#The Real Fake Car Job | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ja3yun · 2 months

Text

Push My Buttons | L.HS

bodyguard!heeseung x rich girl!reader warnings: enemies to ???, angst, smut (mdni), car sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, choking, mentions of spit, possessive!hee, some violence, not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 7.5k synopsis: lee heeseung has been hired as your personal security by your father. you and him don't see eye to eye, so when tensions rise at your best friends party, you both know how to push each others buttons. a/n: hi! this is a thank you for 1k! i still don't believe it if i'm honest because i don't think i deserve it but regardless, thank you all so much if you follow me! this is a little idea i had sitting on my laptop that i've decided to complete for this occasion so enjoy!

_____

Browsing through the racks of the Prada store, you can't help but feel acutely aware of the imposing presence of your hired security, stationed just two feet away.

"Do you have to stick to me like glue all the time?" you mutter, not bothering to meet his gaze.

“It’s my job, Y/N. You’d know what that was if you weren’t such a spoiled brat,” he spits back, his eyes rolling in exasperation.

Lee Heeseung was appointed by your father to ensure your safety during his frequent business trips. Unfortunately, your father's demanding role as CFO of a tech company keeps him away for extended periods. He doesn't trust you to fend for yourself, fearing that others might exploit you to reach him. Given your father's controversial reputation stemming from questionable business dealings, Heeseung's imposing presence is a constant fixture in your life.

Your bodyguard would be more tolerable if he weren't so insistent on being by your side every second. It's tiresome, really, how he clings to you like a shadow, never granting you a moment of solitude. If you go to the bathroom, he is right outside the door and if you dare try and sneak out the window - which you have tried numerous times - he is chasing you down the street, sweeping you off your feet and taking you home.

You had hoped that being only a couple of years older, he might adopt a more relaxed approach, letting you live your life a little, but you were wrong. Since the first day he turned up, he’s been nothing but a hoover, sucking the fun and freedom from your life all to keep you safe.

Sure, he probably knows deep down that he's a tad overbearing, but hey, he's clinging to this gig like a lifeline. Compared to his last job of being a bouncer at some dingy club, knocking back people with fake IDs and kicking out drunk people, your dad's cushy paycheck is like hitting the jackpot.

To Heeseung, you’re just some rich kid who has more money than sense, squandering it on everything and anything you deem a necessity at the time, only to then throw them away or forget about them. Considering he struggled to pay his rent before this job, he hates your whimsy ways with money.

It's like you live in your own little bubble, completely disconnected from the real world. There are people out there starving and you’re buying thousands of pounds worth of clothes that you could easily get from a bargain bin for a fiver.

Finally, you spare him a glance, “Just stand over there, okay? You really don’t have to be here and mess up my whole vibe,” you flail your arms around hoping the gestures will add some exclamation to your statement.

With a resigned sigh, he acquiesces, nodding, "In my line of sight at all times, got it?" He scans the area once more, on high alert for anything out of place, before reluctantly giving you some breathing room.

Heeseung blends in, looking through the obscenely expensive trousers which he is convinced he has seen the exact same jeans in thrift stores, just without the brand label. It’s a reminder of the contrast between you both; your lavish ways are still an alien concept to him.

He’s been in this role for 3 months and he won’t get over it, how different you both are. Your beliefs and traits are so starkly dissimilar that not once have you ever seen eye to eye. He doesn’t hate you, but he’s close to it. You always treat him with little to no respect and considering he’s only looking out for you per your daddy’s request, he would like to think you would be a little more grateful.

Suddenly, his thoughts are interrupted by a lone figure approaching you, a slick smile playing on his lips. Heeseung’s jaw tightens as he analyses the scene in front of him, trying to speculate what the guy wanted, although Heeseung already knows his intentions.

You’re too busy trying to decide whether beige or cream looks better on you as you hold out two vest tops to notice the incoming man.

“I think you should go with that one,” the sudden boom of a voice beside you makes you jump and turn to him, clutching the clothes to your chest as you try to still your thumping heart, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, beautiful.”

Normally, you pay no mind to greasy men like him, but his cinched suit which was clearly tailor-made to fit and his sleek dyed brown hair was enough for you to give him a second glance. You can always spare some time for people who look good.

“Which one?” you ask, holding them back up at arm's length.

“The left one, I think you would look sexy in any of them, to be honest,” he smirks, thinking he’s being so smooth but you’re not really impressed by flattery. You know you look good, you see yourself in the mirror every day. Plus, he’s only trying to oil you up so he can either as you out or try and fuck you. The only one who genuinely gives you truthful advice or says you look good and mean it with no intention is Heeseung.

Your bodyguard is watching like a hawk, face steaming with anger as the guy puts his hand on your waist, holding one of the vest tops to your chest area. He’s already given the guy enough leeway by even letting him speak to you, but now he’s touching you, and Heeseung will be damned if he lets him get away with that.

With measured steps, Heeseung comes up behind you, licking his lips as hugs you from behind, “Baby girl, are you almost done?” he whispers loudly enough that the unwanted man in front of you can hear, “Who is this?” he asks, eyes now pointed forward.

The stranger's confidence falters under Heeseung's intense scrutiny, his eyes widening slightly as he realises the gravity of the situation. Heeseung's demeanour is unmistakably protective, his stance leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. His eyes are so dark that the boy knows that one wrong move will have Heeseung pouncing on him.

“I’m Woobin,” he says almost inaudibly. It’s amazing how quickly he resigned from his cocky attitude as soon as Heeseung made his presence known.

"Do you work here, Woobin?" Heeseung's voice is a low rumble against your ear, his lips trailing a path of kisses down your neck to your shoulder. His touch is electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his hands caress your stomach, his thumbs tracing delicate patterns against the skin beneath your shirt

The butterflies in your tummy are fluttering around as if they’ve been disrupted from their nest by his touch. This is new, he hasn’t done this before, usually opting to just stand between you and potential danger. It's exhilarating and maddening all at once, the line between protection and possessiveness blurring in the heat of the moment.

Heeseung knows that if he simply said he was your security, it wouldn’t deter the man, he had to think on his feet. That and the way he touched you evoked something inside him, protectiveness laced with something else.

“I don’t work here, I-”

“Then get your hands the fuck off my girl,” Heeseung interrupts Woobin, maintaining eye contact with him as he bites down a little on the nape of your neck, almost like he’s physically marking you as his own in front of a potential suitor.

Your head is in a frenzy, knowing that Heeseung is stepping far beyond his role of protection, yet, you don’t stop him. It would be lying to say that his lips didn’t feel good on your skin, the way his fingers lightly gripped the softness of your stomach gave you fanny flutters like nothing else; as he boldly stakes his claim, you can't help but feel a surge of desire mingling with frustration

But this is also the man that is currently cockblocking you right now, stopping you from getting Woobin’s number and potentially a good fuck that you’re clearly in desperate need of; why else would you be getting turned on by Heeseung right now? This is the man you cannot stand, he is the last person on earth you want to be with.

Woobin awkwardly laughs and backs away, giving a slight wave to you as he walks out of the store, leaving you both in the thick silence.

As his form disappears into the distance, Heeseung stands by your side, his stare unflinching as he watches the threat go by, proud of himself for handling the situation quickly. Heeseung hasn’t let you go, his hands moving from your tummy to your waist, gripping it softly.

You don’t know what to do, still standing in a haze of shock and confusion, your eyes watching the back of Woobin with intensity. The man behind you didn’t even have to say much before Woobin was running with his tail between his legs.

Honestly, you know Heeseung can be intimidating, but this must have been a new level, even for him. You couldn’t see his eyes, yet, you know they held only room for intimidation.

Heeseung's attitude relaxes somewhat, but his protective stance remains firm. He slowly releases you from his grip, placing one last kiss on your neck for what reason he doesn’t know.

You take a moment to compose yourself, internally dealing with the mixed feelings of the encounter before pure rage flushes over you, “What the fuck was that?” you seeth, twisting your body to face him.

“What was what?” he asks, unfazed by your angry demeanour.

Slamming the vests back on the rack, you face him, your shorter stature suddenly being a hindrance as you try to act tough, “You know what! You just cockblocked me for no reason,” you ball your fists to the side of your hips, trying not to cause too much of a scene in the store.

“Good. God knows what he had, he was a creep,” Heeseung’s face is stoic, not giving much of his emotions away which only serves to piss you off more.

You wanted him to look a little bit sorry for overstepping, to say he was at least sympathetic towards your frustration. Instead, he just stands there, insulting the boy he didn’t even know.

Letting out a groan, you shut your eyes and unclench your hands, “I can’t ever have any fun with you around,” you try to calmly explain but as the words leave your lips, you begin to question why you’re trying to be civil in the first place.

This man is the bain of your existence, the reason you haven’t had sex in months, he is utterly infuriating and here he stands in front of you with no remorse for ruining your life.

Heeseung nods, feigning understanding as he leans down to make eye contact with you, his nose almost touching yours, “I don’t know, baby girl, it seems like you were having a blast a second ago,” he says smugly, a half smirk creeping onto his face.

You beam red, embarrassment and anger mixing to create a shade of crimson you didn’t know you could make. He was frustrating, arrogant, irrational, rude, cocky, and overall just irritating. You hate Lee Heeseung.

Winking at you, he nudges his nose with yours before standing back up, his figure back to towering over you, “Pick the one on the right and let’s get a move on,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets and taking one giant step back.

It was like he was mocking you, giving you your space after infiltrating it as if he wasn’t leaving wet kisses on your neck five minutes ago.

With a huff, you face the two vests once again, looking between both options, each one having its own backer. You bite your lip and contemplate over them, choosing the one on the right.

_____

As you apply your final coat of mascara, you take one long look in the mirror. You look great, everything about you falls into place perfectly, your hair and makeup only adding to your beauty while the dress you’re wearing hugs you nicely.

Obviously, you don’t tell Heeseung that you had a party tonight, knowing that he would lock you up like some Disney princess in your castle. If there was one thing Heeseung hated more than men coming into your zone, it was parties where tons of men could.

The last party you went to was just before Heeseung arrived on the scene, the bodyguard now never letting you experience any joy or social gatherings that weren’t accompanied by him or a simple meet-up with friends. ‘There’s too much risk at a party’ he will always tell you.

A knock on your bedroom door almost makes you drop the mascara wand but you catch it before it causes disaster.

“I’m coming in,” Heeseung’s voice travels through the door before he swings it open. His eyes trail over your body as he assesses the outfit, “A bit dressed up for a night in with me, no?” he tries to pass it off as a lighthearted joke but he knows he’s about to argue with you about your plans.

“Oh, y’know, just thought I would try and make an effort to sit in and watch Louder Milk for the nth time,” you roll your eyes, twisting the mascara shut and turning to face him.

Heeseung grumbles, “Let’s cut to the chase where you tell me where you plan on going and I obviously stop you,” he crosses his arms and tilts his head expectantly.

But you can’t let him win, not this time around. It’s your best friend’s birthday night out and if you miss it, you’ll never be invited to anything again; you can’t miss a 21st birthday party and expect there not to be consequences, especially not in your circle of friends.

You finish getting ready with a sense of purpose, carefully placing your lip oil and hairbrush into your YSL bag. "I've got plans," you announce, nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders.

His brows furrow slightly. "You never mentioned we had plans tonight," he remarks, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"We don't have plans, Heeseung. I do. And you weren’t invited," you retort, your tone tinged with sarcasm as you shoot him a playful smirk.

He raises an eyebrow, trying to decipher your intentions. "A party? A date?" he ventures, scanning your attire and deducing that this isn't just a casual outing.

As you attempt to breeze past him, he swiftly moves to block the doorway with his arm, his muscles tensing as he grips the doorframe. You lock eyes with him, noticing the frustration brewing beneath the surface.

His jaw tightens as you stand your ground, a silent challenge passing between you, "Tell me where you're off to," he demands, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone.

You really need to get fucked because he’s suddenly turning you on, and his body starting to look like a jungle gym. Regardless of the fury and hatred for the boy in front of you, when he got angry, he was a new level of hot; it’s probably the reason you subconsciously push his buttons.

“I am going to Ryujin’s birthday party,” you confess, taking hold of his arm and trying to pry it from the wall, but he’s too strong and it doesn’t work. Even with all your efforts, it doesn’t budge.

