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elsweetheart · 1 year

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jealous girl — basketball!abby anderson au

synopsis: when the other girls on your cheer squad relentlessly show interest in your girlfriend, the captain of the basketball team — you feel the undying urge to claim her as yours and yours only.

♪ jealous girl — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: reader is a cheerleader / athletic, girl drama, alcohol, reader gets very possessive, jealousy and insecurity for no reason tbh, angst??? reader cries a bunch what’s new, smut, use of strap on, housewife kink, dom top abby, sub bottom reader, a little bit of overstim if you squint? fem reader, lmk if i missed anything!

an: omg hi! i’m so nervous to post this omg. i hope you like the route i took this down! reader can be kind of annoying but stick with it. minors you are not welcome here so don’t interact and ageless blogs you will be blocked. also please don’t ask for a part two! there will not be one! anyways hope you enjoy it bbs ! likes and reblogs welcome ♡

Winner. Scholar. First place.

And that was just the first shelf of Abby’s trophy cabinet. She’d been given the premier student accommodation. You know, the apartments they reserve for their most promising students. Sleek grey cabinets and polished floors, a kitchen to die for — it was no wonder you were barely ever at your own shitty little dorm. Every tri coloured ribbon that hung proudly beside her winnings wore a gleaming gold pendant on the end — just another display of her success. Walking around her sleek scholar apartment was so familiar to you that the glimmering display cabinet barely caught your eye anymore, but each time it did it welcomed a blossom of pride in your chest for your girlfriend, Abby Anderson.

Abby — casual rugby player, frequent at the boxing society, known for wooing her professors into raising her grades by showing up with her own engraved golf club to their country club and wowing them with her swing. But she was known for one thing and one thing only around campus, and that was being the captain of the basketball team.

She was ruthless, six feet and two inches of pure muscle and willpower on the court. The blonde braid, her trademark, swishing against her toned back — and if you’re seeing it, it’s because she’s already passed you with the ball that you had just bounced. You were no stranger to the sound of the orange ball thudding against laminate floors, and the squeaking of sneakers. Infact, it’s what brought the two of you together. No, you were not on the basketball team. You, were a cheerleader.

Not the captain, although that would have been beautifully cliche; the basketball ball team captain dating the captain of the cheerleading squad — take a shot every time you read the word captain, no seriously, quickest way to get wasted. You were happy that way, however. When you weren’t dancing, you were shy by nature. The change in your demeanour was a shock to the system every time — countless frat douches and friendly party goers stepping away wide eyed when they’d approach you, hoping for cheerleader charm and instead being met with a flustered squeak. It took a while for Abby to get through to you infact, as you can imagine — being a campus celebrity and all — approaching the shy girl was a mission she was willing to try again and again at, warming you up until you were eating right out of her big coarse palm.

The memory of your first meeting was still something that made her chuckle. She’d been crushing on you for a while before even saying a word — stealing heated glances at you whilst you were dancing or being tossed in the air — whilst you of course were convinced you had hallucinated The Abby Anderson acknowledging your existence. She was tired of stiffening up at your demure glances and flustered smiles directed at her, so all but marched over to you after winning a huge game. Pumped full of adrenaline, chest heaving as she chased her breath — you in her laser vision. You noticed the hair stuck to her forehead before she even spoke, the shape of an S.

“Hi—”

“I’m Abby.” She breathed out, like a total loser — she’d add.

“I… I know. I’m—”

“I know. Let me take you out. Please?” Don’t beg, Abby. “I asked your roommate if you liked girls.” You did not have to tell her that, jheez. Creep much?

“Oh…?” You couldn’t seem to close your mouth, trying to process what was happening and happening fast. For a moment you questioned whether you’d taken a tumble on that last cartwheel, currently blacked out on the floor in a concussion-hazed dream. Ooh, maybe Abby is carrying you to the infirmary.

“You can say no.” She rambled. She looked nervous for a moment and when you started to smile, so did she. “But… don’t.”

So you didn’t.

Abby was a dream. After you’d said yes, her confidence was slammed back into her and she was busying herself with planning ways to make you hers. She was confident and naturally dominant (Opening regular doors for you, opening car doors for you, hand on your lower back when you walked together…) without being arrogant. Humble, whilst holding herself with a presence that commanded nothing short of respect. She’d taken you for milkshakes for your first date, and you’d clicked instantly. Abby did everything right, which made your face hot and stomach clench up in nerves at the idea of doing something wrong infront of her. But that feeling melted away, the only two people in the small but admirable diner — Abby carrying the conversation for long enough until your shyness melted away, catching yourself in giggle fuelled rambles and debates.

You’d kissed her on the cheek at the end of the first date. So innocent, so sweet — she remembers thinking. She let you have that, didn’t try and go in for a kiss on the lips, stood outside your building. She was happy with her decision when you pulled back and just looked so fucking proud of yourself for taking such a leap. You exchanged some kind words, some gratitude with the small and humble bouquet Abby had showed up at your door with tucked under your arm — before you were flouncing away in your little sundress. Abby touched her hot cheek when she walked away, smiling ear to ear. Her fingertips grazed over a slightly sticky outline, and she picked up her pace to get home so that she could look in the mirror and catch the sight of your lipstick print on her face.

Current day, and you’re puffing out your cheeks — stepping into the sweaty auditorium. The humidity is a little stifling and you frown in disapproval, wondering when they’re going to be getting the fans fixed like they said they would. This time, tucked beneath your arm is Abby’s white water bottle, college logo printed along the side, that she’d left in your dorm when she’d dropped by the night before. Your eyes searched the room to spot her, and it didn’t take long as she pretty much towered over everyone — you stopped for a moment at the edge of the sports floor, chest inflamed by the sight of your squad members surrounding her, giggling.

You hate to say it, but whatever stereotype or rumour you’d heard about cheerleaders is true. Especially at your college, there was something so criminally But, I’m a Cheerleader (1999) about your squad in particular. You didn’t like to get involved in the drama, but sapphic drama was not unfamiliar to you. It was bizarre, everyone was friends — but their sporty girlfriends from outside of the team were getting passed around like peas. Abby had always been an object of their affection, but before you had started dating her she seemed out of reach — due to the fact the blonde quite literally never even glanced their way, too focused on the game, and whispers of ‘Abby doesn’t date sports team girls’ around campus. Since the two of you had been together, what — 10 months now? It seems to have refilled their confidence in being able to win her over, regardless of how you felt about it.

It was never direct. To anyone else, the group of you seemed like great friends — and you were the number one flyer, needing you as the centre piece for every dance. You were happy to get chucked in the air so long as they caught you, so as you can imagine; that element mixed with your shyness forced you into not confronting them all for flirting with Abby.

"No but if I had arms like this? Whew, no one would be safe. I'd be a slut... I mean I already am..." The cheer captain, Liv spoke, the other dancers squealing in agreement. Abby looked uncomfortable to say the least, forcing a polite smile and trying to wedge herself out the small hyena circle they had formed around her. A blossom of pride filled your chest when you saw the sheer relief in her eyes, her gaze landing on you. You surged forward into the light, smiling awkwardly at your peers as you approached your girlfriend. She bounced the orange ball on the ground once before tucking it under her arm, other bulging arm bringing you in for a quick hug. "Hi, baby." She chirped, happy to see you.

You wanted to enjoy the moment, but couldn't ignore the disapproving gazes from behind Abby's back, their faux-friendly smiles turning to not so subtle glances and snickers toward each other. Just ignore them. Abby didn't pay them any mind so why should you?

"Hi Abs." You lowered your voice, like you were hoping they'd get the hint and give you two privacy. They stuck around like flies, much to your disappointment. "You left your bottle at my dorm. Didn't want you to get dehydrated agai—"

"Awwww, you guys are so cute!" The bleach blonde base leader appeared beside your girlfriend, obnoxiously butting in and making a point to rest her hand on Abby's bicep. "I want what you have." She pout, but you couldn't help but feel that comment was directed more toward you.

"Oh—thanks." You chuckle, not quite meeting her eye. Abby took the bottle from you, shooting you a subtle ‘wtf?’ look which made you wanna giggle.

"Oh you refilled it, nice. Was so fuckin' thirsty." She smoothed a hand over your head gratefully as she brought the bottle to her lips and chugged, stepping away to address her team, their practice ending for the day, giving the cheerleaders the space to rehearse for tomorrow. "Alright team, circle up I got a few pointers." You heard her command, smiling as you watched her team members gather around her obediently. You snapped your eyes away toward the girl still stood by you, eyes slightly narrowed as she observed you. She looked away when you noticed her intense gaze.

As much as you hated to see Abby leave without you, it always brought you some kind of relief — knowing that your squad could actually focus on what you were there for, cheerleading — instead of fawning over your girlfriend, giggling, bending over in her direction to 'tie their laces'. You knew dating Abby would bring a lot of attention, and you knew that there must have been plenty of girls that were after her — but this whole thing with your own squad was getting pretty old. Sometimes you wished you weren't so shy, so you could give them a real stern talking to. You didn't wanna put it all on Abby, it wasn't fair, she didn't ask for this and plus it was your problem. You didn't wanna be that jealous and possessive girlfriend, did you?

The next day, Friday rolled around fast.

It took a lot to shake Abby’s confidence. She knew she was good at what she did, otherwise she wouldn’t be on such a prestigious scholarship, or have acquired the team captain title so fast — but she was nervous. The impending game was a big one, there was no room for fuck up’s. There had been talk of scouters for top women’s basketball leagues joining the audience, and Abby knew that if things went well it could really put her on the map, no — it was guaranteed.

Your eyes were fluttering closed, heavy after the long day you’d had perfecting your routine with the team. You were in your shabby little dorm, practically a hole in comparison to Abby’s sleek apartment. More times than not you’d stay with your girlfriend, calm eachothers nerves before a big game — but you had mutually decided that you’d both needed to ensure a perfect night’s sleep. Your phone laid beside your head on your pillow, the glow of Abby’s contact picture lighting up the small space around it. She was breathing slow and calm on the other line, clearly tired herself.

“And then you can come and stay at mine tomorrow after the game, and stuff.” She hummed, the sound of her shifting positions, her bedsheets rustling taking over the audio for just a moment.

“Mhm. ‘Can celebrate your win.” You smile, eyes now closed as you picture it all, nervous butterflies batting their wings against your stomach.

“Or mourn my loss.” She chides. “You can still come over either way.” Abby chuckles but it’s dry and humourless. She always got this way before a game, just a little pessimistic — doubting herself subtly through sly jokes and quiet comments. To anyone else, she’d still appear just as confident and carefree — but you knew Abby.

“Abs, don’t say that. Y’gonna win. Simple as.” You exhale, feeling your body sink further and further into the pillow. She was silent for a moment, considering it — probably doubting everything that had just come out your mouth, this time in her head.

“Hm.” You listened to her breathing, and it made you sleepier. “You’re tired baby. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” You wanted to protest, be there for her and soothe her nerves for a little longer until she felt ready to sleep but her voice was lulling you into a dozed state.

“You sure? I can… stay…” You could barely finish your sentence, making her chuckle tiredly.

“Yes, pretty girl. Gotta get your rest for tomorrow. Need you cheering me on up there, helps me play better.” She was smiling, you could hear it. Your heart swelled and you made a happy humming sound to after.

“Night Abby, seeyoutomorrowloveyou.” You sigh out in one breath.

“Night baby. Get some rest. I love you.”

The opening intro to Fergie’s — Fergalicious blared through the auditorium, your squad occupying half the court as you danced for the screaming crowd. Hips, hips, split jump, cartwheel — behind your bright smile you were counting steps, keeping your arms tight and straight, flickering your eyes towards the scoreboard. You looked properly as you stood on top of the pyramid, ankle by your head — burst of adrenaline and relief when your eyes landed on the numbers in glowing red, signifying that Abby’s team was still in the lead. You gracefully flipped, and were caught back on the ground, heart thundering in your chest as you continued on with the dance.

As rehearsed, the college mascot had run on, joining in on the dance. A ridiculous looking wolf with a brightly coloured t-shirt and cap on its furry head. He danced beside you, comedically shaking it’s hips in time with you. You glanced over at Abby, happy to see her looking eased, a slight smile on her face as she jogged away from the net, watching you dance. A few strands of her hair stuck to her face from sweating and it reminded you of the day she asked you out.

63-63 with three minutes to spare.

Your squad tried not to show that they were itching from the sidelines, eyes glued to the players as you were lined up by the benches, waving pom poms now and shouting your usual chants, trying not to get drowned out by the passionate yelling of the audience.

Be aggressive! B-E aggressive! I said be aggressive B-E aggressive! B-E A G G - R E S S I V E! Whooping the house down show ‘em who’s the leader — bring ya’ baby down down, go cheerleader!

You tried to keep your grin as you chant, moving your hips in time with your claps and arm movements as you watched Abby’s team mate miss the net, ball rebounding off the backboard. You caught a glimpse of the frustrated expression on Abby’s face, jogging around players and yelling directions over the crowd that seemed deafening at this point. You watched her eyes rake through the audience, looking for a talent scout shaking her head and drawing a big red cross on her clipboard or something. Her eyes then found you, a inkling of panic that was calmed by the tide that was your face staring right back at her, smile still plastered as you repeat your chants with your group. The sight of you surged something through her, she had to do it for you.

63-63 with two minutes to spare.

“Don’t worry guys, Abby’s got this.” Liv twinkled proudly, like the blonde captain even knew her name and you felt sick. Sick with nerves, sick with possessiveness, sick with irritation. You stomped your feet that little bit louder whilst you cheered, wanting to dash your pompoms at her head. You felt sweat trickling down your spine, head starting to pound from all the tension and noise. Was the crowd getting even louder? Where did you put your water bottle?

63-63 with one minute to spare, and there was no time to drink.

Even the chants stopped, the squad trailing off just to watch in awe. The sound barrier practically broke when the ball came to a thudding halt, caught mid pass by none other than Abby Anderson, basketball hero. This other team were good, frighteningly so — but they were no match for her. She dribbled with precision in and out of players until she met a wall of her opposition, closing in on her fast to snatch the ball. She turned left, turned right, looking for someone on her team she could rely on to get the ball in the net. The coach yelled from the side, the cheerleaders gripped eachother, the audience stood on their feet. Abby’s knees bent, arms extending. Everything went slow motion, like it always did as you watched with wide eyes. The ball didn’t circle round the hoop, it didn’t slide down from the backboard, it slammed straight through the net so hard you thought when it landed it might leave a dent in the ground.

63-64— and the crowd fucking exploded.

You were immediately jostled to the side by your squad jumping up and down, grabbing eachother with screams. You stumbled, jaw agape trying to catch sight of her. Where are you Abby? Let me see you.

She was suddenly there, expression mirroring yours. The world still moved slow, spotting eachother now. She took off toward you, dodging the grasp of a celebratory cheerleader, skidding past a team member that tried to pull her in, straight toward you. You met her half way, feet in control now and leapt, Abby getting the same idea and thrusting her arms around your waist, swinging you round in a circle. Then, you could both smile, and it didn’t stop growing, not even when you smashed your lips together. There was no sound anymore, no screaming crowd or cheering squad members — just your own delighted giggle against her, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, the back of her hot, sweaty neck in your palm, your teeth clashing together at the force of the kiss.

You pulled away to breathe and the sound returned like you’d just come back up from underwater, the yells, the cheers, the chanting of her name. “I did it I fucking— do you know what this— baby, i did it.” She was panting, forehead pressed to yours and hell, you couldn’t care less that it seemed the world was watching such an intimate moment.

“Your life’s gonna change Abby, i’m so proud of you.” You breathed, and before she could reply — expression of awe, and utter love struck, she was setting you down and her team was tearing her away, lifting her above their head, passing her another big golden trophy to add to her shelf. She held it in the air, and then came the flashing of cameras, the barrage of students running to celebrate with her. A cheerleader from the other team roughly brushed your shoulder as she passed you with a glare and you didn’t even stop to acknowledge her, just watching on with pride — hands clasped beneath your chin. Your Abby had won, and nothing else in that moment mattered.

8:04PM

“Is it braggy if I wear the jersey on top?” She was smirking a little, stood in front of you in all her glory in her apartment. You spun around at the vanity, eyes taking her in as you pulled your little pink dress further down your thighs.

Your girlfriend was showered, and dressed — donning her bright blue jersey over her grey hoodie and jeans. You grinned, standing up. She looked good, but she always looked good. You had to stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around her neck. “Don’t you think you deserve to brag, a little?” You flutter your eyelashes, tilting your head with a grin.

After every game that was won, a party was thrown at the house of one of the sports captains. It was tradition, and almost always it was in Abby’s honour, because she was almost always the star of every game. The one to think of a genius formation that would throw off the other team, the one to make changes last minute that would be the saving grace, the one to make the winning shot. Today was like no other, and you knew everyone was willing to go extra hard this time — after that win, Abby was like a fucking celebrity.

You felt like you were hit with a shockwave of noise as soon as you walked in. The bass from the speaker was all but vibrating the floorboards, the sticky…wet (?) floorboards. You blinked, accustoming yourself to the low lights, clinging onto Abby’s thick bicep as a swarm of people coming to greet her approached. Sometimes parties felt like survival, Abby being that buoy in a storm that you’d cling to until the tide had cleared. The music was loud as usual, familiar, what was the song playing? You recognised the familiar tune to Blame It by Jamie Foxx and T-Pain and nodded your head with a false confidence. Drink, I need a drink — you thought, detaching yourself from Abby to beeline to the makeshift bar once you’d spotted it. Not the punch, you weren’t stupid — you had no clue what people had put in there. Vodka… vodka where are you? You grabbed the clear bottle with the red lid and poured yourself a generous amount into your cup before filling the rest up with… what were your options— cranberry juice. Nice. This will get you by. You needed social skills tonight, Abby had won a huge game and you didn’t wanna drag her down with your shyness. You sipped, no — downed some of your drink with a wince, some liquid spilling down your chin. Alter ego activate, shyness be gone.

You found Abby again, and when she spotted you awkwardly trying to wedge yourself through a gap to get to her she slotted her arm through, parting the sea of people like Moses himself to pull you right up beside her, torso to her ribs. You could stay like this, right up on her— you wanted to stay like this, but you’ll be damned if your girlfriend wasn’t social.

It’s an hour later, you’re drunk, laughing at something dumb Manny had come up with, social for once — and you hear them before you see them. The gaggle. The malicious giggles, pitched just a little higher than their real laugh in an attempt to turn heads. It works, you turn, there stand your cheerleader friends. ‘Friends’.

You can tell they went hard with the pregaming because they’re clinging onto eachother, forcing their way through the party crowd like a cluster of germs. That’s mean, you think to yourself, shaking off that feeling — the ugly feeling rising in your stomach like scalding bile. Insecurity, the feeling immovable even when you’re drunk and joyous, lodged into you seemingly forever, an arrow with spikes. You push it down, push it down, push it down as they squeal and come towards you. It flares up with immense force when you catch their outfits. They’re all wearing ‘Anderson’ jerseys. Did they fucking buy personalised jerseys?

It’s like you step out of yourself for a moment because you reach out and take a hold of the jersey across the cheer captains chest, turning her around and pulling the material taut as you see ‘Anderson’ in crisp white font across her back, mocking you. Your mouth is agape, unfocused and she steadies herself, turning back around and grabbing you.

“You like ‘em?” She whoops and all the girls join her, fondling their jerseys proudly and looking around for more eyes.

“Personalised jerseys?” Is all you manage to let out, just a simple observation. Liv falters for a second, something mischievous twinkling in her eye, lip curling up ever so slightly.

“Baaabe, the manufacturer f’ed up our order, and we fell one short. But we figured you’d have your own one right?” She eyes you obviously. Her malice is hardly hidden anymore. “Abby didn’t give you her jersey?” She tilts her head, as if it were an innocent question. You bitc—

“Abby!” The copper haired girl behind her squeals and you don’t have to turn around to know your girlfriend has unknowingly made her presence clear and accessible. The troupe practically rush you, shoving past to circle Abby once more. The uncomfortable look the blonde had yesterday in the court was gone, the one drink she’d been harbouring all night loosening her up a little — which made that insecure, jealous feeling nestle itself back beneath your ribcage.

“Heeeey— ohhh, awesome!” She smiles in a friendly way when she notices their jerseys. The same friendly expression she’d give to anyone, not flirty or lusty in the slightest — but they’re grabbing at her and batting their lashes up at her like they want to jump on her there and then and you feel yourself trying to crush the red solo cup in your palm. You’re broken out of your enraged trance because your sweet, thoughtful girlfriend is pulling you through the crowd they made, grinning without a care in the world. “You see this babe? Ah, should have given you my one to wear huh?” She laughs, and they laugh, but for different reasons.

The girls leave her alone for a while, but God they’re always fucking watching. Finding ways to subtly interact with your girlfriend. Accidentally bumping into her, which she barely notices until they start profusely apologising. Dance moves becoming inherently more sexy when she turns in their direction — not even looking at them but oh do they try. You finish your drink, because you need to finish your drink— and succumb to the urge to be that girlfriend. Who gives a fuck? Maybe you are that girlfriend.

It didn’t feel like you when you impatiently tugged her away from Nora, another basketball player, mid conversation, hands clasped in Abby’s silky jersey, pulling yourself to her chest, your own tits squishing against her.

“Aaabs.” You whine, and it’s giddy, lustful because she just looks so good. She smirks down at you, letting you tug at her, letting you move her. She looks so into you in that moment and it just… somethings not enough. You’re glancing for your cheer team, and that hideous feeling of shame briefly twinges inside you. Are they watching this? Seeing me touch you? Do they know you’re mine?

“Baby.” She’s returning your giddy smile, and you have to pull away from a moment so that you could back up a little… a little more into the clearing… give them a perfect view.

“Y’look so good.” Is all you can say because it’s true, and you’re pretty sure your eyes completely glazed over— pupils shooting out wide when she grabs a handful of your ass, a little rough but in a loving way, just like the Abby you’re used to — using her grip to pull you back into her hard, a small ‘hmph!’ whimper forced out of you when you all but slam into her strong chest. You love it when she got like this. Grabby. Forgetting her own strength and manhandling you. You’d usually be giggling and shoving her away in public, but you craved the eyes now. You wanted viewers, jealous gazes, realisations — Abby is locked in.

“Oh it’s like that huh?” She’s chuckling at your expression. Forever her needy girl.

You sucked in your lower lip, eyes melting into that doe eyed expression that made her want to fuck it off your face, and she squeezes your ass a little harder. Your knees practically buckle, face burning hot because you feel your pussy spread open under your dress — as if she’s opening the floodgates by hand, wetness pouring out into your underwear. You hoped and prayed they were watching. Screw your little Anderson jerseys, she’s gonna be knuckle deep inside me in five minutes if the two of you kept this up.

“Cant wait to— mm—” You turn your head. Liv is snickering, whispering, but her expression says it all. Jealousy. You feel victorious. Abby curls a finger around your chin and your distracted gaze is back on her.

“Cant wait to what?” She glances in the direction of what you were staring at and your heart skips a beat.

“Can’t wait for you to remind me what a winner feels like.” You breathe out quickly and she’s back, smirking hard like she can’t control it. If she was packing, she’d be tilting her hips forward by now, digging her strap into the mound of your cunt through your thin dress where you stood — and it makes her wish she did pull the harness up her thick thighs beneath her jeans before the two of you left for the party.

“Yeah?” Her voice is breathy, low. “Forgotten already?” She chuckles, and she’s kind of right to— she was always winning, it wasn’t easy to forget.

“Mhm. Oops.” You shrug and you both giggle this time, her hands sliding around your waist. Each time her hands find a new spot on her you can’t help yourself from glancing over at the eyes. At Liv. At the whispers. Get a good fucking look.

Abby leans in, hot breath on your cheek and you turn back to her nearly knocking noses. Her brows are frowned a little and her cheeks rosy, lips parted in a way that made you wanna shove your tongue between them. “Give me… a little while longer to bask in this.” She chuckles, humble like she always was. She steals a kiss from your parted lips. “Can’t leave a party thrown for me so soon… just a little longer and I’ll take you home and give you a reminder, pretty girl.” her blunt finger nails rake behind your ear, scraping whatever hair was there backwards, pecking you again. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, hot and lethargic. You wanted to be obedient but something still negged at you, buzzed in your ear like a fly to ‘stay focused’.

You gripped her strong arms. An attempt at control.

“Don’t have to leave. Can just go upstairs. Right here right now.” You whined in an impatient way this time, fingers curling around her hoodie peeking from beneath her jersey. She blinked a few times and you knew she wasn’t a huge fan— Abby never liked quickies, especially not on a celebration. She wanted each time she fucked you to be memorable, like a performance — she was a love maker, and to her public quickies were usually just a little… euck.

Her soft smile remained, because the request only told her that you were desperate to have her. All the more reason to make you wait, she thought. Get you real worked up. Yeah, she could have fun with this.

“Not happening, babe. Wanna take my time on you, don’t you wanna have it out with me all night?” She tilted her head, persuading, blowing hot air over your mouth and God — yes, on one hand you wanted that badly but there you go again… eyes trailing off to the right… over to your cheer group. Show them. Drag me up the stairs Abby. Make me walk out the bathroom limping. Show them what they can’t have.

So you said “No!” and you were one quick movement from actually stomping your foot like a child. Abby looked taken aback, but she still chuckled. Not in a mean way, but was it ever? She leant back from you, trying to gauge just what was going on.

“No?”

“I need you here. You… stop denying me they’ll — they’ll see— it’s embarrassing—” The shovels in your hand and you’re digging that hole, deeper, deeper…

“Who will see? See what? Babe what’s with you?” The smile melts off and she’s frowning now. Ohhh, boy. You’ve fucked it up. You blink, like you’re trying to wake up from your petty possession. You look once more and they’re intrigued now, gossiping. Are they fighting? Will Abby be single by the end of the night? This enrages you more, but you don’t have time to react because Abby sees it now. See’s that envious look in your eye, but it’s not really envy — because Abby has never in her life given you a reason to be jealous. It’s uncharacteristic and Abby’s stomach twists a little. “Oh.” She steps back, no no no.

“Sorry.” You splutter out. “Sorry, sorry— I’m sorry Abby I don’t know what that was. I just freaked. I want you to bask in this, people are here to celebrate and you deserve that. Sorry. I don’t… know what I was thinking there.” You try and force out a chuckle at the end to lighten things but it doesn’t come out quite right. Abby watches you for a moment, a little tense and worried. Eventually she gives you a small smile, coming close to you again, a hand on your shoulder.

