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freedomfireflies · 7 months

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I Love You*

Summary: The second part to Yellow* and One for the Money*

The one where you tell Mr. Styles you love him and you wonder if he'll say it back.

Word Count: 3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blow job, multiple orgasms, brief Daddy kink, Sir kink

I love you.

Three little words that feel so big in such a small room.

Mr. Styles remains still. Unmoving. So quiet, you wonder if you actually said the words aloud or if you only thought them.

But you can feel his heart racing. Can hear the subtle hitch in his breath as the seconds tick by. And you know, undoubtedly, that he heard you.

You clear your throat. “You don’t…you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

There’s another long lull between your admission and his response. He shifts in your arms before finally he finally nods once.

And that suffices as his reply.

Truth be told, you feel relieved. You aren’t even sure why you said it at all, much less now. And after such an intimate scene. Especially when you knew he most likely wouldn’t say it back.

But you don’t blame him for that. Mr. Styles has never been the overly romantic, affectionate type. You don’t expect that to change just for you. You’re happy with the relationship you have. You like that you stay at his apartment more than your own. You like that he dedicates his free time to you. And you like that you work together and play together.

He’s more than just your partner and your boss. He’s…yours.

“Sir?” you whisper, and you feel his hand tighten around yours. “Are you all right?”

He nods again. Quickly. Strained. “I’m fine, Peach. Are you?”

You nod, too. “Mhm. I’m better now. Promise.” A beat. “Could we start the scene again?”

He lets out a sigh and finally looks up to catch your eye. “Maybe later. We’ll see.”

You pout and feel that anxious twist in your stomach return. You don’t want to end this moment on a sour note. The note where you had to safe word and make him stop only to tell him you love him and surely freak him out. You want to go back. Start it all over again. Do it right.

He notices your frown and tilts his head. “Peach,” he warns. “Don’t.”

“But—”

“I said we’ll see,” he repeats sternly. “If you’re good, I’ll consider it. But if you want to argue with me, you can sit here, achy and dripping, with nobody to touch you.”

You bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He pats your hip. “I’ve got a few more emails to answer before dinner. If I go, will you be all right until I’m done?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He takes hold of your chin. Firm. “I want your honesty.”

“You have it.”

He hesitates. There’s a tension here, between you. An unspoken strain and an edge you’d give anything to smooth out.

You can tell he wants to resolve it. He’s a problem solver. It’s in his nature to fix things. And that’s how this whole arrangement was started in the first place.

But how can he fix what he knows he broke?

He kisses your cheek. Quickly. Gently. “Be good while I’m gone.”

And with that, he leaves you. He turns off the camera, puts his clothes back on, and disappears into his home office.

You spend the next several hours trying not to stare at his closed door. Or thinking about how it ended. What you said. You delete the footage off the SD card and vow to never speak of this day again.

He feels so far away, even if it’s only a few hundred feet. But there’s an ocean between you now and you are lost in his sea.

Dinner is good. You order Chinese and it’s delivered right as he’s exiting his office for the night. You do your best to put things back to the way they were before. You talk—a lot—and he listens. He’s quiet. Nodding along without much commentary. He picks at his food and you know something is still on his mind.

You hate it.

He cleans up while you go take a shower. You take your time, allowing the water to wash away your regret. Make you clean again. Until each mistake has been swept down the drain.

The two of you will be okay. You have to be.

When you get out, you find him on the bed. He’s got his reading glasses on and a book in his hand and he looks…

Ethereal.

You’ve always been attracted to him. How could you not be, when he has a jaw like that and abs that could grate cheese? But somehow, he looks even better like this—relaxed. At peace. He’s still wearing his fancy slacks and white button up. But the sleeves have been rolled to his elbows and he’s left the first few buttons undone.

You step further into the bedroom and he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s engrossed in his novel, glasses perched on the tip of his perfect nose as he flips to the next page. And you smile. Your insides already aching as you crawl onto the end of the mattress and allow your towel to fall away.

When the bed dips, he glances up. Briefly. He notices the feral look in your eye and the way you’re moving toward him. He knows what you want and thankfully, he doesn’t deny you.

He looks back to his book. “How was your shower?”

“Good,” you murmur. You reach for his belt and slip it through each loop until you can toss it toward the floor.

He’s quiet.

“How’s your book?” you ask and he hums.

“It’s all right. Not entirely helpful but I like the subject.”

You grin. You adore when he sounds studious. “That’s good.” You pull his zipper down and reach inside his briefs.

Still, he doesn’t so much as flinch. He reads and he pretends as though you aren’t currently dragging your palm along his hardening cock. He pretends your tits aren’t mere inches from his grasp and he pretends that he can’t see the way you’ve already begun to drip.

You take him in your mouth. Your tongue is wet and ready and you swing your leg over his thigh in order to brace yourself against his lap and take him fully. He’s large. Incredibly large and you forget that sometimes until you feel the way he curves down your throat.

You pull back and spit only to watch the way it drips down his length until you can smear it around the way you want.

“Peach,” you hear him say and you look up. He moves the book aside to see you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

He reaches down and pinches your cheek. “Watch it,” he warns and he’s strict but somehow kind. “I thought I told you to wait.”

“I did wait,” you argue before sucking on his tip. You pop off and lick your lips. “All day. Couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Hm.” He moves his hand to the back of your head and tugs you away. “I’m not sure I should let you.”

“…why?” You straighten up. “I’m okay now. I want to do this. And you never got to finish—”

“Peach—”

“—which I know isn’t the point,” you amend quickly, remembering what he said before. “I know. But I want to make you finish. I want to make you feel good. Especially after what you did for me.”

He frowns now. Sighs. Takes off his glasses and sets down his book. “I’m your dominant and your partner. It is my job to take care of you. I don’t do it because I want something in return and my kindness is not transactional. I care about you. I want you to be okay. Always.”

I care about you isn’t exactly an I love you but it still makes you smile. Really, really big.

“I know,” you whisper. You squeeze his thigh. “But I feel…edged.”

He smirks. “Do you?”

“Mhm.” You dip back down and drag your tongue up from his balls. You notice his jaw tick. “And if you really want to take care of me and make sure I’m okay…you’ll cum in my mouth.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He considers this, fingers tapping over the hard cover of his book. Then, he nods once, and slips his glasses back on. “All right. I’ll let you have your way just this once. But once you’re through, you’re to get into this bed and go to sleep. Is that understood?”

You nod eagerly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Go ahead.”

With that, you continue your sucking and fondling while he continues reading his novel. The bedroom is eerily silent except for the loud echo of your wet, enthusiastic lapping at the large cock sitting proudly on your tongue. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if he won’t give you your own orgasm before bed, you’re content to have him just like this.

It doesn’t take long until he’s twitching in your mouth. He doesn’t look at you or watch the way your cheeks hollow or the way his balls look in your pretty hands, but you know he’s desperate to. You can tell by the way he turns the page. The way he grips the book and tries incredibly hard not to rip it in half as he moves to the next chapter.

You don’t slow. You keep going, even as his legs flex beneath you. As his chest takes in labored breaths. You want to get him there and he subtly nudges his leg further into your cunt to feel your arousal smear across his skin.

You do everything you know he likes, even though the camera is off. You suck and squeeze and give him everything you know he likes. Because this performance is just for him. The way you moan, the way you swallow, the way you bob and take more of him than you think you ever have before.

You’re his good girl. His investment, his toy, his.

And moments before he finally releases himself all down your throat, he tosses the book aside, grabs a fistful of your hair, and yanks you off.

“Get on,” he grits and tugs you closer.

You don’t need to be told twice. You scoot forward and line him up just so before he takes hold of your hips and helps you sink down. Things move quickly and he doesn’t have the patience to wait any longer.

And it’s beautiful, this moment. The way he stretches you open. And even if there’s a slight burn from the intrusion of his thick cock, you revel in the pain. Both of you groaning the moment you feel it.

And you know he won’t be able to hold off much longer.

“How did it taste, Peach, hm?” he asks as he fucks up into you. “How did it feel to have me in your mouth?”

“Good,” you pant. You claw at his curls. “So good, Sir—”

“Yeah?” He slaps his hand against your ass and you mewl. “Like to take my cock, don’t you? Like to be my dirty little slut—"

“Yes—”

“Like to feel me down your throat…have me cum all over your tongue.”

You make too many noises and he reaches up to pull your lip with his teeth. He kisses you and groans into your mouth and this is what sex should be. Rough and hard but filled with adoration.

“What a fucking whore,” he groans. He tugs at your hips. Watches the bulge in your belly with every thrust. “Begging to suck my cock, wanting to make Daddy feel good…guess I don’t give your mouth enough things to do, hm?”

You shake your head and wilt in his hold. He rarely refers to himself with that nickname and hearing it now almost tips you over.

“So fucking wet,” he exhales and you look down to watch with him. “S’fucking pathetic, isn’t it? Didn’t even have to touch you to have you dripping.”

He’s right. He always is.

He pinches your clit. Takes your nipple in his mouth and lets his large hands scratch down your back—your shoulders blades, your spine, your ass. And you have never felt safer than here in this moment with him.

“Cum,” he says, and he nips at your skin until it’s littered in marks and memories.

“Cum,” he whispers, and he pulls on your hair and wraps it around his fist to bare your throat to his teeth.

“Cum,” he pleads, and he kisses you—hard—until the room is spinning and you finally let go.

You unravel together. A collection of moans and cries and tangled limbs as you make a mess of each other. And you don’t care—about any of it. About what was said earlier, about what wasn’t said, about the way he looked when you said it.

You cling to his strong shoulders and you kiss him hard and you indulge in the feel of him dripping from your cunt.

But he’s not through. He pulls you off his cock and flips you onto your knees until your ass in the air.

You feel his tongue. Dragging up your cunt, tasting the remains of his cum, your cum, everything. He spanks you—hard. Paints his mark across your skin and leaves it there just so he can admire it.

“Say it,” he hisses and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Wha…what?”

“Say it,” he says. He spanks you again and nips at your pussy. “Say you love me.”

You clutch the duvet and your thighs are shaking. Your mind feels fuzzy. “I…”

Another slap to your ass and you’re overstimulated and wildly sensitive. He fucks his tongue into your dripping hole and grunts at the way you keen and you’ve never felt this kind of beautiful confusion.

“Say it.” He holds your thighs open and nearly suffocates himself as he mouths at you. “Fucking tell me you love me. Tell me again.”

You shake your head. You don’t understand. “Harry…”

Wrong. He slips his fingers inside and fucks his cum back into you. Fast. Lewd. Loud. “Come on, Peach. I know you want to. Know you do….so say it.”

And maybe this is a trick. Maybe this is some cruel, sadistic game just to make you lose but you can’t think straight when he’s this close. When he’s bending your body to his salacious intentions and treating you like a toy.

“I love you,” you whisper. You screw your eyes shut. “I do, I love you, Sir.”

He curses. Groans. “Again.”

“I love you.” You fall onto the bed stomach first but he doesn’t stop. He flips you around and he looks at you as he eats you. “I love you, Mr. Styles.”

His lashes flutter. You reach for his hair and tug it with your fist and he moans into your cunt before drinking you down. Spitting on your pussy just to smear it around and thrust it back into you.

You arch. “Shit, I love you—I—”

You cum again and he enjoys every second of it. He pulls you as close to his face as he can get you and lives inside the sound of your strained whimpers.

And when you finish, he leaves your clit with a satisfied pop and licks his lips. You watch him crawl up your body until he’s settled atop your chest and you smile lazily as he reaches up to run his hand down your cheek.