Smiling at your feeble attempts to move him, Heeseung cockily leans on one foot, the other tucking behind his leg as he watches you struggle.

Undeterred, you try to slip under his arm, but he effortlessly scoops you up and returns you to your room, closing the door behind you with a practised ease. His years dealing with drunks at his previous job have endowed him with certain skills in handling runaways..

"Don't make this difficult, Y/N," he warns.

"You're the one being difficult! It's my best friend's birthday. Are you seriously telling me I can't go? I'm not in danger, you know," you retort angrily, frustration evident in your voice.

Heeseung understands that you're completely oblivious to the dangers lurking around your family, shielded by your innocent perspective. No one has bothered to inform you about your father's involvement in money laundering and his dealings with shady men. In your eyes, having a bodyguard feels like an unnecessary intrusion into your life rather than a protective measure.

"Listen, let's just imagine I let you go. Where is it?" he asks, a tinge of apprehension in his voice.

"Serenity," you reply, already sensing the tension building.

Heeseung's eyes widen in disbelief, "Serenity? The bar down by the loch? Are you serious?" he exclaims, his concern evident.

It was a losing battle the moment you opened your mouth. The bar isn’t known for its good reputation, it’s sleazy and grim, and despite its calm name, no one who occupies the bar could be considered peaceful.

Ryujin picked it simply because she likes to cosplay as a poor person sometimes, wondering what it would be like to live on the other side of wealth while obnoxiously spending a shit ton of money, completely rendering her ideas pointless.

You don’t agree with it but she is your best friend, the only person that gave you the time of day when you didn’t have a penny to your name all those years ago.

"I am not letting you step foot in that place," Heeseung asserts firmly, drawing a line in the sand.

“She hired out the whole bar, it’s not like anyone can just walk in,” you try to reason back but it doesn’t work as Heeseung’s resolve remains the same.

“You aren’t going, end of discussion. The whole neighbourhood is trouble and your friend is fucking stupid for this,” he scratches his jaw as the worst-case scenarios pop into his head. He might not like you but he really can’t stand some of the thoughts popping into his head, the urge to protect you growing stronger by the second.

The loch is a small part of town, mostly made up of deadbeats and criminals. Word spreads fast around there and there is a high chance the scums of the area know a bunch of snooty rich kids are going to be there for the picking.

You need to go, you can’t cancel any more plans so you need to think of something quick, “You can come with me,” you suggest, stepping closer to him. Would it be overbearing and annoying to have him there? Yes but at least you would be there. And it might actually be good if he was, after all, he is good at his job; you feel safe around him and the more he’s warning you away from Serenity and the loch, the more you’re starting to want his protection.

“I thought I wasn’t invited?” He raises his eyebrows sceptically.

Placing your hands on his chest, you trail them up to his shoulders, a pout forming on your lips. "Well, I'm inviting you now. Please, Heeseungie?" you implore, employing your best puppy-dog eyes and fluttering lashes in an attempt to sway him.

Typically, your pleading face doesn't work on him, but the combination of your hands massaging his tense shoulders and the endearing nickname starts to chip away at him.

"Fine. We can go for an hour or so, and then I'm taking you straight back home, understand?" he relents, already second-guessing his decision.

You squeal with joy, wrapping your arms around his neck and jumping up and down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Finally, you've managed to reason with him.

Pushing you away gently, he clears his throat. "Be at the car in 10 minutes before I change my mind."

This is going to end disastrously.

_____

"Remember—"

"In your line of sight at all times," you finish, a hint of exasperation in your voice as you recite Heeseung's usual mantra.

Heeseung unbuckles his seatbelt with a grunt, his irritation clear as he mutters curses under his breath. He can't believe he's ended up in this mess, much less mocked by you. He is well aware that this is a recipe for disaster especially as he examines the area and notices gritty individuals prowling around the loch's borders, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Heeseung is confident in his ability to handle himself; it's your safety that concerns him the most as he observes a suspicious figure crossing in front of your car.

You waste no time darting out of the car and hurrying to the club's entrance, leaving Heeseung trailing behind, a gust of wind in your wake.

"This fucking girl," he grumbles to himself as he parks the car and follows after you. He sees through your tactic—trying to get inside before him so he'll be left waiting outside while you venture off on your own. But he's not falling for it today.

He catches up to you just as you're about to give your name to the bouncer, his arm instinctively settling around your waist. The bouncer eyes Heeseung with a sceptical gaze, taking note of his attire and demeanour, which hardly scream 'rich kid bellend.'

As Heeseung squeezes your side, you shoot him a playful smirk over your shoulder. "Oh, this is my boyfriend. He's just trying to get into character for the place—dirty-chic and all that," you quip sarcastically, gesturing between him and the bouncer.

The bouncer chuckles at your comment, nodding in amusement. "You've done a good job. I almost mistook you for one of those creeps by the water," he jests, stepping aside to let you both in.

Heeseung doesn't react to your teasing or the bouncer's remarks. He's grown accustomed to such comments after spending the past few months with you and your friends. From being called shabby to poor, to filthy to crude, he's heard it all. Sometimes you apologise for your friend's words, but he knows the damage is already done.

It’s times like that that he has some faith in you, that you aren’t all diamonds and gold, that you do have a heart underneath it all.

Sticking close to you, you both end up at the bar ordering a gin and tonic for you and a water for himself. He knows everything about you by now, the constant watchful eye on you has got him to learn your favourite everything, so he finds himself ordering for you more times than not. That is, when you let him be actively seen with you.

"Can you vanish over there while I find Ryujin?" you ask, already scanning the room for the birthday girl.

Nodding, Heeseung points towards a nearby wall. "I'll be over there. If anything happens, remember to stay where I can see you. Don't run off; I will find you. And if you're going to the bathroom, come and get me," he advises, his tone firm as he leans down to emphasize the importance of his instructions.

"Yeah, sure," you reply casually, already making your way over to your friends at the other end of the bar, their excited screams and squeals guiding your path.

True to his word, Heeseung gives you space but remains vigilant, never taking his eyes off you. He's pleasantly surprised when three hours pass, and you're only on your second drink. Normally, he's had to carry you out of brunch with your university friends, and that's not even bottomless. Part of him thinks you’re remaining sober for your own vigilance, which makes him happy that you aren’t so reckless to get drunk in an unfamiliar setting around a lot of people you don’t know.

As the night progresses, Heeseung's gaze remains fixed on you from his position against the wall. He observes the way you interact with your friends, the genuine joy evident in your laughter and the twinkle in your eyes. Seeing you light up like this is a rarity, but it warms something inside him to witness you truly enjoying yourself.

Despite his reservations and occasional frustrations, Heeseung takes his role of keeping you safe very seriously. The thought of anything happening to you weighs heavily on his mind, not just because of the potential consequences from your father, but because he has come to genuinely care about your well-being. It's a realisation that surprises even him, how much he's come to feel responsible for you beyond just fulfilling his duties as a bodyguard.

Day by day, Heeseung finds himself spending more time in your presence. Even when he should be stationed at the front door, he often finds himself drawn to your side, whether it's watching TV shows together or cooking dinner. Sure, these moments are often punctuated by arguments over his choice of shows or the random spices he adds to your meals, but they keep things interesting, injecting a sense of spontaneity into his otherwise regimented routine.

And truth be told, he finds a strange satisfaction in winding you up, relishing the sight of the vein in your forehead protruding whenever you're exasperated with him. Despite the occasional clashes, there's an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a dynamic that keeps him on his toes and reminds him that guarding you isn't just a job - it's become a massive part of his life.

Recently, he has become extra protective over you, the incident at the Prada store being a prime example. Men like Woobin are not the ones he should be protecting you from, but he can’t help it, you’re too precious to be led off by the likes of him.

Shaking his head, he disregards his last thought. You’re not precious, you’re a princess, a snooty diva with an attitude problem.

This is what he has to tell himself every day.

He watches you go up to the bar and sit on the stool as you order another drink, but his attention shifts to a familiar face in the crowd. Woobin - and he is walking straight for you. Like he hasn’t dealt with him enough today, it was almost as if thinking about him that manifested him straight into your lap.

As Woobin twists the stool you're sitting on to face him, Heeseung's grip on the empty cup tightens, his knuckles turning white with the effort to maintain his composure. He knows he can't just stride over there like he did at the store; he crossed a line then, kissing your neck was too far, and biting down on you to mark you was too far. But the possessive feeling that had simmered earlier resurfaces as he watches Woobin casually tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His mind races with a mantra, a desperate attempt to keep his emotions in check. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here.

But as he watches Woobin's hand graze your leg, Heeseung's resolve crumbles.

"Fuck this," he mutters under his breath, his anger boiling over as he pushes himself off the wall and throws his cup away. Without a second thought, he makes a beeline for you, determined to put an end to this unwanted intrusion.

You suddenly feel Heeseung's chest press against your back, his presence feels overpowering, his aura dark and intense. You glance at Woobin and notice the fear flicker back into his eyes, just like before, as Heeseung speaks with a menacing tone, "Have you got a death wish or something, mate?" His question hangs in the air, a clear warning.

Woobin takes a step back, but despite the quiver in his pupils, he refuses to back down. "She obviously isn't satisfied with you," he retorts, attempting to sound tough. "She hasn't even tried to bat me off."

You scrunch your face in disbelief at Woobin's audacity. His attempt to turn the situation on you is off-putting, and any attraction you may have felt towards him suddenly dissipates.

Heeseung's gaze shifts down to you, his eyes hooded as he leans in close. "Is that true, baby girl? Do I not satisfy you?" His words send a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you can form a response, he leans even closer, his breath hot against your cheek as he whispers in your ear, "You better agree with me, or else I'll punch his lights out, right here, right now."

His threat hangs in the air, leaving you feeling torn between conflicting emotions. As you struggle to find the right words, Heeseung's lips graze the skin of your earlobe, sending a jolt of sensation through you. You're unsure whether he's doing this to turn your mind to mush so you can do nothing but agree with him or assert his dominance over Woobin, who watches with a flushed neck, clearly intimidated by Heeseung's display of possessiveness.

Nodding slowly, you side-eye Heeseung, “Y-you do,” you say quietly but as he bites down on your ear and you yelp, you speak up a bit more confidently, “You do satisfy me.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, placing one final kiss on your ear, “You heard her, so get the fuck away from her, or I will throw your body in the loch and no one will even care to look for you,” he challenges Woobin, threatening him like some gangster.

As Woobin backs up and mutters ‘This is not fucking worth it’, Heeseung smiles triumphantly, knowing he’s scared him off for good. Heeseung fixes your hair, gathering it all to sit nicely at the back, running his fingers through it as he silently warns any other men in the club that you’re no one but his.

You hate to admit it, but it turns you on a little.

But your responsible head twists back on and you understand what Heeseung has done again, “Heeseung,” you slap his chest and push him away, “Stop fucking babying me!” Standing up from the stool, you weave through the people at the club in search of the exit, Heeseung’s antics finally pushing you too far.

"I am doing my job, Y/N," he shouts over the chatter and music, his voice barely audible amidst the din of the club.

"No, you aren't. That is not your job," you retort, your voice rising above the noise. "Pretending to be my boyfriend and scaring away potential fucks is not part of the remit!"

Your words hang in the air, heavy with frustration and disappointment. You push him away one more time, creating some distance between you before storming out of the club.

Fuming with anger and adrenaline, you make your way through the car park, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. Part of you resents Heeseung for his overbearing behaviour, but another part can't deny the thrill you felt with his protective display. It's infuriating to admit, but the feeling of his possessiveness is sending shivers straight down south, You hate that you're even thinking like this.

His touch on your ear and neck lingers in your mind, igniting a whirlwind of desire and confusion. You're not thinking straight anymore, and if Heeseung catches up to you, you're not sure how you'll react - whether it'll be pure anger or pure lust.

Either way, you need to get this steam out.

“Y/N! Get back here right now!” he shouts, pushing past the men who are ogling your figure.

As you hear his voice, something takes over you. You pull the first guy you see into a kiss, holding onto this jacket as your mouth moves against his.

Heeseung sees red, blood red as he watches you kiss the stranger. It’s reckless behaviour, your lips moving roughly against a guy probably twice your age but, of course, the guy doesn’t mind. He wraps his arms around you to bring you in closer. That gesture shakes Heeseung from his shock coma, his emotions fueling him.

But Heeseung can't stand idly by any longer. With a guttural growl, he yanks the man away from you, his anger propelling him into action. He delivers a punishing punch to the man's face, the force of it sending him crashing to the ground, sprawled across the gravel of the car park.

Heeseung doesn't stop there. He delivers a few more swift kicks to the man's prone form before turning his attention to you. Grabbing your arm with bruised hands, he hauls you towards the car, his grip tight and unforgiving.

"You're so fucking irresponsible," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom as he struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging inside him. The veins in his neck bulge with the intensity of his anger, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.

“Sorry if I want to have some fun,” you argue back, trying your hardest to release yourself from his firm hold.

As you both approach your car, he opens the door and shoves you in, “And kissing and fucking random guys is fun?” he slams the door behind you once he knows all your limbs are inside the vehicle.

Striding over to the driver's seat, he gets in quickly, locking the doors so you can’t make a quick escape. You don’t even attempt to try and flee, already knowing you’re only going to end up in a game of cat and mouse all night, and in this weather with your dress isn’t fun.

“I’m 20 years old, nearly 21, I can fuck if I want to,” you shout back, slamming your hand on the backrest to hammer home your point. You are old enough and wise enough to make your own decisions, Heeseung is only there to make sure you don’t end up getting kidnapped or whatever it is your dad thinks will happen to you.

"It's not wanting to fuck that is my problem, it's who you want to fuck," he growls, his voice tinged with bitterness.

You want to slap him, angry that he doesn’t seem to get it, “I don’t get to fuck anyone thanks to you,” you retort back with venom laced in your voice.

His entire body turns to face you, his gaze piercing through you as he asks, "You want to get fucked?"

“Yes! Obviously!”

Heeseung lunges towards you, pressing his lips to yours in a matter of seconds to your answer. At first, you’re confused at what is happening, the unfamiliar feeling of his mouth melting into yours causes your head to thump.

But as he moves you to lay back, flicking the seat to recline all the way back, you find yourself chasing his body with yours, your lips like magnets as they draw themselves back to his. He tastes sweet, not like how you expected, you were presuming it’s the flavour of his vape he swears he doesn’t use.

Shuffling your way up the seat, you spread your legs so he can situate himself neatly in between you, knees resting against the edge of the seat for support, his hands roaming all over your body and his kisses never faltering.

He was hungry for you, those tiny tastes of your neck served as appetisers before the main meal which was your mouth and tongue. Roughly, he brings one of his palms to cover your throat as squeezes, the consequential parting of your lips as you gasp gives him access to lick into your mouth. The grip on your throat is heavenly, just tight enough to make your brain go fuzzy but not to the point you think you’re in danger.

With a quick roll of his hips, you feel the outline of his cock being pushed onto your core, even through jeans he’s prominent, only building up your anticipation more. He does this a few times, each time the rough edges of his zipper rub your barely covered clit, eliciting a moan from you.

Heeseung's smirk widens at your response, his gaze flickering with desire as he watches the desperation in your eyes. Without hesitation, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he repeats his question, this time with less anger and more longing. "You want to get fucked?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, your desire for him burning hotter than ever before. "Yes, please, Heeseung," you whimper, using your hands to hold his hips against yours as you rut yourself desperately against him, humping his length through his jeans.

Heeseung almost feels bad for you, clearly, he underestimated how much you needed to seek release. No wonder you were willing to entertain someone like Woobin. He had to make this worth the frustration he has been causing you.

The pressure of Heeseung's hand around your throat tightens, eliciting a gasp from your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, "You sure you want to fuck a guy like me?" he hisses, his voice tinged with both agitation and desire, the intensity of his gaze burning into yours.

Despite the lack of air, you manage to choke out your response, your voice laced with desperation, "Yes, Heeseung, I need you."

A smug smirk plays across Heeseung's lips at your admission, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Oh, I know you need me, Sweetheart," he replies, his tone dripping with confidence. "You're staining my jeans as we speak." His words send a shiver down your spine, a potent mixture of arousal and frustration coursing through you.

But then his question cuts through the haze of desire, forcing you to confront the reality of the situation, "I'm asking if you want to go back to little Woobin now?" he taunts, knowing full well the answer already. He just wants to hear you say it.

With a shake of your head, you release your hold on his hips and begin to unbutton his jeans, determination blazing in your eyes. "No," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, I only want you."

“Thought so,” he kisses you again before releasing your throat, focusing his hand's attention on ridding you of your pants while you work to get his trousers out of the way. He tugs your underwear down, tossing them to his side of the car before lining himself up at your hole.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you try to push him to slip into you, but he keeps his hips rigid, only making you look more desperate for him. He taps your clit with the head of his cock, each time it slaps down, he echoes it with a tut.

“You don’t even know if I’ll fit,” his voice whispering in your ear as he licks the shell of it, “All those preppy rich boy cocks aren’t anything like mine,” he takes your wrist in his hand and guides you to feel his length as it sits neatly in your folds, “See?”

Whining, you pout, knowing he’s just teasing you for badness, “I promise I can handle it,” you say lowly, pumping his cock between your cunt and hand. The motion makes Heeseung hiss in pleasure, the feeling of his cock trapped only adding to his anticipation of being inside you.

He moves in for a chaste kiss on your lips, his touch soft despite the intense need between you, "I'll go slow," he tells you, his words a balm in the midst of the intense moment. Even in the heat of passion, Heeseung is driven by his instinct to protect you.

With one swift movement, he slides into your heat slowly, letting you stretch around him. Surprisingly to both of you, your pussy is accommodating him perfectly, the stretch a little painful but not unbearable. He shallowly moves his hips back and forth, watching his cock disappear into you further and further each time until he’s bottoming out and tapping your cervix lightly.

Heeseung isn't wrong when he tells you that no other cock you've had can compare to his. Every curve and ridge of his dick seems perfectly designed to hit every sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an otherworldly sensation, the way he gains traction with each movement, his confidence growing as he senses your comfort and willingness to take more.

"You're so tight, baby girl," he murmurs between kisses.

Lost in the throes of passion, you cling to Heeseung, your bodies moving in perfect synchronisation as you lose yourself in the sensation of him filling you completely. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

Heeseung's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that matches your own. His touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they trace the contours of your skin. The pads of his fingers roughly grab your tit that’s managed to escape your dress, twisting your nipple between his finger and thumb.

Your hands are in a similar position, running along his toned stomach under his shirt, trying to commit it to memory, just in case you never get to do this again. You wish this was happening with zero clothes in the way but the desperation between you both got in the way.

As the intensity of your desire builds, Heeseung's movements become more urgent, his thrusts growing deeper and more powerful with each passing moment. You can feel the tension coiling within you, the promise of release looming on the horizon like a distant storm.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, Y/N. I won’t last much longer,” he admits, knowing that he’s close to the edge himself.

“Need it, I need you to cum,” you moan loudly, your hand leaving his skin to find your clit, rubbing it vigorously as you try and speed along your orgasm.

Your words drive Heeseung to pound into you faster, willing both of you to come undone together. The car shakes as you both speed up your movements, your hips trying to match his rhythm to create a deeper impact with each buck of his hips.

With a final, desperate thrust, Heeseung drives you both over the edge, sending you spiralling into ecstasy. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under him, the ropes of his cum coating your heat.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his cock swell and throb inside of you, “Cum with me, Y/N. Please.”

Circling your arms around his shoulders, you hug him close to you as his body shivers, still reeling from the aftermath of his climax. You lay like that for a few minutes, processing everything that just transpired between you both.

“Are you okay?” he asks, holding himself up to face you, one hand wiping your sweaty bangs from your forehead.

Nodding, you shut your eyes, massaging his shoulders lightly as you let bliss take over you, “I feel great,” you smile.

Heeseung grabs your pants from the driver seat and bundles them up, using them as a makeshift cloth to clean you up, spitting on them before running them along your swollen cunt, “We can’t do this ever again,” he says quietly, his breathing starting to regulate again.

“What do you mean?” you lean on your elbows, looking up at him with confusion, “Was it not okay?”

Of course, it was okay, Heeseung thinks your pussy might be the best he’s ever had, but it’s not logical to try and keep this fantasy alive. You were too different, this encounter was fueled by anger and rage between you both, hardly the start of a picture-perfect relationship.

He discards your underwear and pulls his own bottoms up, tucking his softening cock into his boxers and jeans, “It was great, but I’m supposed to protect you, not fuck you,” he says, shuffling back into his seat, starting the car.

“We’ll use protection next time,” you shrug, fixing your seat to sit upright, “It’s no big deal.”

Heeseung sighs, his frustration evident as he starts the car and pulls out onto the road. "You know that's not what I mean, Y/N," he replies, his voice tinged with resignation.

The rest of the drive home is filled with silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Heeseung's thoughts swirl with the fear of losing his job, the guilt of failing to protect you, and the sudden need to be inside you all the time.

“We forget about this, okay?” he asks, eyes flickering to you.

You nod in agreement, but a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips, betraying your true thoughts. Deep down, you know that you won’t forget about it, and this will certainly not be the last time you find yourself fucking Lee Heeseung - You'll make sure of it.

#enha smut #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #aj writes #enhypen angst #enhypen fic #e2l is slowly becoming my fave to write

2K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 4 months

Text

Fake It Till You Make It - CL16

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

Fake Dating turned real dating trope

6.3K

For the purpose of this story, I have fabricated the royal family of Monaco. I have created the members of the family, their roles and what they do, using only the fact that Monaco has a royal family

ROYAL MESS

In the early hours of the Morning on Friday, the 19th of May, Princess Y/N of Monaco was found lying in the street outside of MK Club Monaco after what appears to be a wild night out. Fans of the princess know this is no new occurrence for her.

When asked, employees in the club were quoted as saying: “It is always a delight to serve the princess. She is always polite and kind when ordering from the bar, always offering to pay for the drinks of those around her."

"Princess Y/N is fun to party with, sure. But she takes it too far, gets too drunk, and leaves us all wondering how far is too far?" Said one club patron to our reporters.

It leaves us all wondering how far is too far for the Princess of Monaco? When will her family finally take action against her partying ways?

Pictures such as these are not uncommon for the Princess of Monaco, showing us just how far royal privilege goes. It is at times like these where we thank any higher power above us that she is just the spare

Y/N's brother threw the newspaper down in front of her. His jaw was tense and his eye twitched, having just read out the entire article. "Seriously?" He said and leaned forward on his desk, staring down at his sister.

"I don't know what you're so upset about," Y/N muttered as she picked at the dirt beneath her nails. "You're not in the article."

Her brother, Herni, Prince of Monaco, let out a huff. He wanted to grip his hair and pull out of frustration, but he couldn't do that, he had to be pristine and perfect.

For years he and his family had been working to try and improve Y/N's image. It was no easy task. Well, Y/N certainly didn't make it easy. The royal family had tried to control the press, control what the night clubs were saying; they had tried to control Y/N, but none of it was working.

Henri was at his wits end.

He stood straight and turned around, looking towards the window. "How do you not understand that your actions reflect our entire family? That this shit makes all of us look bad, not just you?"

"Like the article said, I'm just the spare," she spat back, not looking up from her nails.

"Oh, don't give me that shit." Henri tried to keep his composure calm, tried not to lose his shit, but Y/N was making it very, very hard. "You're just a spoiled, little brat," he hissed.

Y/N let out a dry laugh. "I'm the selfish one? Seriously, Henri?" She called and he shot her a dirty, venomous look. So, she continued. "Who was it that threw a tantrum like a child when he didn't get the Ferrari 250 GTO for twenty-third birthday?"

Her brother glared, easily hiding his surprise that she remembered the name of the car he had so desperately wanted seven years ago.

But then Henri dropped his glare. She was just lashing out because she was pissed off about the article, he realised as he sat in his seat. "Go on, get out of here," he said to her, his head falling into his hands. He grabbed the newspaper article and slipped it back into his desk drawer.

Y/N didn't have a job. She was twenty-two, living fast and living off her family. Her family had tried to force her to get a job, but that had only pushed her into being more wild and out of control. Henri, though, he had a job. Their father had given him the important task of keeping an eye on Y/N and putting out her fires. It was an exhausting job, one that had him losing sleep.

He had to do something, he had no idea what.

There was one thing Henri could force his sister to do. And that was attend the Monaco Grand Prix.

Every year Henri and Y/N went to the Monaco Grand Prix. Y/N could still remember the first time she ever attended the Monaco Grand Prix. She was just ten years old, an eighteen year old Henri holding her hand as they walked through the paddock. She remembered standing up on the podium, watching as her brother gave a trophy to Jenson Button, and going to give Fernando Alonso a trophy of his own.

This happened every year. And, every year since she was a little girl, Y/N looked forward to seeing Fernando Alonso. The Spaniard always seemed to remember her, always greeting her with a kind, wide smile. Although Y/N loved the races, this was her favourite part of the weekend.

Because she really did love the races. As much as she tried to act nonchalant, Henri knew she loved it, loved the sounds of the cars as they came driving past.

This year, Henri kept Y/N in front of him as they walked through the paddock, waving at the drivers and the teams. The Grand Prix was full of celebrities, as it was every year. And, as with every year, Y/N and Henri were the talk of the town.

In the Red Bull garage, Y/N and Henri met Tom Holland, the Spider-Man, who was awestruck. He couldn't quite believe it as the youngest member of the Monaco Royal Family stood in front of him, talking to him about his role as Peter Parker.

At the Aston Martin garage, Y/N ran straight into Fernando's arms. "There she is," he said as she hugged him back. The bond Y/N had with Fernando was special. They'd saw each other only once a year at the Monaco Grand Prix and, in a weird way, it was like he had watched her grow up right in front of his eyes.

He knew of her partying ways and it worried him, just like it would a father to his daughter. "How have you been?" He asked, his Spanish accent thick.

As Henri moved onto the Ferrari garage, his favourite garage, as Y/N chatted to Fernando. Her favourite garage was wherever Fernando was, and she wasn't afraid to admit that. They caught up on the last year and Fernando introduced her to his teammate, a man Y/N had only met briefly before.

In the Ferrari garage, Henri said hello to Carlos Sainz. Carlos and Henri had always been friendly, that friendliness growing into some kind of friendship when he moved to Ferrari.

But then then was Charles Leclerc.

Herni loved Charles. He had several of his old F1 cars, including one of his Sauber cars, in his private collection. He'd been following Charles's career closely as he represented their country. The day he had his first win in Monaco was going to be a big day for Henri.

"Ah, Charles!" Henri called as he spotted him, already in his race overalls.

The overalls themselves were red and white, matching the flag of Monaco. Charles grinned when he saw Henri, striding over to the prince. "How are you? How is your sister?" He asked as they walked together through the Ferrari garage.

Henri pulled a face. "She is... she is Y/N," he answered with a curt nod. "Anyway, how about you? How is your season going?" He asked.

Charles gave a pained smile, and that was answer enough for Henri. "Ah," he said as they continued to walk. "Well, today will be your day."

The pair continued to chat as they walked through the paddock, catching up like old friends. Because, by this point, they were old friends. Herni asked about Charles's family and his plans for the summer break, and about his girlfriend.

Again, Charles gave Henri a look. "Ah, no girlfriend," Henri said and Charles nodded.

"I got a bit of bad publicity from it," Charles said. "I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."

Suddenly, Henri got an idea. An incredible, wonderful, terrible idea. He looked at his friend, wearing a grin, and said, "I think we can help each other out."

It was clear Charles was confused. So, Henri continued. "My sister wild and out of control," he said. "She needs somebody to get her imagine under control, and you need some good publicity. Take my sister on a couple of dates, take her to some grand prix and it'll make the both of you look good."

Charles suddenly frowned. "What? Henri, we can't do that," he said.

Henri checked his watch. The race was bound to start any moment now, he needed to grab Y/N and go sit. "Think about it," he said to Charles, wished him good luck, and went back to the Aston Martin garage to find his sister.

Henri didn't say anything to his sister as they watched the race. They watched Charles go from pole to second, Henri trying not to let the disappointment show on his face as he watched Y/N give Charles his second place trophy.

There was a good few weeks where Henri didn't hear anything from Charles. So, he didn't say anything to Y/N, whilst also trying to get her under control.

It wasn't working; Henri was close to begging. He kept an eye out for Charles's name in the press, looking for that bad bit of publicity he was talking about. And there was a lot of it, international news outlets accusing Charles of cheating, saying his bad start to the season was because of Karma.

It wasn't looking good for him, thought Henri as his phone vibrated.

He picked it up and read through his messages.

Charles Leclerc

I'm in

***

It was rare for Y/N and Henri to eat dinner together. He was always busy and she didn't give a shit. But, today, Henri insisted.

They sat across from each other, a ridiculously long table between them. Any attempt at conversation was near to impossible with the distance between them.

So, with no thought of decorum, Y/N picked up her dinner and moved down the table coming to sit right beside her brother. "What were you saying?" She asked as she tucked into her dinner.

Henri cleared his throat. "I've been speaking with Charles Leclerc."

"Okay?" Y/N looked up at him, her brows furrowed. "Good for you, Hen."

"Just listen, please," he insisted and Y/N fell quiet, returning her attention back to her food. "Its been decided by your PR team, dad, and I, that it would be best if you were seen to be with someone more... presentable. And our friend Charles if also in need of a bit of good press at the minute."

"So you want me to fake date Charles Leclerc?"

Henri nodded his head. "Not fake date him, exactly. Just be seen with him."

Y/N sat back, tapping her fork against her plate. "Okay, why should I?"

Grinning, Henri used his fork to scoop everything into a pile on his plate. "Because, if you keep up with your partying lifestyle, we're cutting you off."

She said nothing. Throwing her fork down, she pushed her chair back and stormed off.

That was the thing with Y/N. She didn’t care for propriety or her image. She did what she wanted, without much thought of how it made the royal family of Monaco. She was the weekly scandal in the newspaper, the wild child.

Henri’s head fell into his hands.

For the next week, while Charles was away from Monaco at another race, Henri set everything up. He booked out a restaurant for them, picked out something for his sister to wear and prepared her for her date with a script. Henri was controlling everything. He had every move planned out and had Y/N run through it with him several times.

He was a complete control freak.

For the date, Henri gave his sister a set of rules. Charles was his friend, after all, and this was a PR stunt. Anything he could do to prevent Y/N from embarrassing the royal family any further.

That was how she found herself in an empty restaurant, an almost empty glass of wine in front of her. Charles Leclerc hadn’t arrived at the restaurant yet; fashionably late, Y/N assumed. She was five minutes away from leaving.

But then he walked in. It was not possible for this man to look bad, Y/N realised as he strode towards her. His outfit was simple, a white shirt, buttoned almost to the top (just revealing a bit of chest) and a pair of black trousers. His hair had that usual fluff, that he seemed to achieve effortlessly.

Y/N had seen pictures of him online since his career began. He always looked good, so it was no surprise he did now.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said as he sat in the seat opposite her.

As if to prove a point, the princess finished her drink and placed her glass down. There was a flash to her left, a camera going off. But she didn't care - Henri could put out the fire he created.

Henri had given her a script, but Y/N wasn't going to follow it. That was boring. "Your brother is in F2, right?" Asked Y/N as food was brought over to them (Henri had decided what they were going to eat when he booked out the restaurant, arranging the food to be brought over as soon as Charles arrived).

Charles looked at her, clearly confused. "Um, yes," he answered. "He's with the Ferrari Drivers Academy," he said and took a sip of his own drink. "What is it that you do?"

She snorted. She hasn't meant to snort, but she couldn't help it. "I'm a princess, what do you think I do?"

But it wasn't clear. To Charles, it seemed like all she did was party. According to her brother, all she did was party. So Charles couldn't be blamed to think that.

He didn't answer her. This dinner wasn't going too well. That much was clear to everyone.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N sat back in her seat. "We need to make this look good," she said, glancing to her left. At the paparazzi not quite hidden in a bush outside of the restaurant. "You know what the news articles will be, right? 'Monaco Royalty... something something else."

Charles thought for a moment. The restaurant wasn't the right setting, this was clear.

So, he finished his drink and looked across the table, at the princess sat opposite him. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Fuck yeah Y/N wanted to get out of here. She grabbed her coat and, together, she and Charles walked out of the restaurant. A crowd of paparazzi followed them as they made their way to Charles's Ferrari SF90 Stradale.

It was a beautiful car, one Henri had wanted for the longest time. He he was going to flip his lid once he learnt that Y/N had been inside of it.

The paparazzi continued taking pictures of them as they drove off. "Where are we going?" She asked as he drove her through the streets of Monaco.

Y/N and Charles found themselves in a bar, three drinks deep. They talked casually, more like acquaintances than anything else.

Nothing happened in the bar, they just got to know each other a little better, without the awkward conversation of a formal dinner. Y/N found out about his love for music and he learnt that she was more than a just a party girl.

The next morning Y/N woke up in one of the many guest rooms with a pounding headache. She didn't remember getting back to the palace and was still in her dress from the night before. "Shit," she groaned, the light shining through her windows hurting her eyes.

She sat up and ran her hands through her knotted hair. Painkillers. She needed painkillers and she needed them now.

With no clothes to change into, she searched through the drawers for the much needed painkillers. And when she didn't find any, she made her way to her brothers office. "Henri," she sang as she pushed her way inside. And then she was leaning against the door, holding his head.

"I did it, I went on a date with Charles Leclerc."

"Well done," Henri said as he sat back in his chair. "He's taking you to Canada next week, so pack warm," he said and went back to his work.

Y/N glared at her brother and stormed off, making her way back to bed.

***

Canada. The only reason Y/N agreed to go was to see Fernando Alonso. She was there as Charles Leclerc's guest, but she didn't care. She ran straight to the Aston Martin garage, ran straight over to Fernando.

The Spaniard was surprised to see her, that much was clear. "What're you doing here?" He asked as she threw her arms around him.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm here as Charles's guest," she answered.

Fernando's eyes went wide. "Really?" He asked, his brows furrowing.

"I know," she answered.

It really was a surprise. Fernando had never even seen the princess of Monaco so much as interact with the Monégasque driver. He knew Prince Henri was a fan, but he didn't know Y/N was. So, he asked about it.

She didn't want to lie to Fernando. But she had to seel it. For the sake of the tabloids, she had to sell it. "Well, we met at the Grand Prix, hit it off, and the next thing I knew, we were going to dinner together."

"Dinner together? Wow," said Fernando. "So, do you want me to go easy on him out there?"

Grinning, she shook her head. "You do what you need to do to bring home a win for us Aston Martin fans," she said.

They said their goodbyes and Y/N made her way to the Ferrari garage.

It wasn't as if she and Charles knew each other; they'd drunkenly discussed things, but that was it. But now, she was playing the girlfriend, tucked into his side as he kept his arm wrapped around her. Before the race he held her close and she tried her best not to look uncomfortable. Play the part. All she had to do was play the part.

During the race she stayed in the Ferrari garage, watching alongside Charles's brother. Y/N had met Arthur before, she just couldn't remember where.

"So you're dating my brother?" Asked Arthur as they watched the race.

Y/N kept her eyes fixed on the screen and nodded her head.

"How did that happen?"

She just pretended not to hear him.

This went on and on, the pair going on the odd date in random countries and Y/N joining him at races. But they were putting on a performance around each other, trying to play that part. They weren't being themselves and, therefore, not getting to know each other.

She'd joined Charles in Silverstone. They'd held hands as they walked through the paddock, smiling and waving at cheering fans. Their relationship was public knowledge now and, first the first time in the last four years, she wasn't in the tabloids for a bad reason.

Henri had arranged a date in Monaco for the pair once they got back from the British Grand Prix. They flew back with Pierre Gasly, an old friend of Charles. Y/N had only met Pierre earlier that year, in Monaco when her brother had introduced them.

Pierre was good fun for the flight home. But, by the time they got there, Y/N was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and shut her eyes. Looking at Charles, their was no doubt that he was just as tired as she was; he was the athlete after all.

As he drove, he blinked continuously and rapidly, his tiredness evident. Her apartment was just around the corner, she realised as they were stuck in traffic. It wouldn't be the worst thing if they blew off the dinner, right?

"I live near here," she said, looking at him.

Charles blinked as he looked at the stationary cars in front of him. "Am I not taking you to dinner?" He asked, somewhat surprised.

"Well, I was thinking we could go back to my apartment and eat some pizza," she said.

"But what do we have to gain from that?"

That was right, everything they were doing had an objective. Everything they were doing had a purpose. Having dinner in her apartment, where there were no cameras to watch them, had no purpose.

"We wouldn't die on the road from you being so tired if we went back to mine."

Charles realised she had a point. When the traffic began moving, he took her directions and drover to her apartment. They made their way inside, practically collapsing on the couch.

"Sorry for the state of it," Y/N muttered as Charles sat on the sofa beside her.

Her apartment really was a mess. Clothes, dirty dishes, pizza boxes everywhere. It wasn't very royal of her. "Don't worry about it," he said quietly as Y/N gathered up the dishes and placed them on the counter in the adjacent kitchen.

Charles didn't want to ask, but he was wondering how the apartment of the Princess of Monaco was so disgusting. He hadn't even realised she had an apartment of her own, assumed she just lived at the palace.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Asked Y/N as soon as she had ordered the cheese and pepperoni pizzas. It was a safe choice, considering she didn't know what Charles wanted. "I've got beers, wine, spirits, anything you want."

She didn't hide her surprise when Charles requested a beer. "I thought you were all... fancy and stuff," she said as she handed him the opened bottle.

"The princess of Monaco is passing me a beer and she thinks I'm fancy," he said with a laugh.

But he was undeniably tired. His laugh turned into a yawn and Y/N turned on the television. They watched in silence as they waited for the pizza to arrive.

"I didn't think you'd be allowed to eat pizza," said Y/N as she checked her phone, checked where abouts the delivery driver was. Just a few minutes away. "You know, considering you're an athlete."

"I won't tell my trainer if you won't," he answered.

Just a few minutes later and Y/N was running to get the pizza. She didn't have to worry about disguising herself, running down to the lobby of the apartment in her comfiest pyjamas. She wasn't like her brother, where he was always prim and proper; she hid in plain sight.

When she came back up with the pizzas, Charles was already snoring lightly on the sofa. Y/N would have left him to sleep, left him on the sofa, but he hadn't eaten since his race. As soon as he'd eaten something, she'd let him go to sleep.

So, she gently woke him, placing one of the pizza boxes in front of him.

Again, they were in silence as they ate. But the food was giving them some sort of strength and energy and, by the time they were finished, neither were quite ready to go to sleep.

So, they talked. They talked and talked, properly getting to know each other. Charles told her stories of his karting days, of his friendship with those on the grid. Y/N told him about her childhood as a princess and her friendship with Fernando Alonso. She didn't get into the subject of her partying habit, not when she realised she didn't miss it.

"No way," Y/N scoffed, sipping her beer.

Charles laughed as he nodded his head. "Seriously. I woke up shouting 'box box'!" He insisted.

She let out a laugh of her own. "Looks like I'll need to have words with the strategists."

Their evening continued much in this fashion. She hadn't realised he was an artist, not until he showed her some music that he hadn't yet released. He was a talented pianist, and Y/N couldn't stop herself from calling him a tortured artist.

There was no way she was going to let him sleep on the sofa. That would be like letting the Queen of England sleep in the dog house. So, she let Charles sleep in her bed, a wall of pillows keeping them separated.

***

There was a shift in their relationship dynamic after that. Things came easier to them. They were still faking it, but they weren't putting on a performance anymore. It was natural.

When they weren't together, she found herself texting him. Any time she had something to say, she texted him, without caring whether he had time to text her back yet. When Y/N wasn't at a grand prix, Charles was pictured laughing at his phone, and everybody knew who he was texting

CL16

what do you want your contact picture to be?

Please don't make it something embarrassing

Oh come on, Charles

I doubt there are any embarrassing pictures of you

okay i take it back

oh god

look at this little guy

you were so cute

what happened?

Hey!

I'm still cute!

The ladies love me

sure they do, sunshine

She found herself sending him anything and everything that made her laugh. Whether they knew of this shift, it wasn't clear.

But Henri certainly did.

The next part of this story takes place during the Belgian Grand Prix. Y/N hadn't attended. She'd been to the last few and, for once, her brother wanted to spend time with her.

"I'm impressed," Henri said as they sat on the balcony, tea in front of them. "You're selling this whole relationship really well."

But his sister wasn't listening. Instead, she was giggling down at her phone as she texted. "Y/N," Henri prompted and she looked up from the phone. "Can you put it down? I'm trying to have a conversation with you."

Reluctantly, Y/N put her phone on the table. "What were you saying, Hen?" She asked and picked up her little tea cup. The rim was decorated with pink, yellow and purple flowers.

"I was saying that you've really made this relationship with Charles look real. If I didn't know better, I really would think you were dating," said Henri. He straightened his posture and sipped his tea. "What is he doing during summer break?"

She shrugged her shoulders. Summer break was something they'd only briefly talked about, while Y/N was in his apartment, trying out his sim rig (spoiler alert, she was fucking terrible at sim racing. But it was still good fun, pretending to be her pretend boyfriend). He'd invited her on his yacht by literally saying, "join me on my yacht during summer?"

It was an invitation Y/N couldn't turn down, so she just said, "sure."

Henri continued. "Why don't you invite him to the palace for dinner?"

That was too much of a step into real relationship territory. Immediately she shook her head. "You do know that he isn't actually my boyfriend, right?" She pressed, placing her teacup back down onto the saucer.

Henri waved her off. "I know, I know," he said. "It would just be nice, you know?"

Suddenly Y/N felt a little sick. This was skidding way too far into relationship territory. Fake boyfriends didn't have dinner with her family, fake boyfriends didn't take him to her apartment just because he could.

The next time she saw Charles, Y/N was on his yacht. She laid in the sun, arm across her stomach and her eyes shut. It was lovely, so fucking lovely.

Charles sat beside her, passing her a drink. "Thank you, Charlie," she said with a smile as she sat up. "Best fake boyfriend ever." He patted her knee and stayed at beside her as the yacht gently moved on the water.

They spoke and, as they spoke, Y/N realised they never spoke about how fake their relationship was. In fact, Charles wasn't acting as though their relationship was fake. Even as they walked to his apartment, through the building and away from prying eyes, he still held her hand.

When she sat on his yacht, talking to him about whatever, he kept his hand on her knee.

As they day got later, the two began drinking. "To us," He called and tapped his glass against Y/N.

"To us," Y/N repeated and drank her drink. They slept on the yacht that night, with Y/N changing from her swim wear into something a little warmer as the sun disappeared.

They ate together, drank together, and just spent time together. It was nice, giggling and leaning on each other. Charles just loved spending time with her, it seemed. He gave her his hoodie when she shivered and, when that wasn't enough, he tucked her into his side.

They were both getting tired and were both ready to go to bed. Y/N glanced up at him from her place against his side. That was when he leaned down to kiss her.

Y/N stood up immediately. "Woah, what the fuck?" She cried as she jumped away from him. "Charles, what the hell are you doing?"

"I... Just thought..."

"Well you thought wrong!"

Y/N stormed off, heading to the bedroom. She set up the bed, placing the cushions between them. They'd slept in the same bed several times since that very first time in her apartment, but hadn't since.

The next day, she got Charles to take to back to the marina. Whether paparazzi saw them or not, she didn't care as she stormed away from him without so much as a goodbye.

OFF THE RAILS

Just when we thought things were looking up for the Monégasque Princess, it seems she is, once again, off the rails.

Princess Y/N has spent the last few months seemingly dating Formula One driver, Charles Leclerc. In this time, it appeared that the princess had halted her wild ways. The clubs she so often frequented were quiet without her presence.

But, after a rocky night on his luxury yacht, the couple appeared to go their separate ways. The Princess was seen storming away from the yacht on Monday morning.

Fans had been hoping that this was just a little spat between the popular couple, but after the Princess was spotted partying in Monaco just the night previous, fans soon lost hope.

She'd done so well staying in the medias good books for the last few months. But, ever since that night on the yacht, Y/N needed to get out. She needed to get out and have a wild night.

She'd never been a relationship person. When Charles had gone to kiss her, she'd been terrified. Why be in a relationship person when every relationship you've had was somebody trying to screw you over?

Because she had loved every minute with Charles. Every fucking minute. For once it felt like she wasn't being used, and they weren't even in a relationship. But Y/N couldn't see a future with him, not one where at least one of them didn't get hurt.

So, she ran away from it. She ran from him and her feelings, ran back into the embrace of the bottle. She partied the night away without caring who saw it.

Of course Charles saw it. It was the first thing he saw when he opened any form of social media. Her face plastered across his screen. Her in a low cut dress that perfectly showed off her figure. He sucked in a breath. She was meant to be his girl, and she didn't want him.

Even though they weren't together anymore, Y/N did stop with the partying. She calmed down immensely, no longer appearing in the tabloids. No longer appearing anywhere, actually.

Charles tried his best to forget about her. He didn't sleep around, he just put all of his energy into his work. He took sponsorship deals, did photoshoots and spent all of his time training. All to get Y/N out of his head.

Well, it didn't work. Charles couldn't forget about her. It was taking everything in him not to go to her apartment and tell her how he had fallen for her while they were supposed to be pretending to date.

Charles messaged Henri, asked how Y/N was doing, but Henri didn't seem to know.

That was because she hadn't been seen outside of her apartment in weeks.

When Henri told Charles, he knew he had to do something.

After attending the Italian Grand Prix alone, Charles made his way to Y/N's apartment. He had all of his things, having not made his way back to his own apartment.

When he knocked on her door, there was a moment before anything happened. He listened out, listening as she got off of the couch with a groan and walked over to the door.

The girl that answered the door was the girl that Charles was in love with, but she was hard to recognise. Hair a mess, bags under her eyes, wearing clothes that hadn't been washed in days.

When she pulled open the door, her face dropped. "Oh," she muttered, leaning against the door, not letting him see the mess inside. "What are you doing here?"

"Your brother told me you're not doing good."

"So?"

She was so quick to shut him down, to try and get him away from her apartment.

But, Charles pushed on. "So, I came to check on you. I'm worried about you."

Finally, she pushed open the door and allowed him inside.

The apartment was a state. Trash everywhere, dirty clothes about the floor, all of her dishes used and piled up around the apartment. There was half eaten food that was definitely rotting.

"Shit, Y/N," said Charles as she pushed the door shut.

She glared and threw herself back down onto the sofa. "Oh, fuck off," she said.

Charles sat on the end of the couch. It was the only place in the apartment that filthy. "I just want to help you," he said and began picking up the clothes on her floor.

And then Y/N sat up, causing Charles to stop what he was doing. "Why? Our entire relationship was fake, so why do you care?" She spat.

"Because." Charles stood up a little straighter, dropping her clothes into a little pile. "Because I love you. I know we were only fake dating, but it felt so real! And I realised that I actually do love you! I want to date you for real! I want to be the best real boyfriend ever, not the best fake boyfriend ever!" He exclaimed. "I don't know why you're so opposed to the idea. Those dates we went one, the ones after that first night in your apartment, they were amazing. I wouldn't have invited you to my yacht if I didn't seriously like you."

Y/N scoffed sarcastically. "Sure you do, Charles. Sure you, a world famous Formula One driver who can have anybody he wants, wants me, the troubled spare, the princess that nobody wants." She said it quietly, picking at her nails.

He leaned down in front of her, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it. "I do. I really do want to be with you. Princess Y/N of Monaco, I want to take you on dates and I want you to join me at races. I want to show you off in the paddock and I want to take you on my yacht, kissing you with your permission. I want you, Y/N."

But the way she looked at him, she looked ready to cry. "I can't do heartbreak," she said and pulled her hand away from his. "Not with you, Charles. I can't handle you breaking my heart," she said and stood up.

Charles suddenly pulled her close. "I won't break your heart," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "Now, go take a shower. I'll sort out... all of this."

Y/N did just that. She turned on the water and hopped into the shower as Charles picked up the rubbish. Mainly empty wrappers and bottles of soft drinks. There were plenty of pizza boxes that he shoved behind the bin, just for the time being. After that, Charles picked up her clothes from the floor. He shoved what he could into her washing machine and turned it on, leaving to pick up the plates.

When Y/N hopped out of the shower, the apartment wasn't clean. But it was better. The floor was now visible. As Charles cleared up the space between the couch and the television, Y/N set about washing the dishes.

"Pizza?" Charles offered as he walked over with some half full glasses and cups.

But Y/N shook her head as she scrubbed a bowl that was once full of cereal. "You know, for the first time in a while, I'm not feeling like pizza."

"We'll get you something better, then," Charles said and set about ordering food.

They sat on the couch, Y/N in the last of her clean clothes, tucked into his side. "If we're gonna try this, we'll need to go on proper dates," she muttered, her head against his chest. "And, eventually, you'll need to come and have dinner with my family."

Charles let out a laugh. "Relax, chérie, we're gonna take it one step at a time."

One step at a time.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader smut #charles leclerc x you #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

1K notes · View notes

starkwlkr · 2 months

Note

I have such a random request but it came to me randomly and you said you were looking for DILF driver requests so here:

Any driver with an Actress!reader who is in a new movie with on screen kissing with her and another actor and reader and whatever driver you write this with have to explain to their kids, Maybe like ages 3-6, that their mom and dad still love each other and that mom was just working.

Sorry if this is complicated

Thanks 🫶

playing pretend | mark webber

i went with mark so i hope that’s ok!! also i chose free guy as the movie i know it’s not new but idk any other kid friendly movies that came out recently 😭 all i watch is horror, thrillers and documentaries

You love your job, there was no lie there. You got to play different characters and dress up in either fancy dresses or a superhero suit depending on the movie you were filming. It was an easy and exciting job, but somehow your kids were clueless. They knew their dad raced cars for a living, but their mom? They had no clue.

So one day you got an opportunity to star in a family movie with Ryan Reynolds in the movie Free Guy. You play the part of ‘Molotov girl’ or Millie, the characters actual name. Sometimes you would bring your two kids, Sage and Henry. When the day of the premiere came, you decided to make it a family event so you were joined by Mark and the kids.

After walking the red carpet and taking pictures, your little family was seated in the theater to begin watching the movie. As the movie played, you looked over at your kids to watch their reaction. They laughed and pointed at the screen when you showed up saying “look! It’s mum!”

“Yeah, that’s mum.” Mark laughed.

When your kiss scene with Ryan came up, you were nervous at how your kids would react seeing as you were going to kiss someone that wasn’t their dad. You payed attention to them and watched as they gasped when you and Ryan kissed.

“Mum! Why are you kissing him?!” Sage turned to you, her face full of confusion.

“That’s not dad!” Henry turner to Mark. “That’s not you!”

“It’s like playing pretend, Henry. Mum is playing pretend.” Mark tried his best to explain. He didn’t want to disrupt anyone around them so he talked quietly. “We’ll talk after the movie, okay? We have to be quiet right now.”

The kids understood so they remained in their seats that was until another kiss scene between you and Joe Keery at the end of the movie. It was short since right when you and Joe kissed, the movie ended right away, but that didn’t stop your kids from looking at you with even more confusion.

As promised, when you, Mark and the kids were on your way back to the hotel, you explained your job.

“So your job is playing dress up?” Sage wondered.

“Yeah, that’s it. Mommy plays dress up.” You laughed along with Mark.

“But why did you kiss someone that wasn’t daddy?” Henry asked. “Do you not love daddy anymore?”

“Honey, I love daddy more than anything. That’s part of mommy’s job. Like daddy said, it’s pretend so it was like a fake kiss.” You explained.

Thankfully, Mark had pulled up to the parking lot of the hotel and parked the car. That’s when you and Mark looked back at your kids.

“We love each other and we love you, okay?” Mark made sure they understood.

“But you don’t fake kiss?” Sage asked.

“No, daddy and i real kiss, see?” You placed a kiss on Mark’s lips as your kids yelled “ew!”

“Cooties!”

“Stop! My eyes!”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber imagine #mark webber fanfic #mark webber

569 notes · View notes

ghostlyarchaeologist · 11 months

Photo

*Casually passes an axe*

Leverage S05E07 The Real Fake Car Job.

#leverage #sophie devereaux #eliot spencer #gina bellman #christian kane #although if you're going to be suspicious #don't drive around in a bright orange car #just sayin'#ghostly'sgifs

2K notes · View notes

captainfern · 5 months

Text

141Rugby!au [18+]

• Part Four - Greedy •

Captain John Price x fem!reader

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.

chapter summary - the captain confronts you about your relationships with his teammates. his reaction isn't what you expected lol.

rating - 18+

wordcount - 7.8k

chapter warnings - fem!reader, slow-ish burn [but not really cause ik you're here for the porn], body worship (price is literally obsessed with you fr), fingering, handjob, mentions of foursome/sharing, unprotected piv, sex in a car wooo, praise, multiple orgasms, tummy bulge?, price has a sir kink, strong language

disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3

Price is a flanker – provides support play, maintains possession of the ball, and is both fast and strong defensively. price is also the captain of the team, of course.

see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words

<- part three | part five ->

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

After your little... encounter with Simon, he helped clean you up. He gave you a pair of his joggers– which were baggy, but you tied them tightly using the drawstring, and they worked just fine. He then helped (watched) you clean the cum and saliva off your face with a cocky smile resting on his lips. When you finally did shoo him out of your office, he snuck one more quick kiss to your lips, before disappearing out of the door.

Back at your desk, you lit your favourite smelling candle to permeate the air and hopefully eliminate as much of the smell of you and Ghost as you could. But ultimately, this was a physio's office. It's bound to have a lingering smell of sweat and body-odour from the players anyway, so hopefully no suspicion would be aroused.

You also opened your window just a sliver to allow a steady stream of cool air to enter the space. Because, as you sat at your desk, you couldn't help but feel warm. Warm, because your body was still alight with the feeling of Simon– his hands on you, this thigh between your legs, his cock in your mouth...

A heartbeat appeared between your legs, and you tossed your head back with a groan. Not now, for crying out loud. You ran your hands down your face, before trying to settle yourself comfortably in your chair. But it was hard to do so when you could still smell Simon's cologne in the material when you angled your head a certain way. Even over the sweetness of the candle, and the light smell of rain in the cool breeze, you could still smell him. And that made your stomach flip, your cunt leaking into your already drenched underwear.

It was unpleasant, but you had just one more appointment before a break. Then you could go home and get changed and hopefully ignore the smug look Simon'll give you all day. Great.

A soft knocking on your door drew you away from your thoughts, and you looked up in time to see Price poke his head in. He smiled warmly, eyes squinting as he entered your office, and you returned the smile as best you could as you quelled the twisting in your lower stomach.

"Morning, captain," you greeted, gesturing to one of the chairs sitting opposite the desk. "Have a seat."

"Morning, doc," Price said as he sat down, his hips immediately shifting in the chair as his legs spread, hands clasped over his lower stomach. You forcibly ignored the movement to stare intently at your computer screen. Price looked around your office. "This might be my first visit, actually."

"It sure is," you said. "And how are you feeling?"

Price's eyes were on you the second you spoke. "I'm feeling fine, thanks, doc."

"That's good..." You uttered, before spinning around in your chair to fish his file from the paper copies in the back. Once you found it, you slapped it open on your desk, skimming your eyes over it. "Okay, so it's a shoulder injury, right? Talk me through what happened."

Price pulled up the short sleeve of his right arm, exposing the joint of his shoulder. He also exposed the strong, curved muscles of his upper arm and the way the tendons flexed when he held it towards you for a better look.

"S'just something sore in the top here–" Price tapped his fingers against the curve of his shoulder just beside the bone. "Not sure what it is. I hit a tackle a bit hard last game, and it hasn't come right."

You nodded along, listening attentively. "Does it usually get better on its own?"

Price nodded. "Yeah, I just have a bath and I'm good as new. But this one's causing me a bit of strife these past couple'a days."

You scribbled a few things down on his file before standing up with a clap of your hands, gesturing to the medical table. Price got the hint, making his way over and perching himself on the edge, his feet still on the ground. Meanwhile, you grabbed a few things from the cabinetry nearby, and approached one he had settled.

"D'you mind taking his off?" You asked him, tugging at the material of his training shirt.

He chuckled, using his good arm to pull it up and over his head. "If you wanted me to strip, doc, you could've asked me earlier." He joked, finally pulling the rest of his shirt off and letting it sit on his lap.

You rolled your eyes. "Very funny."

Fucking hell.

You physically had to turn your head towards his shoulder, rather than allowing your eyes to rake down the expanse of his torso. Price was made up of thick muscle, not necessarily defined in taut lines, but in curves along his body. His pectoral muscles, the bulges in his biceps and forearms, the slight pudge in his stomach as he sat. His chest and abdomen was brushed with short, dark hair– slightly lighter than his facial hair, though– and your body had a genuine reaction at the dark happy trail disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Oh my god.

You shifted your body simply in the direction of his right arm and shoulder, using both of your hands to get a feel of the area. His skin was warm beneath your palms, and you couldn't help but feel slightly nervous at the way he watched you too. Gently, you squeezed and around the bone of his shoulder, then up along the ridge towards the junction of his neck. You pressed firmly to the muscles above the shoulder blade, and then trailed your fingers back down towards his collarbone.

"Any pain through here?" You asked as your hands moved, fingers pressing into the muscles just above the collarbone.

He shook his head. "Nothing too bad."

"Nothing too bad?" You echoed him through a question. "Price, you need to tell me if there's a bit of pain. I don't want you just ignoring it if it hurts."

Price spared a smile, and you found yourself liking the way his facial hair moved with his cheeks as his mouth curled upwards. Then you found yourself internally scolding yourself.

"S'just the space just below my shoulder, on my back–" Price tried to move to point with his sore arm, but he stopped with a subtle wince you picked up before the expression dropped.

"Okay, why don't you sit back down on this chair, captain?" You prompted, dragging the chair he was just on over to the medical table. You pointed to it again, and Price slipped off of the table and sat down in the chair.

At this angle, you could now easily access his back– the broad, rippled expanse of his back.

Get it together.

With gentle firmness, you pressed into the spot just below the shoulder joint, nearing the top of the armpit. You felt his muscles flex beneath the skin, and you immediately withdrew. When the pressure of your hands left, Price looked over his shoulder to see what you were doing.

"Do you have any muscle weakness at all asides from the obvious pain?" You asked, moving to Price's side and taking hold of his upper arm.

He watched you with calculating eyes as your fingers moved along the curves of his bicep muscles, up until just below his armpit, where you squeezed the muscles again, and he grit his teeth. You noted the reaction as he answered your question.

"No weakness, just pain," he told you. "And it get's a bit stiff too. When I, you know, keep it in a certain position for too long."

"Mhm, mhm..." You hummed in acknowledgement, moving behind him once more. You still had one hand on his bicep and with that hand, you carefully pushed his arm upwards. Your other hand lay flat against the back of his shoulder, feeling the movement of the tendons as you lifted his arm. "Does it hurt when you move it this way?"

You lifted his arm until it was parallel with his shoulder. He shook his head, but you could see the way his jaw clenched. You sighed to yourself, bringing his arm back down to his side and giving him a few supportive taps on the lower arm.

"You have to tell me when you're in pain, captain, or I can't help you." You told him.

Price sighed. "Fine, yeah, it's sore when you do that."

You smiled. "Thank you." Then, you pressed your hand flat to the shoulder again, and instructed him to hold his arm out forward. He did, and you felt the tendons pull and shift beneath your palm. You allowed him to settle while you rounded your desk and noted a few things down on your file.

Price cocked his head. "Is... are we done?"

"Almost," you said, looking up at him and smiling. "You can put your shirt back on."

"Oh, right..." Price grumbled, then slowly pulled his shirt back on. He did it with ease as you finished writing in your file, now sitting comfortably in your desk chair.

"So it seams you've just got some inflammation of your rotator cuff," you told him, looking up from your file and tapping the tip of your pen against it absentmindedly. "You don't have much muscle weakness, which is good, meaning it's probably not a tear in your tendons. I'd say the cuff's just a tad bruised, so it should heal up in no time."

"My rotator what?"

"Your rotator cuff. It's a bunch of tendons and ligaments that support your arm where it connects to your shoulder," you told him, pointing at your own arm for example. "It's a common injury to have the tendons get a bit bruised from a tackle, or from scrums and what not."

"Right, okay..." Price nodded at your words.

You smiled at him once more. "Do you have any questions?"

Price cleared his throat. "Uh, well, what's the healing time on this?"

"Oh, right. Well, because it's not a tear or anything major like that, it could just take a couple of weeks to get the pain sorted and for the tender ligaments to sort themselves out," you said. "All you need to do is rest it, apply ice every once in a while to reduce any swelling or pain, keep on top of anti-inflammatory and pain medication– oh that reminds me, I'll send an email to the doctor to prescribe you with the right stuff."

You moved to your computer now, beginning to curate your email. Across the desk, Price watched patiently, eyes on you the entire time. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Half way through writing the email, you looked over at him and met his gaze. Maybe you should just make conversation, since the weight of his stare was sending all sorts of nervousness into the pit of your stomach.

"How're the lads going, Price?" You asked with your eyes on him, before chickening out with the eye-contact and returning to the email you were supposed to me sending.

Price leaned back in the chair, hands clasped over his stomach once more. "Yeah, not bad, doc. We're on a bit of a win streak, which always makes things better, doesn't it?"

You laughed politely, and also genuinely– because you know it's true. Hell, Soap and Gaz wouldn't shut up about the number of tests they've one so far this season, and their egos seemed to shoot through the roof.

"It definitely does help," you told him. "And have the boys been behaving themselves? Johnny's always up to something, isn't he? And I can imagine Gaz would be much the same."

Price let his eyes wander across your face and briefly over the rest of your body too– well, what he could see above the desk, anyway. He hummed a response, a sure from the back of his throat, as his eyes skimmed over you. He tilted his hips in the chair, his clasped hands now resting on his lap.

"Not sure if those lads can behave themselves, if I'm being honest," Price laughed, shaking his head at memories of his boys. Then, his laughter flitted out and the heat of his gaze settled back over you like a veil. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip in thought, still leaning comfortably in the chair, the pain in his shoulder almost forgotten about. "What do you think, doc? Have they been behaving themselves?"

Perceptive, analytical as always, Price saw the way you shifted in your chair. He noticed the way some kind of expressive emotion flashed through your pretty eyes, and he picked up on the way the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly– a frown or a smile, he wasn't quite sure, but the movement had a surge of pride filling his chest.

His boys had been treating you well. He knew that, of course. Gaz had already told everyone about how he pursued you and how, like the perfect thing you were, let him. Price'd also heard about Soap's little adventures in wooing you as well, although slightly less graceful than the winger. Last but not least, he knew that Ghost wanted you too. He knew the number 8 had a plan to have you, just like Gaz and Soap did. And judging by the way you shifted in your seat, the way you had a slight unbalance in your walk and the (obvious) fact that you were wearing Ghost's joggers, Price knew the lads had been successful.

It wasn't so much of a game to Price as it was to the boys. Obviously, they all did genuinely care for you, and appreciate everything you did for them, but the chase of it all was way too fun to ignore. But with Price, he thought– no, he knew– that he didn't need to chase you around like a bunch of horny dogs. He didn't have to apply any sly tactics to get you to talk to him. He just had to be himself because, based on the way you reacted when he so much as glanced in your direction, he knew. He knew you wanted him, too.

"Have they been behaving themselves?" Price repeated, watching the way your fingers paused over the keyboard.

You took a deep breath and sent the email, before turning to face Price with as much courage as you could. Did he know? Fucking hell, how did he know? It was all so confusing– how on earth did Gaz, Soap, Ghost and now Price know just the right things to do to get you worked up? It was almost as though they were conspiring with each other.

Oh, wait a fucking second...

You felt embarrassment flare through you as you met the captain's eyes. He smiled calmly at you as your head flopped and you hid your face in your hands.

"Please don't tell me they told you..." You all but squeaked into your palms, with the hopes of shielding yourself from whatever comment Price was about to make.

Price released a low chuckle. "Told me what, sweetheart?"

Your body heated up at the term of endearment. What was wrong with you? Four fucking rugby union players? Are you serious?

"Don't make me say it," you groaned, finally moving your hands away from your face. "Oh, god, I am so fucking sorry. I know it's– oh my god, this is so embarrassing– I'm so sorry. I'll quit–"

"Woah, woah, woah, doc, calm down," Price said quickly, holding up his hands in a gesture for you to take it easy. "It's alright, I promise. It's okay."

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as the heat of his gaze was almost too much for you. You squirmed in your seat, Ghost's joggers almost too hot against your legs. Your stomach was in knots.

"If... if you're referring to you and the boys' little... encounters, then yes, they have told me," Price said softly. "And– listen to me, doc– it's okay. It's completely okay."

You placed your hands on your cheeks, cupping your face as your stomach swooped with each of his words. He was still leaning so casually in that chair that it was almost unnerving. But his tone was soft and genuine, and the sparkle in his eyes was still there as he looked across the desk at you.

"I'm... I'm not in trouble?" You whispered.

Price shook his head. "Of course not."

"And... you're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you?" Price frowned. Now he leaned forward, bringing the broad frame of his upper body closer to you. "Why would I be mad at you? Why would I be angry that you're taking care of my boys, hm?"

Taking care. Your whole body flushed with heat at that, goosebumps raising across your skin as you cupped your face tighter, a whine eliciting from the back of your throat. You weren't sure if the sudden sensations you were feeling was from the sheer embarrassment of this situation, or the fact that Price's comforting words, paired with the baritone of his voice, was– oh my god– turning you on.

What the hell was your life at this point.

"Price–" You whispered.

"Why don't I take you out to dinner, and we can talk a bit more about it. How does that sound?" Price asked, getting to his feet. Instinctively, you got to your feet as well, but you remained tucked behind your desk. You weren't sure if you were grateful for the small barrier between you and the imposingly attractive man on the other side of it.

"Are you sure?" You voiced, tentative. Your eyes darted behind Price to the door, where you could hear the rumbled voice of the coach echoing down the hall. Your stomach turned.

Price obviously knew what you were thinking. "It's okay, doc. You can come to dinner with me without getting in trouble. I promise you. I wouldn't compromise you like that."

You chewed your bottom lip again, thinking. When you did finally look back at Price and forcibly maintain eye-contact (which was difficult considering he was looking at you like he wanted to bend you over your fucking desk), you nodded.

"Yeah... dinner would be nice, thank you."

He smiled. A wide grin. "Yeah? Alright then, sweetheart. I'll pick you up at six-thirty. How does that sound?"

Your eyes widened, stomach flipping again. "Oh, tonight?"

Price nodded.

"Oh... oh, okay, yeah. Six-thirty's good."

"Good," Price was still smiling. "I'll pick you up then."

As he headed for the door, so casually that it made your heart rate pick-up, you called after him: "Don't you want my address?"

Price chucked as he opened the door. He looked over his shoulder and winked at you. "I'll just ask Gaz." And then he was gone.

Your entire body was on fire. What had you gotten yourself into?

•º•º•

Six-thirty rolled around and you were ridiculously nervous. You didn't know what to expect, and you had half the mind to just cancel and then lock yourself in your bedroom for the next few years. But when a knock sounded at your door at six-thirty exactly, you swallowed your nerves and opened the door to fine Price standing there.

The captain was well dressed, and you couldn't help but stare at how fucking good is arms looked in the dress-shirt. After exchanging pleasantries (kept to a minimum since you were afraid you might pass out if you talked too much), Price led you to his car and helped you into the passenger seat. He got in on the other side and drove off. You fidgeted with your fingers on your lap.

"You look gorgeous, sweetheart," Price said, sparing a look at you while driving. You felt yourself warm at his words, fidgeting with one of the rings on your fingers. He noticed, and reached his hand across the centre console and blanketed both of yours in one of his. "It's okay, doc. There's nothing to be nervous about."

"Nothing to be nervous about?" You asked as he began stroking his thumb along your knuckles. You hated admitting to yourself you liked it– and that you missed it once he pulled his hand away. "I have a lot to be nervous about, Price. One reason being I'm probably going to lose my job–"

"Why would you lose your job?" Price asked genuinely.

"Why would I lose my job?" You looked at him as though he was crazy. "Do you realise what–?"

"That's enough of that. You're not going to lose your job," Price decided to interrupt you before you had the chance to spiral. "You've done nothing wrong."

"That's not true–"

"You've done nothing wrong except look after my lads who, by the way, are very, very thankful," Price glanced at you, annunciating the second very in a way that made your heart skip a beat. He turned back to the road. "They're very grateful too. Not only have you patched up their injuries, you've given 'em something to focus on."

"Focus on?" You frowned.

Price nodded. "They tend to do better during games, and focus better during trainings when they know you're watching. And they love it when you watch. Makes 'em feel... proud."

"Proud?"

"Mhm, proud," Price said. "They're proud of themselves that they have a pretty thing like you keeping an eye on 'em, and they're proud of you for paying attention to 'em."

"Right..." You mumbled, eyes looking out of the windshield at the steady, fast-moving flow of traffic you and Price were behind.

Silence filled the car as you stared out the window, fingers still spinning and sliding one of your rings up and down your finger. You also chewed on your bottom lip briefly, all kinds of thoughts whizzing through your head. So many thoughts were bouncing around your brain that you were surprised that you weren't dizzy yet.

After allowing for a few moments of silence, Price glanced at you once more, clearing his throat. "Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?"

You turned to face him this time, altering your attention towards him rather than the road. You nodded, humming your consent and you watched as he stewed over the question in his head, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

"You like me how you like the boys?" Price asked gently. "Or are you just acting all shy 'cause I'm the captain?"

He looked at you once the car rolled to a stop at a red-light. The red reflections of the car infront's break lights reflected in Price's eyes, and you wondered whether your eyes appeared a glassy red too.

Despite your nervousness, the anxious bubbling in your stomach, the slight tremor in your fingers, you mustered up enough courage to look him dead in the eyes and say, "I think you're smart enough to figure that out yourself."

Price's eyes darkened, but his lips curled into a smile. The lights turned green, which drew his eyes back onto the road. After a moment of driving, of turning a corner and adjusting his speed to the traffic, Price glanced at you again.

"Four rugby lads, doc? You got a thing for four, hm? S'abit greedy, isn't it?" He almost purred, and the butterflies in your stomach were no longer there because of nerves, but because of... well... horny.

You shrugged, a rueful smile appearing on your face as the car stopped at another red light.

"There's nothing wrong with being a bit greedy, is there?" You prompted, eying the captain with purpose. "Besides, it's not an issue if everyone shares, is it?"

Price tutted at you, shaking his head with a sly grin on his face. He looked at you in such a way you swore you could've melted into the car seat. "M'not sure if you've noticed, sweetheart, but my lads and I... well, we work as a team, yeah? And we certainly don't have a problem with sharing. Especially when we all really want something."

"Hmm..." You hummed and the light turned green. Price almost didn't notice with how locked-in he was on you. You gave him a little nod– pay attention, captain– so that he'd continue to drive and not anger any of the cars behind.

Now, it was your turn to reach across the centre console and place a hand on the thick expanse of Price's thigh. God, you had been wanting to do that for so fucking long. And, making your heart flutter, Price settled a hand on top of yours and held it firmly. Warm and solid and secure.

"Have you shared in the past?" You asked, and Price's quick response was a shake of the head.

"Not like this," Price answered truthfully. "Not– not like this, no. We've talked about it, but we've never... agreed on anyone. Until..."

"Until?" You raised your brows.

Price smiled. "Until this pretty little physio strolled through the front doors of the rec room and made half the bloody team fall in love with her in the first fifteen seconds."

You laughed. "Half the team?"

"Mhm."

"Well, good thing I don't want half the team," you told him, finger's squeezing his thigh. He sucked in a breath. Your smile grew. "I only want four, and that's fair, isn't it?"

Your hand squeezed and groped the thick muscle of Price's thigh, and you could visibly see the way he stiffened– the way his body tensed up at your touch, waiting expectantly to see where your hand would move too. But you didn't move it from the spot around mid-thigh, petting him there beneath the weight of his large hand.

"Seems fair..." Price grunted, jaw tensing. Your fingers simply squeezing his fucking thigh was enough to have a significant amount of blood rushing towards his cock.

He tried to concentrate on the road. He really did. But your touch on his leg and– christ– the weight of your stare against the side of his face was enough for him to slowly lose focus. He missed the turn towards the restaurant but, as he was about to express his frustrations at having missed the turn, you opened that pretty little mouth of yours.

"Price..."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Finally, fucking finally, your hand trailed higher, and Price let you. He let your fingers skate just shy of the crevice between his thigh and groin, where his cock was definitely half-hard in his trousers. Price gripped your fingers tighter, but made no move to stop you. It was just purely to make sure he didn't absolutely lose it.

"M'not that hungry anymore. Well, not for food, anyway."

•º•º•

It didn't take long for Price to find a secluded carpark down an empty street to pull into. Maybe it's because he was speeding, maybe not. Either way, it also didn't take him long for him to settle himself into the backseat and pull you with him. And it certainly didn't take long for your clothes to be removed, and for him to be dragging his hands down every inch of your beautiful body.

Price groaned low in his throat the entire time he worked you with his hands and fingers. As you straddled his lap, he groped and grasped at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh against his hardened fingers and palms. He pinched lightly at the buds of your nipples, tweaking them with his thumbs, watching you closely as you arched against him.

His hands didn't stay in one place for too long, as though he was eager to touch you everywhere. His hands coasted down your sides, squeezing the expanse of your waist and hips, rocking you against him. Price watched the way he could manipulate your supple skin beneath his hands, the way he could form ripples and folds against the flesh beneath his probing fingers.

"You're fucking perfect," Price muttered as his hands moved from your hips to your thighs, running up and down. You whined quietly as he grabbed at your thighs, before shifting his hands back to your midriff, where he pawed at your stomach. His hands were big and warm, and one pushed down on the pudge of your lower stomach, pressing lightly. He groaned. "God, I can't wait to stuff this pretty tummy with my cock, sweetheart."

He said it so quietly, so tenderly, that it didn't make you moan. Instead, you released a whimper of his name as his gaze remained transfixed on where he pushed against you. Finally, he tore his gaze away, his eyes instead darting over every single inch of your face.

"You're gonna feel it right here, doc," Price pushed gently again, and you couldn't help but squirm against him. He hummed, content, as though the thought alone was absolute bliss. Which, to him, it was. "Yeah... yeah, m'gonna fill you up with my cum, n' you're gonna really feel my cock, aren't you, sweetheart? Gonna feel it right here in this pretty tummy..."

He rubbed your stomach as he leaned forward, his other hand clasping the back of your neck to drag you into a heated kiss. You whined against his lips as he split your mouth open with his tongue, delving inside with warm flicks against your own. You held onto his broad shoulders– minding his injury– and began absent-mindedly grinding down against him. He was still fully dressed, and that turned you on even more.

Price got the hint. He pulled out of the kiss, the small bit of facial hair just below his lower lip sparkling with your spit. He didn't go far though, as he continued mouthing at you, dragging his lips along your jaw and then down your neck.

"Unbutton my shirt." He whispered against your neck before skimming his teeth against the skin and sucking. You obeyed, popping the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers. You managed to undo all of them by the time Price was finished practically chewing on your neck, judging by the amount of saliva and visible teeth indents against you. You expected something like that from Johnny, not Price. But either way, it turned you on. Of course it did.

"That's a good girl, well done." Price nosed at the bottom of your ear before pulling away and shucking the rest of his shirt off. His trousers followed– he popped the button under your excited gaze, unzipping them, before lifting his hips to pull them down.

He did so with you still on his lap, his strength not at all surprising. After his trousers were bunched up beneath you now, his boxers followed, and you let out a loud moan as his cock sprung free against his abdomen. Immediately, you grabbed hold of it, and Price released a thick grumble that had your cunt dripping onto his lap.

He wasn't as long as Simon, but Price was fucking thick. The weight of him in your hand had you whimpering, and the beads of pre-cum settling against his slit made your stomach flip. You ran your fingers gently up and down the solid, velveteen length, watching more and more pearls of pre-cum begin dribbling out of the reddened tip. He huffed out a breathy groan, watching the movement of your hand as your foreheads came together.

As you gently stroked his cock, one of Price's hands slipped down from your tummy to your thighs. His fingers traced the silken skin of your inner thighs before he found your slick core, his hand cupping you there for a moment before he ran a single digit up and down your folds.

You moaned against him, his finger joined by a second, now toying with your clit with tiny ministrations, as though you were made of glass. Your hand on his cock faltered as zaps of pleasure appeared in the base of your spine, forcing you to arch and wriggle in Price's lap. His fingers were warm and almost rough against the sensitive bundle of nerves, but you were in heaven– his circles growing deeper, his touch falling heavier as he drew shapes against you.

You moaned again, and this time, Price caught it with his mouth. He kissed you deeply, smoothing his tongue against your own as his fingers moved from your clit to your dripping hole. He wasted no time in pushing two fingers inside you, catching more of your moans in his mouth. He moaned too at the feeling of your tight, wet walls constricting around his fingers, your arousal smearing against his hand.

"Fuck, Gaz was right," Price groaned as he pulled out of the kiss, dropping his head to suck at the column of your throat. "This is such a perfect– fuckin'– pussy–" He punctuated his sentence with thrusts of his fingers, ripping whimpers from you.

His fingers worked quickly, thrusting in and out of you and filling the car with obscene, wet squelches. The windows– tinted, thankfully– were slowly beginning to condensate as you ground yourself down onto Price's hand while stroking his cock.

His cock twitched and leaked in your grasp, so hard that you could feel the heat of him against your palm. The flushed tip was leaking so much pre-cum that you had only had to spit once into your hand to slicken your movements.

Your stomach was no longer alight with butterflies or nerves. You felt confident and, hell, happily horny as you jerked off the captain of one of the best rugby union teams in the United Kingdom. As Price's head moved back to take a good look at you against his lap, it was your turn to lean forward and suck kissed up the side of his neck. He groaned loudly when you attached your lips to his skin, the vibrations tickling your lips as you sucked. You continued sucking kisses all the way up to the base of his ear, before nipping playfully at his earlobe.

"Oh, fuckin' hell..." He grunted, hips bucking into your fist, his fingers losing rhythm inside you for just a moment.

But he found his memento soon after you whispered into his ear, "You're making me feel so good, sir."

Sir. Sir, sir, sir–

Price leaned his head back against the headrest and groaned outwardly, the word sending even more blood (if that was even possible at this point) to his cock, more pearls of pre beading at the ruddy tip. He groaned your name, his fingers increasing their pace, the heel of his hand grinding into your clit.

"Sir? Yeah, that's right, sweetheart, call me sir." Price whispered as you sucked a bruise just below his Adam's apple. It bobbed at the feeling of your tongue and teeth laving against him. His fingers curled inside you, and you mewled against his skin.

His fingers, long and thick and hitting that good spot inside you, pulled you closer to release as you continued to fist his cock. You prised yourself away from his throat, giving yourself just a second to admire your handiwork, before you were tossing your head back as your entire body began to tremble. Your hand on his cock desperately tried to maintain pace, but you struggled with the way in which his fingers were fucking you. It was hard to focus on anything else but that.

"S'alright, sweetheart, let go've my cock and come 'round my fingers, it's okay," Price whispered, eyes on your face as he continued to curl his fingers inside you, thrusting upwards. You tried to keep your fingers moving around him, whining at him that you wanted to keep stroking his cock, but he shushed you, using his free hand to cup your face gently. "I said it's alright, doc. Jus' want you to come, yeah? Don't worry 'bout me, jus' come 'round my fingers."

Your mind wanted to ignore him, but your body listened– your hands flying up to hold onto both of his shoulders just as your orgasm rocked through you. You came around his fingers with a stuttered moan of his name, your hips tilting and rocking against his hand, his palm still flat against your swollen clit. He fingered you through your release, that had waves of heat rolling across you, his eyes transfixed on your face.

"An' Soap was right, too..." Price muttered, removing his fingers from your cunt and forcibly shoving them passed your lips and into your mouth. It was the first time of the night he wasn't gentle. "You do look fuckin' gorgeous when you come."

Before you had a chance to lazily wind your tongue around his fingers, he pulled them out of your mouth and sucked them into his own. It was lewd and wet, but the sight of his eyelids fluttering shut at the taste of you made your core begin to throb again.

You wondered if these men were increasing your libido somehow.

Price removed his fingers from his mouth and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. He fisted himself for a second, his other hand moving to your hip to urge you to rise just a bit. You did, holding onto his shoulders for support, as you hovered over him. Then, Price guided his cock until it was aligned with the slick entrance of your cunt, before rubbing the leaking tip back and forth between your folds.

You mewled when he circled the head around your hole, probing gently but never pushing any further than a few centimetres. He did this repeatedly, his eyes on your face, watching your expression as he teased the head of his cock against your cunt. Eventually, you looked down at him with a fucked-out frown– your best orgasm-drunk attempt at scowling– and whispered, "Please fuck me, Price. Need you so bad."

"Aw, do you, sweetheart? You need my cock?" Price queried with just the right amount of condescension in his tone to have you wriggling against him.

"No– well, yes– but need you. Please, sir, please."

Slowly, Price pulled you down as he slanted his hips upwards, pushing his cock into your wet hole. You let out a desperate moan, clutching his shoulders as you sunk down onto him. The wet heat of your cunt swallowed him, your silky walls clinging to every ridge and vein on the length of his cock as he bullied his way inside you. Price moaned too, low and deep, switching between watching his cock disappear inside you, and watching the changes in your facial expression.

"There we go, sweetheart..." He bottomed out inside you, the tip of his cock nudging that spot inside you that had sparks bursting in your tummy.

You whined, pawing at him, dragging your hands down his bare abdomen and running your fingers through the coarse hair. Your fingers found his happy trail, and you rubbed the pads against it, whining still.

Price stilled, not yet thrusting. He chuckled lowly. "You like that?"

"Yeah, fuck," you said breathlessly. "Wanna kiss it."

"You can kiss it next time," Price told you, kissing you gently on the cheek. "This time, 'm gonna fuck you like you deserve."

That's when he held both of your hips and snapped his pelvis upwards, driving his cock deeper into you. You choked on a moan when he pulled out slightly and then shunted himself back in, proceeding to repeat those movements over and over and over again. Your moans were getting trapped in your throat as he planted his feet on the floor of the car and thrusted up into you, pulling you back down with ease. You bounced against him, hips rolling.

As he fucked you, you couldn't help but realise the gravity of your situation. The captain of the rugby union team you were physio for was fucking you in the back of his expensive car. Not only that, but he wanted to share you with three other players. And, not only fucking that, but you had already had your pussy eaten by one of them, masturbated in front of the second, and sucked off and thigh-rode the third.

What kind of blessing was this?

Now, you were being stuffed full by the fourth, who had an obsession with groping and grasping every inch of flesh he possibly could. As he speared you on his cock, he massaged his fingers against your hips, delving down into the top of your arsecheeks. Your breasts bounced in his face, and he had to stop himself from taking one into his mouth. Instead, he looked at you the entire time. You were the prettiest damn thing he'd ever seen.

"S'that feel good, sweetheart?" He asked, the car rocking gently around you, tinted windows fogging. "S'this what you needed? Needed to be stuffed full'a my cock?"

You nodded, swamped in delirium as you rode his thrusts, the head of his cock slamming against your g-spot, your cunt squeezing around him.

"So good..." You whined, thighs drawing tighter around him.

You were close, and so was he. Price knew he wasn't going to last very long as soon as he got inside you, and he was right. His balls were pulling tight, his cock twitching inside you as your cunt tightened around him. Sweat built on his brow, his breaths were falling in pants, and his thrusts were growing increasingly sloppy. He needed you to come.

He was in luck.

"Price, sir, m'so close–" You mewled, interrupting yourself with a moan. A thin layer of sweat covered your lower back, and the base of your tummy tingled with your growing orgasm. Your clit pulsed too, dragging against the hair at the base of Price's cock, forcing another desperate, whiny moan from your mouth.

He fucked you hard and fast, quickly snaking a hand down to toy with your puffy clit. The sudden, sporadic movement of his fingers paired with his deep thrusts were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time that evening.

You gushed around his cock, your orgasm drawing a long-winded moan from you. You moaned his name, your body trembling against him as he fucked you through it, the fat head of his cock unrelenting against that perfect spot inside you. