if they’re real or not. And you don’t even have to answer the questions if anyone asks if it’s you. 

You laugh, shaking your head, “you, Eddie Munson, are crazy. I’m here for it but do you think your fans will like it? I don’t want you to do this just because we fucked the other night. I like you and you don’t have to put my anything in songs to get me to stick around. I don’t just like you because you make music.” 

He looks a little stunned, almost like he doesn’t believe you. “I… you don’t have to lie, baby. I mean, fuck, I’m not trying to call you a liar. I just am not used to people liking me as me. Usually they just want me because then it’s like a bragging thing. Not that, that’s what you are here for. Fuck, I am really fucking this up.” He rubs the back of his neck, his other hand clenched. 

You grab that hand, forcing yours into it and rubbing your thumb on his wrist, “I understand what you mean, Eddie. I’m not offended. But I mean what I said. I’m not here to further my career. I’m here because I’ve had a sickening crush on you for years. My poor friends have had to listen to me go on and on about it.” You laugh, feeling your face heat as you confess all this to him. 

“Really?” He looks like a boy, big, brown puppy eyes staring up at you. 

You nod, “really. Hana was ready to throw me a party because I finally got a date with you.”  

He laughs, the sound loud and from his belly. 

You decide right then that you will do whatever it takes to keep him forever.

[luveline]

hii could you maybe do remus or tasm peter with a reader who has chronic pain esp in their legs and back and has trouble walking at times? i’m bedridden and tired rn lol

for you, hope this is ok ♡ fem!reader

"Is it bad?" Peter asks. 

You're leaning against the dresser in his bedroom, arms crossed over the top, trying to shift the brunt of your weight onto your arms rather than your legs. You laugh, a little panicked. 

"Want help?" he asks, shoving the sheets of his bed down to the baseboard with his feet. 

He stands up. You shift from foot to foot, pain bounding up your shins like tight laces, not sure if you can walk on them anymore. "I think so." 

Super mutant strength has its downsides, but the up and up is that Peter could pull you into his arms without hesitation if he wanted to. He doesn't go that far, offering an arm to slip behind your shoulders. You stretch your forearm behind his head. 

"What were you trying to do?" he asks, taking practically the entirety of your weight and walking you back to his bed. It's a double that feels like a single whenever you share, but it's comfortable, and it's where Peter does his best cuddling. 

"Just wanted a drink." 

"I'll get that for you," he says, as though you're a weirdo for thinking he wouldn't. 

It's not that you don't think he'd wait on you hand and foot if you needed him to. He's done it before. He'll likely do it again. "Wanted to do it myself," you say, struggling to hold in a sigh of relief as he helps you sit down at the top of the bed. It's crammed right against the wall next to a low window sill, the breeze filtering in fragrant from the baby flowers blooming in the planter on the fire escape. 

"Sorry. I could pick you up? Wear you like a backpack? I'll be your legs." He grins as he says it. Preposterous and entirely genuine, you know he'd carry you around in his arms if you asked. 

"Maybe later, Spider-Boy." 

Peter sits on the sheets, careful not to touch your legs without your say so. "Pass my pillow?" 

You pass him his pillow and lift your socked feet, hissing at the feeling that spreads from your joints as he slides the pillow beneath them. 

"You want ice? Leg massage?" 

Peter frowns at you as you shake your head from side to side but doesn't ask anything else of you. Instead, he shuffles to the top of the bed. "Pain anywhere else?" he asks, tucking his hands behind your back. 

"Kind of everywhere. Mostly my legs." 

"I'm sorry," he says, hands rubbing up and down your back out of rhythm. You don't want him to be sorry. Though, it is nice to have your pain taken seriously and sympathetically, nicer when his head dips down and he kisses your shoulder. "I'll get you an ice pack in a minute. Some painkillers." 

"Can you web me upside down?" you ask. 

"Your legs would be super elevated," he says agreeably. "But no. I don't wanna hurt you anymore than you're already hurting." 

"Worth asking." 

Peter laughs, kisses soft as the touch of a butterfly's wing up the column of your throat. "Relax. We're gonna lay here and keep your legs up until you can walk again, but then we're gonna lay here some more. You need to rest. I'll look after you, okay? Stop stressing." 

"Okay," you mumble, dropping your head onto his shoulder like a mirror image. "Fine. Love you." 

"I love you." His voice sounds as honey feels. Smooth and slow. 

[soapels]

stress relief

konig x female reader

tw: nsfw, dry-humping, konig is soft and down bad for reader

notes: guys i luvvvv konig he is too adorbs to not make a sappy lil smutty drabble of! pls enjoy this quick one n tell me who u wanna see next, drop suggestions + thirsts and whatnot ♡

all hearts & reblogs are so appreciated!

The two of you shouldn’t be up.

Let alone up to no good— it’s late, most of your comrades are sleeping just in the next room over, and you’re pretty certain it’s against standard protocol to let your fellow operator pull down your pants.

But he is, and you’re letting him.

Consider it stress relief, is what you tell yourself to ease the guilt and that niggling feeling of dirtiness creeping over your bones as he slots his hips up with yours, setting you down on the top of a table- oddly gentle for a horny man of well over six foot five- and places a smattering of kisses over your neck, cheeks, jaw…

He’s a little awkward, you notice, and that’s fine because you are too— he’s tall anyway, too big for his own good and most practical jobs (on the odd occasion or two, you may even catch him mourning the old rejection of his sniper application), so you understand.

You’re too dazed on his sweet touch to pay any of it much mind, though, his lips peppering puppy-dog kisses over every inch of exposed skin as he ruts his hips against yours, cock bulging through the fabric of his boxers, pants half down as he grinds against the wet spot of your panties.

“Perfekt,” he moans softly into the dip beneath your jaw, your nose pointed to the ceiling as your eyes search for purchase there, tummy clutching up with some unbridled pleasure as his big hands hold you close, gloved fingertips- nothing close to painful- digging into the fat of your plushy thighs.

The first whine he drags out of is you is fragile, he treats it like silver, a hand swinging up to brush his knuckles over the slope of your cheek, blue eyes a faded haze of lust and adoration as he momentarily debates freeing the both of you and sticking it in already.

(But he’s big— wouldn’t it hurt you? What if you don’t really want him like he wants you—? Konig can manage like this anyway, because you feel so good, his cock nudging eagerly over your clothed pussy, your aura sucking him in deliciously. And he’s sure he’d embarrass himself too- would cum too fast, ‘cause you’re just so sweet and pretty and he’s wanted this for too long.)

Konig’s patient, though, and you’re something well worth the wait, the gloved pads of his fingers swiping away the hazy tears that gather at the shimmery lines of your eyes. (Gorgeous, he’s sure there’s galaxies hiding there.)

When your hips start moving against his, timid at first- slowly building up to a speed that matches his own careful, needy one- he moans at your ear, teeth nipping at its lobe as he brushes away the hair there.

Delicately- so soft. So good.

You mewl and twitch when his very-evident bulge catches on your puffy clit, your cotton panties soaked with your budding arousal at the front- and he swears he nearly cums on the spot.

“Ja bitte,” he groans, voice teetering on the line of hesitant ferocity, his massive body towering over yours- swallowing you up in his shadow- as the cicadas thrum outside. And Konig lies you on your back, then, dragging you in by those hypnotic hips of yours that always seem to thwart his concentration, folding himself over you as he humps into you like a mutt in heat.

“Cum for me,” he whispers, all feral and sweet, the black curtain of his mask tickling the V of your jaw, “C-Cum for me, please.”

And you do.

All over, soiling the thin fabric of your undies, his pelvis soon jerking in response— stopping dead in its tracks— and then twitching as he nibbles on the soft expanse of your neck, spilling spilling spilling—

“Ah- good,” he whines out, voice blissed-out yet just thick enough to hear.

“Very good—… good girl…”

The my part of the good girl goes unspoken, but Konig really hopes you’ve got no intention of backing out on him now, princess…

(Or the next day. Or the next… Or the next…)

[chrollohearttags]

even tho armin so toxic..yall still be having the best make up sex everrr!! Im talking about him like all up in your ear moanin n groanin,telling you how sorry he is and how much he loves that pus pus.Just for him to repeat the same shit again!😭😭

hello!!!! 😭😭😭 because armin is just not going to do right for shit idc! But he ain’t got to when he got good dick.

content warning: toxic ass sex, breeding and pregnancy mention, daddy’s used a few times, dacryphilia, squirting, bulging

you could fight with this man for the entire week. Blowing up his phone, getting into fights and even kicking him out after his ten thousandth screw up but nothing was ever going to change. You were attached to one another in the worst way possible. Especially when he came through after the smoke cleared and made amends in the best way he knew how..

“ ‘Minnnn… ‘s fucking deep in this pussy..shit! Feels so good..”

“I know it does, I can tell by the way you’re squeezing, baby. You don’t want me to pull out, do you?”

a question he already knew the answer to before you even spoke. Your cunt clamping down and spasming with each deep stroke he delivered. Positioned perfectly on his right hip with your body angled ever so slightly onto your side as well so he could hit your spot with precision. Keeping a hand planted gently in the center of your torso, Armin left a trail of kisses along your jawbone, filling your head with all sorts of deceitful things. Promises he never planned to follow through on, apologies that didn’t mean a thing and of course, his favorite thing to say when he had you at your most vulnerable:

“Got me all in your stomach..pressing through that skin. Makes me wanna get your fine ass pregnant—you’d look so pretty with my baby inside of you, sweetheart. I just know it..”

the words causing you to come unglued; breaking at the seams and all of your resolve shattered. You had caved in the worst way. Not only allowing back into your home but your bed, your body and now your mind as well. What was it about him that made you believe every word he said?! He wasn’t faithful, he was always more hassle than he was worth but there was one thing that Armin done better than anyone on this earth and that was make you feel like you were ascending. Fucking you so good, you’d thought you saw heaven! Even if he put you through hell for the rest of the time together..

“You gonna let daddy come in that pussy? Please?…you just feel so warm, I don’t wanna leave it..”

pleading to you all helpless with his hand stroking the side of your face, keeping your gazes locked together. Meanwhile, he was still pounding up into you. His strokes growing faster with each passing second and that slight bump still appearing at the pit of your lower belly. Cream sloshing all around his shaft and making a mess of him and the sheets. Suddenly, a tear fell from your eye and he’d be quick to swipe it away with his thumb and quell you with a barrage of sloppy kisses. Telling you how much he loved you and how sorry he was for stressing you out. But he wouldn’t do it again..so as long as you let him nut inside of you. Right now, you’d believe just about anything if he kept fucking you like this. Reaching down to rub your clit, Armin suckled on your neck and tried to stifle his own moans but to no avail and it was then that you truly couldn’t resist.

“This dick is yours, baby. I belong to you and only you..promise. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes!..fuck..”

“And this pussy? It’s mine, right? No one else can have it..get you this wet. All me?”

“Yes daddy! It’s your pussy..take it.”

all the confirmation he needed because only seconds later, you’d feel him come to a complete halt and suddenly, he’d go quiet. That was until he let out a loud grunt along with a giant load of warm, sticky cum. Pulsating inside of you with rope like consistency. As if he had been waiting all week to do that. The inviting warmth making him drain every single drop into that little womb. Probably fulfilling his earlier promise of making you carry his child. Even so, you were just still floating on your own cloud of afterglow so you didn’t care much about the consequences at the moment. Only being in his grasp and being fed all his pretty little lies.

“Thank you, baby. I needed that so much and I know you did too..I love you, (y/n).”

even if he didn’t mean a word.

[purpleenhypen0-0]

Yandere! Enhypen Reaction To You Self Harm!ng

A/N-This is just for entertainment purposes. These behaviors should not be reenacted in real life. Especially self harm!ng. Please don't do that irl you are so worth it❤🥺

Tw-cussing(jus a lil)

I don't wanna include Ni-ki bc of his age and this is counted as a more mature subject to me(you'll be in the next one riri💓)

𓆏Jungwon

You were in the kitchen cooking dinner when Jungwon walked in wearing a white tanktop, sweating enough for little liquid dots on his arms and face. You on the other hand, were wearing a hoodie But you were the worst. "Darling it's hot. You should really take that off," Jungwon says, turning the ac as cold as he could get it. "I-I'm fine won. I'm not even that hot," Your red face said otherwise. Jungwon eyes you. He knows you're hot, even more than he is. So he takes slow steps towards you. "Y/n, show me your arms, now." It was all coming together for him. You looked more drained everyday, sadder, more tired, plain exhausted. You always refused to wear short sleeves, saying you were more comfortable in long sleeves. He knew, and you knew it. "Wonie I... What do you mean?" You knew exactly what he meant. "Show me your arms now," he repeats. Your head hangs low as you slowly tuck your fingers into the hem of your sleeves, pulling them up to reveal long deep marks of pinkish purple cuts. Jungwons eyes go soft, welling up with tears. "I don't understand, w-was it something I did???" He stutters out. Your body fills with guilt head to toe as tears stream down his face. You pull him into your embrace and apologize as many times as you can, promising him you won't do it again. After that day Jungwon isn't as aggressive with you. He speaks calmly and holds his patience. Never raising his hand on you again.

𓆏Heeseung

"Baby hurry up, I have to use the restroom." Heeseung says from outside of the bathroom door. Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. You panic, washing the blood off of your arms and shoving the razor in a droor. Heeseung gets a little worried hearing the ruckus going on. "Baby? Y/n are you alright love?" Your still rinsing the blood down the sink. "Yea Hee I'm fine! Just washing my hands." You shout, hoping you sound convincing. You weren't self harming because of heeseung, but because of stress. You knew he would blame himself if he found out no matter what you told him. You're beginning to feel dizzy due to the blood loss. Heeseung knows better than for someone to spend 5 minutes washing their hands. He starts shaking the knob of the door, telling you to unlock it and let him in. When he receives no answer, he starts beating through the door with his fist, no cares of the pain and blood on his hand. When he finally grabs the known from the inside and gets in. He's met with your fainted body on the floor. He immediately goes into a panicked state and picks you up, running you down to the car. The whole ride there he's regretting everything, the punishments, the yelling, the jealousy, every time he's laid his hands on you. He was sick for hurting someone so precious. Better yet, making them hurt themselves. He imagines every way to apologize when you wake up at the hospital. Hoping you'll do the right thing and just leave him.

𓆏Jay

Jay is definitely not the most patient person you'll meet. Normally, you were used to the yelling, after all, he never went any further than that. It was a Monday, so as usual, you came home exhausted with everything in you. "Where the fuck have you been," You jumped. It was Jay, his voice sounded more like he was making a statement than asking a question. You game him a confused look, wondering why he looked so pissed. "I don't like repeating myself," he says. "I-What do you mean baby?" You were genuinely lost. "Do you have any idea what time it is Y/n?" You checked your phone. 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙩. You had fell asleep on the bus ride home. They must've gotten into traffic, it happens often. Suddenly you feel the breath knocked out of you, your back pressed against the wall that was inches behind you seconds ago. It took you a couple seconds to realize, he had his hands around your neck. He laid his hands on you, something he swore he'd never do. You tried to let out a sound, anything, but nothing came out. Your eyes starting to blink out tears. You were truely scared of him. He seemed to snap out of his daze, instantly letting you out of his grip. You let out a gasp and ran upstairs to your shared bedroom, locking the door behind you. You were done. You had taken enough of this, his manipulation, lies, psychotic behavior, all of it. You had no where to go. You felt your life collapse in a single second, just when you were starting to trust him. You remembered the first tactic you'd use when you were 15. Something that seemed to take away pain.(IT DOESN'T, THIS IS FOR THE PART, I SPEAK FROM EXPERIENCE) You went into the bathroom and grabbed a razor from the shower, instantly bringing it to your arm, ignoring jays quiet sobs outside for you. "Baby I'm so sorry, please let me in." Nothing. Suddenly he starts shaking the knob. "Answer me Y/n please. You can't ignore me forever, let's talk about this." Your skin was burning, a familiar sting in your veins. His begs becoming more faded. The last thing you saw before going unconscious was a crying jay, on he's knee holding you in his arms all while on the phone with an emergency operator, muttering out a series of apologies.

𓆏Jake

Idk accidental self h4rm bc your a clutz luv☹️

The poor baby had a panick attack when he got a call from you that you were in the hospital, one bc you were in public with other guys that he didn't trust, two bc you were hurt. He only relaxed when you told him you had only accidently cut your hand pretty bad while making lunch(a̶n̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ y̶o̶u̶ h̶a̶d̶ a̶ f̶e̶m̶a̶l̶e̶ d̶o̶c̶t̶o̶r̶)̶ . He scolds you a lil and reminds you to be careful next time. Little did you know, there would be no next time😂 He won't let you cook again when he's not around, no matter what it is. He'll cook it for you. (I hope this one was a little wholesome yandere-ish break from the others 😂)

𓆏Sunghoon

You woke up feeling extremely light headed. Sunghoons bedset tucked around you. You pulled your arms to the side and saw bandages covering them. You think through the day and wonder when you passed out while you were cutting at your wrists. You started harming yourself about a month and a half ago, after finding out Sunghoon was the one who murdered your parents. After all the years he told you it would be okay and they would catch who did it. Giving you a place to stay. Building up trust. Making you love him. He betrayed you. Like everyone else did. You wondered where he was. Laying in the room for another 6 minutes before the door slowly creeks open. Revealing a soft eyed Sunghoon. You could tell he'd been crying, but he still smiled when he saw you were awake. "Oh baby you're okay!" He said with exclamatory relief. Running over to hug you. "I'm so sorry. I promise I did what I did for a reason. I only wanted to take care of you love." Your parents were not the best, especially your dad. They'd both had their moments where they'd lay their hands on you viciously. After a long minute of him explaining while you could do nothing but sit, still processing. You understood where he was coming from. He sat and begged for your forgiveness for what felt like hours until you finally just hugged him and thought he was better for you than anyone else.

𓆏Sunoo

Harming yourself is nothing new. You've done it many times before you were with sunoo. He knows you get stressed easily, so he's very soft with you. That's where his yandere comes in. He's so soft that he wants to keep you from the cold world that hurt you before he came to take care of you, so he can keep you safe and under his loving care. So what does he do about school, well the answers simple, he drops you out. But, he has no clue of the thoughts about college racing through your mind lately. Wondering if it's too late to try school again. Better yet, wondering if sunoo will even let you go to school, let alone college if you ask him. Stress building up. Your sensitive body isn't mentally built up for all the hard thoughts you put on yourself. Normally, you just tell sunoo and he makes it all better. But this is different, what if he gets upset with you for wanting to go back, what if he leaves you? Sooner or later, you let your mind get the best of you and felt like you couldn't talk to anyone. You pick up a pair of scissors, slowly opening them, you eyelshes shiny with soft tears. And cut one little line on your lower arm right above your wrist. *click* Sunoo's home from school(he goes to a private) "Sweets, I'm home." He calls out. You wanted to drop the scissors and run. But you couldn't, regret. That's what it was. You couldn't just tell sunoo. You burst out crying. Hearing the noise, Sunoo rushes over to the kitchen. He takes a moment to process what lies before him. Once he realizes what's going on, his heart shatters. He drops his bag and runs over to you, pulling you into the warmest hug possible. He didn't even care to ask. He didn't want to make it any worse than it already was. Long story short you explained to him later(after pinkie promising to never harm yourself again) and he let you go to his school with no hesitation. Don't expect him to not tug you away from guys he's not familiar with, you are his and his only after all.

I'm sooo srry ik it's not my best but I was in a big rush, if there is anything you would like to correct/add I would love if you did so💓Thank you sm for reading!

[sethsclearwater]

daddy kink Paul & Jared 😭😭 you absolutely killed it I had to immediately read it again

now thinking of them as brat taming the reader who is stressed from her job or something and has just been an absolute menace, to the point even Jared who does not take a single thing seriously is over her attitude and behavior, and they tag team it until she can’t take it anymore

-🫣🫣 you already know

PLEASE😭

...

"jared can you please just shut up? you're stressing me out right now-" you started as you walked into the bathroom in a huff, feeling awfully irritated over something that had absolutely nothing to do with him or paul.

before you could continue your sentence, jared had you slammed up against the bathroom door, one hand pinning your hands above your head while the other gripped your hip, "say it again," he ordered, voice sterned than you'd ever heard it before.

you looked up at him, absolutely flabbergasted that he'd pinned you up against the door over something so stupid, "don't make me repeat myself babe," he added devilishly, both of you maintaining eye contact as you processed what exactly was going on.

you knew neither one of the boys could ever intentionally hurt you so you weren't too concerned with the way he had you slammed up against the bathroom door, but you were pretty unsure of whether he planned to chew you out or fuck you over your attitude a few moments prior.

deciding it was worth risking making him even more mad at you in favor of hoping he was planning on fucking you, you decided to answer him, "i said," you started, voice strong as you glared up at him, "you're stressing me out-" you had barely finished your sentence before letting out a loud yelp as he threw you over his shoulder to carry you back into the bedroom.

"what the fuck-" the voice of your other imprinter came as jared laid you down on the bed, rough enough to let you know he wasn't messing around but not enough to hurt you.

jared didn't waste anytime tugging your sweatshirt (well actually paul's) over your head as he responded to paul, "babe do you wanna tell paul what you said?" he asked, not bothering looking up at you as he tugged your sweatpants and panties down, tossing them to the side before he was kicking his own off as well.

you went to give him some snarky reply but instead let out a loud gasp as he thrust his length into you without any warning, "oh my god-" paul laughed when he saw jared begin snapping his hips against yours, effectively stopping you from giving any more attitude to either of the boys.

"thought we could teach her a lesson 'bout what happens to brats," jared explained, gripping your hips bruisingly tight to hold you in place as he continued pounding himself into you.

you let out a loud whine, unable to form any kind of coherent response as you dropped your head back against the mattress, looking over to your other imprinter who just chuckled and nodded at jared's suggestion.

"think that's a great idea," paul mused as he came over to sit next to you on the bed, "you think you can do that princess? just want you to be a good girl again," paul asked as he threaded his fingers through your hair to scratch as your scalp while he waited for your response.

jared continued his ruthless thrusts, both men chuckling when your eyes filled with tears as you nodded, "yes daddy-" you whimpered, reaching out for his hand which he allowed you to take, both boys always careful to silently remind you they were messing with you during particularly intense sessions like tonight was clearly about to be.

"that's my girl," paul praised, offering your hand a squeeze before he was getting up to go find the vibrator and silk ties to make sure you wouldn't be getting an attitude with either boy anytime soon.