“My sweet Peach,” he whispers and kisses you hard. You taste everything. You taste him. You taste the desperation woven alongside his tongue. He kisses you until you can’t breathe and he only stops so he can stare at you a little longer.

You brush your fingers through the damp curls along the back of his neck. “That was fun.”

He’s quiet. Studying you closely and you feel as though you’re being graded on a test you didn’t know you were taking.

Then, he murmurs, “I don’t say it.”

Your heart skips. You don’t have to ask what he means. “I…I know. It’s okay. I don’t expect you—”

“I don’t say it because I’m afraid I can’t live up to it,” he continues. He ignores you. “Because the last time I did, I couldn’t deliver on what it meant. My love didn’t look the same as hers did. I said it. And she still left.”

Your other hand finds his shirt. You trail your touch over the exposed skin of his chest and you feel the way his heart races. “I know.”

His brows furrow. “I want to say it,” he says softly. “I want to. For you. Because I do. And I don’t want this to feel unfair—”

“It doesn’t,” you assure him. “I promise. I…I figured you wouldn’t say it back and I was okay with that. Because it doesn’t change the fact that I do.”

Another beat. “I’m worried you didn’t mean it.”

“What?”

He sighs and sweeps his thumb along your jaw. “You’d been anxious, and you were scared. You said none of your other partners had ever been kind to you in moments like that, and…sex is intimate. It can change the chemistry in your brain and maybe…maybe you didn’t mean it—”

“I did.” You grab his face and you make him listen. “Harry, I meant it. I still mean it. And I’ll mean it tomorrow, too. And the next day. And the next.”

His expression softens.

“And I meant it long before today. I wanted to tell you tons of times and I didn’t because…I don’t know. I didn’t want to scare you,” you admit and you both smile. “It is a big word. But it’s just a word. It means nothing without action. And even if you can’t say it, you show it every day. And that’s all I could really want.”

He dips down and nuzzles his nose against yours. “I don’t deserve you, Peach.”

“No,” you tease. “No, you don’t.”

You kiss again and his body feels good against yours. His heart feels good against yours.

Then, he exhales, "I love you."

And you don't say anything. But you smile. Because you know everything he's giving up just to offer you what you want to hear.

Minutes go by before you finally change the subject and say, "You know, I kind of wish we'd been recording all that. That would have been some great content."

He laughs, relieved, and the sound is so incredibly beautiful.

“Next time,” he says and you grin as he holds you closer. “Tonight…your love belongs to me.”

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY CUTIES!!! Granted, this wasn't exactly a Valentine's blurb BUT LISTEN IT WAS CLOSE ENOUGH!!!!! ASLFJSF

I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH and hope you're having the best day! No matter what it looks like or who it's with ♥️

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @ilovec0lbybr0ck @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz

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elsweetheart · 1 year

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crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

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

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

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

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Where?”

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

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

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

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

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

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

“Uber.”

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

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

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

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not a brat.”

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

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

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

“Then what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So big.” You mewl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

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

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

The Machinist 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible bullying, misogyny, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your new boss sets his sights on you. (short!reader)

Characters: August Walker

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You take your lunch where you always do; outside. You don’t like to sit inside all day, especially after sweating amid sparks flying from dozens of torches and grinding wheels and the like. The metals walls do little to let the heat out, so it is that you greet the sunshine and fresh breeze with a sigh.

You find your way to your truck and unlock the back, climbing up to sit in the open bed as you unzip your lunchbox. You have your standard fare; some carrots, hummus, and a tuna sandwich. Nothing fancy or special. Just what you have time to throw together in the morning.

You watch the distant skyline as you chew. Insects buzz in the air and you swat away a nosy fly. The smell of pollen underlines the lingering scent of singed metal and your own sweat. You enjoy the small moment to yourself, with the barely muffled noise of drills, wheels, and hollers all around.

You dip your last carrot and close up the container of hummus. You wipe the lingering garlicky smear from your fingertips and zip away your leftovers and the used napkin. You push your head back to stretch your neck and loosen the stitch between your shoulders.

“You’re prettier in the sunlight,” the rocky voice brings your chin back down.

August approaches as you clutch your lunch box against your lap. You don’t know how to respond without putting your job in the balance, so you don’t. You push yourself to the edge of the truck bed but he’s quick. He’s right in front of you, close enough that you can’t jump down.

“This your truck?” He muses as he gives it an emphatic look, “not too bad. Bit big for you, girl. Ah, but maybe you like handling big things.”

His insinuation repulses you. He was rude before but now he’s just being gross. Doesn’t matter. Who are you gonna tell? Who’s going to care?

“Excuse me, my lunch is almost over,” you say as you teeter on the edge.

“I’m sure the boss won’t mind,” he grins boastfully.

“Really, I got a lot of work--”

“I never heard about your promotion,” he intones.

You stop short and bite back your words, “promotion?”

“Right, you must’ve got one since you’re telling me what to do,” he challenges, crossing his arms to make himself even bigger.

“I wasn’t. I’m trying to go back to work.”

“I didn’t dismiss you,” he sneers.

You ease back and nod. This isn’t the first time a man’s postured at you, it won’t be the last. You’ll let him get his rocks off.

“Sure,” you nod.

“Hmph,” he looks you up and down, “it always makes me wonder why women wander into metal shops. Really? You like being sweaty,” he steps even closer and you wince as he reaches and drags his thumb down your cheek, “dirty? I can think of better ways for that.”

“Sir,” you say flatly.

He trails his thumb down and presses on your bottom lip, “I’m new around here. Need someone to show me around. How about it?”

You scowl and rip your mouth away from his hand, “you can’t be serious?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?” He slowly pulls his arm back, crossing it once more across his chest, “what I know about this town is there’s no other fucking shop looking for tool and die, and let me tell you, princess, you’ll find they don’t pay pennies next to what I pay.” He brings a hand up to brush the short stubble darkening his jaw, “actually, we’re due for salary review. That’s what the finance officer tells me.”

You understand his threat. Even if he doesn’t fire you, he can mess with your money. All the leering men, all their nasty words, wouldn’t be worth it if you didn’t get a half-decent cut.

“Can your precious little head understand me?” His mouth slants in a half-smirk.

“Not that difficult,” you hiss out.

“Great, sounds like a plan, princess.”

Before you can react, he steps forward. He grabs you by the waist and drags you forward on the open door of the truck bed. You yelp in surprise and bat his wrists, your lunch box bouncing out of your grasp onto the ground. He holds you to hover on the edge before he lowers you to the ground, crowding you.

“Good girl,” he growls and squeezes before he lets you go.

You struggle not to snarl outright. He takes a step back, not far enough. You turn your attention to your errant bag and bend to pick it up.

“Mmm, I like that position,” he purrs.

You snap up and tamp down your irritation. You wish you could say he’s the first man to be so disgusting but that would be a miracle. Especially in this line of work. He’s just the only one you can’t tell to go fuck himself.

You face him, “can I go back to work?”

“Mm, look at you, learning already; asking permission,” he clicks his tongue, “sure, go on, princess.”

You hold back a shudder and turn to close the truck door. You toss your lunch bag over it. Whatever.

You spin and stomp away, refusing to look back at him, even as you feel his gaze bearing down on you. You feel even more filthy than before. Not just because of his behaviour but your own weakness. You should say no, you should go work at the Pizza Hut, at least there, you can spit in the food of every ass who gives you lip.

As you cross the yard towards the shop, you slow down. Your eyes meet those of Carey. He started at the same time as you. He asked you out. Several times. He glowers and narrows his eyes.

He looks at the other guys sat around him at the smokers’ table. They saw it. You know they did.

“All the fucking same, aren’t they?” He spits into the dirt as the other men look in your direction. “Cozying up to the boss to get a few extra bucks on her check.” He flicks his butt towards you as you near the door, “whatsa a matter, baby? You need some new panties? Oh, maybe you’re gonna buy a dress? Start dressing like a woman, huh?”

The other guys chortle and you ignore them. They don’t matter. That’s the difference between them and August. He can actually ruin your life, they only wish they could.

#august walker #dark august walker #dark!august walker #august walker x reader #series #drabble #au #the machinist #mission impossible: fallout #factory au

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 10 months

Note

Office smut where reader is Rafe's assistant and they both work at cameron developpement

I've never been a fan of these assistant/boss dynamics, but it fits for Rafe so I gave it a try...and it ended up being 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, fingering, unprotected p + v,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Never in your life did you imagine yourself pursuing a career in real estate, but when an opportunity to work as a personal assistant at Cameron Development practically fell into your lap, you hadn’t been able to decline.

It was a sunny day on the golf course with your father, enjoying some quality father-daughter time before the end of summer. As you both played a round, you came across one of his golf buddies — Ward Cameron. You vaguely remembered the man, having played with his kids a few times when you were little. Sarah was the one you remembered the most, she had blond hair and always talked about turtles.

Small talk flowed between your father and Mr. Cameron as they caught up on each other's lives. Then, your college studies came into the conversation. You had graduated college this spring, but hadn’t found any jobs in your field yet. Fortunately for you, Mr. Cameron informed you that there were a few jobs available at Cameron Developpement.

You weren’t interested in real estate, but working for a well reputed company could do no wrong to your curriculum vitae. So you accepted the offer, not knowing that you would be working for his son, Rafe, as his personal assistant.

You knocked on the door at the end of the hallway, announcing your presence. ‘’You wanted to see me, Mr. Cameron?’’

He looked up from the stack of documents neatly placed before him on his desk and your breath caught in your throat. Fuck me. It was a good thing you had put on lipgloss and a nice pair of heels instead of loafers because Rafe Cameron was a fine man. He looked right out of a smutty romance novel with his crisp button up and a navy blue suit jacket that brought out the color of his eyes.

‘’Yes,’’ he replied, flashing you a polite and effortlessly charming smile. ‘’First, I wanted to meet my new assistant before I hand off the work I'd rather not deal with. My father was insistent about getting me a personal assistant, but I'm actually glad he hired you.’’ His eyes followed down your body in the most subtle way, taking note of how well your skirt was hugging your hips and anticipating the even better view when he’ll watch you go.

‘’I’m glad I took the job too. Hopefully I won’t disappoint you,’’ you responded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips, trying to hide everything you were feeling right now.

‘’I’m sure you won’t,’’ Rafe assured, his voice carrying a trace of amusement. ‘’Secondly, I was reviewing some paperwork, and it has come to my attention that Mr. Gilbert has not remitted his payment for the condo he recently bought. Can you give him a call and ask for payment? If he refuses to forward us the money before 4pm, we’ll cancel the sale agreement and find another prospective buyer.’’

You nodded in acknowledgment.

Calling Mr. Gilbert. That should be easy for your first task.

‘’Anything else?’’

Rafe shook his head. ‘’Not for the moment. You may leave.’’

‘’Well, Mr. Cameron.’’

His eyes lingered for a second, a hint of something more as he watched you turn to leave, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

Over the span of a few weeks, professional exchanges gradually morphed into something outside of your assigned tasks. You were still bringing him coffee whenever he asked and answering emails, but specks of flirting now laced your conversation and soon evolved with lingering glances to your chest while going over some work related paperwork.

Once in a while, he would call you into his office and scheme excuses just to look at you.

It wasn’t until that argument with his father that he — finally — made a move on you.

You came to work early that day and, on your way to your office, you had heard Mr. Cameron shout at his son for a mistake he had made concerning the company and how it was going to make a big dent in their finances to fix it. To respect their privacy and not wanting them to think you were eavesdropping, you quickly went to your workspace and started your work.

When Rafe came out of his father’s office, he saw you sitting at your desk. His chest was heaving with the intensity of the encounter, a storm brewing in his expression. You heard his office door close and, a few seconds later, an email popped on your screen.

My office. Now.

You thought he needed something, but when you stepped in, Rafe was waiting by the door and crashed his mouth on yours, giving in to the desires he’s been pushing aside since you walked in his office on your first day.

A small gasp left your lips, not expecting to be kissed by your boss on a Thursday morning. A cloud of confusion fogged your brain and you broke the kiss, trying to fight the invisible string pulling you to him.

Rafe's gaze lowered down yours, a complex blend of frustration and longing evident in his eyes.

The reason why he had never made a move on you before stemmed from a promise to his father, who had made him promise to not fool around with the personnel if he wanted to be part of Cameron Developpement. It hadn't been too difficult until now, the employees being mostly women in their thirties and up. Then, you came around and Rafe had to use a lot of self-control to not charm his way into your panties. To further complicate the situation, you were responsive to his advances and flirting.

However, after a heated exchange with his father, Rafe was in the mood to piss him off, so to hell with his stupid rules.

‘’Can I trust you that this stays between us?’’ His hands roamed across your sides, down your body, feeling what he had been staring at these past weeks.

‘’I never kiss and tell.’’

Rafe's thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, removing a smudge of lipstick. ‘’Good girl.’’

The way he said it went straight to your core, waking an ache between your legs. How could a voice have such a strong effect?

Your eyes traveled to the clock on the wall. Agnes, one of the secretaries, should arrive in twenty minutes. You knew her routine because her desk was right by the hallway leading to Rafe’s office. You also knew that she visited him every morning after checking her emails.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Rafe’s mouth found its way back on yours, his tongue slipping between your lips and he pulled you closer to him, pressing his body against yours as his other hand traveled down your legs, to the hem of your tight skirt. He caressed and grabbed one of your ass cheeks, groaning at the feeling.

Wasting no time getting undressed, Rafe hiked your skirt up, eliciting a small gasp as cool air hit your skin. ‘’Can you be quiet for me?’’ he asked, pressing against you and letting you feel the length of his hard cock against your thigh. ‘’The walls are thin and Agnes is gonna get here soon. We don’t want her to hear us, do we?’’

You shook your head. ‘’Are you gonna fuck me, Mr. Cameron?’’

Aside from one mishap, you and Rafe successfully kept your secret business from the other employees. If the whispers of your unprofessional doings in his office were to get to his father, you would both be in a lot of trouble.

‘’I have Anthony Gilbert from the construction company on the first line. He has some questions about the new condos,’’ you informed Rafe after he returned from an afternoon meeting, his tie slightly loosened.

A sigh left his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, visibly tired. ‘’Transfer him to my secretary.’’

You shifted on your heels, sensing Rafe didn’t want to speak to this man. ‘’He asked to speak to you specifically.’’

‘’Well, we can’t always get what we want,’’ he pressed. ‘’Agnes will take care of it,’’ Rafe repeated, his tone final.

You nodded. ‘’Yes, Mr. Cameron.’’

‘’Now, would you please close the door? There’s a document I would like to go over with you.’’

A document. You held a snicker and shut the door as requested.

Once you turned the lock, Rafe patted his lap and you walked around his desk. He watched you with hungry eyes, impatient to get his hands all over you. Get his cock inside you.

‘’Looking good today, babydoll. Is this new?’’ he asked, running his thumb over the neckline of your wrap dress as you seated yourself on his lap, careful to not rub the sole of your heels on his pants and leave a mark.

You hummed in response, leaning forward to expose more of your chest. ‘’Do you like it?’’

Rafe let his hand glide down, following the cut of the dress, until he reached the tie to undo it. He pulled until the knot came off, revealing your bra — a soft pink lace number that did not much other than looking pretty. A shudder left your lips as his hand cupped your breast through your bra, his thumb brushing over where he knew your nipple was.

‘’Very.’’

You carded your fingers as he mouthed at your chest and neck, careful to leave no marks behind. A sigh left your lips, wishing he would pull your bra down and just take suck on your nipple, but Rafe had other plans. While his mouth was working, one hand slipped between your thighs, seeking out your warmth, his hand pressed itself against your soaked panties.

He grinned against your skin. ‘’Would you look at that,’’ Rafe murmured, teasing you over the fabric and sending jolts of pleasure to your core. ‘’Were you thinking of me while I was at my meeting?’’ he questioned his fingers pushing your panties to the side, fingers delving into your slick, a low moan fell from your lips. ‘’Get on the desk.’’

You wordlessly climb up onto his cold desk, ignoring the papers that got scattered, leaning back with your hands to spread your legs for him. Rafe pulled your panties down your legs and discarded them in one of the drawers — a little keepsake.

He dipped two fingers between your soaked folds, causing you to moan slowly. ‘’You look so pretty spread out for me like this,’’ he muttered between you, his cock twitching in his pants and straining against the fabric. ‘’Ready for me to take.’’ His thumb grazed over your clit and a gasp fell from your lips, your hands instinctively grabbing the edge of the desk to brace yourself.

‘’I’m always ready for you,’’ you said, speaking the embarrassing truth. ‘’I’ve never wanted a cock as bad as I want yours.’’

Your words had the desired effect, making Rafe groan. ‘’Shit, babydoll. Where did you get that filthy mouth?’’

Rafe reached down and rubbed himself over his pants before deftly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. He stood from his seat, the bulge in his boxers making your mouth water and your pussy clench.

You used to feel guilty for fooling around on your work hours. It felt wrong and dishonest to your boss, but all guilt would go out the window the moment Rafe’s big cock entered you. Fuck work ethics and policies.

The rest of his clothes came off and he stood between your parted legs, one of his large hands grabbing your thigh while his other was holding his hard length at your entrance. His blue eyes gazed up at you with a mischievous glint as he rubbed his tip against your folds, making you whine with anticipation.

His teasing turned on him as you reached for his cock and wrapped your hand around its length, drawing a moan from him. ‘’Little minx.’’

You grinned, continuing your motions. Teasing could go both ways.

‘’Ahh,’’ you gasped as he pressed in, a slow delicious burn that sent a shiver down your spine as he pushed his way through your tight walls.

Rafe leaned down his forehead, pressing down onto yours and breathing you in as he rolled his hips into you. A moan spilled from your throat at the sensation, a little too loud, and he was quick to clamp his hand over your mouth to muffle any sounds, the floor still full at this hour.

To add to the noises, the desk was creaking every time Rafe was dragging his cock in and out of you. Although the angle was great, the desk might not be the quietest — unfortunately.

‘’You like that babydoll, you like when I fuck you like this?’’

You nodded, your mouth still covered.

Fuck, just like that, you wanted to scream, your back arching when he hit the right spot over and over at a toe curling pace. God, this was the best sex of your life. Some men just knows what they're doing.

The shrill of the phone echoed in the office, but you both ignored it — Agnes will answer. It was probably the man who wanted to speak to Rafe calling again.

Sorry Mr. Gilbert, Mr. Cameron is very busy fucking the life out of his personal assistant.

Your body writhed against Rafe, your hands leaving the desk to pull at his hair and grab at his arm while your heels dug into his ass. He grunted, your walls clenching around him. A few more hard thrusts and his thumb sweeping over your clit had your thighs trembling as the waves of pleasure washed over you.

Rafe continued to push into you, dragging out your orgasm as his took over, pulling out quickly and cumming on your stomach, trying to not get any drop on your dress.

You didn’t have time to get dressed or catch your breath that a knock came on the door. Momentarily forgetting you had locked it, you jumped, thinking you were going to get caught.

‘’What is it?’’ Rafe called out, trying not to sound too out of breath.

‘’I have Mr. Gilbert on the phone on line three. He’s asking to speak to you,’’ Agnes’s sweet voice said through the door. ‘’A pressing matter, he said.’’

‘’I’m unable to take the call at the moment. I’m busy going over a document for a client I’m seeing tomorrow morning. Could you please take the call for me?’’ he asked, rubbing his hands over your thighs, wishing his secretary would leave so he can get on his knees and get his mouth between your legs.

Agnes nodded although he couldn’t see her. ‘’I understand, Mr. Cameron. I'll inform him right away.’’

Rafe waited to hear clicks of her heels down the hallway to sink to his knees and get back to business. He did tell Agnes that he was working on a document, no one would question how long you were locked in his office for.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx @sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc @pedrosprincess @mikaelsonsstuff @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @madelynie @loverofdrewstarkey @radiant-whore @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose-blog

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks rafe #let me know what you think

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spitdrunken · 8 months

Note

I’m loving your vees x reader take and I thought I’d add some of my own:

You push back against the vees once, and it ends badly for you, especially with Val.

ooooo i love this thought!!

notes: implied (sexual) assault (not done by any of the Vees), forced prostitution

Maybe this is the universe where 'you' are an erotica writer for the Vees, completely unaware of the amount of privileges you're being given. Well, compared to the typical unfortunate soul that ends up doing 'contracted work' for them, at least. You aren't worked to the bone by Vox, not held to Velvette's high standards nor lashing tongue, or made to spread your legs for anyone or anything by Valentino, including himself. You just stay in your small office, meet your deadlines, and have semi-regular meetings with Vox. Really, you have no idea how lucky you are.

Pushing back against the Vees could mean anything. Perhaps you insisted on getting more royalties in return for your work, or for your deadlines to be pushed back. Depending on how long you've been working there and the level of interest from the Vees, you might have messed around with someone too much, and protested against the consequences.

An example will need to be set. A first punishment should be one of the roughest ones, the three of them agree, in order to set a good example for the future. And, well... Who better to leave it to than Val? Valentino will give you something worth actually bitching and moaning about. He's likely not angry enough to actually shoot you, but there's plenty of other things he can fuck you up with! His goal is making you know your place, know how nice they've been all along... What better way to show you that, than making you walk the track?

Valentino makes enough money off of his porn and demons begging to hook up with his people, that he doesn't actually send people out on the street anymore, except as a punishment. The risk is simply far higher than any possible rewards, in Hell at least. He's famous now, so there's no need for it. The only thing worse than a dumb whore is a dead, dumb whore, he'd laugh out when asked about it. But this shit was what he made the majority of his money came from back in life, so he knows exactly how to dit.

You'd get dressed up in clothes of Valentino's choice, flashy enough, and obviously related to the Vees, so that you're sure to get your fair share of attention. You'll get demons drooling at your feet, without you even having to try. Though the possibility of you getting robbed is just as present. Valentino practically shoves you out the door, a hand on each of your shoulders, and a grin on his face. You're allowed back inside when you make me a bit of cash, baby. How about a thousand? And then slams the door in your face.

You're left out on the street, and shaking. You stand out far more than you'd like, and you have no interest in actually going through with what's been ordered of you. But how else are you supposed to get that much in cash, that quickly? You stand there, trembling, entirely unsure of what to do. Your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Valentino: i can see you out the window. Valentino: get OUT THREE Valentino: you don't want to stand around for too long.

And maybe you go out there and try, or maybe you don't! Either way, you're such an obvious target that it doesn't take long for you to be cornered in an alley, knife to your throat. (And even though you know you can't actually die anymore, that all of your cells will, eventually, regenerate, that doesn't make your fear any less poignant.)

Perhaps you are only robbed, perhaps something worse, but after that, when you're alone again and crying, your phone starts to vibrate so hard that you take it out and throw it away-- It feels like it's about to explode, after all. And out pops Vox, all pleasant smiles and offering you to take you back to headquarters. You're safe now, just trust him. If he'd been able to do that all along, then, why didn't he save you before? The question is ready on your lips, but you don't speak it aloud. You know the answer, and you're not ready to hear it spoken by another.

...You guess you know why Velvette sometimes calls him a 'prince', now.

#valentino x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #velvette x reader #vox x reader

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ponpuriitx · 1 year

Text

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.

One shot: Blitzø x hell born! Reader.

Summary: A stand up night, that was all it was meant to be. Or maybe it wasn’t..

Word count: 1,0k

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut suggestions but nothing too crazy, friends with benefits, slight angst but fluff.

Notes: This is a one shot ! ! A short story that just came into my mind out of nowhere, and because let’s be honest lil’ Blitzø needs love for fucks sake. If there’s any grammar mistake please let me know ! !

It was no secret that you wanted Blitzø. Well, at least not for Loona.

It all started when you submitted your application to work for I.M.P, you got a call back and had to meet your boss.

And oh boy, was it just you or was he really hot? Couldn’t get through the whole meeting without looking at him not giving a fuck about what he had to say. The last words that actually passed your dumb founded skull was a “You’re hired!” That snapped you out of your trance.

You nodded thanking him like one thousand times, it was easy to do that because you actually needed the fucking money. when you went out of the office you saw a hell hound that was the receptionist. Before entering the meeting you actually got a chance to talk to her, bonding a little rather quickly because of Verosika and her hot Body guard.

After you went out, she glanced at you over her phone “So? How was it?” She asked, going back to her phone but still hearing you. When you told her you would be working here she just smirked still looking at her phone.

It wasn’t a long time till you got used to the Job, I mean it was pretty much just sit there with Loona and usually anytime costumers arrived you would take them. And when Loona did take them and she loose her temper you would do it for her meanwhile she draws daggers with her eyes to the client. You thought that at this steps she would eventually get fired, it didn’t take you long enough to find out that she was your bosses daughter.

Now, with that in mind it didn’t mind you being in this position.

You were in the backseat of I.M.P’s van because Loona called Blitzø to come and pick her up. When you parked and Loona was convincing Blitz to actually hop on the party you weren’t much sure about this idea. You weren’t a party pooper really, but something was telling you inside that you shouldn’t be here. You were on the van because you just so happened to be on the road when Blitz told you to hop on, you didn’t have actual important things to do so you just went with the flow.

Just like now. Looking in between the yelling crowd how your boss was finishing the beer supply without any care and actually beating Beel, making Loona proud. You eventually lost yourself in the crowd, trying not to bump with anyone because you didn’t want to talk to nobody. This type of environment made you uncomfortable, so you stepped into the van and waited for Blitz and Loona to come.

Fuck you fell asleep..

You cleaned the drool from your mouth, looking around where Loona parked in. It was your bosses apartment, “Hey Loona, care to crash at my place for a while and bring me some of the groceries I left? I’m gonna take care of him don’t worry.” She doubted for a second, but eventually let go.

You placed Blitzø in the couch, as you went in the kitchen and grabbed some water for him. Putting the water down, you turned on the tv. After a while of changing through programs you felt a little tug on your things, your head snapping to the sheets as you saw the imp trying to get through your pants. You couldn’t deny it was so fucking hot, still, you pushed him down a little.

“Hey, HEY boss hold on are you all right?” You asked, as he gave you a smirk and relied his head slightly on your inner thigh “I am.. Fiinee” you didn’t believe that because of the tone on his voice. You were about to protest when you felt a sharp but so, so euphoric pain on your inner thigh making a laud moan like whine slip out of your lips.

You felt how the tips of his fingers played through the hem of your underwear, now this was a whole new level. Of course you weren’t a virgin but this, this was different. His fingers slipping in so secure under your underwear touching your aching core, taking high pitched whimpers out of you..

. . .

The next morning, Blitzø woke up in his bed naked. The morning light hurting his eyes as he hugged his own figure, he repositioned himself rubbing his eyes and letting a deep sigh off. He didn’t remember much of last nigh, he could’ve sworn that Loony was the one who brought him back to his place—..

Then, he saw it. Some of your clothes on the floor, he remembered. The long lasting night, the moans, the sounds, how his room was filled with filthy sounds and laughter. The way he grabbed the bare flesh of your thigh as he thrusted deep and rough inside of you. The way you scratched his back so deliciously because of his thrusts, but it was strange. Why were your clothes here if he woke up alone?

It was just a one night thing, this is how it always went for him. You guys fuck and then leave, it was a routine for more that he hated it. That was just how things go, his thoughts stopped when he heard the door opening. You with one of his shirts on and your underwear, “Already up?” You said, you could’ve sworn that he was going to sleep till more later.

Blitz then traced his eyes through your shoulders, how it was laced with Bites and hickeys. You noticed this and chuckled slightly “don’t worry, I’ll get rid of them eventually. Come on, breakfast is ready.” You said walking off to the kitchen leaving a confused Blitzø behind.

This was supposed to be a one night stand thing, but why did you stayed? Weren’t you going to leave? He wasn’t complaining, I mean free breakfast is a win. But it still made him crack a smile.

So it’s safe to say that it wasn’t weird when that “one night stand” turned into three, and three into seven and slowly they didn’t seem like just “meet up to fuck” anymore.

#blitzo #helluva boss x reader #helluva blitzo #helluva boss #i should use some sleep now I’m tired asf #Random writing energy boost at eleven pm #hazbin hotel #helluva loona #helluva x reader #helluva beelzebub #helluva boss verosika #helluva boss blitzo #helluva blitzø #blitzo x reader

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klaus-littlestwolf · 11 months

Note

hi can you make a human AU for yandere klaus mikaelson where he is a businessman and he is the boss of his own company and he has a new assistant *y/n* and he obviously falls in love with her and finds any excuse to stay with her and one day they stay late at the office just the two of them and klaus manages to seduce her enough to fuck her hard against his desk and claim her as his own.

His New Assistant-Klaus M.

(There’s hints of Yandere!Klaus in this but it’s not too bad, he’s more Yandere in the sense that the boss is ‘taking advantage’ of his employee)

Warning:Smut, Dub-Con(ish-if you squint) and power imbalance

-Don’t Like=Don’t Read-

DD:DNE

It was strange to you how close he got at first, Klaus was constantly keeping you after hours, paying you overtime to help with the smallest things. He would be close as often as he could, touch you as often as he could and stare at you through his office window whenever he got the chance.

Honestly you feel like you should have reported him to Human Resources by now but…you love it.

Your boss was definitely attractive, and for some reason he wanted to constantly be around you. You didn’t really have a problem with it, doing your job and taking care of whatever he needed from you. Sometimes you just ended up having dinner with him in his office while you went over paperwork that could have easily waited until the next day.

Klaus seemed like he was trying to see just how far he could get. You knew the little touches were inappropriate, his hand lingering on the small of your back, wrapping around your waist, tucking your hair behind your ear, but he was so sweet and charming you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. Klaus was hot, no denying that, but you never thought it went beyond a little teasing, you never thought he was as in love with you as he is. By the time you realized how serious it was it was too late.

‘Here are the reports you asked for Mr. Mikaelson. If that’s everything you need then I will head out for the day.’ You turned to walk back to your desk when his voice stopped you.

‘Y/n, I actually have something else to get done. Would you mind terribly staying and helping me? I’ll buy you dinner?’ He offered and you couldn’t refuse that sweet, hopeful face.

‘Fine, but I want Chinese.’ You teased and he just smiled.

Once again you stay with him finishing up paper work that didn’t need to be done yet, some of which never should have been anywhere near his desk, but you didn’t complain. You two worked and talked until almost 9pm when you began cleaning up for the evening and he seemed to suddenly realize how late it was. ‘Thank you for this Y/n, I appreciate how willing you are to help me. Most assistants I’ve had would never consider overtime…I also genuinely enjoy spending time with you.’ He admitted and you felt your cheeks heating up.

‘Well thank you Mr. Mikaelson. I’m glad that I can help, besides, overtime just means I can pay my bills faster.’ You joked, picking up the last files and moving to put them away in the file cabinet.

‘Are you having trouble? I can help you if you need-‘ you were stunned by his immediate upset at the idea of your money problems.

‘Oh no, I’m fine. It was a joke, really. I mean everyone has money problems, student loans, the normal stuff, no big deal.’ You brushed the subject off as quickly as you could before filing the last few folders. ‘Everything is finished, and legal should be able to find it all tomor-Oh!’ You gasped as you turned to find your boss directly behind you, jumping back into the filing cabinet in surprise.

‘Are you alright? I didn’t mean to frighten you.’ He spoke, reaching out to make sure you hadn’t hurt your head.

‘I’m fine…’ you mumbled quietly, trying to find a way around him but not seeing one and instantly hating your body for betraying you as you felt your nipples harden as his hands touched you, running down your arms and looking you over.

‘You’re perfection…you know Y/n, I’ve really become attached to you these last 2 weeks you’ve been here. I believe you deserve everything the world has to offer you, and I want to be the one to give it to you.’ His hand tucked your hair behind your ear and you were stood, frozen and in shock.

‘Mr. Mikaelson, I think this is becoming inappropriate and I don’t-‘

‘Come on Love. You know that I’m sweet on you, there’s no way you don’t. You’ve been enjoying our time together, I know you like the flirting and the little touches…well I love how you try to hide that sweet blush every time I compliment you.’ His thumb brushed down your cheek and you could feel how hot it was as your body continued disobeying you.

‘Please stop? I-I can’t-‘

‘Can’t what?’

‘Can’t lose my job for this-please stop?’ Tears sprung to your eyes as you tried to push passed him but his arm wound around your waist, and he quickly lifted you to sit on his desk.

‘You won’t be losing your job gorgeous, I like having you here. I want you to be mine, and if that’s what I want then who is going to object with me?’ You were stunned by that, he wanted you to keep working for him even after fucking you?

‘If people find out-‘

‘Let them. What are they going to say? I fell in love with my assistant and now we’re together? Now she’s mine? I enjoy the idea of working with you all day and holding you all night, don’t you?’ I looked up at him in shock, disbelief at the idea that he could be in love with me. ‘Oh Love, you didn’t think once was going to be enough for us, did you? We’ll have barely gotten started.’ The smirk on his face was dark and would have been scary if you didn’t already love him yourself. You had seen his dark side, the angry parts of him that come out in meetings with certain people, and you had seen who the only person to calm him down afterwards was.

You

‘You’re already dripping for me, aren’t you?’ He questioned as he pulled your ass to the edge of the desk and began pushing your skirt up your thighs. ‘I know you are, I know how badly this sweet little cunt needs me.’ You gasped suddenly, his forehead resting against yours now as you felt his hand grazing the inside of your thighs before his fingertips brushed against your panties. His other hand moved and suddenly he had ripped your panties in half, roughly shoving 2 fingers into you and swallowing your cry in a needy kiss. Your hands quickly moved to fumble with his belt, yanking it open and wrapping your fingers around his cock, stunned at just how thick it is. ‘I’m going to stretch you so good you’ll never want another cock again.’ His mouth devoured yours in his desperate kisses, hands now yanking his boxer briefs down and pressing the head of his thick cock to your dripping hole. ‘See how desperate she is for me? Sweet little hole is leaking all over my desk, I can’t imagine how wet your panties are when you go home every night-‘ you gasped loudly as he shoved himself into you completely, holding your waist tightly to keep your body flush against his. ‘So tight!’ He grunted, pulling back and shoving himself into you again, setting a slow pace and grunting against your neck as your arms wrapped tighter around his neck, fingers buried in his hair to hold yourself close to him.

‘Please sir-‘

‘Call me my name, love! Only my name from now on!’ He demanded, thrusting particularly hard.

‘Niklaus! Faster-Please?!’ You begged and he growled, pushing you down onto his desk, climbing on top of you and thrusting his hips faster now. You lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist as he continued his desperate pace.

‘Do you know-fuck-how many times I’ve thought about fucking you over this desk?!’ You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes as you barreled towards your end. ‘Gonna bend you over it tomorrow, clearly gonna have to shove something in this needy little mouth with how loud you are. Fuck! Cum. Cum on my cock gorgeous, let me feel this tight little cunt squeezing me!’

‘Oh God Niklaus!’ You cried, your pussy constricting around him as you came, faster than you believe any man has made you before and dropping your head to the table, waiting for him to finish as well but he didn’t.

‘You look so fucking beautiful cumming for me, I need to show the world that perfect face.’ He pulled his still hard cock from you, watching with a dark smirk as your pussy dripped on his oak desk before he hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you up, spinning you so your back was against his chest and moving to pin your body to the window surrounding his corner office. The cold window hardened your nipples even more as he forced you to look out over all the other skyscrapers. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ He asked, lips barely touching your ear and you could do nothing but whine. ‘This is just the first of the wonderful views I plan to give you while I fuck you senseless, the next will be time square in New York on the business trip next week.’ As he shoved his cock back inside of you, your hands pressed to the glass, pushing you back against him, your boss now slamming his cock into you like a desperate animal. ‘All mine now Baby, all fucking mine! Not gonna stop until I fill this body with my babies, God, imagine how beautiful you’ll be! Tell me your mine!’

‘Y-yours!’

‘Say It!’

‘I’m Yours! All yours Niklaus! Please fill me up, please?!’ You pleaded, your second orgasm ripping through you almost painfully and squeezing him hard.

‘Oh Fuck! Perfect, Tight, Little Cunt! Fuck!’ His teeth sunk into your shoulder as he came, filling you with everything he had before kissing the side of your face.

He pulled out and set you down in his desk chair, turning away and leaving you feeling exposed. Just as you were about to get up and search for your clothes he turned back, eyes warning you against moving before he knelt down in front of you and used wet wipes from his desk to clean you up. ‘You don’t have to do that, I can-‘

‘Don’t question me taking care of you Y/n, I meant what I said…you’re mine now.’ His voice was like a warning as he cleaned you off and helped you dress before cleaning and dressing himself which was extremely sweet.

You slept in his bed later that night, snuggled into your boss’ naked chest and content on the insanely comfortable mattress for the night. You were suddenly looking forward to the business trip to New York that much more…

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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bornonthesavage · 2 years

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Eddie wouldn’t say he loves his job. He isn’t sure anyone actually loves working in organized crime, but hey, it pays the bills. And he’s good at it, so that’s a plus. All he has to do is pick up bags, drop them at predetermined destinations, and then collect the money. Easy. That is, until it goes wrong. Because of course it does. Things always go wrong for him.

“Where’s the rest of the money?” Sam asks. He’s Eddie’s boss, a greasy dude with shifty eyes.

Eddie frowns. “What are you talking about? It’s all there.”

“No, it’s not. You’re short five hundred. What, you think you can steal from the Harringtons and I won’t notice?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide as he realizes the situation he’s in. “Whoa, dude, what? No! Why would I steal? I’m not stupid!”

Sam takes a menacing step forward and Eddie tries to move back, but feels his path stopped by a thick chest. Yeah, this isn’t looking good.

“Give the money back now, and maybe I’ll let you go. If you don’t, you’re not going to like what happens next.”

Fear coils in Eddie’s stomach. If he had the money he would give it back out of his own pocket. As it stands, all he’s got is the 15 bucks that he’d planned on using for dinner tonight. He’s completely screwed.

“Sam, please, you have to believe me. I didn’t take anything!”

Sam glowers. “Fine, that’s how you wants it.”

Eddie’s grabbed on both sides by strong hands. He tries to fight but knows it no uses. The hired muscle are twice his size, and while he’d probably be able to outrun them, there’s no getting out of the their grasp.

He’s dragged from the office and thrown roughly in the trunk of a car. This is it, he thinks. This is how he’s going to die. They’re going to take him to some river and throw him in with bricks tied to his feet. He’d heard of this sort of thing happening, sure, but he’d never thought it would happen to him. Because he wasn’t stupid enough to cross the Harringtons. They were the most powerful crime family in the country, and Eddie valued his life, thank you very much. But apparently none of that mattered.

The ride is bumpy and it feels like it takes forever. But maybe that’s just Eddie, to out of his mind with fear to pay much attention. He tries to escape, kicking at the trunk and looking for a release lever. Of course, there’s nothing. When they finally come to a stop, he prepares himself to fight. The trunk opens and he tries to launch himself at the nearest thug, but the angles all wrong. He’s thrown the ground with ease, gravel crunching beneath his body.

“Get up,” one of the goons snarls, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him up.

Eddie looks around, trying to get an idea of his surroundings. He’d thought they’d maybe be out in the middle of the woods or near a body of water, but there’s none of that. Instead, they’re outside a massive mansion.

“What the fuck? Where are we?”

He’s pulled forward. “The big boss is out of the country, so we’re taking you to his son. We’ll let him decide how to handle you.”

Ah, shit. That wasn’t much better. He hadn’t worked for the Harringtons for three years without hearing all the horror stories. Sure, Thomas Harrington was in charge and had a reputation for violence, but Eddie had heard plenty about his son as well. A rich boy with a mean streak, they said. So what would he do to Eddie for apparently stealing from his family? Nothing good, that was for sure.

Eddie barely had any time to look around as he was dragged through the mansion and pulled through a set of double doors into an office, where he was thrown to his knees. Slowly, he brought his eyes up.

The first thing he saw were the pair of shiny black shoes. Nothing at all like his own worn out pair of shit kickers. His eyes travel up over a pair of sinfully long legs and thick thighs, all wrapped up in a pair of dress pants that probably cost more than he made in several months. Beyond that was a red silk shirt, only partially buttoned to reveal one of the nicest chests Eddie had ever seen. He sort of hated himself for thinking that, even now.

Finally, his gaze reached the face of the man himself. Steve Harrington was every bit as gorgeous as people said he was, and maybe a bit more. With a strong nose and defined chin, brown eyes that looked a little bored, and perfectly styled hair. Because of course it wasn’t enough that he’d been born rich and powerful. No, he also had to be unbelievably pretty.

Steve brought a cigarette to his lips and took a drag. “Who’s this?”

“This,” one of the thugs says, kicking Eddie’s foot, “Is just a low level piece of shit who thought he could steal from you, sir. We brought him here to let you decide what to do with him.”

Steve looked back to Eddie. “Is that true? Did you steal from my father?”

“No!” Eddie cried.

“Liar,” one goon snarled. “He was short by $500.”

“I swear, I didn’t take anything! I wouldn’t do that, I’m not a fucking idiot!”

Steve just continued to look at him, though he now seemed a bit curious. “Then where did the money go?”

Eddie shook his head. “I have no idea! Do you really think I’d risk my life over five hundred bucks? If I was going to steal, I’d take a lot more than that, I can promise you.”

To Eddie’s relief, though he wasn’t sure how great that relief should be, Steve laughed. He had a nice laugh, very full and bright. If Steve is amused, Eddie can use that. He’s good at being amusing. If the prince needs a jester, he can be that.

“What’s your name?” Steve asks.

“Eddie.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

Steve nods and takes another drag from his cigarette. “Right.”

He then reaches into his back pocket, and Eddie withdraws into himself. Is he going to pull a gun and just end him right here? At least that would be quick. But it’s not a gun, just his wallet. Steve flips it open and takes out a few hundred dollar bills, before tossing them at the floor by the goons feet. They flutter down like rich person confetti.

“To cover what’s missing,” he says.

The men glance at each other, as if unsure of what to do, before bending down to collect the money. “Uh, yes sir. We’re sorry to have bothered you. We’ll just get this waste of space out of your sight.”

They go to grab Eddie again and he struggles. He’s pretty sure that once he’s out of this room, his time will be up. But then Steve holds up a hand.

“Oh no, leave him here with me.”

Now the guards looked even more confused, and the sentiment was shared by Eddie. Was Steve some sick sadist, who wanted to torture Eddie here all by himself? But the thugs weren’t going to defy their boss. They gave him a shove, forcing him down to his hands, then retreated out of the office. Once the door was closed, Steve made his way around to the other side of the desk and sat. Eddie sort of thought he should get up off his knees, but he didn’t want to make any sudden movements. Maybe now was the best time to plead his case.

“Please, sir, you have to believe that I didn’t take that money.”

But Steve only shrugs and puts his cigarette out. “I don’t really care if you did. Honestly, it would be kind of funny.”

Eddie just stares at him, sure he heard him wrong. “Um, what?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, kicking his feet up on the desk. “My dads an asshole. I’ve stolen from him hundreds of times, and either he doesn’t care or he doesn’t notice. So really, it makes no difference to me.”

Well, this definitely wasn’t how Eddie had thought this was going to go. He still sort of thinks this is a trap, a ruse to get Eddie to admit that he’d actually taken the money.

“Right. So… I’m not in trouble?”

“Nah.”

“Oh. So, can I go then?”

And now Steve gets this certain look in his eye, one that’s bright and sharp, and Eddie almost feels like a prey animal caught in the mouth of a wolf den. But Steve is still smiling, and it seems genuine.

“You can if you want. Or…”

Eddie waits. He’s really not sure where this is going. What else can he want from him? When Steve doesn’t go on, just continues to stare, Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Or what?”

Steve shifts forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and his chin in his hand. “Now, maybe I’m completely off base with this, so correct me if I’m wrong here. But you were checking me out when you first got here, weren’t you?”

Eddie’s mouth goes dry and his heart jumps in his chest. He hadn’t thought Steve had noticed.

“Please, Mr. Harrington, that wasn’t… I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Call me Steve. I hate when people call me Mr. Harrington. And you didn’t offend me. The opposite, in fact.”

Eddie just stares. This can’t be going where he thinks it’s going. Where he’s hoping it’s going. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Steve says, his smile growing wider. “I know when someone’s interested in me and you,” his eyes roam over Eddie’s body, “Are very interested.”

He’s cocky, that’s for sure. Eddie hates that he likes it. He really, really likes it. To his embarrassment, he even feels himself twitch in his jeans.

“So I guess you have two choices,” Steve continues. “You can get up and leave right now. No one will stop you and you’ll be free to go on your way. Or… You can stay. And we can come to an arrangement of an entirely different sort.”

And Eddie knows he should leave. He should get up and walk out right now. Because Harrington is nothing but trouble. He can see it written in every line of him, from that cocksure grin to those $3000 shoes. But Eddie’s never claimed to be smart. And he’s never been able to turn down a bit of trouble.

He leans back on his heels, titling his head in a way that draws Steve’s eyes to his neck, and grins.

“I’m listening.”

#steddie #steve x eddie #eddie and steve #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #Look I’ve written a crime AU for both of the other fandoms I’ve been a part of #and this just works really well #I love cocky Steve #I just think he’d take one look at Eddie #and go yep #I’m keeping this one

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theblue6ook · 6 months

Text

Other Lovers

Summary: Here’s something I didn’t tell you. Our charming bachelor Bruce is still invested in his old fling Rachel and our beautiful assistant Y/N is engaged (but not for long hehehe).

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Listen there’s a reason it’s called a slow burn. For more context you can follow the full “Out of My League” series. Also, Y/N is just turning 22, this is doubling as her birthday post. [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]

Y/N had known Danny Russel since primary school. He started working at her dad’s mechanic shop in middle school. They started dating in high school. Russ and her were stupid teenagers in love doing stupid teenager things. Going to Chuck’s Chili way too late on a school night. Taking the cars they were working on drifting. Fooling around in said cars…

He’s been there for her since the beginning. Him and Carrie sat and supported her through her run in with the cops, when her dad kicked her out. Even after she decided to further her education, he was there… on his knee… proposing at eighteen. Again, stupid teenagers in love.

They weren’t stupid teenagers anymore.

It had been a long engagement and she was no where near ready to get married and he was… Russ. Always ready for anything. Always ready to tie the knot and that was great. It was, but they had no money and honestly, they’re in different places right now. Russ really wanted to focus on his music. She needed to focus on Bruce. She means work. Whatever. Bruce is her work okay? When he’s stressed it’s her job to get shit done and he seems really on edge lately.

Plus, her and Russ were kind of going through a rough patch. He didn’t exactly seem pleased she was working with Bruce Wayne or even that she was working at Wayne Enterprises. It had always been her and Russ against the world, but now she was in that world. It didn’t exactly sit right with him no matter how much money she made. But she was trying to schedule a date with him anyway. Well a birthday date. It was her birthday. Bruce had been nice enough to make a reservation for her and a plus one at his restaurant downtown. People waited months to get a table and she had one in less than a day. He assured her it was all his treat for her birthday and to go crazy. So she wanted Russ to come.

“Y/N/N, you have never been that girl who wants to go to The Occult or whatever it is.” She had been sitting at the office on the phone with Russ for the past 15 minutes trying to convince him to come with her. It was getting to be too much.

“It’s The Ocelot, Russ,” she hissed into the phone. She was trying to be quiet about their spat, but everytime she thought they were taking three steps forward it was five steps back. Rubbing her eyes she said, “Seriously don’t be like this. Bruce is just trying to do something nice.”

“That’s great. Let’s let the millionaire finally do something nice for everyone else.”

“He’s a billionaire, actually.”

“Jesus, Y/N/N I am not going to be caught dead in that snobby place. Lets just do something casual babe. Let me take you to Chucks-”

“Russ, I am twenty two years old,” she snapped, “I don’t want to go to the high school hangout and eat chili dogs. I want to look nice. I want to have a nice drink at a sophisticated restaurant.”

“Babe, I can’t afford to take you there. It is what it is,” he stated so condsending. Like his word was god. Like there was no way in the world he could even show up.

“Well shit good thing you don’t have to worry about the money. It’s already paid for, I have told you this. This is the third time I’m telling you this.”

She could tell they were both getting frustrated and Y/N knows they should take a step back. Compromise. But she had done a lot of compromising lately and what had he been doing? This was her birthday. Was it too much to ask her fiance to take her to a nice restaurant? He didn’t even have to pay for it. He just had to show up.

“Since when did you take handouts,” he scolded. “That’s not the Y/N I know.”

“I’ve got to go, Russ,” she sighed and hung up before he could say anything else.

The conversation felt so backhanded. Everytime she talked to him she felt like she was getting scolded for having a nice job, nice clothes, and nice things. Her boss wants to reward her with a birthday dinner. You’re taking handouts. His driver drops her off at home when she has to work late. Why does Bruce Wayne know your schedule so well? She’s been so excited for this new opportunity, but everytime she wants to talk with him about it he doesn’t want to hear about it. The bands not doing well. I’m busy bartending tonight. What do you mean you have to work early tomorrow? No, I won’t come to your birthday dinner.

It made her question herself. He was making her question herself. Maybe I should just cancel the reservation. I’m being difficult. She picked up the phone again and dialed The Ocelot.

“Hi, I was just calling to cancel my dinner reservation.” A hand came from over her shoulder and took the phone out of her hand, hanging it up. She didn’t even need to look over her shoulder, she knew it was Bruce Wayne.

“I was using that, Mr.Wayne,” she sighed, picking up the phone and redialing the number. He took it out of her hand again and unplugged the phone line. She turned to him, “What is your problem?”

“Why are you canceling your birthday dinner?” he looked at her quizically. “It’s free. I’m paying for it. You love free things.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Everyone loves free things,” she mumbled as she started look up their other contact information on the computer. Maybe I can find an email.

“Even the rich,” he added, “but that doesn’t answer my question.” He leaned his forearms on the front of her desk and hit the off button on her computer so she had no choice but to looked at him.

She leaned her head back into her chair and closed her eyes groaning in defeat, “My fiance, he’s… busy so I’m not sure who I’d really go with.”

“Your fiance is busy… on your birthday.” She gave him a glare that said, just go with it. “Why don’t you take Carrie then?”

“I shouldn’t she has a lot going on-”

“You don’t want to tell her he screwed up again do you?”

“How did you know he screwed up in the first place?”

He shrugged, “I’ve been talking to Alfred.”

“About my love life?”

“What else is there?” So many other things, but it didn’t matter Y/N decided she was done talking about herself. She decided to pivot.

“You know Rachels going to be at the Ocelot too. I saw it on the Gotham Gazette” She looked up at him. “She’s going out with Harvey Dent to celebrate his campaign.”

“How do you know about Rachel?” She gave him that look.

“Alfred,” he sighed.

It wasn’t that Bruce was in love with Rachel he just missed her. A lot. He missed their late night conversations. He missed having someone down to Earth who understood the crazy uptown world they were in. He missed talking with someone about his… night shift. Most importantly, he missed his friend and the fact that she was his friend made him love her. He didn’t even mean to. He just did.

So what was he supposed to do besides… offer to bring the entire Gotham Ballet to The Ocelot the exact day Rachel and Harvey would be there. He didn’t have a choice; she forced his hand. In all actuality, he wasn’t just moving them around for Rachel. Bane is still on the move trying to steal and harbor chemicals and the next CEO he was planning on visiting had made it obvious they were going to the Gotham Ballet. So… kill two birds with one stone.

Next episode we’ll see Bruce and Y/N “happen upon” each other at the Ocelot. Maybe old flings don’t need to be flung anymore. It’s time for something new and hot (like birthday candles :D)

Also, this was not edited so sorry, I'm MIA this week. I just scheduled this in advance to keep y'all fed this week.

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky

#batfam #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batmom #bruce wayne #batboys x reader #slow burn

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justmeinadaze · 1 year

Text

I Have Nothing (If I Don't Have You) (Steddie X You)

A/N: Like I said last week, I was watching the music video for "Queen of the Night" by Whitney Houston from the soundtrack of this movie and it gave me this Steddie idea.

I have a few ideas I can take this! I seriously love protective Steddie. Probably something to do with my PTSD and need to feel safe lol Anyway... I hope you enjoy it! I dedicate this to @unfocused81 <3

Warnings: No smut (yet😈) but angst for sure. Security Steddie and Singer female reader. It is mentioned that Y/N does drink excessively and do drugs. Her boyfriend is a douchebag and assaults her (mentions of smacking and grabbing her, yelling at her, and calling her names) that results in Steddie intervening. There is also a bit of a riot at one of shows that they protect her from (kind of like that scene in the movie where people jump on stage and chaos ensues).

I wouldn't really call this dark themes but reader definitely has some things going on and is struggling a lot right now.

Work count: 5906

“What kind of security work have you guys done before?”

Your manager leans against the outside of his desk as he continues to scan through the messages on his phone.

“Oh, um, we’ve done a lot before for the bar in our town and most recently a rock band in—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”, the manager cuts Steve off as he speaks. “That’s all well and good. Look, I’m going to level with you. This is essentially expensive babysitting. Y/N is a handful. Our last security detail quit when her last party at her house caused a riot in the streets of LA.”

“A riot?”, Eddie turned to his friend and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

The guy sets his phone down, sighing with impatience. “Yes. Obviously, you two don’t read or watch the news…which is good. Saves me the headache. Now, do you want the job or not?”

Both boys glance at each other before looking towards the man again. “Um, yeah sure. I mean it pays, right?”

“That’s the spirit. Ok, she’s at the studio downstairs right now recording…or at least that’s what she’s supposed to be doing. Go introduce yourselves. Glad to have you aboard.”, he rolls his eyes as he shoos them out of his office.

“Steve are you sure about this?”, Eddie asks as they head for the elevator.

“Yeah. Come on, Munson. This is our ticket to high-rate clients and more money! We can handle one little girl.”

As soon as they get off on the right floor, they are met with extremely loud music and giggles from the studio room. A tall, lanky kid leans back in his chair extending his hand to greet both boys.

“Hey, are ya’ll the security? I’m Devon. She’s in there ‘getting inspired’.” Their eyes follow his finger as he points behind the glass where you and some of your friends were strewn around the floor. “Good luck, gentlemen.”, he sings.

Both men carefully tip toe around arms and legs to find you with your eyes closed, a half smirk painted across your lips.

“Uh, Miss Y/L/N? I’m Steve Harrington and this is Eddie Munson. We’re your new personal security guards.”

“Hmm…sounds sexy.”, you slur. Your glassy, drug fueled eyes look up to meet theirs. “At least Jack hired some good-looking ones this time. Who is who?”

“Maybe, if you stood up and actually greeted us, you would have heard who is who the first time.”, Eddie chided.

Your eyes fully open as your head tilts in his direction. No one ever had the balls to scold you like that since you became famous. It was usually “Yes ma’am” this or “Anything you want, ma’am. We’ll make it happen.”. Rising to your feet, you fully take them in through your haze.

They both were attractive especially with that air of confidence you hadn’t seen in a long time. Your current boyfriend was cocky but definitely not confident. Everyone else around you seemed so fucking timid and you hated it.

“Eddie. Steve.”, Steve repeated, pointed to his friend then himself.

He was dressed head to toe in what you would call “conventional” clothes; nothing designer or anything to make him stand out. You could tell under the button up white, short sleeve shirt that he did have muscles that could protect you physically if need be. The jeans and sneakers he donned didn’t give you any new information that could tell you something about him except he probably didn’t make a whole lot of money.

Eddie was more or less the same with a much more grunge fashion sense that, to you, he pulled off well. You pointed to his Metallica t-shirt with your finger.

“My music isn’t like theirs. It might make your ears bleed.”

“As long as I can still see you and see you’re safe, I think I’ll survive.”

He’s quick witted. I like that…

“Ok. We’ll give it a try. Tomorrow, you’ll meet me at my house and I can tell you more about what you’ll be doing.”

***

“Steven Harrington, have you read half this stuff?”, Eddie sighs as he leans forward and places his elbows on his knees as he points at things on his laptop.

“She’s been arrested twice; once for possession and another for disorderly conduct where she was found having sex with someone while she was drunk in public. The cops have been called to her house multiple times due to, honestly, take your fucking pick. Her boyfriend was arrested just last week for sucker punching one of her fans for ‘getting too close’. How are we supposed to protect someone who invites all this chaos into her life.”

“I don’t know, Ed. The same way you protect anyone I guess.”, Steve leans back on the couch as he takes a sip from his bottle of beer. “Again, this is just a steppingstone. I’m sure after a few months of handling her, any number of high value agencies will want to hire us. WHICH MEANS…”, he glances towards Eddie. “…you need to control your Dom voice.”

The metalhead chuckles as he leans back as well. “It’s going to be hard with a fucking brat like her. Dude, she didn’t even have the common courtesy to say hello.”

“I know… I know… but just, try. For me?”

#########

It takes you awhile to open the door when they knock but when you finally do, you look completely hung over.

“Yeah, come…come in. Do you want something to drink? Jack? Vodka? I have them all.”

“It’s 10am.”, Steve responds as he looks at his watch.

You raise an eyebrow at him before heading for the kitchen and grabbing the whole bottle of Jack Daniels. “If you’re boring, Eddie. Just say that.”

“Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Right now, I don’t care—”

“We can tell.”, Eddie growls.

You blink as you look up at him. You’ve never wanted to toy with a man so bad in your life. He wasn’t even trying to hide that your disrespect was bothering him and honestly you couldn’t get enough.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I don’t do mornings. Unfortunately, my manager insists on scheduling interviews for me that require me to up at this ungodly hour.” They watch you as you slump onto the couch and throw your arm over your eyes. “So, how much did Jack tell you?”

“Uh, just the basics. We watch out for you.”

“Good. It’s just following me around and making sure I don’t get swarmed or murdered. I’ll give you guys a key to my house before you leave today and when I stay at hotels I’ll do the same. You’ll most likely be staying in the same room as me anyway so…”

The sound of banging on your front door makes you cringe. “I guess I’ll get it.”, Eddie sighs as Steve’s eyes follow him. “Your makeup people are here, your highness.”

A big grin spreads across your face as you turn your head to look over at them. “I like him. Steven, you need to start stepping it up or he’ll become my favorite.”

The metalhead lazily glances towards his friend with playful wide eyes. “Well, lucky me.”

***

As snotty as your attitude was, they couldn’t deny how beautiful you were especially after your prep team was done putting you together. The makeup hid all damage you had done to yourself the night before and the outfit they had you in sexily showed off all your curves. Your eyes shifted to them, watching them as they looked around.

“No one is going to shoot me in here, boys.”

“Hm. You never know.”, Eddie exhales as he points to things. “Someone could come in through that back door behind you or because no one checks any of these people’s IDs, someone could sneak in pretending to be a hair stylist and take you out like that.”, he snaps his fingers.

“Bags that hold all the beauty and camera equipment are big enough to hold even a rifle let alone a handgun. That’s implying someone would want to shoot you instead of stabbing or blowing you up.”, Steve followed.

“Wow. Just charming.”

“It’s our job, Miss Y/L/N.”

“I think due to the circumstances you can call me Y/N.”, you grin.

The producer gets your attention, walking you through the questions that would be asked and how the interview would go. The boys watched you in amazement as your personality practically changed when the camera went live. No one would ever be able to tell what you did behind the scenes or any other narrative then the one you provided.

An hour later and after many questions, the interview ended and your face fell.

“God, I need a drink.”

“Can we at least go over the tour first?”, your manager whined.

“Baby!”

You excitedly got up and ran to your boyfriend’s arms. “Simon!”

Everyone in the room cringed at the heavy smacking sounds that left you two as he continued to sloppily kiss your lips.

“Who are the new guys?”

“Babe, these are the new security guys. This is Eddie and Steve.”

They stand up to shake his hand but as Steve extends his palm the man looks down at it like the gesture was beneath him. “Yeah, listen boys, hands off, okay? She’s mine.”, you giggle as he slaps your ass.

“Come on, baby. I got a surprise for you.” You squeal as he lifts you over his shoulder and carries you towards your bedroom.

“Y/N! We still have things to go over!”, Jack shouts as the door closes loudly.

#########

“I want to go home, Steven. It’s 2am and they’ve been fucking in there all god damn day. At this point we shouldn’t have a client anymore because he killed her by not giving her any food or fucking water. It definitely won’t be due to her climaxing because I haven’t heard that happen yet.”

“We can’t leave until he does.”, Steve sighs. “Or she dismisses us for the evening.”

As if on cue, Simon saunters past them into the kitchen, casually opening your fridge, and begins chugging from a jug of orange juice. “Um, I’m pretty sure you two can leave. She’s not even here.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I’m assuming she climbed out the window after I crashed. She does that to escape the security teams. It’s kind of a rite of passage honestly.”

“Where would she go?”, Eddie growls.

“Um, there’s a bar about a mile up the road. She likes to walk there for some reason.”

***

“So, pretty lady. Do you want to come back to my place tonight?”

“Ugh, no. Get off me. I just want to drink in peace.”

“Oh, come on, honey.”, the man slurred.

“Hey! The lady said no.”, Steve’s voice echoed through the bar as he starred the man down. “Leave. Now.”

The patron held up his hands defensively, staggering back towards his table.

“Come on, Y/N. Time for you to go home.”, Eddie motioned for the bartender to stop serving you as the other boy reached into your purse to pay him.

“You’re my security. Not my fucking dad. I can stay here and drink if I want.”

“You’re at a bar in a nightie, shorts, and flip flops at 2 in the morning. It’s a safety concern.”

“Oh shit.”, you giggle. “I am in my nightie.” Steve roughly grips your arm and tugs you out the door towards his car. “Let me go, you fucking dick.”

A switch flips in the man’s brain; he can’t help it. For the past couple of days, he’s tolerated your disrespect but like Eddie, he hated it. They both could handle a lot but you were pushing them too far. Still holding onto your wrist, he twirls you towards the vehicle till your back hits the door.

“Now, listen here because I’m only going to say this once. We’ve handled the tone and the blatant disregard for what we do but it ends now. Our job is to keep you safe not fucking babysit some spoiled, rich washed-up singer. This is the last time you pull a stunt like this; do you understand me?”

Steve’s body was so close to yours you could feel his angry breath fanning your face. It had been ages since someone put you in your place like this and you’d be lying if you didn’t say you were a bit turned on. A new feeling washed over you though as your eyes scanned his face. For the first time since you entered this industry, you actually felt safe.

They weren’t afraid to be blunt with you which compared to everyone else in your life was a nice reprieve. You knew 90% of the people in your life, given the chance, would sell you out in a heartbeat but would still stand there and tell you how perfect you were.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Eddie’s voice startled you, completely unaware he was standing beside you with his hands in his pockets, glaring down at you with those same angry eyes.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now get in the car.”

#############

That following morning, they half expected to be fired but were surprised when you opened the front door as soon as they knocked.

“We have to go to the studio first and then I have to get ready for the gig tonight.”, you mumbled as you swished around them, trying to get in the backseat of his car to no avail. “Can you open the door…please?”

Eddie caught it in your tone first…something wasn’t right and it had nothing to do with them.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Can we just…”, you gesture towards the car.

“HEY! When you get back tonight make sure it’s with a better fucking attitude!”, Simon yells from your front door.

“Well maybe I won’t come back, you free loading mama’s boy!”

“Stupid bitch should learn how to talk to a man.”, he muttered under his breath as he slammed the door shut.

Steve and Eddie exchange a look before the metalhead speaks to you. “Is that something we need to handle?”

“No. He’s just being a fucking prick.”

He opens your door and you slowly slide in before both men do the same. As the car begins to move, Steve keeps checking on you in his rearview mirror. Your sunglass covered eyes remain focused on the window as you stare out into the California streets.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. About leaving and keeping you guys out late when you didn’t have to. Simon just pissed me off and…”

“Does he talk to you like that often?”

“No. Sometimes he’s an asshole.” You flash them a sassy smirk that grows when you see Eddie try and hide his own at your sarcasm. “He’s just…hot headed, you know? He’s been through a lot.”

“And you haven’t?”

Your eyes swivel to Steve before glancing down at your hands. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“He shouldn’t be talking to you like that, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well, neither should I so…”

“Just because you have an attitude doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated like trash. Maybe you just need someone stronger who can handle it and not take it personally.”

“Oh? And who would that be, Steve? You?”

“Aw, Munson, that’s cute. She thinks we can’t handle her.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, we’ve dealt with worse than you.”, he smiles as he turns around in his seat. “It’s you that can’t handle us. Thankfully though we aren’t in a relationship so we’ll never get to find out.”

“I never say never, gentlemen.”

****

After going over the tour dates, everything you would be doing, and everything you need, your next stop was the venue you would be performing at tonight.

Eddie cringed as the feedback of the mic echoed around the building.

“Hey! Try plugging it into the correct port!” The young man shrugged his shoulders causing the metalhead to go over and show the boy what he was doing wrong.

“Let me guess? Rock and Roll drummer in a Metallica cover band?”, you grin at him as the mic starts picking up your voice perfectly.

“Guitarist and our own band, not a cover band.”

“What about you, Steve? Are you musically inclined?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“What are you good at?”

“Babysitting.”, he raised his eyebrow in your direction making your smile grow.

As the additional security from the venue finally arrived, you watched with fascination as the guys took on a more authoritative tone, telling each person where they would need to be. Time slowly dwindled till it was about twenty minutes before the show. You began pacing as you shook out your preshow jitters.

“Hey, they say they are ready for you to head towards the stage.”

You jumped at the sound of Steve’s voice. “Goddamn it! Okay, fucking thank you!” His eyes narrowed in your direction as he came in and closed the door behind him. “Can I help you with anything else?!”

“Are you alright?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re not my father, Steven, or my friend. Get the fuck out! I’ll be right out!”

The boy bites his bottom lip as he nods his head. “Yes ma’am.” As he starts to open the door, he pauses turning to face you again. “You look really beautiful, by the way. Your voice is amazing. Eddie and I have actually never heard any of your songs before today. This will be our first concert. I’m excited to see it.”

Your wide, glassy eyes turn to look at him as he slowly begins to close the door again.

“Steve! Thank you…”

##########

That night you gave it your all and then some. Occasionally, you would glance down at the bottom of the stage watching as Steve and Eddie’s demeanor remained focused on the task at hand. Sometimes, however, you would notice a foot tap to the beat or a head would bob to your lyrics. If this was the first time they were attending a Y/N concert, you wanted them to enjoy it and show them what you bring to the entertainment table.

So many people when you were starting out told you that you would never make it. That your dream of becoming a singer was a pipe dream for people with “actual talent”. Since day one you always felt like you had to prove yourself, hell, even before you started singing. In your house growing up you felt like you had to fight to be seen.

Once you crossed that threshold, everything came easier but you never stopped fighting. Fighting the fear of being nothing again, the knowledge that everyone in your circle just wanted a piece of you and what you earned. Fighting to keep everyone happy including yourself. The alcohol and drugs helped immensely or at least that’s what you believed. You thought it helped numb your brain and the pain so you could just get through every day.

When Eddie sassed you in the studio, you knew he was different. For a while you couldn’t get a read on Steve until that night outside of the bar. The fact that neither of them had asked you to hear their demo tape or hit on you was already a point in their favor but they genuinely seemed to want to protect you so you wanted to return the favor in some way, your voice.

When the concert ended, they snuck a peak at you. Eddie was never a fan of the type of music you sang but he couldn’t deny that what you did sing went straight to his heart. Steve noticed that while you sang, it was like you transported to a different place. You seemed calmer and more in tune with yourself, making you seem more confident than when you weren’t.

This was the first time since they met you that you genuinely seemed happy.

Something in the atmosphere changed. Maybe it was too many booze served at the bar or just the energy of the evening but people in the crowd started chanting for an encore. You were exhausted having gone longer on your set then you were supposed to already. You gave the crowd your best smile, thanking them for coming out, and telling them how much you loved their support.

A fan jumped on to the stage and Eddie was quick to pull him back down. Panic set in as you watched the crowd start to fight with each other and the security team jump into action. The metalhead was in front of you and you hastily gripped his arm as he scanned the area trying to find Steve.

“Harrington?!”

After tapping his shoulder, you pointed to the corner near a wall where you saw the boy in a fist fight of his own. Eddie pushed you towards the side of the stage behind a curtain.

“Don’t move! I’ll be right back, ok?!”, he shouted over the chaos as you gave him a firm nod.

You watched as he jumped off the platform, running to pull the man off his friend and shoving him to where you were hiding. Steve didn’t even hesitate as he lifted you into his arms and they both ran down the hallway. They didn’t stop until they reached their car and placed you in the back seat, him climbing in with you as Eddie sped away.

“Wait…what about Jack…and everyone else?”

“No. We have to get you out and away from the building especially during a scene like that.” Steve searched through his jacket pocket for a tissue, placing it against his nose when he finally finds one.

“Are-are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fucking asshole got me good.”

About a mile down the road, Eddie parked the car into a gas station and got out to check you both over. “What happened, Harrington? Let someone get the best of you?”, Eddie chuckled.

“Dude, they cornered me so fast especially after I pulled him off of the venue’s security guy.”

“Did I do that? Did I do something wrong?” Their head swivel around to look at your frightened frame. “Th-that’s never happened before…I-I-I…”

“Hey, hey, hey Y/N. It’s ok. You didn’t do anything wrong. I seriously think it was just…”, Eddie shrugs. “Beer and a packed in place. People just being…too rowdy. It happens but that’s what we’re here for.”

The man throws his arms up in surprise when you suddenly tackle him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you press your head into his chest.

“Thank you…so much.” You let him go as you turn to give Steve a hug as well. “I’m so sorry you got hurt.”

When you started to pull back, his arms came down to hold you to him. “Hey, better me than you.”, he gently sighs, “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

#######

“Oh my god! What the fuck happened?! Baby, are you okay?” Simon ran to you from his place on your couch as you and the guys entered your house.

“The concert ended a bit roughly but I’m ok. Really…”

“Isn’t it your job to fucking protect her!?”

“Yes and we did that.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Look at her! She’s a mess and she’s shaking!” Your boyfriend charged up to Steve who glared down at him as he continued to yell in his face.”

“Simon, leave them alone. Please, I just want to get this crap off and go to bed.”

Eddie gripped his friend’s arm as he spoke to you. “Is there anything else you need, Y/N? Do you feel safe enough for us to leave and let you rest?”

“Of course, she fucking does. I can take care of her.”

Your eyes met theirs as you nodded. “Thank you.”

“We’ll talk to Jack and everyone in the morning.” The metalhead tugs at Steve forcing him to back down from your boyfriend. He flashes you one more cursory glance before turning around and leaving you for the night.

###########

“You boys did good last night. I don’t know what happened but you knew what to do.” Jack gave them a smile as he nodded his head in approval. “Please keep up that vigilance next week when we go on tour. I think—”

“Wait. You’re still doing the tour next week?”

Your manager looked at Eddie in confusion. “Yes? Why wouldn’t we?”

“I mean…she just went through a pretty traumatic event. I couldn’t imagine getting back up on a stage immediately after something like that.”

“Yeah, well, your security not a musician so—”

“I actually am but whatever.”

Jack sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as speaks to you. “Do you feel like you need more time?”

You didn’t even hear the man’s question. Since they picked you up and brought you to your managers office, you had been uncharacteristically quiet. You were thinking about everything including what transpired last night. It WAS incredibly scary but they did pull through and keep you safe. Not only did they look after you but each other; you appreciated that loyalty.

Now as Eddie defended you, thinking of your well-being, you felt yourself spiraling at the action. No one cared about you this much and they barely even knew you. What was their end game? What made them tick? What made them this way? Was it genuine or was it just their jobs?

“Y/N!”

“Huh? Oh, um, I mean…a week would be fine…especially if I can just rest…”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”, Jack responded in a nonchalant tone. “Go ahead and take the week but be back here on Thursday so we can go over everything.”

You nod as you head out of the office with your protectors in tow. “Hey, um, did you guys want to go get some lunch or something?”

***

“So, why security?”, you ask as you bite into your burger.

“Like Steve said, I mean, we’re good at it.”

“Well, good at protecting people. Security work just allows us to get paid for it.”, the man smiles as he takes a sip from his drink.

“And you two have been friends for a while?”

“Since high school.”

“And where was that exactly?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions, sweetheart. Can I ask why?”, Eddie playfully narrows his eyes in your direction making you smile.

“I just…you two are very different then people we usually hire. I just want to know more about you.”

“Different how?”, Steve asks.

“I don’t know. You just seem to genuinely care.”

“If the people around you don’t genuinely care then you need to hire some new people.”

“Yeah, well, that’s hard to find in this industry.” You reach in your purse and raise a flask in their direction as you pour a bit into your coffee.

“Is that why you do things like that?”, Eddie gestures towards you drink.

“No, baby. I do things like this to keep me from going insane.”

“How about you do the healthy thing and stand up for yourself?”

You angerly turn your attention to Steve. “I can stand up for myself.”

“Oh? Is that why you let your manager, boyfriend, and entourage talk down to you the way they do?”

“Go fuck yourself, alright?! Look, I can stick up for myself and say what’s on my mind. For example, you two are complete fucking assholes.”, you growl. “I’m done eating. I want to go home.”

Eddie smirks as the other boy sighs. “Such a whiney, spoiled brat. I swear.” The metalhead pulls out his wallet, throwing money on the table as they both get to their feet. “Your highness.”, he gestures towards the front door.

“I’m not whiney or spoiled. I worked hard to get here and I’m not going to let you or anyone talk to me like that.”

“Yet you do.”, Steve retorts as he opens the back door to his car. You roughly reach across, slamming it shut. “I thought you wanted to go home.”

“Apologize to me.”

“For what? Pointing out the obvious? Frankly, I don’t get why you have such a low opinion of yourself. You’re beautiful, talented, and you have such a gorgeous voice yet you pump yourself with poison and let these people take advantage of you. Why?”

You exhale as you look towards the ground. “I can handle it.”

“You say that a lot.” Eddie folds his arms on top of the car as he leans onto his hands.

“Because I can.”

“By getting wasted?”

“My personal life is none of your fucking concern.”, you growl.

“You’re right.” Steve opens the back door again and this time you climb in. “You just seem like you deserve better.”

##########

“I swear, man, that girl is going to get us killed. Or put in prison after WE kill her.”, Eddie chuckles from his place on the sofa.

“I kind of like her.” The metalhead coyly raises his eyebrow at his friend. “Oh, come on, like you don’t?”, Steve sighs as he leans back against the couch. “There’s something hidden under all that sass and alcohol…I saw it when she was singing. I’d love to get to know that part of her better.”

Eddie grinned as he reached for his phone, smile fading when he saw the ID.

“Hello. This is Eddie Munson.”

“E-Eddie? I, um, I think—FUCK YOU! —I need help.”

“You stupid bitch! Open this fucking door right fucking now!”

Eddie ross to his feet, tugging at Steve’s arm as he searched for his keys. “Where are you?”

“I-I’m in my bedroom. Simon and I got into a fight and-and he’s wasted. Pl-please…I’m scared. He’s never been this angry.”

Steve had already started the car, speeding towards your house. “Hey, it’s ok, sweetheart. We’re on the way, alright? Just stay on the phone with me, ok?”

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you guys today. Fuck… you two seem s-so different. I-I just…”

“Y/N don’t even worry about that right now. Everything’s going to be alright. We’re almost there.”

“You think you’re so high and mighty! Think you can talk to me anyway you want to! Fuck you, you fucking slut! Open the door, Y/N!”

“Oh, sure! You fuck all the groupies and fans that show up to my concerts but I’m the fucking slut!”

“Y/N, stop engaging. Talk to me.” There’s a loud crash and a squeak from your side as the line cuts off. “Steve…hurry.”

Five minutes later, they are bursting through your front door, running towards your bedroom where they hear your boyfriend shouting. Steve tackles him to the floor subduing him with his knee in his back.

“Get the fuck off me!”

“Stop moving. You’re lucky I don’t fucking shoot you, asshole.”

“Y/N?”, Eddie softly called your name as you continued to cower in the corner with your head tucked into your arms. “Princess, everything is ok. I’m going to touch your arm.” You jump when his fingers graze your skin but you allow him to guide you to your feet. “There we go. Good girl. You’re doing so good. Can you look at me so I can check you out here?”

Your lips trembled as you faced him, his eyes slowly growing dark with fury as he scanned you over. Your face was red from your tears but he could also see where Simon had smacked your cheek. You had bruises that were starting to form on your arms where he must have grabbed you.

“I’ll call the police and EMS.”, he grumbled trying to contain his anger.

“No! No EMS. Please…I don’t need those pictures or attention.”

“But I do of me being pushed into a fucking cop car.”, Simon spat.

Steve grabbed his hair and hit his head into the carpet. “Shut. Up.” His eyes meet yours as he speaks in a much gentler tone. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, um, I have a first aid kit here and all that so I’m fine.”

***

The police came by and took Simon away after taking everyone’s statements. Eddie and Steve took care of almost everything which you immensely appreciated. After everyone left, you expected them to as well but as your front door closed, you found you weren’t the only one on the other side.

“I’m going to see if I can get your bedroom door back on its hinges.”, Eddie turned the corner to head down your hallway as Steve followed.

You tiptoe after them, watching them with bewilderment as the metalhead got to work and Steve began straightening up the things Simon had damaged.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” They both froze, straightening up to look at you. “Why…why are you so nice to me? I’m such a fucking bitch to you. According to you, I’m a bratty, spoiled, washed up singer. WHY are you doing this?!”, you gesture around the room.

They glanced at each other and after a few minutes it was Steve who finally spoke. “How should we be? Hm? Should we be like him? Do you think you deserve to be treated like this, Y/N?”

Their voices and demeanor completely changed in the moment; talking to you like a little girl who had just run into your parent’s room crying about a monster under her bed.

“Sweetheart, NO ONE deserve to be treated like this. You didn’t trigger this. What he just did…isn’t your fault. You did the right thing calling us here. Now what kind of protectors would we be if we left you here alone with your house like this?”

You broke, sobbing almost uncontrollably as your hands covered your face. Strong hands tenderly grabbed your biceps, pulling you into a chest as you wrapped your arms around his back. Another palm delicately petted your head and for the first time in your life, you had never felt safer.

Stepping back, you wipe your eyes, glancing up to see Eddie’s kind, worry filled orbs running over your face as Steve stood beside him doing the same.

“Can, um, can we worry about this tomorrow and you stay here with me tonight?”

“Yeah, we can stay here, honey. Do you have another room you can sleep in? I don’t think tomorrow morning you should open your eyes and this is the first thing you see.”

“I have a guest bedroom down the hall here.”

“Good because I agree with Steve. We can sleep on the couches out here and—”

“Can you sleep with me?”, you interrupt, your question startling both men. “I-I-I mean, you don’t have to. I just… I’m still a bit scared. I’m…forget about it.”

Eddie grabbed your hand as you started to walk away.

“We can do that for you. If that’s what you want.” You nod your head to his statement, watching him closely as his eyes shift from security Eddie to something you had never seen before in any man. Whatever it was it made you feel weak in the knees. His fingers reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Can you say it?”

“I-I want you two to sleep…in my bed…with me. Please.” That last word comes out almost in a whisper, pleading with them to stay.

Steve’s fingers softly caress your cheek before gliding under your chin, turning you to face him. He had that same look Eddie had, that air of confidence you remembered seeing when you first met them but more dominate.

“Good girl.”

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