“S’okay. No more drinks yeah?” She’s gentle and you’re embarrassed, of everything really. This is meant to be the greatest night of Abby’s college career and you’re… doing this. Making it about you. Your shoulders slump a little before you shake yourself off physically.

“Yeah, no. Good call. Whew.” You smile and she smiles back. It’s all okay. You’re okay.

Except it’s not, and she knows that. Things are a little weird now, you’re distracted and trying too hard to please her. Eyes snapping towards her guiltily every time she catches your gaze wandering off, as if scared she’ll see you looking at those girls again fearfully. You stay right by her side, shyness creeping back in. You’re smiling in a polite, forced way, and she can tell you’re not really enjoying yourself anymore. Not after that weird moment. It gets a little later, and the party isn’t in as full of swing as it was before but still pretty lively. She can’t enjoy herself if you’re not, so why bother?

You watch her watch you, her shoulders dropping slightly when she sees how tense you look. Truthfully you were worried, you’d tried to show off — let your possessive urges control you — and now, insecurities at the surface you’d seem to make things worse. You didn’t know why you’d let this pick at you, get under your skin the way it has but the fact they’d all seen you have that weird moment? It was eating you alive. They were probably so smug, probably thought they stood a chance with Abby now. Your Abby.

“Babe let’s just go.” Your attention snaps back towards her, suddenly stood in front of you— her braid resting on her shoulder.

“What?”

“Yeah, no it’s— I can’t enjoy myself if you’re not. I’m not mad, baby I just don’t wanna force you to be here.” You feel so fucking bad.

“Abby, it’s not — I am enjoying myself. This is your party.” You express, coming close to her. Most of the alcohol had worn off by now, and you just felt sick from embarrassment— and this conversation was even more sobering. She shrugs, and looks around. It no longer seems to interest her.

“I know but… I’d rather you just be… not in this mood.” She speaks quietly but you hear her and your face falls. Did you really show yourself up that badly?

“Alright.” You match her pitch, and her back is to you again — saying goodbyes. You can’t look up, can’t look and see their disappointed faces. You wish you could close your ears, to not hear the choruses of ‘Already?’s and ‘Cmon Abby this is your party!’s. But you couldn’t keep your forlorn gaze glued to the ground for long, because you knew people would look at you, see your expression and know it’s your fault she’s leaving prematurely. You cursed yourself for caring too much about what people thought that night, and smiled politely in departure.

Abby took your hand, fingers locked into yours as she walked you toward the door, saying bye to people as she continued moving. You made the mistake of sparing your cheer team a departing look, and they were watching once more — glancing at each other curiously. Liv wiggled her eyebrows playfully as you passed her. “Ooo, someone’s in trouble.” She snickered, and your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t start crying until the car was half way down the street. You’d tried to keep it silent at first. But the car was already silent, the radio not turned on and Abby not saying anything. You didn’t know what the silence meant, you just knew you didn’t like it. Maybe she was reconsidering things. You’d ruined her night, the night that was supposed to be all hers and you took it from her — all because of your petty, jealous, insecurities. That wasn’t the kind of girlfriend she deserved, you were supposed to put all your focus into supporting her. Exist for her. She’d never given you a reason to worry about other girls but for fucks sake — those girls. You let them walk all over you every single day and now they were all talking. All coming up with schemes to take Abby from you, thinking your relationship was on the rocks and maybe it would work. After how you acted tonight, maybe it would fucking work.

You covered your face when the tears started really coming down hard, a quiet sob shuddering out of you. Abby glanced at you, jaw tensing a little. Not because she was angry, just because she was so confused about how you’d gotten here. She’d never seen you like this before and just… what had she done to get you so fucked up like this? She spoke your name, calmly — full of authority and a little detached, not cooing it gently like she would when she’s seen you cry in the past. Her tone made another sob hiccup out, and she spoke it again. “Look at me.”

You did, and you had to wipe the snot from beneath your nose so that it didn’t stick to your hands when you pulled them away. Your makeup was ruined, eyes sore and red and she glanced over you, her main focus on the road.

“Just… breathe and calm down. We are gonna talk about this when we get home.” She shakes her head a little, eyes on the road. Your heart aches and soothes a little at her calling her student apartment ‘home’ like it belonged to the both of you. You don’t have time to indulge the fantasy. “I don’t… understand this… tantrum babe.” She mutters like she’s too mature for it all and she is, which makes you all the more embarrassed. She doesn’t speak for the rest of the journey home, tear drops on her expensive leather seats. Well — she doesn’t speak if you don’t include the occasional “Breathe.” and such when she’d hear your breathing start to pick up, upsetting yourself all over again.

She walked you up to her apartment and you hugged yourself as you stood behind her, watching her unlock her door. She held the door open for you, but didn’t look at you when you walked through — unsurely looking around like you’d never been there before. You wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. Did she want to talk now?

You stood in the hallway and her warm hands gently came down onto your shoulders.

“Go sit down on the couch.”

When Abby tells you what to do, you do it. And not because she’s scary, or intimidating or aggressive. She just carries this… air to her. One that makes you want to respect her, no matter how worked up or pissed off or upset you are. It would be the same way every single time, she’ll calmly make a demand and you fucking do it. Of course, minus the mini ‘tantrum’, as she so kindly put it, you had.

She didn’t follow you, infact — she walked the other way to her bedroom, hearing the door click shut when you made your way into her living room area. The leather couch that was usually home to so much love and affection now cold against your skin when you sit down on it, the sleek material frigid from not being touched for hours on end. You bring your knees together shivering a little, and a few minutes later Abby returns. She wields a makeup wipe, and presses it into your palm silently when she lowers herself into the arm chair opposite you. You want to cry out like a baby and reach for her, ask her why she’s sitting so far away but you have to be good. You have to fix everything.

Abby’s thighs spread as she leans forward, staring you down analytically with her elbows on her knees, long fingers wringing her wrists before she looks down at them, puffing out her cheeks with a long exhale. You wait for her to speak, wiping the gooey eye makeup up from your cheeks and eyes.

“Tell me… what this is all about.” Her voice holds a quiet kindness this time, despite the line that appears between her brows as her expression becomes a little exasperated.

You suck in a quick breath, eager to explain yourself and beg for forgiveness — “Nothing I was just being —”

“The truth.” She raised her hand to speak which silenced you instantly. You press your lips together, letting two fat residual tears race down your cheeks either side, the left tear winning victoriously when it surpassed your jaw and streamed lazily along your neck. Abby watched it move.

You thought this time. No more covering it up. No more being immature. Be truthful. What was this all about again?

“I think…” You gulped, willing yourself to be brave. You knew Abby might not see you as a ‘chill’ girlfriend anymore— exposing your insecurities and jealousy — but she wanted the truth and being a liar was objectively worse. “The girls on my cheer team are… I think they’re picking on me.” You admit quietly and her brows jump up, intrigued. Not quite what she was expecting. She stays quiet and you carry on. “I’m not… I don’t wanna be toxic and jealous. I let it get the better of me tonight. They’re always… flirting with you, talkin’ about you, showing off to you, trying to get your attention and at first I didn’t care because, I have you, you know? And you’ve never given me any reason to believe your eyes have wandered but fuck it’s so hard when they’re just… relentless. And beautiful and confident and I’m… I know what people think Abby. I know I’m shy and people wonder how…” You trail off, and you’re not sure you wanna admit any more. Not after that explosive rant.

“People wonder how what?” She pushes, and she’s scooched so far onto the edge of her seat that her long legs are bunched up and she’s barely perched on it.

“Wonder how… I got you. Why you stay with me.”

The confusion just melts off her face.

She blinks a couple of times, feeling like someone just placed her heart in a panini press hearing your sad and small tone of voice. So small, and she can tell you really believe what you’re saying and it just kills her. She wants to reach out then and there and hold you and kiss you and cry for you but you’re talking again.

“And I know you’re not a trophy and I don’t see you that way, please don’t think I ever—”

“No, no no no.” Abby cuts you off as a correction, eyes shut as she scrubs a hand down her face. She gets it now. The jealousy. Clearly, you hadn’t noticed the wandering eyes of her basketball team players, smirking over at you when your little cheer skirt that was too short for everyone’s good would flip up, shaking your hips in your adorable little routines. How if she didn’t keep you on her arm at every party, frat boys would start to circle you like crows, waiting to pounce until they realise, holy shit that’s Abby’s girl, and back off. If anyone got it, it was her. “You don’t need to explain anymore I’m… sorry. Come here, please.” Her pained expression relieves you and also devastates you because now she’s blaming herself.

You listen, again, because it’s Abby and you push off the couch to stand in front of her on the arm chair. She pulls you to sit sideways on her leg, thick arms wrapping around your waist protectively. She looks up at you, brows furrowed.

“You are beautiful. I don’t… want anyone else. Ever. I love you, baby. You know I love you? You know I don’t give a fuck about any of those other girls. They’re not you they’re not… c’mon.” That gentle cooing voice has broken through and more tears slide down your raw cheeks. She’s wiping them away this time, coarse thumb swiping the moisture until it absorbs into her skin, becoming apart of her.

You sniffle, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry. This is your night and you’re comforting me. I promise I’m happy for you.” You hiccup into her neck when she pulls you in, and you feel her shake her head because her braid tickles your arm.

“I don’t care.” She chuckles honestly and cups your face to pull you back, make you look at her. She’s so beautiful you want to cry some more. “I don’t. It could be my birthday and I’d still look after you. You’re my girl, yeah? You over everything.” She exaggerates, moving her head slightly to meet your eyes when you try to shamefully drift them away.

“Kay. Love you, Abby. M’so lucky.” She feels you sigh in relief and your body relaxes just a little bit. Her hands slide around your back and press into the muscle, massaging and rubbing — trying to get you to just melt and become one with her when you cuddle her.

“I’m lucky.” She speaks into your temple, pressing kisses there. She manages to gently manoeuvre you until her lips are pressing the same quick succession of kisses onto your swollen pouty lips. She hums in satisfaction and you feel something stir in your tummy. The hum was almost primal, one that said ‘this is mine.’ You wanted to hear the noise again. Without too much thought behind it, you turn to sit on her lap fully, facing her now. You pull yourself closer with your arms around her neck and your kisses begin to dot along her jawline. Come on Abby, make the pretty noise.

She sighs, tilting her head for your access and thinks. Thinks over everything that had just happened. Maybe she hadn’t done enough, her brain had been so focused on winning the game that perhaps she’d forgotten to reassure you when you needed it, and she knew how important reassurance was in a relationship. An urge spread through her body, starting in her stomach like an icy cold lake and travelling up to her chest like molten lava. The urge to just… give you everything. Everything you wanted and needed. Everything you couldn’t ask for and everything she should have given you. Abby had always harboured a ‘spoiling’ side, and in that moment it had kicked in hard.

She pulled the strap of your dress off your shoulder, letting your head tip back this time as she sucked and nipped at the soft skin there. She loved how opposite you were to her, when she was sweaty and rough around the edges after a game you were still impossibly soft everywhere, still smelled sweet and clean and like you, like she was a wild lion coming to lay her cheek in your gentle hand after slaughtering a deer.

You squirmed on her lap and Abby jumped between your lips and your skin, feeling that beautifully familiar warmth begin to spread through your underwear again. Starting with your clit starting to throb when she’d gently buck her thighs below you — all the way to your hole that started to ache and crave the feeling of her inside. Her tongue lapped up your own, sucking obscenely as her hands pushed your lower back, bringing you higher on her lap and— oh?

You were now sitting atop a bulge. One that wasn’t there at the party. You thought back to her disappearing into her room as you sat down on the couch when you’d arrived back at the apartment and smiled at the feeling against her lips. So calculated, Abby — and she smiled back because she knew. Knew she was gonna have to fuck the attitude out of you after your talk, she just didn’t expect you to fold so easily. For it to take such an emotional direction. She could just tease you for being a cry baby, but where’s the fun in that?

You start to grind like you just can’t help yourself, your shared saliva pooling beneath your pouty bottom lip as the kisses became more sloppy and intense. You swore you could never get over how good it felt to hump against her jeans in just your panties, the combination of materials and the writhing of your hips always leaving you gasping. Abby too, the way the strap was positioned would press snugly against her clit making her breath stutter against your lips. She refocused herself, fingers tugging your dress up to your waist. Enough had been about her tonight she’d decided, now she wanted to make it all about you.

You detached for a moment to pull your dress over your head, lips meeting once more as she tossed it aside. Next came the unclasping of your bra, and then she was sliding your thong down your legs. When she balled it up to chuck aside she felt the wetness in her palm.

You stood over her now, the one time you weren’t shy — stark naked. She’d made you so comfortable over the ten months you’d been together it wasn’t even something you’d take a second worrying about anymore, Abby knowing the map of your body like the back of her hand. She made you feel so safe with her gentle-ness. Abby, big scary Abigail Anderson, Abby ‘i’ll beat your fucking face in if you step up to me outside the basketball court, no seriously repeat what the fuck you just said’ Anderson. And you’ve reduced her to this gentle, loving giant. Someone who was rubbing her big hand up your tummy as her thighs caged you in where you stood. Reaching for your breast and just rolling her thumb over your nipple making your legs quiver a little. All her stoicism that everyone else knew her for had melted away, her eyes soft and loving as she gazed at you, touching you.

She reached up and began tugging her jersey off over her head, leaving her in the grey hoodie. Where you expected her to toss it aside with the heap that was your pink dress and underwear, she brought her attention to it, bunching it up and opening up the head hole of the shirt. “C’mere.” She muttered, standing up over you, your neck suddenly craning to meet her eye. “Put it on. Fuck those other girls cheap ass jerseys. My girl gets the real deal.” She’s speaking so quietly that you feel like she’s talking to herself, that you shouldn’t intrude her stream of thoughts — even if the words made you literally clench your hole so tight you could crush a fucking walnut in there.

She slipped it over your head and pulled your arms through the arm holes, stepping back with her hands on your shoulders so she could look at you. Look down at you. See the way you stared up at her tall frame, her jersey swamping you and resting beneath the swell of the plump under-cup of your ass cheeks. “Looking good babe.” She smiles, holding you back to carry on looking at you even when you try and lurch forward, hands loose-fisted and grabby as you try and climb all up on her again where she stood. She subdued you by taking your hand, walking away and practically dragging you along behind her. “C’mon, this way. Not fucking you on the couch.” Though it wouldn’t be the first time.

She had you on her lap again in no time, her feet planted heavily on the floor as you press into her cloaked strap, legs stretched over her thighs making you ache in that delicious way that said nothing more than ‘my girlfriend is fucking huge, the gym fears her’. Impatient, you’re tugging her hand that was cupping your throat, pushing it down, down between your thighs. She pulls away, a little breathless with her mouth all red when she slides her fingers through your cunt, eyes on your hard nipples creating little mountain peaks against her jersey as you breathe heavy in her face. “Soaked, baby. Have you been needing me like this all night?” She’s whispering before her lips are on yours again, stroking your little bundle of nerves head on, making your legs flatten out and tense in the air with a quiet yelp. “I know.” She hums, and that’s all it takes to soothe you. Yes, she knows. She always knows. It was Abby for gods sake, if anyone knew exactly what you needed… well.

After torturous stroking, Abby’s middle finger curls down right to where your hole is, pressing and massaging and teasing. She knows you want her inside, you want more than her fingers, fuck — if you could you’d just consume her whole but this will definitely do the trick. “I want you,” she starts, slurred by the open mouth kiss she’s pressing to your shoulder now. “To ask me nicely. Not like you did earlier. Show me my good girl.” She whispered, like it was one last attempt at being strict before she just gave in and spoiled you. It fooled you, anyways— your mouth falling open with a whine as her thumb pressed up against your clit.

“Please Abby— ‘ll be a good girl now okay? Wanna be your good girl.” You’re blabbering against her cheek and she doesn’t fight you on it, pushing inside you and basking in the way you give her a welcoming squeeze upon entry.

“How are you still so tight? After I’ve abused that pretty pussy so many times?” She sighs, tone suggesting that she’s actually pondering it at a moment like this. You don’t have the strength to respond, fucking against her fingers. You loved foreplay with Abby, don’t ever doubt that for a second — but tonight there was something different, it just felt like preparation. The two of you knew that tonight of all nights you needed to get fucked with her cock, and that would be the main event. She could barely wait, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t loosen you up around her callous digits first so she can slip right inside of you easily.

She slips another finger inside you and you black out a little bit, like you always do. Maybe it was all the emotions finally catching up with you, but you just go limp in her lap, letting her finger fuck you the way you need. “Prettiest girl ever. Don’t know what the fuck you were worried about. Gonna fuck it out your brain tonight, yeah?” She’s cooing again and she knows that’s your sweet spot, that tone of voice doing it for you every damn time. If anything was gonna make you cum quick, it’s gonna be the sympathetic drag of her voice as she ensures you that you don’t have to think anymore.

“Yeah Abby, please! Yeah!” You sound pornagraphic and your spine flushes hot at the idea of the surrounding students in her neighbouring apartments hearing any of this — though it wouldn’t be the first time (as told by the passive aggressive post-it note left on her door reading ‘Keep it down we don’t all need to hear your girl busting a nut.’ that one time. You didn’t live down the humiliation for a week, and Abby of course only took it as a challenge to make you moan louder despite your pleas of ‘Abby! You’re going to get kicked out of your building!’ whilst her head was in your crotch. Anyway—)

She was practically vibrating her hand at this point, fingers squelching in and out of you with sounds so mortifying that if you weren’t experiencing such euphoria perhaps you’d bury your face into her cuss her out for embarrassing you. You, were slurring a made up language made of her name, curse words and just down-right vulgarity as you felt your stomach lock up in that scaldingly familiarly way. Abby chuckled, smug at your babbling, responding with “Yeah?” and “Uh-huh?” until you were clenching hard around her fingers halting their movement slightly, which gave her the green light to move onto “Thats it baby, cum for me. Just getting started with you tonight. Give it to me, pretty girl.”

You went numb, pretty much everywhere but your cunt — something high pitched and feral deafening you through the impending white noise of your orgasm — wait, was that you? You could hardly breathe, and when some feeling returned to you, you felt stickiness all along the inner sides of your thighs and seeping into the rough denim of Abby’s lap below you. Jesus… did she make you—?

“Shit babe, fucking… baptised me there.” She pants, like she was the one that just received an earth shattering orgasm and you collapse against the strong muscle of her shoulder, trying to self soothe— trying to ground yourself. You twitched, her fingers stilling within you at the tell-tale sign of overstimulation. She pulled them out, rubbing her thumb on your bare hip as she pressed her chin to her chest looking down between your bodies, admiring the gooey mess you’d left on her. “Already got a little fountain going on down there baby, we haven’t even been going at it for that long.” She teases with a grin in a way you know is meant to be praise because as soon as you lift your head she’s attacking your hot cheeks with kisses.

“S’embarrassing.” You whimper, despite your small giddy smile and she tsks a little, hand creeping up to your throat, holding your sturdily there.

“If you’re still finding things embarrassing, it’s because I haven’t fucked all those bad thoughts from today out that pretty little head yet. You still want it?” She’s speaking against your lips now, effortlessly pushing her hips up beneath you and rolling her strap into your sensitive cunt again. Is that even a question?

“Still— still want it—”

You weren’t finished speaking, and Abby is moving at the speed of light. She cups your beneath your ass with one hand, still using your delicate neck as her main grabbing point— she twists the two of you, so suddenly you’re on your back and she’s hovering over you, all in one quick succession that makes your head spin. Your back bounces against the bed, bounces you into her and her thumb soothes over your throat. “Hands still working baby?” She kisses the corner of your mouth. You flex your fingers out of her vision, testing.

“Yes.”

“Undo my belt then, pretty.” It’s clear she still needs both of her hands to caress you, so you get to work, shakily reaching for the leather tucked within the denim waistband of her jeans. It’s smooth and feels expensive beneath your fingers, and the sound of the buckle clinking makes you squeeze out more of the residual arousal you’d spewed out only minutes prior. It’s like she can tell it does something for you, because her tough pads of her fingers come and rest on your sensitive clit again, just rubbing slow lethargic circles making it harder to pull the belt out of the loops. “Thats my girl.” She helps you, taking the belt and placing it aside.

She does the rest, because you just weren’t moving efficiently enough for her liking, one hand sliding up your soft arm until she’s pinning your wrist gently to the bed, fingers intertwining with yours, and the other hand deftly unpopping the button of her jeans and sliding the zipper down. She pulls the familiar plastic cock out, adjusting her hips and resting the shaft along your tummy, tip grazing just below your belly button. “Think you’re ready for me now?” She leans forward, nudging your chin with her own to get your lips where she needed to capture them, sucking on your bottom lip barely allowing you to sigh out a pleasured “Uh-huh.” against her.

She sits up, pulling her hoodie off leaving her in just a fitted black wifebeater and the pace of everything changes all of a sudden. It’s less desperate and more purposeful, coming into her dominance and remaining control like she always did. She leant over you, reaching for the lube in the bedside drawer and leant back, drizzling it over the shaft. You reached forward without thinking and massaged it around for her, looking up at her with those big needy puppy dog eyes. She groaned, like you were actually jerking her off — greedily yanking her jersey up to sit above your plush tits for her viewing pleasure.

“Fuck… so pretty… Alright baby, deep breath in for me.”

She looked so good like this, hair stuck to her face and neck, jeans pulled just below her peachy ass being cupped by the ropey black harness. The royal blue plastic glistening as she slides it up and down your willing cunt. Her biceps bulging from holding herself up above you, making you just want to sink your teeth into her. Abby was a work of fucking art.

You follow her instructions, Abby kissing away your strained whimpers at the stretch. It only made sense that Abby Anderson, home to all BDE — was weighed down by a fucking monster of a strap, 7 and a half inches, thick and dark blue with added detail of veins and a fat tip. When you first slept together, after one very successful date, sitting on her lap in that little innocent floral dress that rode up your doughy thighs just right — she thought about calling the whole thing off until she could get her hands on a strap a little smaller and less threatening. Until, of course — your wide and blameless eyes were staring up at her, hand barely wrapping around it as you thickly muttered out a ‘I can take it Abby. Let me take you’, and the rest is obviously history.

She sighed out once she was fully seated in you, like it was a relief, like one day you might not be able to take her fully and she’d have to practise even more self restraint by thrusting in halfsies. You tensed up, suddenly aware of the situation again. A spike of sickly anxiety washed through your stomach. Did you deserve this? After the havoc you caused today? “Pretty girl. Let me in that head.” She whispers and it hypnotises you as she thrusts slowly, just grinding her hips against yours.

“Don’t — mmphm— don’t deserve this.” Your voice is high and a little panicked, and Abby’s eyes open to pin you down with her grounding gaze. She knocks your chin up gently toward her as if to say ‘look at me.’ and she rests her hand over your chest, feeling the hammering of your heart as you very suddenly become overwhelmed.

“Hey.” She drags calmly, raising her eyebrows. You try and relax, copying her breathing because you knew she was about to tell you to do that anyway. “Sweet girl.” She thumbs your cheek. “You deserve every last inch of this fucking cock.” She’s whispering again and you cry, hard. She picks up on what you need, and she presses up deeper into you, making your legs flail before wrapping tightly around her ass, your tits bouncing obscenely to the rhythm of her thrusts. “My perfect girl. Don’t have to worry about anything ever again. Yeah? Gonna fucking… go pro ball, make you my pretty little courtside wife. How’s that sound?” She starts to thrust a bit harder and you’re stunned out of your freak out session, distracted by her words and overcome by pleasure as you just listen. Interested to see where this fantasy will go.

“Yes.” Is all you manage and it’s barely audible but she hears it, and carries on.

“Gonna make it to WNBA for you baby. Not for me. So I can spoil you for the rest of my fucking life.” She grits her teeth, her big rough hands sliding around your back so she can cradle you, use your body to fuck you on and off her cock. You whine, barely aware of the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. “You wanna give me that baby? Let me buy you every pair of shoes and stupidly priced handbags so you can look pretty for me at every game? Yeah?” Her voice is higher pitched and you think she might cum at some point, but she’s too determined to fuck your lights out completely for any of that.

“W—want that Abs, want you— I want —”

She’s interrupting, not finished with stuffing this fantasy into your brain until there’s nothing there but the manifestation of those thoughts. “You won’t even remember those girls on your cheer squad. They’ll be nobodies. You think I’d ever fucking look at anyone else but you, hm? My pretty little wife?”

Just when you think things can’t get more intense, she’s decided that she’s not physically deep enough — and pushes your thighs up to your chest, knees squishing against your tits as she stretched you, grunting out a “Fuck”, a sign of her losing control for a second. “N’then after every game. Can take you.. fuck, can take you shopping, fly you out wherever you want. Slut you out, just like this. You want that life baby don’t you? You wanna give me that life?” Your brain is muddled, and you can’t tell if you’re begging her or she’s begging you. Your mouth is open, but the air is punched from you and you’re just squeaking like a dog toy and she pounds your little cunt.

She reaches for what seems to be your on button, shoving her thumb between your lifted legs and grinding your abused clit again. “Wanna— wanna be your wife Abby. Want — I wanna—” You’re rambling, and then you’re cumming, harder than you’ve cum in your life. Your throat is raw, nails clawing for something, some kind of life support as she fucks you through your orgasm, breathless and determined. You vaguely feel yourself marking up her skin with your nails, but you’re never fully aware of yourself doing it — always just as shocked and guilty when you see the red streaks across her freckled skin the next morning whilst she’s brushing her teeth in the bathroom with a towel around her waist.

“Good girl. My good fucking girl you take it all. Take what I’m giving you.”

And you do, because when she goes to slow down you’re whining and bucking against her strap— fuck drunk and obsessive, finally getting to that dumb place she needs you to be able to rid of all those negative ideas you had about yourself earlier. She lets you breathe as she thinks about it, thinks about the way you misbehaved and the way you wouldn’t use your words. Maybe there was still more in you, more room for some reinforcement.

That’s why approximately five minutes later you had your cheek to the pillow having been pressed there by the basketball captain herself, Abby’s foot up on the bed and your ass in the hair as she drilled into your weeping pussy.

She pushes your back down, against the protests and your cries and your “Can’t Abs, so deep!” muttering for you to “Just fucking take it, sweet girl. I’m not asking.”

You give in and let her, already feeling yourself close to another animalistic style orgasm which only leaves your heart aching for your peeved neighbours that were probably just trying to sleep.

“You gonna listen next time, huh?” You don’t know how she has the endurance to keep slamming into you like this, wife beater pulled up above her sweat-gleaming abs now to not obstruct her vision of her creamy strap pounding in and out your soft flushed pussy. “You tell me when you fucking need me, yeah? You tell me when you’re feeling a type of way and you need me to reassure you from now on.” She waits a beat, and you wail. “Say yes.” She adds in command.

“Yeees!” You cry.

“Say yes Abby.”

“Yes Abby!”

You’re pretty much on autopilot at this point, brain so empty that all it knows is to do exactly what Abby says at all times, chasing that lingering tight coil in your stomach that whispered ‘cum one more time for her’ in your ear in a saccharine sweet voice that just about convinced you. Adding onto the persuasion, Abby’s weight dropped a little more onto you, hot torso against your back and hips grinding feverishly into you still. “Give me one more then. One more and that’s it baby. Keep being good for me.”

So you do, again, and this one is different from the rest — it’s your last drop, your last spot of energy. You’re weeping and grabbing and you feel it ooze out of you around the punishing blue plastic, and when you’ve done it Abby gets softer, kissing your spine and pulling out, so much praise your brain can’t even register it through your submissive fog.

“Did so good baby. So perfect, angel. Love you so much, my girl.”

She was cleaning you up before you could blink with a cold wet wipe from her bed side draw, practically scooping out endless amounts of your creamy arousal as you whimper at the sensitivity.

“Cold” You whisper, and you’re not sure if it was by choice seeing as you didn’t think you had a voice at that point.

“I know.” She chuckled, voice low and hands gentle— stroking the backs of your thighs as you stay on your front, legs trembling now as the adrenaline dwindles in your body. “Did so good for me. Let’s roll you over.”

She’s kicked off her jeans and her harness, now just in her boxers and wife beater— eyes flickering to your hands tugging at the jersey.

“Want it off. Wanna feel you.” You mumble sleepily once you’re on your back, desperately craving your skin on hers. She cradles your neck as she obliges, slipping the material up and over your head and pulling you into her.

You knew she carried on doting on you after you’d fallen asleep, and truthfully you don’t remember when you fell asleep — somewhere between her wiping you down and peppering kisses across your whole body — but like usual, her strap had knocked you the fuck out, and before you knew it you were waking up, disorientated by the morning sun flooding in through the blinds. Your senses start to arrive back to your body and you note them off like a checklist in your foggy brain. Touch, Abby’s arms locked around your waist. Sight, the blinding laser beam of sun attacking your eyeballs. Smell, Abby. Hearing, Abby. And the birds tweeting.

You roll, twisting in her arms so that your head was tucking beneath her chin against her chest, breathing her in and relishing in the way her skin stayed warm through the night like an electric blanket, unlike your own — cold to the touch from kicking off your side of the duvet.

She’s still fast asleep, always the heavy sleeper and after the game and the party you decide that big girl needs her rest, even if you’re now wide awake and staring at her. She looked like a painting, pouty lips swollen from a night of kissing, honeyed hair still in its braid but totally messed up now, pale blonde baby hairs sticking up and around her face. Her dark lashes kissed beneath her eyes and her chest moved up and down like the slow rocking of a small boat on a calm tide. You smiled when the sun slid further into the sky and created a beam across her eyes, making her scrunch them in her sleep and bury her face into the pillow.

You remember peeing last night now, before you’d fallen asleep — Abby carrying your warm, dazed body to the bathroom and sitting you on the toilet, letting you lean your cheek against her tummy to hold you up as you pee’d, gently shushing your complaints about removing you from the bed.

“S’not good for you to hold your pee after sex, babe.”

“M’sleepy. ‘Don’t care if I get a UFO.”

“UTI. And I care.”

You slowly slide out the bed careful not to wake your girlfriend, on a hunt for your phone. You pull Abby’s jersey back over your head for coverage and tiptoe out the room. Where did you put your bag again? You find it tossed on the couch haphazardly where you left it and fished through it, leaning on the back of her leather couch as you scrolled through. Your thumb tapped the Instagram logo and loaded it up, automatically gravitating towards Abby’s story, displayed at the top of the screen. You pressed it, expecting to see some kind of victory shot of her holding the trophy or a picture with her team, but instead were met with a photo of you that she’d taken when you’d fallen asleep last night— your head turned the other way on the pillow, arms tucked beneath it. Bare back glowing in the dim light of the room, bed covers resting at your waist. The caption reads: ‘Future WNBA wife.’ followed by your @.

Any other day you might gasp, due to the nature of the picture being that — well — it’s clear even to the untrained eye that you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. But you grin, glowing from the inside out. She was showing you off, indirectly reassuring you even more because she knows you need it. You press a heart on the story, stepping in the direction of the bedroom to attack her sleepy face with kisses— but your eyes catch on the kitchen instead.

The perks of dating someone with such a buff body, was that they always would be stocked up on plenty of food. Not like your dorm, thinking back to the microwave meals and tins of soup stocked up in your kitchen made you grimace. You swung open her refrigerator door, gathering ingredients to whip her up a winners breakfast.

Having made everything from scratch, by the time the breakfast was nearly ready you’d heard Abby stir and climb out of bed, disturbed by the accidental clattering of pots and pans. The water ran for a while, and as you turned off the stove — removing her frying pan of eggs, you’d heard her heavy feet plodding into the room.

You nearly burnt yourself at the sight of her, sweatpants pulled up low on her waist, no shirt, red scratches from your overexcited claws the night before wrapping around her bicep and over her left shoulder, assumably trailing down onto her back, and her hair down — a little damp, falling messily across her small chest. You offered her a small smile as she took in the scene, looking very serious about it too you might add. Turning around back to the chopping board to prepare some turkey bacon for her you felt her crowd you. A shadow casted over you. You were suddenly smaller.

“Makin’ me breakfast? Was I that good?” She rasped, huge hands sliding around your waist — instantly dwarfing you some more.

“Mhm. Breakfast for a winner.” You chirped quietly, too early to be excitable.

“Really leaning into this whole housewife thing aren’t you baby?” She chuckles and your face heats up. Is it that obvious? She presses kisses to the side of your neck, hands grabbing you all over. Involuntarily, you arch your back— pressing your ass into her crotch and she winces.

You freeze up, knife clattering out of your hand onto the wooden chopping board and brows furrowing at the way her fingers tighten around your waist, lips by your temple now. You’re practically pinned to the counter, hands flexed wide on the smooth surface when you grind back against her again experimentally.

She’d never admit it, but last night had left her wanting, which she expected was selfishness considering she vowed to make it all about you. She pulled you back against her, your plush ass beneath just her jersey thumping against her clit again — nothing but that and the material of her sweatpants brushing up against her swollen button. You whimpered a little, not making it better for anyone and found your rhythm, rubbing and humping back on her, feeling her exposed tits against your back. “Like this?” You whine, and tug up the jersey so your bare ass is on display now, just a vessel for Abby to get off on.

“Just like that, pretty.”

The sight makes her push into you a little harder, bending you over the counter when there’s nowhere else to go. She continues humping you, leaning over you and kissing you, curling her toes against the tiles until she explodes into quiet, low gasps and groans— leaking into the grey material as you help her along with encouraging noises.

“Fuck babe, fuckprettygirl— my god.” She pants, leaning over you and pressing a kiss onto your back before tugging your jersey back down with a chuckle after a minute of panting and coming down. “Gonna put me back to sleep.” She gives your ass a loving slap, grabbing the flesh of it in her meaty hand before walking around you to lean against the counter top tiredly. You giggle, shaky hands getting back to food prep as she watches you with fond eyes. “How you feeling? All good?” She analyses, mind still on your series of mini freak out’s the night before.

Your eyes are on the turkey as you continue slicing shyly. “Sore. But all good.”

“Sorry baby.” Her thumb rubs your arm sympathetically.

“No I— I like it. Like feeling you the next day.” You don’t look at her, you can’t, but you know she’s grinning.

“Good.”

She disappears for a minute and reappears with her phone, scrolling, checking notifications. You begin to plate up her breakfast, feeling her hands wrap around your waist again, her phone held by your chest as her chin rests on your shoulder, leaning over you. “Your little friends saw my story of you. Think by now they get the message.” She smirks and you giggle, turning your head to kiss her on the cheek.

“I think so too.”

“If not, I’ll just have to make it clearer, yeah? ‘ll fuck you infront of ‘em if that’s what it takes.”

Your eyes widen as she backs off, going to help you plate up the big breakfast you’d made. You didn’t think that would be necessary anymore, feeling much more secure now but your achey, abused core twitched at the idea anyway— not totally against it.

You’ll pocket that for later.

#abby anderson x reader #basketball!abby #abby anderson smut #abby anderson au #modern!abby #jock!abby

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sparkly-scales · 2 months

Text

That's Mr. Dekarios to you Gale x Tav BG3

That's Mr. Dekarios to You

ObsidianRose96

Summary:

You twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you go to sit in the chair across from him. “Well, Gale- “Ah ah, that’s Mr. Dekarios to you.” He corrects. “Right. Mr. Dekarios. I apologize. It seems I find myself rather distracted when it comes to your class. “Oh? Distracted you say? And what seems to have you so distracted that you’re failing my class?” He gets up out of his chair and moves to stand beside you. Tav decides to surprise Gale in his study but Gale has other ideas.

Notes:

The bad school girl/professor role play smut. Please enjoy this dumpster fire.

Work Text:

Night has fallen over Water Deep. You lean against the doorway of Gale's study, watching the newly titled professor as he works. He’s focused, meticulously looking down at each individual piece of parchment searching for wrong answers. He’s been grading papers for a couple of hours now, a tedious task that’s even more so when you have as many students as he does. You wonder if he’s ever going to take a break.

“I know you're there.” He says, not even bothering to look up from his current task. “Come in.” You slowly saunter over to his desk. His face is illuminated by light from a nearby brazier, casting hues of yellows and oranges on his fair colored skin. He looks rather handsome like this. You clear your throat in an attempt to get his attention. He lifts up his head from his grading. “Yes my- Oh. Oh my.” His lips tug into a wide grin as his eyes scan your body. You're completely nude as you stand before him, watching as he takes a moment to admire your nudity. Oh the thoughts that are going through his mind right now. He gathers up the stack of papers he’s been sorting through and tucks them away into a vacant drawer. He could get back to grading papers later. Now, he wanted nothing more than to indulge in his lovely, completely naked, wife. But how was he going to go about doing this? He’s quiet for a moment while he thinks and his silence starts to become a little worrying.

“Gale, is everything alright? We don’t have to if-

“Are you here to discuss your current grade, Mrs. Dekarios?” He says, suddenly.

You look at him, a bit confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

He folds his hands together as he keeps his eyes locked on you. Something mischievous flits behind those deep brown orbs of his as he continues.

“Your grade my dear. It seems you’ve been slacking when it comes to my class. You excel in every other subject except the one I happen to teach and your current grade is reflecting that. Why do you think that is?”

Oh? Oh! You see what he’s doing now. You never would have expected your husband to be the type that was into role playing. Everything was always so…vanilla, between the two of you. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy it when the two of you were intimate, this is just so unexpected. But not unwelcome. You twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you go to sit in the chair across from him.

“Well, Gale-

“Ah ah, that’s Mr. Dekarios to you.” He corrects.

“Right. Mr. Dekarios. I apologize. It seems I find myself rather distracted when it comes to your class.

“Oh? Distracted you say? And what seems to have you so distracted that you’re failing my class?” He gets up out of his chair and moves to stand beside you. You can’t help but notice that he’s now wielding a wooden ruler. When did he get that? And what was he planning on doing with it?

“I’m waiting, Mrs. Dekarios. And you’d better have a good explanation.” He says, snapping you back to reality. He lifts your chin with the ruler, forcing you to meet his eyes. They’re blazing with an unspoken desire, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Well you see, there’s this very handsome classmate of mine who happens to sit in front of me. And I can't help but stare at him during your lectures.” You say. “It’s so hard to focus on what’s being said when he’s right there.”

“Is that so?” He leans down towards your ear, his beard tickling the shell of it as he asks, “Are my lessons that boring to you? “

Your lips tug into a devious grin. You were going to play your role beautifully.

“Oh yes. They’re incredibly boring. So much so that I can’t help but sit there and imagine being fucked by my fellow class mate.”

“Really now? What an interesting revelation.” He grabs your arm and guides you to stand, bending you over his desk. “Mulling over boys while I’m trying to teach you some of the most valuable information you could ever hope to learn? Unbelievable. And here I thought better of you Mrs. Dekarios. I think you need to be taught an entirely different lesson. One on the subject of discipline.”

“Oh, Mr. Dekarios, what could you possibly mean by that?” The ruler comes down onto your bare ass. Hard. You yelp in surprise, turning your head to face Gale. He has a smug look on his face, knowing you weren’t expecting it.

“Gale, did you just spank me?” The ruler comes down on you again, this time much harder.

“That’s Mr. Dekarios to you, young lady.” He says. He brings the ruler down on you again, and again, and again, relishing in the loud , pained cries that graced your lips. He’s relentless, not stopping until your skin is left red hot and stinging. He takes a moment to admire his work, impressed that you were able to withstand the pain for as long as you did. But now it was time to move on to something else. His cock was straining painfully against his trousers, begging to be released. Between the unexpected sight of you sauntering completely naked into his study and your willingness to play into his little fantasy, he found himself desperately needing more.

“You’re such a bad girl.” Say’s Gale, turning you to face him. His voice is different when he says this, dark and sultry, a tone you’ve yet to hear him use with you. It’s delectable and you can feel the insides of your thighs begin to dampen with your own desire. “Do you remember my lesson on how to cast mirror image or were you too busy longing for your classmate's cock to pay attention?”

You shake your head. “I’m going to have to go with the latter.”

“Then allow me to demonstrate.” He says the incantation for mirror image and a perfect copy of himself appears beside him.

“Hello again Mr. Dekarios. How may I be of assistance?”

“I have a very bad student of mine who needs to be disciplined. And I figured you could lend a hand.” He says, gesturing to you.

“Mr. Dekarios, I think you’ve indulged in a bit too much wine this evening. This is our wife, not one of your students.”

Gale leans over to the copy of himself and whispers in its ear. “I know that. I’m trying something new. Something sexual, just play along.”

“Oh. I see. That would explain why she’s naked. What would you like me to do?”

“Undress yourself.” Says Gale as he begins to take his ownclothes off. When he’s finished he sits down in the chair you were previously sitting in and pulls you into his lap. The copy of him gets down on his knees and settles between your legs, spreading them wide.

“My my Mrs. Dekarios. What do we have here?”

“I bet she’s sopping wet, isn’t she?” Asks Gale, moving his hands to grope both of your breasts.

“She is. Her arousal is quite evident. May I?”

“Do whatever you deem necessary.” Gale rolls one of your nipples between his fingers and you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt down your spine all the way down to your throbbing clit. “We need to remind her that she needs to focus on her teacher rather than some boy.”

Gale's copy moves his face towards your cunt and trails his tongue along your seam. This Gale wasn’t real but gods it sure felt like he was. You moan in satisfaction as his tongue slips between your folds, hitting all of your sweet spots as he laps up your decadent juices. He hums happily against you as the real Gale softly kisses your neck, continuing to grope your plush breasts and tease your nipples between his fingers.

“Do you think that boy could do something like this?” He asks. “I doubt he could elicit such beautiful sounds from you.”

You shake your head. “N-no Mr. Dekarios.”

“See? You don’t need some amateur wizard when you can have the master. You’ll pay attention to my lectures from now on, yes?” You nod but that isn’t good enough. He gives your nipple a harsh pinch. “I asked you a question, Mrs. Dekarios. Are you going to pay attention in my class from now on?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll pay attention!”

“Good girl.” You hiss as Gale's counterpart swirls his tongue around your clit. Your body instinctively tires to wriggle away from the overstimulation but the real Gale holds you firmly in place.

“Make her cum for us.” He commands. “I want to hear her howl.”

“As you wish, Mr. Dekarios.” Gale's copy continues to lap at your clit while simultaneously slipping a couple of his fingers inside of you.

“Oh gods! Oh gods yes! Please finger fuck me!” You gasp at the sensation of being filled and devoured at the same time. He fulfils your request and thrusts his fingers in and out of you. The state of your arousal is made evident by the sounds that come from beneath you. Gale groans at the wet, squelching, noise your cunt is making, the lewd sound making his own need become more and more painful as he waits for you to reach your climax. He’s never been left wanting for this long before. Who knew arousal could physically hurt?

“Ah, Ah, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna c-cum!” Your declaration is like the sweetest music to your husbands ears. Your thighs clench around his mirror images head as you reach your climax, crying out as the feeling of pure unbridled pleasure overtakes you, releasing yourself in your husbands counterparts mouth. The Gale between your legs makes an effort to clean you up, lapping away the wetness that was now dripping down your thighs.

“I’ve longed for the chance to have a taste of our lovely wife. I must say It’s better than I could have ever imagined.”

“Sweet like honey, is she not?”

“More like a rich brandy. But quite delicious all the same.” “

You’ve got good taste sir. Then again, you are me.” Says Gale. “Let’s switch shall we?” He moves you off of his lap and motions for you to get down onto the floor.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet Mrs. Dekarios. I believe I deserve some compensation for your disobedient behavior in my classroom. On your hands and knees.” You obediently do as you’re told. Gale's copy goes to sit in the chair and the real Gale positions himself behind you. You feel his rock hard erection pressing against your entrance. “Open your mouth.” He commands. You see where this is going.

Gale Dekarios, you kinky bastard!

You open, allowing Gale’s mirror image to shove himself into your mouth while your husband grabs you by the hips and slides into you from behind. What a sight to behold! You’re stuck in the middle of a Gale sandwich as you suck on ones cock and the other one fucks you from behind. It feels incredible! The Gale that sits in the chair entangles his fingers in your hair, gripping it as you take his cock in your hand, sliding your mouth up and down the shaft before engulfing him. You feel him shiver as you suck him off. You're such a good girl, making him moan as you pleasure him with your mouth. Could the real Gale feel this too since this was technically him? That’s something you’d have to ask him later on. The Gale behind you, the real Gale, was thrusting into you from behind and he was unusually rough, unyielding as he shoved himself in and out of your tight little cunt. He had never been this rough with you before and by gods it was a welcome change. It hurt a little, yes but the pleasure far outweighed the pain. Fuck, this was amazing and you let him know by the moans that escaped from you. This was going to have to become a more frequent occurrence in your bedroom affairs.

“You’re getting extra credit for this.” His voice is breathy as he says this. “That should bring your grade up to parr.”

“Hells, she deserves to have a passing grade for the rest of the semester.” Says Gale’s copy. "Such a good girl taking us both like this."

You look up at the mirror image of Gale as you take him deeper in your mouth, worshipping his cock with your tongue. "Yes, that's it. So good. So, so good." He shudders and grips your hair tighter and you brace yourself for what’s about to come. He spills his seed into your mouth and you swallow every last drop of it, relishing the sweet, salty taste of him. He lets out a satisfied sigh as he moves you off of his cock, taking a moment to catch his breath as he lies back in the chair. The real Gale isn’t quite finished with you yet, rocking himself into your hips as hard and as fast as he can. Gods, he’s so deep inside of you, you can feel his balls slapping the back of your cunt as he keeps up the pace. Your head falls back and your mid section begins to tighten as your walls clench around him. You let out another loud cry as you ride out yet another orgasm, the waves of pleasure overtake you as he thrusts into you a few more times before he himself reaches his climax. The warmth of his seed spreads inside of you as he finally comes to a stop. By the time it’s all done, he’s a sweaty mess resting on top of you. With a wave of his hand Gale dismisses his mirror image, leaving the two of you alone of the floor of the study.

“What was this all about?” You pant.

“What? Did you not enjoy it?” Gale asks.

“No, no, I did. I really really did. This is just…new.” You say.

“I just wanted to try something different. Astarion was telling me about some different ways we could try to spice things up a little bit. And when I saw you standing over my desk completely nude I decided to try one of them.”

“Astarion?”

“Yes. He’s here visiting from Baldur's Gate.”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that. Astarion is here? In Water Deep?”

“In our guest bedroom.” Says Gale. “I was going to tell you he was here earlier but you were taking a nap and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Gale Dekarios! I walked right past the guest bedroom butt ass naked coming to your study! Not to mention the door is WIDE OPEN. You could have said something!”

“Don’t worry Darling, I didn’t see anything. But gods you are loud!” Astarion calls out from the guest room.

Your face turns the brightest shade red and Gale just boops you on the nose.

#bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale x reader #fanfiction #smut #bg3 fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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yeonjuns-beanie · 9 months

Text

Licentious Affairs

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, definitely dub-con, a little non-con, use of restraints, having sex with a demon, some animalistic behaviors, descriptions of blood, biting, degrading, hair pulling and i think that's everything

summary: you and dalton grew closer over the course of the fall semester. you sense a mutual feeling but still, a crush feels forbidden. on the night that dalton decides he needs to unlock all his memories for good, something possesses his earthly form and you’re left at its mercy.

a/n: when i saw the new installment of this franchise, something about him being possessed had me kicking my feet and giggling. this is 100% self indulgent bc I feel like this is so niche lol. it strays from the events in the film(obvi) but I hope whoever comes across enjoys and i'll get back to my kpop postings shortly :3 ~nero

possessed!Dalton Lambert x female reader

word count: 4.4k

pt.2

The breeze was crisp and the trees were warm bouquets of orange, yellow, and sun-bleached green. As you walked across campus, the leaves crunching under your feet you appreciated the change in season. Wrapping yourself a little tighter in your knitted cardigan, you pulled out your phone checking your notifications. Swiping out of your social media a message from Dalton popped up on your screen.

van gogh: r u out of class yet

y/n: walking to the dorm rn

van gogh: okay, i’ve got something to show you

Turning the volume up on your music and stuffing your phone back into your stubby front pocket, you continued your walk to the dorm. Your mind was scattering all the different possibilities of what Dalton could’ve found out. Since the beginning of the semester, his art professor had been unleashing techniques on him to tap into a deeper artistic space. Through this theory of unlocking, he opened up memories that were tucked away so tightly that he forgot they were his own. Throughout the semester, you’ve been forced to be around his revelations as you were his dorm mate, but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy his company.

At first, you thought it was just you being good-natured and wanting to extend a hand to him in a time of need. But as his walls crumbled down you wormed your way in and slowly you found you guys becoming quite close. Opening the main doors to your dorm building the way the air felt never failed to bother you. The brick walls made it constantly humid and it was borderline suffocating with how many bodies passed through the day. Dragging your feet across the floor, you began to feel the day place its weight on your body. You felt another vibration in your pocket but ignored it, deciding to look at the notification once you got settled in.

Opening the door to your room, you were met with Dalton hunched over the canvas of his current piece. He was so focused on the painting that he didn’t hear you come in until the door clicked shut. You dropped your bag on the floor and he finally looked up.

“Hey. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, you looked pretty focused on that freaky ass painting.”

“If not for this freaky ass painting, I’d still be “boring.”’

Flopping onto your bed, you chuckled remembering the first interaction you guys had with each other. You so desperately were trying to break the ice with your roommate and least to say it was the smallest bit painful getting some info out of him. As Dalton added the last few strokes of creativity, he put down his brush and wiped his hands off with a rag. Meanwhile, you were getting lost in his every move. You were tracing him, the way he moved, really just the way he existed. Losing yourself in your thoughts you didn’t hear him calling your name.

“Y/n…y/n? Are you even here right now?” “Huh?- Sorry was spacing out, long day.”

You were praying that somehow he wouldn’t think too much of it and just pass it off as you disassociating and not internally doting on him. You sat up as he walked over to your bed, the mattress shifting as he sat.

“So you know how we learned I can astral project right?”

You nodded and raised your eyebrows urging him to go on.

“Well, I think, whatever I’m remembering–if I finish that painting I’ll remember everything.”

You looked at him, brows furrowing and your eyes showing an incredulous type of fear. Memories from the last time he projected flooded your mind. Whatever was stalking that other plane had it out not only for Dalton but for anyone in his vicinity. It left you stricken, but subconsciously you knew you couldn’t leave Dalton to deal with it alone.

“You wanna…go back again?”

“I think it’s my only option y/n.”

You sighed knowing there was really nothing you could do to get him to think otherwise. You stared off toward the cryptic painting searching your brain for a solution that didn’t involve him going back to that other world. Nodding, more towards yourself, you looked back at Dalton.

“Okay. When are we doing this?”

There was a small flash of a ‘thank you’ that graced his features. The relationship you shared was beyond the parameters of normal but it was exactly that that allowed you guys to grow so close with one another so quickly. He let out a sigh a dour expression taking over.

“Tonight.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line forcing yourself to become comfortable with the reality of the situation. Slightly nodding, you stood up grabbing your bag from the floor.

“Alright. I’ll be right back. Just gonna run and grab some fairy lights so I can have some source of light in here while you play Sherlock Holmes in the upside down.”

Dalton cracked a smile, a small chuckle escaping him. It was something that softened the heaviness of the situation, lifting the tension not only between you two but for your anxieties. It also made something flutter in your stomach, something you’ve desperately been trying to swallow scared of what would happen if he were to find out. You were about to open the door but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Your phone.”

A gentle smile stretched across his face and there was something softer about him in this particular moment. Maybe it was the knowledge of the impending doom that would ensue in a few hours or maybe it was just two people being vulnerable. You weren’t sure what came over you but the urge to hug him was impossible to pass over and your body moved faster than your mind could react. Your arms wrapped around him finding relief and comfort in him returning the gesture so quickly.

Pulling away from him you found a certain softness swimming in his eyes that you never noticed before. Feeling slightly overwhelmed and bashful you fiddled with your fingertips attempting to wash away the anxiety that was running through you.

“Thanks. I won’t be too long.”

Dalton nodded and you slipped out of the doorway. As you walked down the hallway to leave the building you were fighting a more than enthusiastic grin as you felt those same pesky feelings flutter through your being. If only you had a similar gift to Dalton’s you’d be able to see that he was feeling the exact same way. As soon as you left the dorm he sat back on his bed, his hands trying to wipe away the elation he felt from the hug you shared. He was fighting a similar demon as your own, the fabrication of feelings–a crush.

As he laid back on his bed he was running through all his favorite parts of you, something that he didn’t think he could say out loud. His mind was in too many places at once, going back and forth between the budding feelings he felt for you and the unfortunate calamity that he was going to have to face not long after you came back.

Coming out of the corner store, you were surprised by how fast the sun began to tuck behind the mountains. You had an interesting relationship with the fall season, loving how the weather changed and the natural warmness that fall carried. By the same token though, you wished daylight lasted a bit longer, especially tonight. You wished the sun would never set so neither one of you would have to experience the ire that attaches itself to Dalton when the night approaches.

When you got back into the dorm building, there was a formidable sense of dread that you felt settle in your stomach. You tried to brush it off as anxiety now that the navy blanket of night was cast over the sky, but as you approached your dorm the feeling only worsened. Taking a deep breath as you turned the handle of the door, you exhaled as you entered the room, dropping your bag by the door and tossing the bag of lights on your bed.

You were about to announce your arrival to Dalton but were surprised to find him asleep on his bed. You were gone for maybe half an hour so you didn’t think he’d be too deep in sleep. Admiring his form you quelled your thoughts by grabbing the box of lights out of the grocery bag and began to unravel them while calling out to Dalton.

“Dalton…Dalton.”

Plugging the lights in the wall, you called for him one more time before deciding to walk over and shake him up. But when you turned around, he was already sitting up on his bed. It spooked you because you didn’t hear him move.

“Jesus! Make a noise or you know, yawn or something. Scared the shit outta me.” You nervously giggled. That sickly feeling found its way back in your stomach again and you couldn’t quite figure out why. Moving the string of lights around your bed, you found Dalton being more quiet than usual and you ruled that to be the reason why your stomach was turning in knots.

“You alright man? You’re being more weird than usual.”

Silence. Crippling silence.

Chills ran up your body and you tried desperately to feel some sense of normality about the situation. Dalton got up from his bed and walked over to his canvas, running his fingers over the freshly dried paint. He forced some extra air out of his nose somewhat resembling something of a laugh. You kept yourself on high alert as you walked over to your bag to grab your phone. As you got your phone and turned around your eyes met Dalton’s frame huddled in the corner of the room closest to your bed.

The way the string of lights illuminated him caused that sinking feeling to turn into something more dire. You started to go beyond the safety of things just being “weird” and recognized it was fear settling into your bones. Dalton’s shoulders were quivering almost resembling what a laugh would look like but no noise was coming out.

“Dalton, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

Ignoring your intuition, you slowly walked over to him, hoping that the lights would let you see something that you were missing from your distance away from him. You left a couple feet in between you two and you called out to him again, only this time he turned his head slowly in your direction. Any rumination of worry about your friend was quickly replaced with terror once his head turned enough for you to see his eyes. They weren’t his own. They were yellow and held malicious intent.

You wanted to stand your ground but the gasp that left you made a sound before you could stop it. You watched a smirk grow on Dalton’s face and as you broke your chains of frozen fear, you turned around in an attempt to reach the door. Before you could take your second step towards your escape, your feet left the safety of the ground and your body was flung through the air.

Hitting the art wall adjacent to Dalton’s bed your body flopped onto his bed, a shield of sheets as your protection. In a poor attempt to quickly figure out an escape you instead were met with the evil incarnate of Dalton. Your heart was pounding, fear and a dread of the unknown at the forefront of your mind. His frame was looming, staring you down like fresh prey. You gripped the bed sheets staring him down trying to convince yourself you weren’t fearful. Your plan was successful, but the longer you looked at him the easier it became for something more sinister to eclipse your emotions.

Lust.

A salacious intent swapping out the fear of him for the fear of yourself and your own emotions. Why were you feeling this? Could whatever was using Dalton as a vessel hear your thoughts? How could you look at him the same way after this? All of your questions were pushed to the back of your mind as the door to your dorm slowly opened and Dalton turned towards it. You saw nothing in the doorway but almost like a warning, a low timbre shriek echoed from his throat as a bloody goop tumbled out of his mouth.

Whatever was entering the door from the other side left, the door clicking shut and his attention was unfortunately back on you. With a feeble bid, you hoped that calling to Dalton would release him of whatever had a hold on him. As Dalton turned around to grab the cord of lights from the wall, the way he stalked back over to you sent a familiar feeling to pool in your stomach.

“Dalton…I know you’re in there. Dal-”

“-To be face to face with what was keeping me from him recently was not what I expected to see. Nor did I expect it to be so filthy.”

It felt like someone was trying to steal your heart from its chest. There was a certain grit to his tone that was not Dalton’s and you weren’t quite sure if it frightened you or excited you. As he wrapped the cord around his hand he stalked closer to you on the bed.

“Most would be terrified in a situation like this, but you? I can smell you. It’s hard to ignore really.”

You backed further to the wall suddenly facing the reality of your situation. Your heart sped up but not out of fear. The closer he got the more aroused you became but you didn’t want to admit that to yourself just yet. Before you had an understanding of what was going on in front of you, your wrists were taken and tied to the bedpost with the cord Dalton was winding up.

“No!”

A sudden urge to fight back, you weren’t sure if this was something you wanted under the given circumstances. As you tried to push back against the cord, an unseen force was pinning your body to the bed. Your vision was obstructed by the fabric of Dalton’s baggy long sleeve but the overwhelming feeling of arousal was something you couldn’t ignore when he moved to face you and you looked directly into his yellowed eyes.

His hand snaked down the front of your body leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It was a twisted feeling, you dreamt of a moment like this but with the given situation you were struggling if it was right. As his hand toyed with the button of your jeans any doubt about the situation was pushed to the back of your mind and a gritty tone echoed in the silence of the room.

“It’s funny. Hearing you think you have enough strength to deny yourself pleasure.”

You arched your eyebrow confused by his admission. He took heed of this and answered before you had a chance to vocalize your thoughts. He leaned forward stalking over your body before he placed himself next to the shell of your ear.

“Your thoughts are so loud. Louder than his–if only…he could be the one to see you like this. He’s wished for it.” He pulled away grinning at you in a way that made your walls flutter around nothing. You wondered if the confession of your Dalton “wishing for it” was real or just something the entity used to get under your skin.

You didn’t have much time to think on the matter as your heart rate picked up again at the unfortunate realization that you, were enjoying this. The smirk that rested on Dalton’s face let you in on the sadistic pleasure of whatever was taking control of him was feeling. Before Dalton moved away from the shell of your ear, he took a deep inhale of the scent of your neck.

Humming in relish, he nipped at your earlobe gingerly pulling at the skin as he snaked down your body once more. You wish you had more control but the whimper that left your throat was something instinctive. As this primal version of Dalton reached your hips, your zipper was quickly unfastened and your pants were tossed to the other side of the room

Dalton moved his legs so that he was no longer straddling your own and situated himself in between them. Sliding toward the edge of the bed, he slid down enough to be face first with your messy cunt. Your desire soaking through the fabric leaving no room for doubt in your feelings. Shoving his nose into your drenched panties, he huffed the scent of you a second time causing you to squirm away from the action.

Closing your eyes and rolling your lips around your teeth, you tried to silence your whines to collect yourself. Once again trying to convince yourself that you had more power over your bodily wants and needs.

“Stop, please.”

Your plea was met with a sardonic giggle and as you looked down and was met with the sick glow of his yellow eyes. Dalton stalked back up your body, hovering over your face and clicking his tongue at you mockingly. As you were entranced by the figure above you, you failed to realize that he unbound your wrists from the cord. The sudden freedom surprised you but was swallowed by the feeling of his hand slithering in your panties and rubbing his finger across your slick folds.

Your body shuddered in hedonism, rolling your hips up into the feeling. As one finger slipped its way into your slick cavern your hands found solace in fisting the sheets. As he entered a second finger you couldn’t contain your sounds.

“Ah~! I can’t believe this is happening. I can’tbelievethisishappening.”

In your stupor of sexual panic, a low chuckle brought you back down to your body. His fingers curled inside of you repeatedly hitting the special spongey spot you cherished so much. As your moans became more frequent and less controlled, he removed his fingers from your pulsating hole and ripped your panties off of your sensitive frame. You whined out not only at the loss of contact but at the sudden cool air that breezed over your skin. Settling into your body you were panting heavily as you stared down Dalton.

His yellowed eyes still igniting fear but simultaneously leaving you wanton and in a state of ache. That conflicting feeling flooded your brain again and soon felt guilt peering over the horizon. Before you were given the chance to wrestle with your thoughts, Dalton straddled himself over your body. One hand grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks to pry your mouth open just enough to shove his fingers into your mouth. He looked down at you, a small smirk adorning his face.

“Suck.”

Overwhelmed by the sudden roughness you complied immediately not wanting to make the situation even more escalated. Your eyebrows furrow, your face plagued with anxiety as you watch Dalton come closer to your face. The leftover stain of blood that was on his chin smeared across your lower cheek as his breath fanned over your skin leaving your body wanting more. As he removed his fingers from your mouth, he licks from your chip up to the tip of your nose. Dalton pulls away slightly so he can get a better look at your face as a venomous smile pulls at his.

He takes the hand that was holding your face and drags it down the side of your cheek as he exhales a phrase that would chill your bones.

“Everything I’m going to do to you…he wishes he could do himself.”

The anxiety you felt prior was beginning to trickle back in as you realized the tank top you were wearing underneath the cardigan provided you little safety from the one above. Dalton’s hands slid up your torso underneath your tank top, his hands massaging over the soft flesh of your breast. Undoing the front clasp, your tits pancaked out of the fabric only for one to be caught by Dalton’s rough hand and the other encased by his lips.

You tried to keep a coherent thought, to push back against him but you lacked the mental will due to the rapture spidering through your body. As his mouth left your nipple, the cold air sent shivers through your chest and rippled down your back as his lips savagely placed open mouth kisses along your jawline, nipping at your skin with each release.

Caught up in the feeling you almost blocked out the sound of his belt becoming undone. But as soon as you were aware, the time to react had come to pass. His cock, hard and heavy was pulled out from the layers of fabric and you felt it tap against your inner thigh. You were suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you were and the understanding of what was about to happen next rushed through you.

“W-wait! I don’t, I can’t I~ah! Fuck!”

Before you had the chance to form a coherent thought, his cock entered your seraphic walls and his teeth bit at the skin on your neck. A mark that would surely leave a stain in the aftermath. Having already been overstimulated by the situation itself, the stretch of his cock was horrifically sinful. You couldn’t help the fluttering of your walls as he rocked his length in and out of you at a harrowing pace.

As he finally let go of your neck he huffed out in the intersection of your neck and shoulder. His exhales made your skin humid and left you with another layer of unwanted pleasure. Trying to bring yourself back down to your body, your hand released the binding grip it had on the bedsheets and sought refuge in Dalton’s sweatshirt, something proving to be a mistake.

A low growl erupted from Dalton’s throat and before you could register what was happening, he had pulled himself out of you and manhandled you to get on your hands and knees.

“What made you think that you could touch me, hmm?”

Like a viper his hand webbed itself in your hair, gripping it at the base and pulling your body up. Adrenaline pumping, you were searching for a viable response but came up with nothing but babbles.

“I-I don’t, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He controlled the movements of your head, forcing you to crane your neck and stare at him in his amber orbs one last time. Mocking your apology, he cooed at you.

“Aww, you’re sorry? Why don’t you show me how sorry you are?”

Punctuating his statement by rushing his cock back into your ruined cunt, you cried out at the feeling. He shoved your face back into the bed, his pace now unrelenting and no longer a derivative of pleasure but rather of power. With every thrust you felt the tip of his cock assault your cervix, causing tears to well up in your eyes and dry into the sheets beneath you. It was overwhelming, feeling like all decision was stolen from you.

The only thing that filled the room now were the occasional groans from the figure above you and muffled sobs from yourself. You hated that you could feel the approaching feelings of ecstasy building in your lower stomach. The heat was building and the suffocating squeezes from your gummy walls around his cock were more than enough to alert him to your demise.

“You gonna cum around me, you filthy slut? Enjoyed every second of this didn’t you?”

The guilt you were warding off finally made its way to the forefront of your emotions but you couldn’t find it within yourself to admit that you did, in fact, enjoy all of this. You settled for denial. Denial would save you from the inevitable self reflection you’d have to face.

“No, no no I didn’t! I didn’t enjoy it. I didn-!”

Your body cut you off, your orgasm washing over you reluctantly but comedically in timing. As your body shuddered around him, you heard that same derisive chuckle leave his throat mocking you yet again.

“Keep telling yourself th~aht.”

He pulled himself out of you, spraying his seed across the exposed portion of your back. The warmth felt overt, wicked, and it was something you didn’t want on you. You didn’t have the gall to face the being behind you. Instead, you let your body fall limp against the bed as the being fronting as Dalton stood up and fixed himself back into his clothes. From behind you heard him.

“Say hi to him for me.”

Not expecting a response from you, he left Dalton’s body. His earthly form collapsing on your dorm floor. You didn’t have the strength to turn and help him up as he came to, too busy wrestling with your emotions as tears pooled out of your eyes. You heard your Dalton groan and stand up reaching to turn on the lamp light on his art desk. As the warm light illuminated the room, he turned around silence and shock devastating him as he took in the sight of you.

You tried to quell your sobs, but your body kept shaking them out. Dalton slowly walked over to you trying to survey your body without touching you. When his eyes landed on the alabaster stains that painted your lower back a terrifying realization overcame him.

“Y/n…? Y/n, talk to me.”

The gentle tone was something you missed dearly despite only being gone for such a short amount of time. It comforted you knowing that the worst was over for at least right now. Dalton kneeled on the floor resting his upper body on the side of the bed. You turned your head slowly, still somewhat expecting to meet those hideous yellow eyes but when you saw the gentle and disconcerted brown pupils you were swamped with relief. Tears still were falling across your face, their frequency diminishing.

You gave him a weak smile, a small “hey” leaving your lips. Like cracked porcelain, he wouldn’t dare touch you. He couldn’t break you more than he already had. His tone weak and regretful, he scanned over your fragile body trying to understand how this happened. He let his head fall next to yours, burying his head in sheets.

“What did I do to you?”

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fanfic #insidious #insidious the red door #horror smut #dalton lambert smut #insidious fanfic #horror fanfiction #horror imagines #ty simpkins #dalton lambert imagines

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thehalfbloodedwitch · 2 years

Text

Foes to Fond (M.r. x reader)

Pairing- Mattheo x Femreader

Summary- The reader and Mattheo get into a very nasty fight, which seems to lead to a little confession from Mattheo’s side. | Fluff

Requested by- @hornysimpbitch

A/n- I am so sorry lovely for delaying your request but here it is! I hope you like it!

Warnings- Cursing,, making out and that’s all

Meanings- Y/n/n= your nickname

Words- 3,152 words

Mattheo Masterlist Main Masterlist

The quill scratched the paper as you scribbled down something yet again. For the fifteenth time, you ripped the parchment apart and chucked it towards the dustbin with a frown on your face.

"Fuck, I can’t even understand this shit at all," you muttered under your breath after you closed your book and placed the quill on the table, frustrated and removing your reading glasses.

You have by now tried to understand transfiguration but have failed miserably multiple times. You have by now given up on ever learning the art of transfiguration because you simply couldn’t understand its use and the pronunciation of these spells.

The transfiguration test was tomorrow, and here you were in the library at 12 in the night trying to figure out the topics that were coming for the test, and you simply couldn’t understand anything at all. Your reading glasses were set aside, and you tried closing your eyes and breathing slowly, but that didn’t work either.

And now, there were piles upon piles of books kept on your table with crumpled paper all over the place. You were exhausted and tired of trying to learn this subject. At this point of time, you didn’t care if you learnt anything or not, you needed sleep. Your eyes were already tired and were closing with every second that passed.

So you stood up and walked out of the library without making a sound, muttered the Gryffindor Tower password, entered your dormitory, flopped onto your bed, and passed out.

"Y/n/n, wake up! You’re late! " "What happened?" you asked, which made you stand up and rub your eyes, "What happened?" you asked, to which Hermione sighed, "You’re late Y/n. "Get ready as quickly as you can, or else you’ll miss breakfast," she said, and left the dormitory for you to get ready.

You washed your face and stared into the mirror. Dark circles were visible under your eyes and your face looked tired. You sighed and put on face wash and quickly brushed your teeth. You grabbed your uniform and wore it and rushed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"You should’ve woken me up a bit earlier, mione," you said as you stuffed some eggs and toast in your mouth, "Looks like someone woke up late," Harry teased as he smiled at you and you glared at him. "Not funny," you managed to speak with the food that was in your mouth.

"It wasn't my fault, Y/n; I tried several times to wake you up but you were sound asleep," Hermione explained, "Why were you awake so late anyway?""I was studying for transfiguration," you explained while sipping some orange juice.

"Good afternoon, students!" Professor McGonagall greeted everyone as she entered the classroom. "Today, as I had discussed earlier with all of you, will be your test on the topics we have learned so far. This is a theoretical test, so please be seated with your ink and quills ready," she said as she started distributing the test question papers to all the students.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before you looked at the question paper. The questions that were asked in it were nothing you had studied yesterday, or even if you did, you forgot. With whatever you could recollect, you wrote the answers, submitted them to the professor, and left the class waiting for your friends to come out.

"How did you do your test?" "Don’t ask, I would’ve miserably failed," you said as you looked at him with sad eyes, Harry smiled at you and said, "Don’t worry, this is just a test," and patted your back to make you feel a bit better, at which you smiled at him.

"Oh, look at these love birds! Aren’t they adorable!" A voice spoke right behind you, and you knew exactly who this was, "What the fuck is wrong with you, Riddle?" you sneered as you turned around to face Mattheo Riddle.

"Oh, nothing’s wrong with me Y/l/n, I am absolutely fine," he said as he smirked and glared at you. "Leave Riddle, you don’t want to start a fight here which you’ll obviously lose," Ron said as he came out of the classroom and stood beside Harry.

"Try me, Weasley, we’ll see who wins." Mattheo said as he slowly approached the three of you when Hermione came out and yelled, "Stop! We don’t want to get detention now, do we? "she looked at you three.

"Let’s go," you said, as you took Ron’s and Harry’s arms and walked away before turning around to glare at Mattheo one more time and leaving with Hermione.

"What’s wrong with riddle man? "He's always here to ruin the mood," Harry said as you went to your next class, and you chuckled and replied, "It’s fine, Harold," at which all four of you laughed.

"Ms. Y/l/n, would you mind staying back after class, I have to discuss something important." Professor McGonagall called out to you the next day in transfiguration class. You had gotten your results, and let’s just say they weren’t good at all. Your mood had dropped so low that during the whole class you silently looked at your textbook with no expression on your face.

"Psst, what happened?" After a while of looking at you, Ron whispered, "Not now, later." You replied, and once again stared at the textbook in front of you. Ron sighed and averted his gaze from the professor, concentrating on what she was teaching.

"Ms. Y/l/n, I presume that you do know that what you have done on this test isn’t acceptable at all." McGonagall said in a concerned tone, "Yes, ma'am," you replied, but your gaze was drawn to a stack of parchment on the table.

"Dear, you have to take transfiguration seriously, I have seen your marks in other subjects and they are exceptionally good, I have found that you have only a problem with transfiguration. Could you tell me what problems are you facing in this subject? Where do you face difficulties?" All the professor asked you, and all you could do was sigh heavily and reply, "The problem I am facing in transfiguration is the subject in itself, I cannot understand the spells, the theory behind each spell, and everything about it."

She stood up and came towards you, keeping her hands on your shoulder, she said, "I believe you can improve and understand this subject. You can do this Y/n, just needs a little more effort, I have faith in you." There will be soon another test in transfiguration on the same topics and I expect you to get O’s on it." To which you nodded with a small smile on your face.

As you walked towards Gryffindor Tower, you had decided to start studying as soon as possible, but the problem was, you didn’t understand what the library books said, meaning you had to take help from someone, but the question was, who?

Hermione would have been more than glad to help you, but the problem was, she was herself so busy with her own assignments and subjects that she didn’t have much time left to even rest, forget about tutoring you.

You were left in thought. Who was good enough in transfiguration to tutor you? Who was good at transfiguration? No one from your house? What about other houses? Hufflepuff? Nope, Ravenclaw? Well, Luna could help, but she isn’t that good at transfiguration, Slytherin?

An image popped right up in your head as soon as you thought of the Slytherin house, Mattheo Riddle. He was great at transfiguration, even though you would hate to admit it. He was exceptionally good at it.

But would he want to tutor you? How could you ask him to tutor you? He would definitely think this is a joke, but it won’t hurt to try. You desperately needed help in transfiguration and the only person who is decent at it is Riddle. You had no other choice but to ask him.

And so, you stomped your way towards the Gryffindor Tower to find the common room empty. Of course, they had left for dinner and you had completely forgotten about it. You cursed under your breath and walked towards the Great Hall.

"Fancy seeing you here, Y/l/n," a voice called out behind you, and you knew exactly who it was. "Surprising seeing you here, Riddle, what are you doing near the Gryffindor Tower, may I ask?" you asked Mattheo, who stood right behind you while you turned around to face him. "I don't see a reason to tell you what I was doing here," Mattheo said while clicking his tongue, "Uh, well, I might have a favor to ask you.." you said while not trying to make eye contact with him.

"A favor? "Totally not suspicious," he said, his brow furrowed, "I need help with... well, you see, I am not that good at transfiguration," he added, "horrible at transfiguration."You rolled your eyes and replied, "I'm not that bad at it, just need a little help,"

"And that’s your favor? "Yeah, I was hoping you could help," he said. "You don't have to help me if you don't want to," you said, fiddling with your hands.

"You think I would help you?" he asked, to which you rolled your eyes and replied, "You know what? Forget I ever asked for your help, "you said, and just as you turned around to leave, Mattheo called out, "What will I get in return?" to which you stopped, turned, and replied, "Anything you want!" "Anything?" he asked, smirking and coming closer towards you, "W-Well, anything as in, anything I could give you, like not as in anything I can give you, but like, maybe money or-"

"Meet me at the library at 5 tomorrow," he said, and walked right past you. As he walked towards the Great Hall, he turned around and said, "I don’t like to wait for people, so be on time." He left for the Great Hall and sat with his Slytherin friends while you just sighed and smiled.

"You’ve got to be kidding me. Riddle agreed to help you? " Harry asked, "I couldn't believe it either," you said, staring at the glass in front of you. "You could've asked for my assistance, you know?" As you were shaken from your dream, Hermione said, "I know, but you already have a lot on your plate, I just didn’t want to disturb you," you said, and Hermione smiled at you.

"Sorry, got a bit late," you said as you set your books and reading glasses on the table where Mattheo sat, "I told you, I don’t like waiting for people. You know I was about to leave," Mattheo said, "I was just 2 minutes late," you said while huffing and sitting in front of him while he scoffed.

"So, let’s begin easily. First I am going to show you a few spells that you have to perform," he said while setting a goblet in front of you, "Isn’t that the goblet we got during breakfast?" you asked, "Don’t ask questions," he said as you chuckled.

Then for straight 3 hours, the both of you discussed and practised transfiguration, and by the end of the first session you couldn't even realise how fast time went by and whatever Mattheo taught you understood every bit of it.

"Tomorrow, same time?" You nodded and smiled, "Thank you so much, riddle," to which Mattheo said, "Don’t mention it, and also, call me Mattheo, Riddle sounds odd," and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "Oh really?" "Well, I could change my mind, actually call me." "Fine, Mattheo, bye," you said as you stood up and left for your dorm, leaving Mattheo in his chair, staring at your figure as it faded into the corridor.

You'd been studying together for a while now, and you'd gotten pretty good at transfiguration yourself. You had by now known the pronunciation of the spells, the theory of each and every spell, and could now transfigure objects.

When the test came in transfiguration, you had gotten full marks, McGonagall was very proud and happy for you and was congratulating you for your hard work, but truly you had to thank Mattheo because without him this wouldn’t have happened at all.

You said, "Thank you so much Mattheo for your tutoring. It really helped me a lot." You went to Mattheo after class to thank him, "Well Y/n, it’s not me who should be thanked, it’s you, I just taught you a few concepts. You were the one who worked hard and understood it by yourself." He said, "Really good job Y/n, congrats on your full marks." "Thanks" you said.

And after that, you had not spoken to him since. You just didn’t know what to talk about. Your favour was for him to tutor you, and that’s all. It didn’t

Did it mean that you had become friends with him, or was it? You were utterly confused and started thinking about whether to talk to him or not, but decided not to, as if he didn’t want to be your friend and that he just tutored you and didn’t want this relationship to move any further, you would be left embarrassed.

But Mattheo wanted you to be his friend; he was madly in love with you, and he had never seen you like he did during your tutoring sessions.The way your hair curled on your forehead, the way your eyes looked while wearing your reading glasses, made you look extra hot.

He tried to shake the fact that he liked you. He thought maybe it was because he spent time with you, but after the tutoring sessions he still couldn’t forget your face. He couldn’t forget the smell of your vanilla perfume. He couldn’t forget your plum flavoured lip balm that you wore.

"She’s been ignoring me, mate," Mattheo said to Blaise, who knew he was in love with you, "Maybe she is contemplating the fact that you want to be her friend." "No, I don’t think so. Maybe I am the problem. Maybe she doesn’t like me after all," Mattheo said as he pulled his hair in frustration.

"Why don’t you ask her why she’s been ignoring you? "Try talking things out, mate," Blaise suggested, to which Mattheo replied, "Not in a million years," and exited the common room as Blaise sighed.

You were talking with the trio and laughing at the hilarious prank Fred and George pulled on a professor. While you were having fun with your friends, Mattheo, who had left his common room and came out to get some fresh air, ran into you guys. He looked at how happy you were without him, which made his blood boil.

He glared at you and stomped away towards the opposite direction of where you were. You had noticed him coming and you were completely confused as to why he was acting so weirdly. You decided to follow him and ask him what was wrong, while you excused yourself from the trio.

"Hey! Hey, Mattheo! Wait! " You called out and ran towards him. Mattheo stopped in his tracks and turned to face you. He was visibly pissed and was completely red with anger.

You stopped a few metres from him and asked, "What’s wrong?" "What’s wrong? "What do you mean?" he asked as he kept his hands on the railing, "I asked what happened? You are obviously pissed at something or someone, so I am asking, "What’s wrong?" As you stepped a bit closer to him, "Nothing is wrong Y/l/n, I am absolutely fine," he said as he turned to face the window in front of him.

"Oh, last name base are we?" You asked as you kept your hands on the railing right beside his, "It’s nothing, none of your concern, Y/n," he said as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "You know what? "Call me when you’re ready to tell me what’s wrong, because clearly you aren’t in the mood to talk," you said as you slowly left the railing and retreated your steps.

"Wow, now you get to play the victim," he says as he turns to face you, "What do you mean by the victim? I have no clue what you are angry about and now you get to blame me for this?" you said angrily. "That wasn’t what I meant." "Thank you very much, Mattheo. You know what?" "This is what I deserve after just wanting to know what was wrong with a friend," you said, as you turned to walk away from him.

"Wait!" "I-I, well, I was pissed," he said, scratching his neck. "Tell me something I don't know," you said. "Why have you been ignoring me?" he asked, letting go of the railing and facing you, "What?" you asked.

"Y/n, you have been ignoring me since the day of the transfiguration test, I don’t know why or what I did that made you ignore me, but it has been eating me up inside," he said "I didn’t ignore you, Mattheo. I thought you didn’t want to continue this friendship," you said.

Mattheo scoffed at this and replied, "Friend? Hell Y/n, I want to be more than friends with you. Don’t you understand by the way I acted in front of you? Obviously, I am hopelessly in love with you and I have no clue how to stay with this fact. You are always on my mind and I can’t seem to get enough of you, I fucking love you!"

And after this confession of his, you were left bewildered. You were left rooted to the ground and frozen. Before you could even reply, you felt two hands grab you and pull you close, and Mattheo’s lips crashed into yours. You could smell his cologne, and then his tongue was in your mouth. It fought to overpower yours. It was as though your tongues were two swords, swiftly battling and moving in sync.

Your vanilla perfume filled Mattheo’s nostrils and he felt like savouring every bit of it. The taste of your plum lip balm, he so badly wanted to taste it from your lips. He wanted to go deeper and deeper into the kiss. His hand was rested on your hips and he was pulling you closer and closer. His mouth wanted more, but until he got it all, you pulled away to catch your breath.

"Uh, so that’s a yes?" he asked, to which you rolled your eyes, "No, I was just practicing," you said, and pulled him in for another round.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tags- @blackthunder137 @izukuisbaby @writingwitch007 @warnerskenji @fruitypebblesstuff @blood-070 @e-m-christina @maddieslaysworld @alli-3 @ivriee @theglitterymess @harryslittlebitch @kathrinthoughts @tryflydiebi @emptytakeawaycup @grxnde-dwt @poisonedsultana @godknows-shetried @murdckcastle @joy-13iflplab @miss-celestial-being @pottahishotasf @nicofiliac @spring-picnics @cait2212 @auralol @eichenhouseproperty

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the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 06)

Johnny texts you while he's deployed, but when he calls you one night, you are forced to face your consequences.

MDNI/18+

Link to AO3

OCTOBER, MONDAY MORNING, TWO WEEKS LATER

Your apartment was bathed in the cold gray light of a foggy morning, and you curled your duvet closer around you trying to stave off the dawn’s chill. You’d been awake for a while, which was very uncharacteristic of you. Usually more of a late riser, the only reason for your early bird behavior was Johnny MacTavish.

He was three hours ahead of you, and every morning, when the sun came up in the Urzikstani hillside, you were sent an image of Johnny’s hand, clutching whatever his breakfast was that day. Sometimes it was a tin cup of black coffee, other times you’d get a banana or a protein bar. But, it was always his giant hand and a sherbet orange sky. This morning, it was cloudy and dark, and his breakfast of choice was a slab of toast, smeared with butter and jam.

MoChroi: sunrise_sand.jpg

You: wow. quite the delicacy today. cant believe you found actual jam out there

Mo Chroi: bit suspicious. when the food gets better the missions get worse

You: uh oh

Mo Chroi: dinnae fash thief xx

Mo Chroi: writing today?

You: yep. and meeting with my prof

Mo Chroi: what ya got on then

Mo Chroi: give us a show bonnie

Mo Chroi: is it naughty?? lol

You: nope

You: rangers_tee.jpg

You sent a photo of your torso, cutting out your head, wearing his own tee shirt. His typing bubbles percolated along the bottom of the screen immediately. Then, an indignant response:

Mo Chroi: thief!! xx

You: youre the one who stole my hair tie

Mo Chroi: hairtie.jpg

Mo Chroi: needed a hostage

Mo Chroi: your bad habits are rubbin off. stole cap’s clothes out of the shower this morning

Mo Chroi: price_hat.jpg

You: you learn quick mo chroi

His typing bubbles appeared, and then they disappeared. You watched them pop up in the chat and then vanish three more times until finally all you got was silence. This was a common occurrence, so you tried not to overthink it. Over the past two weeks of texting with him, you knew he disappeared sometimes. He’d get a call to go into the field, or there would be some crisis. You wondered if his captain had discovered his prank.

The room was still cold, and you were reluctant to leave your cocoon of warmth, but you needed to write. You had promised yourself that you’d go into the office early today before your meeting with your major professor. After a deep sigh and some very challenging mental gymnastics, you stuck a leg out and onto the frigid concrete floor.

Your apartment was very modern. So modern, in fact, that it had been a challenge to make it feel homey. There was very little room inside for anything more than a queen bed, a short futon, and your desk. Your bathroom was sleek and full of brutalist, functional, concrete stylings, but the kitchen was barely big enough for a sink and a toaster oven. You had kept the futon for guests, not that you had many (any) visitors, but aside from the stacks of books in the corners of each room, your entire studio was practical to a fault.

But, it was enough for you and your rescue cat, Marlowe, so you didn’t complain.

On the wall opposite the front door, a huge plexiglass window overlooked the River Kelvin, conveniently situated right across from some student housing so you could access the bus. Not having a car went against your Floridian roots, but you’d fallen in love with the ease of public transportation.

After throwing on an oversized sweater and a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you slipped on your wellies and headed to the bus stop. You’d brought a big thermos of coffee, ready to face the day.

Your phone buzzed again.

Pidge: I’m so excited to see you this weekend!! :D

You: me too! is hammie picking me up after all or no

Pidge: Yes, I told him to be at the platform at 4.

You: cool

Pidge: Have you spoken with my brother?

You paused for a moment, riding the elevator and staring at your phone. You didn’t want to lie to her, but you probably shouldn’t tell her the truth. The truth was that you’d been texting her brother every day since he left for leave. You went with a half-truth instead:

You: yeah a few times why

She did not respond. You waited for the other shoe to drop like a blindfolded prisoner waits for their firing squad. The bus came to your stop, and you climbed on, sitting on the carpeted seat closest to the door, knowing your stop was only three away.

When you got to your office, your phone buzzed again. You set your bag and your coffee down before you even looked at it, avoiding touching your cell as if it had thorns.

You flipped over the screen.

Mo Chroi: make it to the office?

You: office.jpg

Mo Chroi: have a good day today thief

Mo Chroi: helicopter1.jpg

Mo Chroi: going on a wee trip. afk xx

You: promise xx

Mo Chroi: promise xx

Promise. Promise. It was you and Johnny’s little code. You hadn’t liked hearing about his “little trips” in the beginning, especially after he had shown you a photo of his truck, riddled with bullet holes. You used to say “good luck”, but you didn’t like that sound of that. You hoped luck had nothing to do with it. So, you just asked him to promise to text you back or to promise to be safe. And he always replied that he promised he would. Now, it had shortened to your one-word ritual. You always said it and he always said it back.

Another buzz:

Pidge: No reason. He has my phone charge the little nugget.

You: omg lol

You were not laughing out loud. If anything, you were sighing in relief.

It took most of the morning, but you fell into a routine. You had your meeting, came back, and wrote some more. Lunch was a pre-packaged lunch box from the student center and a refill on your coffee. You missed dinner. The sun set on you as you finished a critical section of your thesis, looking it over for flow and mistakes.

Worn out, and finally feeling hungry again, you checked your phone on your way back to the bus stop. No new messages. You waited for the bus, flipping through his photos again as if you would have forgotten them from when you looked at them from last night. Or the night before last.

You stopped looking at them, challenging yourself to have a non-Johnny thought in your head for once.

Maybe you would make a ramen with eggs in it tonight.

Maybe he’ll text you back.

You could watch another episode of that K-drama you liked.

Maybe he’ll send you a picture of him shirtless.

You could go for a run.

Maybe he will run his tongue back over your —

The bus came. You blocked out your thoughts from your mind, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

THURSDAY NIGHT

It had been three days, and you still hadn’t heard from him. You tried not to think about all of the terrible reasons why that might be the case. But, you did. You thought about them all the time. Every time you checked your phone or read an email or scrolled through your feeds; it was the only thing you thought about.

You had his shirt on again, eating leftover Chinese on your futon. You were thinking about all of the things you needed to take care of before tomorrow. It was Pidge’s bridal shower weekend and you were trying to wrangle all the final touches together. You’d rented out Ettrick’s, at Pidge’s request, and you had sent the invites two weeks ago. Almost everyone had RSVP’d yes, so you were looking at nearly 45 people to host. The custom bridal cookies were set for pick up when Hamish took you into town tomorrow afternoon, and the champagne was paid for. And you were dreading it.

You were excited to be there for Brigette. She had always been there for you. When you first moved to Scotland, you were well and truly alone. But, she met you for lunch almost every day after class, claiming to need her caffeine fix. But, as time went on, you realized she wanted to be friends. Having no one and being in a new country was so tough, but she had made it feel so easy. So, even though you hated the prim and proper social situation of a shower, you resolved to tough it out.

You put the half-eaten Chinese back in the fridge and climbed into bed. Your phone buzzed as you went to put it on the charger.

Mo Chroi: you up?

Your heart stopped for a moment, making your breath hitch in your chest. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to open his message.

Mo Chroi: camels.jpg

You: omg! are those REAL

You: shes not a camel but ill trade you one critter pic for a Marlowe pic

You: marlowethecat.jpg

Mo Chroi: her cheeks are brilliant lol so big

You: so your mission went okay?

Mo Chroi: lol yeah. and we got the guy who owned the camels to take a cool pic of us. can you tell which one’s me?

Mo Chroi: group_pic.jpg

You: gotta be number 3

Mo Chroi: how’d you know

You: your wide shoulders. and you always stand like that

Mo Chroi: like my shoulders do you

You: yep

You: you should send me a selfie

There was a long pause. You were a little afraid that you’d overstepped a boundary. Sure, his long, hungry tongue had been buried between your legs three weeks ago, eating you like he was starving, but people were cagey about their online privacy. You backtracked:

You: if you want to. nbd if not

Mo Chroi: selfie.jpg

You checked the image, and your heart sank like a stone. Johnny wore a green and yellow bruise over his eye, and his head had been shaved.

You: you okay? bruise looks nasty

Mo Chroi: you should see the other lad

You: and they shaved you?

Mo Chroi: got a nasty wee cut on the back of my head and doc sheared me like a damn sheep

He sent you a series of frowny faces and sheep emojis, and you felt a wave of calm settle in your chest. The latent fear was still there, and would be until you saw him again, but it was good to know he was alright.

FRIDAY MORNING

You were back on the bus, toting around your overnight bag, planning on heading to the train straight after your colloquium lecture this afternoon. Your phone had been beeping at you all morning. Johnny was begging for you to record your talk, asking you to let him sit in on your “class”.

You: johnny its not a class! its just a lecture. we have to give them every now and then to show what we’ve been doing with our research. its not fun. you’d be bored.

Mo Chroi: meirleach! i dinnae care how fun it is. let me see!!

You: campus.jpg

You: look. its all stuffy and campusy. you wouldnt like it

Mo Chroi: youre breaking my heart lass xx

You smiled. He was so bright, and he made you feel like you were so very special. It was no wonder he was such a danger to single women everywhere. Your confidence was soaring.

When you made it to your office, you sent him another picture of your current work. You were writing a short paper on German poems, not really related to your thesis, for a conference coming up in the spring.

You: look. you dont even speak german! it would be like torture

You: german_poem.jpg

Mo Chroi: so cool. im beggin you. let me watch you. i won’t say a word.

You: maybe if you come back a little early from leave next time, you can sneak into one

Mo Chroi: if i survive this training, i will.

Mo Chroi: thinking about seeing you up there teaching. got me all turned on

You sent him an emoji with a shocked look on its face, feigning coy shyness. He was relentless.

Mo Chroi: think youd let me be teachers pet?

You: more like class clown

Mo Chroi: you did seem fond of all of my tricks. wanna see what else i can do?

You: lecture_hall.jpg

You: i have to prep for this talk. keep your naughty thoughts to yourself soldier

Mo Chroi: yes maam

Mo Chroi: wait!

You: what

Mo Chroi: before you go. what color knickers are you in

Mo Chroi: just trying to imagine your lecture

Mo Chroi: with accuracy

Mo Chroi: cmon lass. for extra credit

You smiled down at your phone again, knowing your answer was going to win this little back and forth game he was playing.

You: im not wearing any this morning. gonna do my washing at your place.

Mo Chroi: jesus mary and joseph

You: and all the saints?

Mo Chroi: every one of them xx

Your lecture went off without a hitch. You earned yourself a few crowd questions and a round of polite applause. Stopping back by your office on the way out, you grabbed your laptop and headed for the bus stop. You’d forgotten your phone was on silent, and it wasn’t until you made it to the train station that you realized it. Two missed calls from Pidge and three texts from her brother.

You checked the texts as you returned her call, unable to hold yourself back from seeing what he wrote to you.

She answered quickly,

“Hey! Are you on your way?”

“Yep,” you replied, “I’ll be there around three forty-five, I think.”

“Okay, perfect. I just wanted to tell you that we’re adding two more to the list. Anjali invited Steph and Tiff. Is that alright, babes?”

You tried not to groan directly into the mouthpiece,

“Yes! The more the merrier.”

What were you going to do about the seating chart? You’d figure it out later.

“Fantastic! You’re amazing, hen. You know that?”

“Anything for you, bestie.”

She kissed you over the phone and hung up. You let out that sigh you’d been holding. As much as you loved her, you were ready for your friend’s wedding to be over with..

You checked the messages from Johnny, looking to escape from your thoughts again. He was the perfect distraction.

Mo Chroi: oh fuck no

Mo Chroi: its dog day for training

Mo Chroi: army_dog.jpg

You: you dont like dogs?

Mo Chroi: not these

Mo Chroi: had a bad time with attack dogs in russia a few tours back

The train arrived and you got settled. You weren’t sure how to respond. It was back again, that funny feeling in your chest about him being in constant danger. You didn’t know how to handle it. It wasn’t like you could ask him to stop. That was his job, and he was one of the best. He’d been enlisted on this elite task force, and even though you barely understood what that meant, you knew it was special. What right did you have to stand in the way of his greatness? The world needed Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, and you were just a distraction.

You waited for him to text again, a distraction for you and you for him. A two-way street. That’s all it was, right? How could it be anything more?

You thought about his sister. She’d been so painfully clear about her boundaries. You imagined telling her you liked him, telling her you wanted to date him. She’d explode. There’d be Scottish yelling, and Scottish fighting, and Scottish siblings rowing at each other all over the house. You couldn’t do that to her, especially not now. So, you just went back to distracting him.

You: did you get bitten?

Mo Chroi: yeah, right on the belly. those bastards. can you see it

Mo Chroi: shirtless.jpg

You gasped audibly, hoping no one had heard you on the train. You’d already seen him naked, but having a picture of his bare, muscled torso on your phone was another thing entirely. You glanced around, checking behind you and clutching your screen to your chest, holding it to you shamefully, praying no one saw it.

You typed a message, then deleted it. You tried again, and then deleted it. You knew he could see your text bubbles popping up, and it embarrassed you to no end. Eventually, you decided to just be honest.

You: youre so damn hot

The wait was going to kill you. Seconds became minutes, which became hours, which became eons. You stared at the bottom of your message like it would disappear if you looked away. You opened the picture of his bare torso again, unable to stop yourself from indulging in his huge body. You knew how those muscles felt, and you wanted to feel them again.

He didn’t respond. Your heart sank like a rock. You felt the train screech to a halt at the station, and it took everything in you to pocket your phone and leave the car.

You marched down to meet Hamish, trying to control the look on your face.

“Hey! Over here!” he called to you from the carpark.

You saw his smiling face and tried to match his energy,

“Hey! Thanks for coming.”

“You bet,” he said as he took your bags.

“Can we stop by the bakery around the corner? They’ve got all the cookies and pastries we ordered for tomorrow.”

“Of course, lass. No problem. Hop in.”

Hamish drove you around, the perfect gentleman, carrying box after box of dessert for his fiance’s shower, storing them carefully in the boot of the car.

“Wow, these smell incredible, don’t they,” he crooned, “Wish I could crash your wee party.”

“No boys allowed,” you said wryly, smiling at him, eliciting a genuine laugh.

The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence. He talked a little about his research, and you shared a bit about yours, mentioning your latest lecture. Otherwise, you checked your phone constantly.

Then, just as you pulled into the driveway of the MacTavish house, you got a text.

Unknown: Hello this is Captain John Price. Sergeant MacTavish’s phone is dead, and he is making me text you the word: promise.

You: oh thank you. can you tell him promise back?

Captain: Roger

Your stomach twisted for a different reason now. He wasn’t upset with you, which was a relief, but he had just shipped out on another mission. It was so sudden, it seemed like an emergency. You saved the captain’s number in your phone, just in case.

After hugging Pidge and helping Hamish with the boxes, you unpacked your bags and started the laundry. You met Pidge in the living room, watching her put the finishing touches on some gift bags.

“These are cute,” you commented, feeling the soft ripple of the ribbons tied around the bags in your fingers.

“Thanks,” she said as she fixed one of the bows, “Hope I made enough.”

“They’ll live,” you smiled.

“Hey, did you hear from Johnny again?”

“Uh…no, why?” You panicked.

“He said he doesn’t have my charger but now that muppet is not answerin’ me. Gonna pop him when he’s down for Christmas, I swear.”

“He’s coming back for the holidays?” You asked, a little too enthusiastically.

Pidge cut her eyes up at you briefly, responding in a measured voice,

“Yeah, just a week. Why?”

You wracked your brain for a reason, pretending to look at the calendar on your phone. Finally, you said,

“Think he’d drive me up from Glasgow? The train is awful at Christmas.”

“Oh,” she sighed, “God, he’s so irresponsible, babes. Not sure I trust him to get you here on time. But, I’ll threaten him. He’ll do it for me. He’s been so accommodating lately. Johnny boy is like a new man.”

“Oh, really?” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going, but you pried anyway.

“Did you know he paid for the rehearsal dinner? The whole damn thing! Having it at the wee distillery and everything. Right proper party we’ll be havin’. Cannae believe it.”

The Auchentoshan Distillery was Old Kilpatrick’s pride and joy. He’d spent a pretty penny if he’d booked it out for her.

“He loves you,” you confessed softly.

“He tries to,” she said a little bitterly.

You watched her pack up the bags, and you began to wonder about their relationship with each other. It was clear to you that there was some immovable object that was being pressed upon by some unstoppable force. They were at a quiet, bubbling impasse, ready to boil over at any moment. Yes, they loved each other. But, Johnny and Pidge had diverged somewhere, and it was a rift that needed to be mended.

The washer buzzed. You went to move over the clothes.

“I’m heading over to grab the girls. Wanna come?” Pidge asked you, her keys in hand.

“No room,” you observed, realizing they wouldn’t all fit in the car.

“Ugh, guess you’re right, hen. No worry, we’ll be right back. I’m excited to have a girls’ night.”

“Me, too,” you lied.

Well, it was a half-lie. You didn’t mind a girls’ night. It was more the fact that you’d have to hide your phone from view as you waited for Johnny to report he was back safe and sound.

After Pidge left, you crawled into his sheets. The memories of you and your soldier came flooding back again, but this time they swirled together with all of the complexities that you were facing. The simplicity of that brief night you shared had become warped by reality, and you realized you needed to come to terms with your emotions before you got hurt.

FRIDAY EVENING

Your phone buzzed in your hand, waking you. It was warm from being on the charger and covered up by your body. You hoped that didn’t break anything. Sleep had taken you over like a surging wave. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from your week.

Unknown: heyyyyy this is soaps mate kyle. he wanted to let you know we’re back.

You: thanks for letting me know

Kyle: you bet

You were kicking yourself. You should have asked if he was okay. Just when you were about to ask Kyle to check on him, you heard the keys jingle in the door. Swinging your feet to the wooden floor, you got out of bed and met the gaggle of ladies in the foyer.

Cheek kisses, bright hellos and how-are-yous filled the once-quiet house, and you pocketed your phone, trying to distance yourself from the pang of concern.

You tried to keep up with the fast-paced conversation, but you weren’t the social butterfly that Pidge was. Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise were all gushing about their own lives, and you had very little to share. They were polite enough, asking you about your studies and pretending to care when you answered them.

“Oh, cool,” Cherise said, sipping on wine out of one of Pidge’s nicer glasses, “Poems are cool.”

“Yeah, I was Juliet in that one play,” Bekah said, proudly.

“And she’ll never let us forget it either,” Anjali rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed.

They were quick to forget you again, turning back to their recent Tinder date disasters and successes.

“And this bloke - the one with the beard thing - he ask me and this other girl to the same restaurant, on the same night! I thought she was gonna kill him right there in front of the maître de!” Anjali lamented.

Cherise smiled like a Cheshire cat,

“Lachlan is taking me on his boat next weekend.”

“We know! Shut up about the boat, you slag,” Bekah clipped.

Cherise shot back quickly,

“You’re just mad ‘cause Soap hasn’t texted you today.”

You gave the girls your full attention now. You darted your eyes to Pidge who rolled them, but looked otherwise unbothered. Bekah turned her phone around and you saw the image she was eager to display,

“He’s on bloody thin ice. I asked for a pic of him in his uniform, and all he sent me was a picture of some nasty sand!”

Your chest clenched tight enough that you couldnt breathe. It was your picture. Your morning photo from a few days ago. He was holding his breakfast, outstretched, and you could even see your hair tie on his wrist, the rolling dunes of the desert stretching out before him into infinity.

“Men, am I right?” Anjali finished her wine.

Maybe she was right.

SATURDAY MORNING

You’d slept beside Anjali that night, sharing the bed willingly but not enthusiastically. She had snored through most of it, and you’d barely gotten any sleep. It wasn’t just her snoring that kept you up. In fact, you were using her as a scapegoat. You had been thinking about Johnny.

It was like you were having a war in your mind. On one hand, it was just a picture of some sand, but on the other, you had no idea how many texts they had shared before or after that. Your heart broke easily, shattering melodramatically, whining about how you weren’t special and that if you didnt control yourself, you’d be sorry for it. He was just a playboy, just like everyone said.

Your brain, however, begged you to see reason. He sent her a picture of sand, not his naked torso, and he had forced his teammates to text you your passcode when he went on his mission. Surely that was enough proof that he cared about you and not Bekah.

It wasn’t enough, said the heart.

It has to be enough, said the head.

It shouldn’t even be happening, said the soul.

You watched the sun peek through the blinds just as they had when you’d been wrapped in Johnny’s arms, naked and warm against his pink skin.

You sighed and got up to shower.

The party was at two, so you had plenty of time. You made it over to Ettrick’s early to help set up, walking alone since you knew the others would be in heels and wouldn’t all fit in the car. You’d brought flats, sensible but stylish, and a comfortable, albeit sparkly, maxi dress. You felt like shit. Sleep would have been nice, you thought.

Hamish had delivered all of the boxes for you this morning, and the wait staff at Ettrick’s was setting it out for you. You rearranged it as artfully as you could, and you were just about finished when your phone buzzed.

Mo Chroi: phone’s alive! sorry i disappeared on you thief. forgive me?

You: glad youre ok

You: party starts soon

You: cookies.jpg

You: dessert_table.jpg

Mo Chroi: wow! did you do all that? pigeon is gonna be chuffed

Mo Chroi: heading out to the next spot

Mo Chroi: helicopter2.jpg

You: want me to tell Bekah hi? she was waiting on you to text her back last night

Mo Chroi: ?? no

Mo Chroi: why

Mo Chroi: what did she say

Mo Chroi: thief?

You: just that she was hoping you would text her back. idk

You thought about it for a little while before sending a final text.

You: i think she wanted more than just a sunrise.

SATURDAY NIGHT

You had three missed calls from Johnny, but you were too busy trying to deal with gift unwrapping, keeping the peace at the over-crowded tables, and rushing out appetizer trays when the wait staff became too overwhelmed. It was chilly tonight, but you were sweating under your long dress.

You thought about what you’d said to Johnny, and you were mad at yourself for trying to get a rise out of him. You didn’t want to be the one playing games, and you needed to curb your jealousy. He was allowed to text whoever he wanted, just like you were.

You: sorry. cant pick up. busy with your sister

You: champagne.jpg

Mo Chroi: answer my calls thief

Mo Chroi: i have to drive the rig but im calling you as soon as we get to our site

Mo Chroi: trucks.jpg

Mo Chroi: at least tell me when you get back. promise

You: promise

SUNDAY, 0200

You: i made it back to my apartment. hamish drove me. train was down for maintenance.

You: marlowe-in-a-bag.jpg

You: marlowe is mad that i was gone

Mo Chroi: im glad youre alright.

Mo Chroi: gaz took this at our training today

Mo Chroi: group_pic2.jpg

You: yall look tough

You: whos the one in the middle

Mo Chroi: thats the captain and ghost has the dog

Mo Chroi: go to bed thief. its late

Mo Chroi: sunrise2.jpg

Mo Chroi: can i call you later? its important

You: ok

SUNDAY, NOON

You woke to the sound of rain. A loud peal of thunder pulled you from the darkness of your sleep. You would have stayed with Pidge, but you just couldn’t face his bed again. Hamish was happy to be your chauffeur, even after you learned that the train was out of service. You tried to buy him some gas, but he adamantly refused.

A headache stung behind your eyes, drilling into you, punishing you for the champagne. You hadn’t been drunk, but it had been sweet, and now you were paying the price for your sugar rush. You checked your phone.

Pidge: hHad such a great night!!. Thanku for everytingf i lov youuuu!!

Pidge: omg Anji just boked inthe sink

You didn’t reply. She was probably still asleep, along with the rest of the household. There was nothing from Johnny, yet. It wasn’t unusual. He was busy with terrorism, you figured. He would text you if he wanted to text you.

Digging in your freezer, you found some leftover soup and put it on to reheat. Your phone rang.

The selfie of you and Johnny at Glencoe flashed onto your screen. You let it ring again before you picked up.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

“You still asleep, thief. I’m sorry to wake you,” he didn’t sound sorry.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, “Just making some soup. Rainy here. Cold.”

You: rainy_window.jpg

He groaned, and you could hear the creak of a mattress in the background,

“Mm. Spent the whole day on my belly doing target practice. I miss home.”

Mo Chroi: sniperpractice.jpg

“Yeah? Looks sandy and hot. Too bad there’s no beach,” you stirred the soup.

“I miss you, mo mèirleach.”

You stopped stirring the soup.

“I miss you, too.”

“Do you? Or are you cross about my texting Beks?”

“Both,” you went back to stirring the soup.

“Sent it to Hamish, too. You cross about tha’?”

You sent back silence.

“And if I told you Bekah’s an old friend from grammar school, and that’s all she’ll ever be, would you believe me, lass?”

Silence was all you had to give, apparently. Finally, you poured the soup into a big bowl and set it down on your coffee table, shoving your papers and books aside, and said,

“This soup looks amazing. Wanna see it?”

You: soup.jpg

“Thief. She’s just a friend.”

“I think there’s a song about this actually…”

“I think I’m fallin’ for you, and I need to know if you’re fallin’ for me, too.”

The bite of soup you were about to take hovered in your spoon, frozen in time. You could hear him breathing in your ear, waiting on your response. You could feel your heart shudder in your chest.

“Johnny. We can’t…”

“Don’t. Don’t start with tha’ mess, thief. Tell me you aren’t fallin’ for me, and I’ll stop. No more texts. I’ll leave it alone.”

“She’ll never forgive me, Johnny. I don’t have anybody else, don’t you get that? I’m not even from here. I’m spending Christmas with her because I don’t have anywhere else to go. You have a whole town who loves you, and she’s your sister. She’ll forgive you in a heartbeat.”

“You have me, don’t you, thief?”

“Do I?”

It was his turn to push silence out through time and space, sending it up to the cellular satellites and mirroring it back down to you. Firing frustrated breathing noises across cables and wires and whatever other stupid fucking technology was happening to you right now.

“Alright, lass.”

The phone beeped at you to inform you that the call had ended, but you kept it pinned on the shell of your ear, desperate for even a moment of that silence again. You regretted your honor the moment you’d held it up, and you were angry at yourself for keeping a promise you’d promised to keep.

The phone clattered to the coffee table. The soup went cold.

MONDAY MORNING

There was no sunrise text for you this time. Your phone didn’t have any notifications at all, in fact. You made it all the way to the bus before you caved.

You: bus.jpg

You waited. Then, you waited some more. Nothing happened. You tried not to cry, and you failed. Luckily, the bus was empty, and the driver didn’t care about you enough to ask what was wrong.

WEDNESDAY MORNING

You: stuck in the library today. office is being cleaned.

You: library.jpg

Again, you were met with the cold emptiness of staring at your own responses at the bottom of your messages. You tried not to feel the sting of it, but you failed at that, too.

THURSDAY MORNING

You: giving a lecture today. kinda nervous about this one.

You: lectureroom2.jpg

You: hope youre okay

FRIDAY MORNING

Your phone buzzed three times, waking you up with a jolt. It was still dark outside. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to see the messages.

Kyle: Hey this is Kyle, Soap’s mate. We’re heading back to the black site, so it’ll be a few weeks until you hear from him.

Kyle: airplane_loading.jpg

You: thanks for telling me

Kyle: Soap asked me to tell you he promises?? I think thats what he said.

You: tell him i promise

You: and can you tell him that i made a mistake? he was right. about everything.

You: and im sorry.

Kyle: Will do!

You stared out of the window until the deep purples of night gave way to a cool pink morning glow, and you watched as the sun stretched its gentle arms up and over the river.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Chapter 07

#guile and guilt #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john mactavish smut #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mctavish #call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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lottiecrabie · 6 months

Note

girlie brings professor!matty some cheap raspberry wine and rides him on the couch in his office

well he Has been looking very professor🤸‍♀️

the office is hot and stuffy, air thick with cigarette smoke and pine scent. the furnace is right beside it, and it heats and heats and heats until sweat sticks you to his tartan couch.

matty speaks of art theories, gesturing and nearly knocking his whiskey glass as he does so. you listen avidly, mostly. every word is a lesson, a treasure, a puzzle to scratch and undo and complete. still, the way he pushes his glasses up his nose is distracting, and you can’t stop your gaze flicking to the buttons of his orange shirt he pops one by one, the temperature gaining ground on him.

it’s just the heat, you remind yourself. it’s something else, too.

you nod at him. you sprawl on the couch; mary janes kicked off, feet tucked under your legs, elbow resting on the back pillows. comfortable, familiar, unprofessional. you’ve been here before— made a home of it, even.

the wine rests precariously on the tartan couch, but it’s not very scary. little worse could happen to it; it’s beat-up and dirty, pulled from some vintage shop fifteen somethings years ago, and tucked oasis of many college students since.

you take a swig straight from the bottle, licking the droplets. matty’s eyes flick to your lips, pink from raspberry wine. you smirk. ‘d’you want a taste?’ you ask, knowing.

his eyes settle on the wine. ‘is it any better than the last one?’

‘marginally so.’

matty sighs, opening his palm. he takes it like a duty, like you’re forcing him, as if it’s not completely his decision. he takes the babiest sip, then winces. ‘you drink this shit?’ matty spits, a disgusted grimace frowning his features. you laugh at the sight of it, swiping back the wine from him. ‘how do you not vomit pink by the end of it?’

‘dunno,’ you start, the light set-up of a tease. ‘guess i’m just better at handling my liquor.’

matty snorts. ‘yeah, i remember the state of you after two glasses of cognac.’ you shrug, innocent.

you take a swig of the bottle. the sweet, rubbery taste washes your mouth. you grin, dropping two cold fingers on his trousers, blinking at him as you graze them. ‘do you want another taste? don’t think you really took the time to appreciate the understated flavors.’

‘flavors,’ he mocks, though still leans in, and kisses you. your hand finds his hair immediately, loving to mess with his already undone curls, rake and tug until they stick out of his head like some mad scientist. give a face to those unhinged ramblings.

you kiss hungrily, licking and biting until you’re not quite sure you remember your name. matty breathes away to whisper, ‘mmh, you’re right. it’s a bit floral.’

‘shut up,’ you pant, pulling his head down.

you climb onto his lap, pushing him back on the couch. he lets his head fall on the pillows, tilting it up in offering as you devour him. his hands weight at your waist, respectful.

you break away from him, frantically unbuttoning his shirt until you get lazy, leaving it half-falling off his torso. it reveals the one tattoo you desperately crave to see, anyway; chest ink bright and depraved.

you focus on his pants instead, unbuckling his belt with shaky fingers. ‘woah,’ matty laughs. ‘are you even ready for me?’

you stare up at him, surprised. you steal a hand from him, placing it on the burning, wet heat between your legs. ‘always.’

‘fuck,’ he mutters, rubbing at your entrance, gathering a pool of your juices, slicking your clit. you jump at the contact, low moan as you work his pants again. ‘been all wet for how long?’

‘god, ever since you started talking.’ you finally spring free his hard cock, practically salivating at it. you rise up on your knees, stroking him.

matty’s not quite done with teasing you, blocking the way as he swipes and circles your bud. ‘is that right?’ he smirks, cheeky. ‘does it always get you all needy for me?’

‘yeah,’ you pout slightly, rolling your hips onto his hand, begging for more.

‘even when i teach?’ he pouts back, mocking. you groan, your head falling on his shoulder. ‘use your words, smart girl.’

‘yes.’

‘oh, it must be so hard for you, sitting in class for hours and hours, listening to me talk, all wet and throbbing and aching for my cock.’ he speeds up his fingers. you cry in the collar of his shirt, drooling on the cotton.

‘sir, please, i need—‘

‘right, right,’ he says, finally freeing the way, moving your underwear aside as he does so. you flash a smile in glee. ‘you’ve been so good for me lately. been all patient, too. you deserve it.’ pride shines through your skin. you lower yourself on his length, gasping in relief.

you rock your hips as soon as you get used to the stretch of him, rolling and bucking until pleasure waves through you. his hands dig into your flesh, encouraging.

‘what do you do, then?’ he whispers. ‘when you get all turned on in the middle of my class?’

you mewl, thrusting faster. the words get you needier somehow. get you ready for that fatal strike of ecstasy. matty pinches the skin of your thigh, punishing like a professor.

you clench around him, understanding his demand. ‘i—‘ you start, but his cock makes any thinking quite hard. ‘jesus, i— i go to the bathroom, sometimes.’

‘to touch yourself?’

you shut your eyes, nodding. ‘just a little, just to relieve some tension. i don’t— i don’t come.’

matty’s hands fall to your ass, puppeteering your deeper, closer. you fuck hard and fast, out of breath. ‘course not,’ he teases. ‘i know how you get when you come. whole bloody building would hear you.’ you flush. ‘when, then?’

your hand holds your weight up on the pillows of the tartan couch. your thighs ache, but you remain focused, determined. ready to blow. ‘when i get home. i get my vibrator and i—‘

‘hands can’t do it, huh?’ he laughs. ‘not like me.’ as though to prove it, he sneaks two fingers to your clit, rubbing better and faster than you ever could, that callus making you see heaven. you cry, gripping the tartan couch.

‘i play back the whole lesson,’ you admit. ‘how you looked and how you sounded like and— and i think of you saying it to me, in bed. think of all the things you’ve done to me, and what you would do if you were there. fuck, it makes me come so hard.’

you feel your hips grow erratic, bucking wildly and desperately. your legs shake, exhausted, overrun with euphoria. you say his name, again and again, a worship and a plea.

‘next time, darling,’ he says. ‘come find me. don’t need to do all of that; i got a perfectly good desk in that classroom that’s semi-standing up.’ you throb around him, hit with a wave of heat at that idea. ‘oh, you like that.’

‘promise?’ you squeak, dropping your head back as you get close.

‘you don’t know how often i’ve thought of bending you over it in the middle of class, love. you don’t have to worry about my word.’

you cry out, thrusting up and down, letting yourself exist in only his office, only the shape of his hands, until your brain breaks and you snap with a scream. you throb around him, falling on his shoulder, shaking.

he shushes you gently, holding your hips up as he continues to fuck into you. ‘so good, darling. so pretty,’ he promises, stroking your hair. ‘my best girl. my perfect girl. gonna make me come so hard.’ you whine. ‘where do you want it?’

‘inside,’ you hum. ‘want you to drip out of me all the way back home.’

‘fucking— shit,’ he groans, then fucks up into you a last time, spilling.

you breathe together as he slowly softens inside of you, still linked like some strange clay sculpture he would decorticate in class. your smile slacks your mouth. ‘i’m very excited for your next lesson, sir.’

he bursts out a laugh. ‘me too.’

#blurb #ask #crablurb #smut #matty healy smut #professor!matty

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topguncortez · 1 year

Text

Even More Experience | Bradley Bradshaw

part 1 | masterlist

synopsis: You decide to take the next step with Bradley

word count: 3.1k

warnings: SMUT, virginity loss, p in v, unprotected sex, cream pie, age gap, oral sex (f receiving), a dash of corruption kink, a lil bit of daddy kink. Bradley is big, alright. This is porn with a dash of plot.

Rooster was proud of you. He knew how awful finals week could be, and from how you described your classes this semester, he was glad that chose an “easy” major. He had watched you for the last two weeks be in total study mode, going to bed at random times in the morning, living off of redbulls and granola bars, falling asleep with your contacts in and a highlighter in your hand. One too many mornings, he’d walk out to see you drooling on your business communication notes.

If you would’ve told him six months ago, he’d be standing outside of a lecture hall, with a bouquet of flowers waiting for his girlfriend, he would’ve laughed at you. But here he was, waiting for his girlfriend outside of a lecture hall. He had been nervous at first, dating someone so much younger than him. There of course was the difference in maturity levels, but also the difference in experience. Rooster had been around the world, traveled faster than the speed of sound, almost died and live to tell the tale. The most you had done was move from Missouri to California for college. But Rooster loved you, and that was all that mattered to him. He hadn’t said those three little words yet, still scared that what he had with you was all a dream, but he knew that you could feel his love for you.

You were wearing a simple white sundress with a jean jacket as you walked out of the lecture hall. The feeling of relief and happiness cursing through you like waves on the sand. You wouldn’t ever have to step back into this cinderblock hell and listen to your professor drone on about transtheoreticl theory. Bradley straightened up at the sound of your laughter and pushed off his bronco, grabbing the flowers from the drivers side. He met you halfway on the sidewalk, greeting you with a soft kiss on your lips.

“What’s the occasion?” You asked.

Rooster just shrugged, and put his arm around your shoulder, “Can’t get you flowers and pick you up just ‘cause I like you?”

“Mm,” You looked up at him, “Nope!” He booped your nose as he opened the passenger door for you. He made sure you were secured in the bronco before jogging to the other side and getting in.

Rooster drove right down to the beach, one of your favoirte places to be at. He grabbed your hand and lead you to your favoirte restaurant. He didn’t even stop and check in at the hostess, giving her a wink before leading you to your favorite table, right in front of a large bay window that looked out at the ocean.

“My favorite restaurant, and my favorite spot to sit. . . What are you doing, Bradshaw?” You asked.

Bradley, again, just shrugged, “You worked your ass off these past two weeks and I thought we should celebrate. And what better way,” He reached across the table and grabbed your hand, running his thumb over your skin, “Than with the best mac ‘n’ cheese on this side of the US.” You blushed and leaned halfway over the table. Rooster closed the distance and met your lips.

And Rooster was right about the restaurant having the best mac ‘n’ cheese on this side of the US. The second best had to come from Bradley’s kitchen, a receipe that his mom had sworn by. You were glad that you met someone who could cook and had a strict schedule of eating every four hours. It was sometimes annoying when you’d be studying and he’d place a plate of apple slices and peanut butter right on your calculus homework.

When your belly was fully and Bradley had paid the bill (much to your dislike), he took you for a walk on the beach. The sun was starting to set, filling the sky with beautiful oranges and pinks. You always loved the sunset, but you loved it even more with Bradley by your side. The vibrant colors made his eyes look like pools of honey and you could see the streaks of blonde in his hair from the California sun. His skin also seemed to glow with that sunkissed tan he seemed to always have.

You were standing in his arms, your back against his chest, when you felt that familiar feeling settling between your legs. It had been happening more often since you and Bradley had started getting intimate. You still hadn’t gone all the way, but you were letting him go down on you pretty much anytime you wanted it. But, it was starting to not be enough for you.

There was still that itch that needed to be scratched. And you were ready for it.

You turned in Bradley’s arms, placing your hands on his chest. He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t say anything, but placed your lips on his. His lips were always so soft, probably from the vaseline he put on them every morning and night. One of his hands snuck up your body, and rested at the base of your neck, holding you to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his large body closer to your own.

You pulled away first, letting Bradley lean and try to chase your lips. You giggled, and moved one hand to his chest, resting right over his heart, “Bradley.”

“Sweetheart,” He hummed.

“I’m ready,” You blushed, looking down at your shoes before looking up at his honey brown eyes.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Yeah. . . for you to uh, for sex,” Your ears were ringing and you knew that you were as red as a tomato. You felt Bradley tense and youou closed your eyes, not wanting to see any sort of rejection in his eyes. But he cupped your cheek and lifted your head up a bit.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” Bradley said softly, and you opened your eyes, “Are you one hundred percent sure, that this is what you want?”

“Yes,” You said without hesitation, “I have thought about it a lot and I lo- I mean, I trust you,” You gulped and hoped Bradley didn't catch your near slip up. You grabbed Bradley’s hands and ran your thumb over his knuckles, "I'm ready."

Bradley nodded and pulled you in for a kiss, “Let’s go home.”

— — —

The ride to his house was filled with an exciting buzz. Ever the gentleman, Bradley kept his hands to himself as he drove, fighting every urge to reach over and place his hand on your thigh. He didn’t want to be handsy, in case you changed your mind. But you reached over and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers and settling it in your lap. He glanced over at you ever so often, trying to guage your emotions. You had a small smile on your face as you hummed along to the songs on the radio.

When you pulled into his driveway, you weren’t sure if you could maintain the same level of calm. You wanted him to take you right then and there like you had seen in all those pornos. Bradley let you go into the house first, kicking off his shoes and locking the door. It was a little awkward as you stood in the doorway, looking at each other, but you knew that he wanted you to make the first move.

“Where is your room?” You asked, surprised that your voice didn’t crack.

“Upstairs,” Bradley swallowed, “Second door on the right.”

You nodded and grabbed his hand, leading him to the stairs. He watched your ass as you walked up the stairs in front of him. You puhsed open the second door on the right, like he had said, and stepped into it. It was a plain, light grey room with a king sized bed in the middle of it. There was a nightstand on either side, both with pictures sitting in frames and lamps. It was a stark contrast to your room, which showed off your personality, but the room still felt like Bradley.

You stood awkwardly across the room from Bradley. He quietly shut the door, and emptied his pockets of his wallet, phone, and keys. You weren’t sure what the protocol from here was; do you sit on his bed? Do you just lie down on it? Do you take your dress off?

Bradley must’ve sensed the nerves rolling off your body, cause he turned and walked right over to you. He gently tilted your head up with a hand on your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. Your hands tangled in his hair, while his other hand wrapped around your back, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his hardening length against your stomach, making your heart start to beat erratically. Bradley’s lips went from yours to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly. If it weren’t for his strong arms holding you up, you surely would be a puddle of want and need on the ground.

“What do I do next?” You asked. Bradley grunted and pulled away from you. He could see your nipples straining against the flimsy fabric of your dress.

“Can I take this off?” Bradley touched the thin straps of your dress. You nodded and lifted your hands above your head, a smile on your face. Bradley chuckled, and grabbed the bottom of your dress, pulling it above your head. You were bare on top, wearing only a pair of white lace panties, “Fuck, sweetheart,” Bradley’s finger trailed down your body, to your naval, touching the top of the flimsy panties you were wearing, “White. . . for a virgin.”

“Mhm,” You nodded, biting your lip, “For you, daddy.” Bradley’s eyes fluttered shut at the sound of that little word.

“All for me,” Bradley’s voice sounded as if he were in awe of you, something so precious and all for him, “Fuck. . . Get on the bed for me?” You nodded again, and climbed on the bed, sitting in the middle, leaning up against the pillows, “Looking like a goddamn gift straight from heaven. How did I get so fucking lucky?”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” You blushed and Bradley shook his head. He gently crawled on the bed, up your body so he was hovering over you. He looked down at your body as if he were committing it to memory. You felt exposed under his brown eyes, and you lifted his eyes back to you, touching his cheek.

“Am I making you nervous?”

“A bit,” You mumbled, “I’ve just. . . I’ve never been naked like this- with a guy.”

“We don’t have to do this,” Bradley said, caressing your hip, “If you want to put one of my shirts on, you can. Whatever is going to be the most comfortable for you.”

“But you like me naked?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Of course,” Bradley kissed your cheek, and squeezed your hip reassuringly, “But if you don’t want to be naked in front of me, you can wear one of my shirts, or I think you left a bra here.”

You shook your head. If you were giving yourself to Bradley, you wanted to give your whole self to him. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing his knuckles, “I’m okay with being naked. You make me feel safe.”

Bradley looked up at you, and you knew what he wanted to say. It was so clearly written in his eyes, and it was ready to slip off his tongue, but he withheld it. It nearly pained him to hold back those three little words, but he swallowed them by kissing your lips.

“I’m gonna get you ready for me,” Bradley said.

“Gonna go down on me?” You asked, leaning up to chase his lips as he moved to kiss his way down your body. He nodded and felt the excitement roll through your body. He swore that there was nothing you loved more than when he was on his knees for you. And it was a good thing that Bradley loved doing it.

Bradley kissed both of your hip bones before he licked a stripe from your hole to your clit. You gasped, arching your back and tangling your fingers in his hair. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as he ate your cunt. His nose was nudging at your clit, as his tongue fucked your opening. You felt your thighs beginning to shake and close in around his head. Bradley pulled back from you, placing a kiss on your pussylips, before leaning over to the bedside table and getting out a bottle of lube.

“What is that?” You asked.

“Lube,” Bradley said, giving you the bottle so you could read it over. He learned that from early on, that you liked to read about the things he tells you, “You’re wet, but this is gonna help. Nothing wrong with using a little lube to help make things slide easier.”

“Ew,” You scrunch your nose, “Sounds dirty when you say ‘slide easier’”

“Sorry, honey,” Bradley chuckled, as you handed back the lube, “You ready?”

“Please, Bradley,” You nod.

Bradley kissed you before sitting back on his heels, taking his dick into his hands. You watched him pump his cock a couple of times, before taking the lube and spreading it over himself. He let out a guttural groan at the feeling. You never realized how big Bradley was until you saw his hand wrap around himself.

“Bradley,” He lifts his head to look at you, “Is it, will it fit?” You squeak out.

He looks down at himself for a moment and then at you, “Yeah, I think,” He took his fingers and swiped them over your cunt, spreading the lube around and pushing some into your weeping hole, “And if it doesn’t, that’s okay. You tell me if it hurts, or if it’s too much,” He leaned down on his elbow, and with one hand, he guided his cock to his entrance. Ever so slowly, Bradley pushed his tip in. You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself being stretched. Bradley watched your face, your eyelids slowly fluttering to relax your body.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Bradley’s voice was strained as he pushed the tip of his cock into you, “Good girl.”

“More, Bradley, please,” Your hands gripped his body, trying to pull him in closer.

“Gotta go slow,” Bradley grunted, pushing into you slowly.

He took his time with you, not wanting to go too fast and hurt you. You were tight, squeezing Bradley oh so well as he broke through that precious barrier, seating himself inside you. You felt stuffed to the brim with Bradley’s cock inside you, whimpering not only from pain but from pleasure. His hips moved in fluid strokes, pulling out and pushing back into you. A wanton moan left your lips as you tilted your head back in pleasure. Bradley’s rough hand moved down your side, grabbing your thigh and hooking it over his hip, giving him an even deeper angle.

“Oh my god,” You moaned, your nails digging into Bradley’s back.

“Fucking hell,” Bradley grunted. He wasn’t going to last. There was no way he could with the way you were gripping him so tightly and the sounds you were letting out. He squeezed his eyes shut as he buried his face into your neck, breathing in your scent, “I-I’m not gonna last.”

You nodded your head, your mind clouded in pleasure, “Okay, Bradley.”

Bradley couldn’t hold back his release any longer. His grip on your hip tightened as he closed his eyes, and pushed his hips as far into you as he could get them. You let out a gasp as you felt his cum coat your walls, his grunts filling your ears as he fucked himself through his orgasm.

“Oh shit, honey, oh my god,” Bradley groaned out, his hips stilling. You looked up at him with wide eyes, as if he had just handed you the world on a silver platter, “I’m sorry, baby.” Bradley kissed your lips, “I didn’t think I would cum that quick.”

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, running your fingers through his hair.

“Cause I should’ve gotten you off first,” His lips trailed over your collarbones, “I wanted to make you finish before I did.”

“It’s okay-”

“No,” Bradley pulled back from you, shaking his head, “I know you might not cum every time, but you at least deserve an orgasm for your first time.”

You smiled and kissed his nose. You wrapped your arms around his upper body, taking in a deep breath and relishing in the feeling of his body on top of yours. Being with Bradley was like having a weighted blanket around all the time.

“I gotta pull out now,” Bradley said against your skin, “It might hurt. . . and there might be blood,” You nodded, “Take in a breath,” You did as he told, “And breath out,” When you took your breath out, Bradley gently slipped out of your cunt. You couldn’t help but whimper at the loss of contact. He tried to bite back his smirk, but it was useless, “Stay put, I’m gonna get a towel and clean you.”

You giggled as you watched Bradley’s bare ass shuffle to the bathroom, quickly grabbing a washcloth and wetting it. You sat up on your elbows and looked down between your legs, finding light red blood and cum leaking out of you. Instantly you felt guilty and embarrassed about the mess that was leaking out of you and onto Bradley’s duvet.

“Hey,” Bradley said softly, making you look up from the mess, “It’s alright. I need to wash my sheets anyway,” You still had a frown on your face as Bradley kneeled between your spread legs, “Y/N, look at me.” You looked up at him, and he gave you a soft smile, “This isn’t something to be embarrassed about. I’m not scared of a lil blood and some cum, a’right?”

Your ears felt hot as you nodded and Bradley kissed your cheek, before gently cleaning up the mess in between your legs.

“How about, I start you a bath, and I’ll change the sheets and get us some snacks?” Bradley asked.

“Sounds like a dream, baby,” You said softly, “As long as you add in the bubbles and the pink bath bomb.”

Bradley scoffed, “How could I forget?” You let out a squeal as Bradley picked you up bridal style. You leaned your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he walked to the bathroom. Bradley felt his heart clench in his chest, as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. Before he could walk away, you grabbed his hand, stopping him.

“What is it, baby?” Bradley asked, his eyes filling with worry.

Those three little words were right on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to say them, you really, really wanted to. But when you opened your mouth to say them, no words fell out.

You closed your mouth and gave Bradley a tight lipped smile, and shook your head, "Nothing, just make sure the water is hot."

Bradley nodded and kiss your cheek, "Always."

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388 @desert-fern @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @bradshawseresinbabe @munsonswhore86 @happypopcornprincess @Sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe

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note: should I keep going with these two or. . . cause I got some ideas

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devildom-moss · 7 months

Text

Roses for You (2)

This had all started when you noticed a link between a book on the language of flowers you had borrowed from Satan’s room and the current lessons from your Seductive Speechcraft and Magical Potions classes.

In Seductive Speechcraft, you had just reached a section on the effectiveness of spells using non-verbal communication: enchanting glances, dance, and offerings. Meanwhile, in Magical Potions, the professor had been discussing the significance of using specific quantities when concocting potions; they had spent fifteen minutes just providing examples – including adding petals from two different flowers when using them for a love spell.

You couldn’t resist discussing the use of flower language – utilizing the type, color, and quantity of the flowers – to specify the magical intent of an offering as a form of seductive speechcraft. Asmo and Solomon listened intently. The same idea popped into both of their minds, and before you knew it, everyone was looking into color and number meanings, searching for the perfect combination to convey their feelings for you and try to put you under their spell. The only rule for their little competition to charm you? Only roses are allowed.

Will you be charmed by their attempts?

Two Roses - Mammon

Word Count: +500

I'm deeply in love with you / mutual feelings

Your phone screen lit up, and feeling particularly attention-deprived that day, you immediately checked it.

Mammon: Hey. Come to my room immediately. Don’t go lettin’ anyone see ya, alright?

MC: Alright. What’s up, though? Do you need something?

Mammon: No questions. Just hurry up. Ya better not leave the Great Mammon waiting!

You sighed. So demanding. Regardless, you made your way to Mammon’s room. He had a tendency to whine when you took more than a few minutes to show up. With Mammon, there was no need to knock on his door. He had given you permission to just come in when he called for you after that one time when he was . . . a bit tied up. You walked right in, shutting the door behind you. “So, what’s up, Mammon?”

“Shut your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Ugh, just do it, human.” You relented and heard him moving around the room. “Okay. You’re good.”

When you opened your eyes, Mammon was holding out two bright orange roses. They caught your eye and drew your attention. Of course, he would choose orange: a vibrant symbol of desire and excitement. For an unspoken language, this was a loud declaration – perfectly in character for Mammon.

His anxiety rose as your silence continued. Did you not like them? Was his message not getting through? You weren’t going to make him say it himself, were you? A blush painted his cheeks. “Well, whatcha think?”

You pushed him back towards his pool table and boxed him in on either side with your arms. Watching the blush deepen on his face, you smirked. “You’re so cute.”

“H-hey!” Mammon protested. Every other word left him in his embarrassment. The bright orange roses were still in his hand, and he held them to his chest. You plucked the roses from his grasp and set them down carefully on the green play field behind Mammon, leaning closer to him as you did. Your face was right next to his. If you’re gonna kiss me, just do it already, he thought. When you finally brought your lips together, Mammon lost all the composure he had been trying to maintain. It took mere seconds for his arms to wrap around your neck, soft moans leaving his throat.

If he was going to be so eager, there was no need to hold back. One of your hands slipped around his waist, pulling him flush against you. He whimpered and broke the kiss. “Mmh, w-wait.”

“What’s the matter, baby boy? You wanted all my attention on you, didn’t you? Isn’t that what you were trying to tell me? I’m just trying to give you what you want.”

“That’s not –” he started, trying to deny the truth, but you were still so close that words failed him.

“You already know I’m just as crazy about you as you are about me, don’t you? That’s why you picked two roses. The feelings are mutual.” You ran your thumb along his lower lip. He was as soft as rose petals. “Do you want me to stop? I will.”

“No.” You felt his lip tremble. “More. I need more. And ya better not leave ‘til I’m satisfied.”

“Good boy.”

So maybe Mammon hadn’t made you fall any deeper for him, but he had confirmed that you wanted him back. And at least for the night, he had you all to himself. There was no end to his greed for you, but Mammon could make do with this much (for now).

A/N: please enjoy another man I would love to dom+top so hard (I say as if that isn't how I feel about all of them - obviously not Luke though).

#mammon #gn!mc #obey me series #obey me #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #I might post a Mammon thirst thought later. I haven't done any posts that are just thoughts like this before #I don't know how I would tag and sort it so that's ugh #I also don't know if it would go unappreciated or not

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beautification-tales · 1 month

Text

The Cow

A sequel to “The Deal”

“Moooo” Peter bellowed at Stacey. The rest of his friends joined in, their laughter ringing through the halls like a pack of hyenas. The tears streamed down her face as she walked away to her next class, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She knew she should have stayed home, but she couldn't afford to miss another day of school. As she sat at her desk, she couldn't help but wonder how things had gotten this bad.

Peter had been a bully since high school and his crass jokes did not end in college. Stacey had tried everything from eating less to trying to exercise. She just could never keep the pounds off. She was always the fat one, the ugly one. Even her own family made comments about her weight. No matter what she did, she felt like she could never measure up.

As she tried to adjust herself in her seat. She saw the looks of everyone. She hated that she was noticed because of her size and could feel the judgment in their eyes. It was like Peter was the only one with the guts to say what they all were thinking. She was a cow. Tears began to flow again as she thought about her reality. “Anyone sitting next to you?” A woman said.

Stacey wiped her tears and saw a gorgeous woman with bright almost orange hair. She couldn't help but feel intimidated. Stacey noticed that everyone was looking at the two of them. Stacey looked down in embarrassment. “N.. no one is sitting here” she managed to say. The woman smiled at her and sat down taking her notebook out of her backpack. “Ugh this class is so hard! Please tell me it’s not just me.”

She smiled and for a moment Stacey forgot about the cruel remarks from Peter and his gang. “Yeah, it’s the worse it’s like the university wants us to repeat it” she laughed. The woman smiled at her and leaned over a bit. “They want us to spend more money.” She winked at Stacey. “My name is Marsha by the way.” Stacey felt a little awkward introducing herself but managed to say her name. Marsha reached over and gave her hand a squeeze.

As the class progressed, Stacey felt a little more comfortable with Marsha. They would whisper to each other and laugh about the professor or the assignments. Stacey began to feel like maybe she wasn't so alone after all. Marsha seemed to understand what it was like to be on the receiving end of cruel remarks. She confided in Stacey that she was a late bloomer and had faced her own share of bullying in high school and college. Stacey felt a connection with her that she hadn't felt with anyone else.

Stacey also enjoyed that with Marsha people were nicer. It was definitely because of the allure and beauty of Marsha but Stacey welcomed the reprieve. It wasn’t until Peter spotted them walking that she remembered the torture she experienced daily. Peter quickly approached the two of them. His friends hung back, watching as they smiled to one another.

“Yo Stacey when are you going to sue Doja Cat for making a song about you?” Stacey looked at Peter with a blank expression. “Bitch I’m a cow!” Peter howled as his friends laughed. “ And who is this fine piece of ass?” Peter asked with a smile on his face. Stacey felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She had finally found a friend but this would drive Marsha away. “Listen you limp dick loser. How about you leave Stacey alone before I kick your ass!” Marsha snapped. Peter took a step back, surprised by her outburst.

Marsha glared at Peter, the look was piercing and cold . Her orange hair seemed to glow in the sunlight . She placed a protective hand on Stacey's shoulder. Stacey felt a surge of gratitude wash over her. This was the first time anyone had ever stood up for her. Peter gulped feeling afraid at first but wanting to save face gained some courage. “I don’t think you can handle all of me” He laughed flexing his muscles. Marsha smiled and walked closer to Peter. The look of disdain intensified and Stacey could swear Marsha’s eyes were glowing. “Oh trust me tiny dick. I can easily chew you up and spit you out.” Marsha got face to face with Peter. She moved her head to his ear and whispered. “Now cum”. Peter stepped back with a look of surprise. “Ungh… how you? Ungh” he groaned as he shivered. Stacey didn’t make sense of it. Marsha pointed at Peter’s pants and shouted loudly “Ewww this pervert just pissed his pants in front of me!” Peter looked down at his pants as his face went white. He covered the stain and ran away at an alarming speed. Marsha turned to Peter’s friends as they looked on with puzzled expressions. “Anyone else want a try? No? Good boys !! Now tell your piss pants ring leader. If he dares call my friend a cow again. I’ll have him reported as a sex offender. Kay?”

They all slowly walked away.

“How did you do that?” Stacey whispered in awe. Marsha grinned, her golden-brown eyes sparkling. She shrugged modestly. "I've had practice dealing with assholes like him." They continued walking, their steps in sync. “I wish I could have done that… but thank you.” Marsha glanced at her sideways. “Do you really wish you could do that?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Stacey hesitated for a moment, considering her words carefully. There was something about Marsha that made her feel strong and confident, almost powerful.

“Yes, I wish I could make Peter feel that kind of embarassment… every day. I want him to beg for my forgiveness and regret ever bullying me.” Stacey couldn’t believe her own words. She never spoke with so much emotion but it was like all her anger was flowing out. “I wish I had the power to make them all pay. My family, Peter, his friends. All of them!” She nearly screamed as she felt her eyes water. Stacey immediately regretted her outburst. She had always been so quiet and now she was yelling. She felt ashamed.

“I can give you all of that Stacey. I just wanted to know that You wanted it. Hey here’s my dorm come inside I have something to show you.” Marsha grabbed Stacey's hand and pulled her into the dorm. They went to Marsha's room and she showed her a picture. The picture was of a nerdy girl with brown hair, she was plain and mousy. “Remember when I said I was a ‘late bloomer’? Well that’s half of the story. That was me 6 months ago. I was like you, no confidence, never standing up for myself. Then I met her… a real life succubus. Sounds crazy right? I didn’t believe her either when she told me too. But when she said she had the power to change my life. I said fuck it what do I have to lose?”

“So you’re a succubus? So that wasn’t piss in Peter’s pants…. It was cum?” Stacey asked, actually curious. Marsha laughed, shaking her head. “Wow, you believe me already? Yeah I made Peter cum his pants. One of my many abilities besides the power to have this rocking bod.. Check this out.” Marsha took a long inhale and exhaled slowly. Flame enveloped her body and her form shrank as her clothes morphed. She was now the girl Stacey saw in the picture. She was plain and mousy but had a look of confidence that the picture didn’t. The same yellow glow of her eyes also remained.

“Holy crap…. It’s real! This is so cool. Marsha… please make me one. I’ll do anything!!” Stacey was in awe of the girl in front of her. She couldn't believe it. She had always dreamed of having powers, of standing up to the bullies, of being confident and beautiful. Marsha laughed, a genuine sound that made Stacey feel warm inside.

Marsha explained in her old form the powers of a succubus. The beauty and voice to make men and women go crazy with desire and even orgasm on command. She was warned that there was a cost. It would be nearly impossible to find true love unless meeting another succubus or incubus. The ability to change appearance in yourself and others is possible but takes a lot of energy. Her true food from now on would be sexual energy in any form. “Lastly, you have to promise me that you will pass on the gift as it was passed on to me.” Stacey nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with excitement.

“So we have a deal.” Marsha grinned, her yellow eyes sparkling. She came close to Stacey. “Time to seal it with a kiss.” Marsha lurched forward and locked lips with Stacey. The kiss was long and passionate, sending shivers down her spine. Marsha’s lips felt warm against hers as Marsha’s tongue massaged hers. Stacey moaned as she felt desire in the moment she had never experienced before. When the kiss finally ended, Marsha smiled at her.

Flames enveloped Marsha as she morphed back into the gorgeous form she was using at their first meeting. “Mmmm that was good. I choose wisely… there’s a lot of passion in you.” Before Stacey could respond she felt a strong burning sensation upon her skin. The burning got stronger to the point she fell to her knees. Stacey’s eyes got wide when she saw her skin actually burn like she was on fire. Stacey wanted to yell and scream. She wanted to blame Marsha for putting her through this agony but nothing came her mouth. Fortunately the pain was short lived as her burnt skin peeled off revealing new tan unblemished skin.

A new pleasurable sensation filled her body as she panted. She arched her back as her breasts firmed up and raised up on her chest. They were beginning to defy gravity as her shirt began to rip. She gripped her thighs as the pleasure increased. Her nails grew long and naturally manicured. She felt her hair cascade down her back as some flew into her face. Stacey gave in to the sensations as she gyrated her hips and her moans gained more volume. Stacey began to smile as she noticed Marsha was in the corner touching herself. Stacey felt her fat evaporate off her body as some of it was squeezed to other places. Her face became new as her cheekbones became thin. Her breasts became massive as her thighs kept some thickness. Her ass rounded out and gained a perfect shape. However her abdomen became flat as her body molded from round to hourglass.

Yellow flames covered Stacey’s body as a new form fitting dress covered her body. “Mmmm FUCK! I feel amazing…is that what an orgasm feels like…I want more.” She moaned as she felt herself throbbing between her legs. Her breasts were now so large they felt heavy on her chest. She reached up to touch them and let out a soft moan. The dress she was wearing shifted as she moved, showing off her curvy figure. “Damn Stacey… you are stacked!” Marsha said, licking her lips. The two of them smiled at each other as their moans kept the entire dorm building up all night.

The next day Stacey was determined to test her power by getting what she desired most … revenge.

She covered her body in tight jeans and a tight revealing top along with sandal heels. She walked through the university campus like a goddess, her hips swaying to and fro. Every man's eyes were glued to her as she walked by. Her breasts bounced enticingly with every step. She made her way to the cafeteria where she spotted Peter eating with his friends. He looked up and saw her, his eyes widened with surprise. His heart raced as he felt a strange sensation in his chest. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

Stacey sauntered over to his table, her hips moving gracefully. "Hello Peter," she purred, her voice low and seductive. His friends watched in awe as she sat down next to him. He stammered out a reply, unable to form coherent words. Stacey leaned in close, her breasts brushing against his arm. "I want you to come with me," she breathed. His heart raced even faster as he felt a heat building up inside him. He nodded dumbly, unable to resist her.

Together, they left the cafeteria and walked through the campus, Stacey's long legs carrying her swiftly. She led him to a quiet, secluded clearing where she turned to face him. With a wicked smile, she placed her hands on his chest and slowly undid the buttons of his shirt. His breath hitched as he watched her deft fingers reveal more and more of his toned skin. As his shirt fell to the ground, she stepped closer, her body pressing against his.

Stacey removed her shirt next, revealing her perfect, ample breasts to the open air. She leaned in even closer, her nipples brushing against Peter's chest. His heart thundered in his ears as he felt a strange warmth spread through his body. He could feel the heat emanating from her, feel the power that she exuded. She reached down and unbuckled his belt, then undid his pants, letting them fall to the ground. His erection sprang free, hard and throbbing.

Stacey brought a hand to the back of Peter’s neck. Peter moved forward for a kiss but Stacey put her head back. Peter got the message as he licked her nipple. Stacey put her head back and moaned as Peter continued licking. “Yes don’t stop big boy keep going.” Peter continued to play with her ample bosom as he began to taste milk. The milk was warm and sweet as Peter couldn’t stop himself. Peter drank from Stacey’s nipple for what felt like hours as it flowed freely. Peter feeling extremely full pulled off. He was conflicted as he desired more but his stomach felt full and heavy. “You don’t want any more baby?” Peter trying to fight found himself back sucking the nipples. “Hmmm they said milk does the body good but it seems it’s just making you fat.” Peter looked down and saw that his abs were gone and replaced with a round beer belly.

Peter pulled away in horror. “What did you do to me y.. you bitch!” He shouted, his belly jiggling as he did so. Stacey merely laughed, finding his new appearance quite amusing. “Ohh this is so good. Revenge turns me on so much.” Stacey rubbed her crotch and teased her nipples. Peter, unable to resist, began sucking again. “Yes that’s it Peter. Make me mmmm yes! Make it count! This is the last time you’ll ever have the chance to mmm make a www…woman Cum!” Peter spurted hot seed from his manhood at the word as his cock was under her command. Peter groaned as the reaction was too violent to give him pleasure. He collapsed on his back with milk dribbling down his chin. He felt weak and helpless as his arms and legs lost their musculature. Looking up in a daze he asked “Who are you?”

Stacey knelt beside him and whispered in his ear. Peter’s eyes filled with terror as he looked at her. She looked down at him and smiled. She whispered in his ear again as he ejaculated once again and passed out.

When campus security found him unconscious and naked covered in fluids near the girls dorm. It was immediately recommended he be expelled for repeated sexual deviant behavior. Peter hardly spoke or went out in public again. Peter’s friends suspected the gorgeous girl Peter was last seen with did something to him. However, when any of them would ask him “who did this to you?” He would tremble with tears in his eyes trying to say a name but all that would come out was his mouth “mooooooooo”.

#beautification #breast expansion #transformation #bimboification #f2f transformation #origin stories #ass expansion #slutification

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aloysiavirgata · 1 month

Note

M&S revival, Canoe camping clouds

The sky is a swirl of orange and purple, like the orchids and trumpet vines that harrowing long-ago night in the Apalachicola Forest. The air has the same cloying honeysuckle-and-jasmine lushness. The same sparking, ball-lightning kinetic energy.

She wonders, as she always does, what would have happened if she’d called his bluff and gotten naked. Maybe it wouldn’t have all been such a gigantic goddamned deal. Maybe they’d have a teenaged boy at home throwing a cheap beer kind of party while they have this little getaway. Maybe there would have been no Antarctica and no funeral and no tender, leaking breasts. Maybe her mother would still call every Sunday.

She likes to worry this little ache from time to time, like a sore tooth, to see if it still hurts. It always, comfortingly, does. She is still alive. She is still human. Hurting feels so much like life.

Mulder’s got his hot-professor glasses on, pointing up at a vast, fuchsia cloud. “Nessie,” he says, with a kind of smug authority. He throws another lump of moldy bread towards the evil goose by their canoe. It honks in triumph; pecks and honks.

“I can’t believe I’m negotiating with terrorists,” he laments.

Scully glares at the goose as it pecks and nibbles. She scrunches her nose. “Vibrio cholerae,” she says. “Sans flagella.”

Mulder groans. “You’re so predictable.”

Scully sniffs, prim. “I’ve been called worse by better.”

“Oh? Waterston call you his hot little blue-stocking in the sack, Dana?” He feeds the goose again.

She’d never been called worse by better. There is no better. She knows that now, high-breasted and narrow-waisted at 52. She knows that now, with Mulder and his obnoxious body beside her. She knows that now, with with her sterile, clipped little bob.

“Mmm,” she says, non-committal. The sun dies a bit more.

Mulder, in his strange omniscience, smiles. “Sell your house and marry me,” he says. Then, “Batman holding a pepper shaker.”

Behind them, the tent rustles in the sweet winds of late June. The clouds drift like drowsy sheep. Night comes down.

“Batman holding a pepper shaker,” Scully murmurs.

She reaches for his hand as the gloaming comes, as the stars shine and shine and shine.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #prompt #my fic #inbox #revival

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latherinhoney · 4 months

Text

one flight away

(heeseung - enhypen)

genre: fluff

description: after not being able to see each other for so long things are finally aligning. though after being told certain news you start to doubt if you guys will ever really get to see each other?

1.3k words

warnings: teeny amount of angst, mainly just fluff, y'all love each other so bad

a/n: hellooo it's been a while, usually I don't write fluff like at all but i got inspired by orange flower to write this LOL but I will be back to my regularly scheduled smut writing as I am going through requests but as always i'm hoping you guys enjoy this and feel free to send any requests!

songs that helped inspire this:

woodz - hope to be like you

enhypen - orange flower (you complete me)

---------

“Hee?”

you speak into the phone as you anxiously bite on your nails waiting for his response. It’d been a little over a year since you guys had last seen each other in person. With him having a crazy schedule overseas and being a college student yourself, you both essentially had no to time to go see one another.

You guys made sure to text and call one another everyday, being able to hear each other’s voice and see each’s other face but it still wasn’t enough. Not like when he was here in person with you. How you would go on cafe dates and would always share a slice of strawberry cake both your favorite and no matter the amount left he would always make sure to split the last strawberry with you. Seeing the look on your face when you bit into it always made his heart swell.

How you would hold hands walking down the street, fingers interlocking with one another. Making sure he brushes his thumb against your knuckles. Watching as you point out any little thing that catches your attention and feeling embarrassed when you catch him staring at you. Immediately covering your face with your hands when he starts laughing at how red you start getting.

It’d been so long without him, you were basically itching for his return when he told you that he’d finally be returning home in the next few days. You’d been counting down the days trying to distract yourself with school and work so it wouldn’t feel as long and you would come home texting about how excited you we’re to see one another

I miss you so much, I can’t wait to see you - H

Counting down the days until you come home!

Almost there! Just hold on one more day - H

You could almost pass out at the fact that he was almost home. Just one more day and he’d finally be your’s again. You couldn’t fall asleep thinking of how he’d finally be laying down next to you again. Hearing his soft breathing again as he falls into deep sleep making sure to cling onto you anyway he can. Waking up and getting ready for the day all you could think of was one thing, tomorrow is Heeseung Day.

The day couldn’t have passed more unbelievably slower then it did today. From getting scolded at work for not paying attention to completely tuning out your professor during class only one thing was on your mind and that was Heeseung. Today was finally the day, Heeseung had texted you all the details about his flight beforehand and how he’ll be meeting you soon.

Here’s my flight info, soon we’ll finally be together again! <3 - H

Smiling from ear to ear you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the fact that this was actually happening and that he’d finally be here in person and not just through a phone screen. You we’re anxiously sitting on the seat of the airport looking at your phone every few minutes checking his flight's status.

“It should be landing any minute now” you thought to yourself. Anxiously biting at your nails waiting for it say arrived anytime now. Yet you wait another 10 mins, 20 mins, 30 mins before finally you receive a phone call that startles you. You scramble to grab your phone and read the caller ID, Hee <3

Immediately you pick up the phone,

“Hee?” you say anxiously

“It feels like so long since I’ve heard your voice” He laughs into the phone “Oh? What’s wrong your voice sounds off” sounding concerned

“Oh it’s nothing really” as you clear your throat “I’d just been waiting for your flight info to update it caught me off guard to see your name on the caller ID” you rambled into the phone.

“You see that’s what I’m actually calling you about” As Heeseung sighs into the phone

Your breath hitches.

“What are you saying?”

“My flight as actually been delayed and I won’t be home until tomorrow”

Immediately can feel tears start to prickle at your eyes. Why does it seem like no matter how hard both of you want to see each other, you just can’t? All the anticipation building up until this moment just for him to tell you this feels like wound to the heart.

“I see” As you attempt to hold back tears, which was failing.

“Don’t cry baby, we’ll see each first thing tomorrow I promise” Heeseung says trying to soothe you through the phone

“I know, I just can’t help being sad about this situation” you sniffle into the phone “I’d been waiting for you for so long”

“I know baby, but I promise we’ll be together so no more crying okay?” “I’ll call you with any updates, so go home safe now I love you” He says blowing a kiss through the phone

Ending the call, you turn your phone camera on to make sure that you don’t look completely wrecked. Feeling your heart weigh heavy, you take a deep breath in and collect yourself before heading out to the exit. After hearing that his flight got delayed you couldn’t help but feel hurt at the fact that you thought you’d finally be together again.

As you start nearing the exit you feel a buzzing in your pocket. Immediately reaching into your pocket you look to see who the caller ID is and your phone lights up the word, Hee <3. Picking up the phone you wait for him to start speaking.

“Hello? Baby are you there?” He asks into the phone

“Yes I’m here what happened? What’s the update?” You ask puzzled. You didn’t think you’d be getting an update about his situation this quick. You continued walking to the exit waiting for the sliding doors to open and that’s when you saw him.

“The update is that I’m actually here, waiting for you” he chuckles into the phone.

You couldn’t believe it, he was actually here waiting for you. Hanging up the phone, you start running towards him. Adrenaline filling your body, nothing else mattered in this moment except the fact that he was here standing in front of you only a few feet away. You could see the smile growing on his face as you started approaching closer and closer. Sticking his arms out you immeditaely jump into his arms. Closing his arms tight behind you, you could feel his hug turn into a death grip.

Feearing that if he let go you wouldn’t be in his arms anymore. Tears start running down your cheeks as you couldn’t believe that you we’re in his arms after so much time spent apart.

“I’m home” Heeseung laughs tucking hair behind your ear and pulling you in for a kiss. Something you had been yearning for, for so long finally being presented to you in this moment.

Pulling away his smile only grows wider staring at you, taking all of you in as he hadn’t been able to hold you in his arms for so long.

“Mhm sorry I lied to you” Heeseung says sheepishly “But I had the idea of surprising you and I really wanted to see your reaction and how cute you’d look running into my arms….” he mumbles looking to the side avoiding your gaze.

You just grab him by the chin and pull him in for another kiss, both of you smiling into it.

“I’m just glad your finally here” you grin sniffling your tears away. Heeseung coudln’t help but find you so endearing in this moment that he started to pepper kisses around your face. Finally setting you down, he grabs some tissues from his pocket and starts helping you wipe your tears away.

“Cmon, dry those tears” Heeseung hums has he finishes wiping your tears away.

“Gimme your hand” Heeseung says reaching his hand out to meet yours. You grab it immediately interlocking fingers just like before as he reassuringly starts rubbing your knuckles. He couldn’t help but smile knowing he’s finally home with you by his side.

#kpop fluff #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #lee heeseung fluff #kpop imagines #enhypen imagines #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader fluff #lee heeseung imagines #Spotify

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momo-t-daye · 6 months

Text

"Now, Severus, the sword! Do not forget it must be taken under conditions of need and valor-" the portrait recited, an echo of Albus Dumbledore, a recording unspooling predetermined plans. It wasn't Albus Dumbledore, it was paint and canvas and curated memories and trained habits, it was a simulacrum that could only ever offer false connection and empty comfort.

Minerva thought it was a mockery of remembrance, hanging the portrait of Albus behind the desk Albus had once occupied. She had refused to enter the Headmaster's office a second time as staunchly as she refused to look at Severus with anything but hatred now. It was torture. Every parroted guile and canned expression of concern and impersonation of Albus' intelligence was another knife twist in the knot of grief and guilt that had replaced his heart in the last terrible year.

It was continuing on, another reminder that Severus mustn't let Potter see him, mustn't let Lily's son know of Severus' allegiance lest the child become a liability before he could be a sacrifice.

"I know," Severus said, curt, hoping to skip past the pre-recorded reminders of all the promises he'd given to a dead man.

He didn't need the portrait to press a hand against some invisible wall as though it wanted to reach him, he didn't need it to make that expression of determined concern Albus used to make when Severus had marched off to another terrible meeting with the Dark Lord for the sake of the Order and keeping the boy alive and as safe as they could.

Yet despite the mimicry of care, it wouldn't even tell him why he had to get the sword into Potter's possession; perhaps Albus hadn't trusted his own portrait enough to imbue it with that knowledge even as he had trusted it to continue to haunt Severus.

It was a ridiculous dedication to his little mind games, like that note on the inside of the firewhiskey label, as if Albus had feared that, left to his own devices, Severus might go and haunt himself off Dumbledore's plotted path with grief over his own wasted loyalty and rage at the fate sewn under Harry Potter's skin and memories of his once best friend. As if Severus wasn't an expert at closing his mind and shuttering his heart and ignoring furious wailing of his own ghosts.

The portrait was still talking, another formulaic warning to take caution while accomplishing Albus Dumbledore's plans.

"Don't worry, Dumbledore," Severus said, speaking more to himself, his disappointed devastated selves, than the portrait, "I have a plan..."

For Unofficial Snapetober 2023 prompts "Ghost" and "Remembrance" The idea of haunting ones own self/of seeing the ghost of your past self seemed like it would be suitable for Severus- Sev is different from Severus is different from Snape is different from Professor Snape etc. etc., right? I mostly work with traditional media and do a little bit of digital tidying up to try to get the colors on the screen to look like the colors on paper, but I had a bit of fun figuring out how to put the ghosts of past Snapes (young Sev, Teen Sev, and Professor Snape) haunting Headmaster Snape into the picture. I painted each of the ghosts separately- in dark orange over black inked lines- and then inverted the colors once it was scanned and put those as semi-transparent layers on top of the separate painting of Headmaster!Snape in Dumbledore's office (...I am not very good at drawing backgrounds inside of a building where furniture and walls have too many straight lines, let's just put the characters in the woods with trees and lots of nice wavy wobbly lines...). Also! Have you all read "Stronger than a Butterbeer" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786743)? It's such a precise gut-punch of "the absence of Severus" that haunts me so I just had to make a reference to it.

#Severus Snape #Snapetober 2023 #Albus Dumbledore #Headmaster Snape #ficlet #my art

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panda-writes-kpop · 2 months

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What does a demon and a function have in common? (You can test both of their limits!) - l. yb.

a/n: happy dami day! i know the timeline of this fic is messy, but just pretend that it's all okay and I will too :) also I wrote this because I was trying to understand my feelings as an aroace person towards love and I'm still really confused... but at least we got a good fic out of it! ❤️

tw: demons, undefined magic, lots of mentions of death, implied aroace! reader, a bit of religious trauma

word count: 2.6k

summary: you're in distress over your math homework and the pretty demon that helps you with it, and you're reluctant to let your heart do the talking since it ended pretty badly for your friend and her demon companion.

related fics: Demon! SuA - Tainted Love

♡ Masterlist ♡

You shouldn't do this.

You glare at the leather-bound book in front of you as you furiously erase another answer from your sheet of scratch paper. The book was a gift from a friend, one that had struggled with a demonic relationship before.

You hadn't heard from them in a year and a half, and from what you heard from mutual friends, they weren't doing too well. Although you weren't positive that the book was bad news, you had never seen your friend so desperate to remove an object from their grasp.

After doing a bit of research, you realized that it was a cursed tome. There were seven different markings on the cover, which meant that seven different demons were tied to the book. Luckily, only one had been released when your friend had opened the book.

Now, you had to be the one to safeguard it. To make sure that no one would ever be hurt by the book again.

But, as you stare at your Calculus homework, you realize that you have no idea what you're fucking doing. And at 10 p.m. the night before an exam, the tutoring center is closed and the professor is probably counting sheep while their students are stressing out.

You're well aware that it's a stupid, very dumb, unintelligent idea to open a cursed book in order to understand Calculus, but what other choice do you have? Do you fail this exam then fail the class, which would put you a year behind?

What would your peers say?

What would your family say?

A shiver down your back, from the looming threat of parental disappointment, causes you to drop your pencil and reach for the book. Your hand gently traces the seven etchings on the cover, and you notice that one isn't filled in with color.

The demon that took my friend away.

You really shouldn't be doing this.

You think about the laundry list of concepts that you have to master by 10 a.m. tomorrow, and your decision has never been easier.

I'd rather stick my hand in an open flame than do another problem with no help.

When you open the book, you realize that you're blissfully unaware of how to summon a demon. Do you say a bunch of random words in Latin? Do you do a little hand motion? Do you need an offering?

You decide that your best option at summoning a demon that won't smite you immediately is to plead with the book.

Because desperate never goes out of style.

“Listen, I don't know who I'm talking to, if I'm even talking to anyone in the first place. I'm having a problem. …Well, it's not a ‘the fate of the world rests in your hands’ type of problem, but I still could use some help.”

An orange trail of smoke leaves the book in your hands and swirls like a tornado in an empty spot in your living room. Objects start flying around because of the tailwind, and you have to duck before you take a pencil to the eyeball.

“Who knew Calculus homework could be deadly?” You joke as you try to not think about the magnitude of the situation that you're in. You haven't even met the demon yet, and the smoke that it creates(?) it is trying to kill you.

Not a good sign.

Once your apartment is messy enough for your demon of choice, the book in your hands shuts itself as the orange smoke starts to dissipate.

You set the book aside as you gawk at the woman- no, demon that stands in your living room.

She's dressed in all black, ready to go to a funeral.

You just have to hope that it's not yours.

“How can I assist you?” She softly asks in a semi-uninterested voice.

“I need help with Calculus.” You blurt out as she clocks her head at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

This demon was exceptionally smart, which was good for your tired, mortal mind. She also didn't kill you on the spot - a good thing, you assume, unless the murder is waiting for you on the other side of the Calculus homework.

She was taken aback by your request, staring at you in utter surprise until she joined your side and helped you with your homework.

Her voice was gentle and smooth, and you would've fallen asleep if you weren't thinking about being killed in your sleep.

“Thanks.” You rub your eyes as you set the pencil down as you check your phone for the time.

You're proud of yourself for putting your phone on dark mode (you've flash-banged yourself in the past, it's a one time mistake) as you realize that it's only one in the morning. With a few hours of sleep and a large container of your favorite caffeinated drink, you'd be fine for your exam.

“Is that all you needed? …A bit of guidance with math?” The woman sitting beside you is in disbelief as you nod your head.

“Is there something wrong with that?” You joke, momentarily forgetting that she's a demon.

“Forgive me, but the people who usually hold the tome are more demanding… and a lot less cute.”

“Okay, back into the book you go.” You toss the book her way before trying to hide her embarrassment.

She chuckles softly before running her fingers over the spine.

“You have no idea how any of this works, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod your head before starting to put your school stuff away.

“Right, right.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. “Dami.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, but she snaps her fingers and disappears with the book in an instance.

Well, that damn book is out of my sight and I now have a chance to pass my Calc exam. I'll take that as a win-win.

You don't remember climbing into bed last night (this morning? The days are blending together at this point).

Before leaving your apartment, you say a small prayer before grabbing your pick-me-up of choice from the fridge. You might have this exam on lock.

As you walk to class, you recite Calculus formulas in your head. Partial derivatives swirl around your mind along with the thought of the mysterious woman.

Dami?

She's not a directional derivative, so you should focus on something else.

You, at least, had the demon situation under control.

This semester, you officially renounced your academic weapon status; instead, you were an academic victim. Although you most definitely messed up the first problem (why do all of the problems have the same wording yet completely different solutions?), you had the rest of it down.

Your confidence evaporated when the two classmates behind you started discussing their answers and got completely different answers to you.

Maybe another semester here wouldn't be so bad?

“You did fine.”

You jump as your eyes lock with the demon from the night before.

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologize to the two people behind you as you step to the side to speak with Dami. “I like your confidence in me, and I wish I had a fraction of it for myself.”

“There's nothing wrong with having a little pride.” She shrugs as the doors to the lecture hall open.

“Well, at least there's another exam a few weeks after spring break.” Ryujin shrugs before closing the door and walking towards you. “How'd the exam go for you?”

“It was okay.” You softly shrug as you glance between Dami and Ryujin.

“You're too humble for how smart you are.” Ryujin scoffs before turning to Dami. “You new here?”

“I'm just visiting someone.” Dami winks at you, and your eyes avert her gaze afterwards.

Ryujin sighs before adjusting her backpack and clearing her throat.

“They're not interested in guys or girls…. or anyone, for that matter.”

You playfully smack Ryujjn's shoulder before she pretends to be in extreme pain from the hit.

“It's not an absolute thing. I'll know if there's someone I'm interested in.” You nonchalantly say as Ryujin checks her smart watch.

“Oh shit, I've got class in fifteen minutes halfway across campus. See ya!” Ryujin waves to you both before offering a nod to Dami. “Nice to meet you.”

She runs off in another direction as your attention turns to Dami.

“Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I haven't been out of that book for centuries. I just wanted to see how humans lived.” Dami folds her arms before walking to you. “The world is so much different… better, if you ask me.”

“You're not like any demon I've heard of.” You blurt out before biting your tongue. “Sorry, that's probably really mean to say-”

“It's okay, and to be honest, I'd be surprised if I was like any other demon that you met. Not all demons fall from the sky, you know.”

It's been three hours, and you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that Dami’s a fallen angel. Who says that to someone after only two interactions with them?

Dami, apparently, because she's been watching you like a hawk as you sit across from her in the campus library.

“You think of me differently, don't you?”

You don't look up from your computer as you tap your pencil against the desk three times.

Click. Click. Click.

“I don't.” You calmly say before writing an equation in your notebook. “I should be honest with you, though, since you were honest with me. It's only fair.”

You pause for a moment as Dami folds her arms and leans against the chair. She's trying to remain cool, but a small twitch in her left eye tells you that she's more interested than she appears to be.

It's cute.

“I had a friend who summoned a demon from that book… I don't know her name, and I don't want to. She ruined my friend’s life, Dami.” You explain your friend’s story, going through agonizing detail as told through their family and other friends.

You have to pause once to wipe your tears, and Dami offers a comforting hand as the other drops to her side. You, albeit hesitantly, take it.

She should be cold like ice- undead, unfeeling. But there's some sort of warmth in her touch that can't be explained by the hellfire that she resides in.

Perhaps she's already gotten attached to you. You feel it too, you want to trust her. Can you, though?

She hasn't torn your arm off yet, so you're starting off on the right foot.

Trauma dumping counts as bonding, right?

You bite your lip before shaking your head, feeling the uncertainty of everything crash against you. What are you doing, trusting a demon that hurt someone that you care deeply about?

I can't do this.

“I should go.” You pull your hand out of her grasp as you quickly try to pack your things up. “I'm sorry, I'm probably shit-talking one of your friends that you've known for centuries.”

As you reach for your pencil, Dami grabs your wrist.

“I can't promise that I'm a ‘good’ demon or person,” She softly exhales before looking in your eyes, “but I won't betray you. Not now. Not ever.”

Something pounds, but it's not your head, swimming from the thoughts of your friends and the demon in front of you.

It comes from deep inside you, a feeling that you thought would be forever foreign to you. A magical feeling that “normal” people got to feel. The thing that makes them human, after all.

Your heart pounds.

This isn't you. You need to leave. Now.

Without exchanging another word, you run off into the afternoon light. You know she might follow you, but you hope she'll give you some space.

I hope she doesn't hate me.

You need to get a grip, and fast, before you rock the boat that's been steadily keeping you afloat for years.

Five hours. That's the longest you can last in a little internet cafe before you put your tail between your legs and head home. You know Dami will be there, and you don't want to sleep on a park bench, so home it is.

Will she be mad at me?

Who cares? You're not in love with her, you just like her.

As a friend.

As someone you can hang out with.

Someone to share secrets with.

Friends can kiss, right?

You've known her for less than twenty-four hours. You need to find where your sense of reality has gone and reclaim it before you head into your apartment.

But the key is already in your hand.

Your feet walk up the stairs without your brain telling them to.

You unlock your apartment door to see someone quietly sitting on your couch - the same spot where she helped you with your math homework.

Your stomach and heart fill with dread as you slowly take off your shoes.

She's been kind to you, and you ran off because you were upset about your own feelings.

You felt like a petulant child.

“I'm sorry for running off. I got upset thinking about my friend, and I should have talked through my feelings like a fucking adult. You're not like the other demon, just as I'm not like my friend. Feeling trapped by someone else’s opinions of you is rough,” You toss the keys on the counter before shedding your coat, “trust me, I know.”

Dami looks back to you, and the moonlight casts her in an angelic glow - she was ethereal and you didn't doubt that she was once an angel. You'd be more surprised if she wasn't one of God’s favorites.

Why was she here, instead of in the sky?

You don't want to pry, but Dami’s the first one to walk towards you.

“I was worried about you,” She softly admits, “a demon, a former angel, a creature much older than you could comprehend, was worried about the safety of a mortal.”

When she is close enough for you to reach out for her, she reaches out her hand.

“I'm not an evil demon or a perfect angel. But I can promise you-”

“I think I like you.” The words spill out of your lips before you can truly think about what you're saying. “I mean, of course I like you, but it's not how I've liked anyone before. I like Ryujin as a friend, she's nice to me and we get lunch sometimes. But you… you're different. And being different scares me. It's not just because you're a demon, it's who you are. It wouldn't matter if you were a demon, angel, or human because I'd still feel the same way.”

You pause to take a breath.

“I'm not normal, and I'm probably not like any human you've met. I don't want a traditional romance with a wedding or kids. I don't want physical intimacy with someone who won't appreciate me. Hell, I don't even know if I want a partner half of the time. The only thing I know,” You take her hand before pulling Dami closer, “is that I want you to be by my side. As a friend or as something more. Whatever we will be, I know we'll figure it out together.”

“I want you by my side as well.” She softly mutters as you place your forehead against hers.

You're both quiet as you envelope yourselves in the serene environment that you've created.

“So, do I meet your devilish friends now, or do I have to take you to dinner first?”

Dami laughs warmly before pulling you close to her.

“Whatever you want.”

You're in deep. She has in her talons sunk deep under your skin, in less than a day.

She could betray you.

You had to learn how to trust her.

And in time, you will.

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mangekyuou · 1 year

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✸ now playing … YOUR FAVORITE STAR。

✸ pairing! … f!reader x camboy!portgas d. ace.

✸ type of love! … physical. romantic.

✸ cw(s)! … nsfw. afab!reader. ( “cunt” / “core” / “pussy” used to describe genitals among others ) oral. ( f!receiving ) no pronouns used. fingering. one ass smack. mentions of sex work. reader wears a skirt. cringey plot. not proofread. minors DNI.

✸ wc! … 2.9k.

✸ notes! … this been sitting in the drafts for over a year. if you’re actually seeing it, i surprisingly decided to post it. i apologize in advanced. wanted to practice writing more in 2nd pov since i don’t do that often.

“No. Fucking. Way. It’s you!”

“I...I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You stammered out of embarrassment, hiding your face between the pages of your textbook to avoid his dark eyes. You could already imagine the satisfied smirk written on his features.

The black-haired man sitting across from you on the small twin-sized bed let out a hearty laugh. By how hard he was laughing at your misery, he could have easily knocked himself off of the bed. “Never expected you to be so perverted. Then again...you are an uptight little teacher’s pet. I see why you’d be into that shit.”

“Uptight?! Teacher’s pet?! Excuse me?!”

Even if it hurt, his words did hold a bit of truth. Textbook definition of a goody two shoes, living your life solely for other people who rarely returned the favor, neglecting yourself in the process. You barely had time for hobbies you had yet to discover, for places you’d always want to go, for yourself.

These days you spent most of your time outside classes either studying or helping campus. Your grades were quite great, and you had gotten along with most of your professors. You had even become a tutor, which is how you ended up in this predicament.

You were so frustrated.

Late into the night, you had found yourself up until 2 in the morning, studying for an upcoming test. An exasperated sigh left your lips as the words became a jumbled mess on the pages. You had worn yourself out for the night, there was no more information getting in. But every time you had closed your eyes to rest, you’d be right back up again.

With nothing else to do, you sat back at your desk, clicking away on her laptop in search of any kind of entertainment.

You played flash games, you attempted to read books, even going through the social media pages of your friends to see what fun things they were doing, that they failed to even invite you to. You already knew what their excuse was going to be. ‘Well, we didn’t think you’d want to go...’, even though they never asked.

Clicking from one platform to another, until you reached an ad for one you’d never seen before. The description of the ad was fairly vague, describing it as a membership platform where people could pay to view content.

Just what content was available?

You were intrigued, signing up for an account and scrolling through what the platform had to offer. There were artists, writers, video editors, and many more!

How come you hadn’t heard of such a platform? Where had this platform been all of your life?

As you scrolled through pages and pages of content creators, down the rabbit, you had reached a community of creators you didn’t even think about being on such a site...even if you should have.

Camstars.

Your access was minimal, as you hadn’t paid yet. You could only see people in pretty lingerie, boxers, or sexy costumes. This side of the site had fascinated you more than you’d wanted to say aloud.

You weren’t a prude or anything! You just hadn’t expected to see porn so easily. Maybe that’s why you needed to confirm your age when signing up.

One camboy, in particular, had caught your eye.

A tall fellow with neck-length curly black hair and an orange cowboy hat, partnered with dark eyes and a cocky smile. Who could forget to mention the freckles? Since he had no shirt, you could easily see he was ripped. He obviously took great care of himself. He even had a few tattoos.

On the opening part of his page was a short intro post where he introduced himself as “The name’s Ace. But I’ll be whoever you like for the right price.” Along with the post was a risque picture of himself posing in front of a dirty mirror with his hand in his pants, giving what he called “a sneak peek of what’s to cum. Get it?”

He was quite...the cheesy fellow. But it added to his charm.

You were sold.

After pondering on the idea for nowhere near long enough, you clicked the join button on the cheapest membership tier, gaining access to most of his posts and a little automated message that was sent to everyone who joined. Too eager to see you were what was hidden in his pants, you didn’t even worry about the message.

Luckily, you didn’t have to scroll to far. A rather poorly taken nude had appeared on the screen. His hardened cock in his hand, appearing just below the intro post with the caption, “Thanks for 1k subscribers. Here’s my thank you. Should be fucking one of you to celebrate though.”

You pressed your thighs together at the sight, attempting to soothe the dull aching in between your legs. Before you knew it, you had spent hours scrolling through his page from top to bottom. Your earphones stuffed into your ears at the max volume. Not a single picture or video slips by you.

Your cheek pressed against the cool pillows on your bed, with your bare ass in the air, mewling softly as your fingers circle your clit. Ace’s voice in your ears, spewing degrading things between his own mewls and moans.

“You fucking love this, don’t you? Picturing my dick inside of you? Yeah?” The deep breaths, shallow sighs, the moans between his words sent chills down your spine. Your eyes were wired shut as you pictured him there. “You’d love it if I was there with you right now, huh? You’d let me claim your slutty hole, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you, baby?”

You pictured him hovering over you, cock buried so deep inside your pussy, degrading you for all you’re worth. You bite down into your pillow to muffle your pretty noises as you reach your first high in who knows how long.

You would eventually join the highest membership tier he had to offer. The benefits definitely beat the others. You could even send him more money on the side for special requests for eyes only, such as:

“If it’s not too much, could you record a video of you humping your pillow?”

“Only if you want to, could you masturbate in front of a mirror?”

“Would you ever try toys? Like a vibrator?”

You were always so sweet and polite in your messages, of course, he noticed you and took quite a liking to you. Ace was quite curious about you, wondering if you were struggling with a porn addiction or if it was just a hobby of yours. Though it didn’t stop him from throwing in an extra dick pic, moaning video, or birthday video for his favorite supporter.

Never in a million years would you believe you’d run into him on campus.

To make matters worse, you never expected to be in the same math class. You had nearly fainted, seeing his head full of curly hair with his orange hat on his back, as he walked past her while talking to a group of friends. You wanted to believe there was just someone identical to him. Maybe he was a twin! But it wasn’t likely anyone shared EVERY feature Ace had. Even down to the freckles and tattoos.

It was him.

The camboy you had masturbated to and threw tons of money at, right in front of you. Luckily he didn’t know your real name or face. As long as you didn’t give it away, he wouldn’t know, right?

Though he made it hard to focus. You knew what he looked like naked, it’s all you could think about in his presence. Even though you knew it was wrong, it didn’t stop your mind from picturing just what he could do to you. The dirty fantasies your mind seemed to come up with as Ace did relatively normal things, such as; falling asleep in class, asking if you had an extra pencil, or asking to copy notes.

Due to Ace’s bad habit of not paying attention in class, he’s failing. Even after trying to pay attention in class, he just still didn’t get it. Which is how he ended up, coming up to you after class to ask you to tutor him.

How were you going to tell him no?

Now here you sat in his dorm room, face shoved into your textbook, trying to hide from him as he discovered that you are not only one of his subscribers but his highest-paying one as well.

Seeing a notification from the platform appear across your phone screen, teasing you a little as he snatched your phone away. Defending yourself, as you tried your hardest to get it back before he saw too much. But he was too far gone, wanting to see what creators you were supporting, coming across his own account.

He was stunned for a moment, before laughing as you finally snatched your phone back and sat all the way on the other end of his bed. He scooted closer to you, taking the textbook in your hands and setting it down on the floor. “I never expected my best supporter to be so close to me. It’s almost cute, how you tried to hide it. You know, you could have just told me.”

His hand found its way onto the plush skin of your thigh, slowly inching toward the hem of your skirt. You had tensed up a bit at his sudden touch. You placed your hand on top of his, stopping him from moving up any further. Though you did not remove his hand.

“It’s...embarrassing...” You trailed off, your eyes had stayed on the placement of his hand, “It’s nothing anything you, of course! You look great! I mean...”

“Thank you,” He chuckled, “But I know what you meant. I don’t think you should be embarrassed by it. We all have our needs, right?”

Of course, you agreed. it’s how you ended up becoming his top subscriber. Ace brushed your hand off of his, making contact with your thigh once more. He leaned close to your ear. He continued, “You work so hard every day. You always put everyone’s well-being before your own, even mine. Plus, you always tip me so generously and you’re so sweet to me. You take such great care of me, ( y/n ).”

You could feel his plump lips grazing the shell of your ear, setting your skin ablaze. Though he was not finished yet, “Can I show you how thankful I am to my favorite subscriber?” It felt like the magic word to make her putty in his hands. It was one thing to hear him say it through your earphones into the night with your hand stuffed into your panties. It was an entirely new experience to hear him say it in person, his hand just above the place you craved him.

“I would love that,” Your words came out a mere pathetic whisper.

“Your wish is my command,” He smirked before leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate, desperate kiss. His lips were even softer than you could ever imagine as they danced across yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, allowing his muscle to circle yours.

Ace’s hand flipped up your skirt to show your soaked panties. You pulled away from his lips, breathlessly. He pressed a line of short kisses up your neck before looking down between your legs. Eagerly you spread your legs wide for him without shame. He couldn’t even hide the cocky grin, “You’re not even shy about it anymore, how cute.”

He grabbed onto the waistband of your panties, pulling them up a bit before letting them go, the fabric snapping down onto your skin. “Ouch, Ace~!” You mewl as he finally took your panties off and tossed them aside with a laugh. But the skirt was staying. He pressed a kiss to your neck, “Sorry, starshine.”

He moved off of the bed, his knees hitting the carpet floor as he settled himself between your legs. Wrapping his arms around your legs, pulling you closer to the edge, bringing your glistening cunt closer to him. He began a trail of open mouth kisses to your inner thighs, taking his sweet time moving up to your core, leaving the occasional playful bite to make you both giggle.

As he took his time, you slipped off your shirt, letting it fall behind you. Finally, at your core, he licked a stride up your glistening folds before burying his face, making you shudder. Without wasting any time, he began to lap at your folds. He was so fixated on your core, a look of complete delight written on his features. Through his hooded eyes, he looked up to see you writhing in pleasure. Your pretty mewls and moans sound like the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard.

Your hand found its way into his solid black, curly locks, gripping tightly as you push him further into you. Ace latched his mouth onto your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves. The band of pleasure stretched in the lower pit of your stomach, as your body wrenched under him. After riding out your orgasm, Ace removed himself from your legs, lightly tapping your thigh, “Come on, babe.”

He flipped you over gently, before wrapping an arm around the front of your legs, to pull you up, leaving your ass in the air. The dark-haired camstar was beside himself, pressing a kiss to your ass cheek, “And to think you were right in front of me all along. If I had known you were so close, I would have actually fucked you for your birthday.”

“There’s always next year, right?” You look over your shoulder at him.

“Oh starshine, believe I’ll do more than that for your next birthday,” Ace glides two fingers into you, causing you to moan. He curls his digits, looking at the reaction your body is giving him. He loved knowing that he was making you feel so good.

He swiftly removed his fingers from your hole. Before you could even whine at the sudden loss of contact, he practically shoved his face into your pussy, burying his hot tongue into you. You let out a curse that was probably too loud, falling face-first into the mattress. Your hands gripping the sheets on either side of you.

He was different than before. Like he was no longer trying to be cocky, but rather he was more desperate and messy, lapping at your folds with such intensity. His chin wet from your arousal. He reintroduced his fingers. The combination of his hot tongue and fingers was overwhelming. That second band of pleasure was already building up quickly.

“Fuck, Ace! So...good!” The second band of pleasure washed over you before you even knew it, cumming onto his tongue. He rides out your second orgasm, before pulling away from your folds with a playful smack to your ass. “Can’t wait anymore...gotta be inside of you.” He ridded himself of his clothes in a rush. He had finally released his cock, so hard, oozing with pre-cum, red with need. He needed to be inside of you or else he was going to go crazy.

But, not without protection. In his full glory, he walked over to the nightstand, pulling out a condom from one of the drawers, rolling it onto his hardened cock as he kneeled behind you.

He gripped onto your hips, fingers digging into your flesh to hold you in place, as he impatiently guided his length into your hole. A fucked out mewl left your lips, no longer being able to form coherent words. His mouth was slightly agape at the feeling of your tight walls around him, “You feel...fucking amazing!”

His thrusts were rough and fast, the tip of his length nearly kissing your cervix. You’ve never felt so full, so blissed out that you couldn’t even find the words to speak. You deserved this, to be pleasured in all the best ways, to be treated like royalty. And Ace, your favorite camboy, was the one to do it.

He leans down, pressing his chest against your back, closing in the space. He wrapped an arm around you, peppering your shoulder and lower neck with open-mouthed kisses. “My favorite star...my sweet starshine,” He mumbles against your hot skin as he pounded into you.

“Ace...I’m gonna...” You try to say between moans.

“Cum, baby,” He panted out. His words were all you needed to be sent over the edge, your third and final orgasm ripping through you like a storm. As you can, he had as well, shuddering into the croak of your neck, filling the condom. A long drawn-out ‘fuck’ left his mouth.

He pulled out of her, tossing the condom into the trash bin before laying on his back. Without much thought, he pulled you into his embrace. “Too tired for math...let’s cuddle and nap.”

“This must be the secret membership tier that only your favorite subscribers get into,” You teased.

“That is true. It comes with the most important perk of them all, me. This tier could be all yours and only yours for the low-low price of dinner on me.”

You looked up as if you were pondering the idea, “That does sound like quite the deal. Pass our next test and you got yourself a deal.”

“Reachable goals, ( y/n ). I need reachable. Not unrealistic ones.”

#DONT READ IT #dont know if i'll write smuts in 2nd pov again #i feel like this is so bad #if it disappears yall know what happened #one piece #portgas d ace #ace #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace oneshots #ace scenarios #ace imagines #ace smut #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece smut #night rather than day ── 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰. 𓂃 ★☆

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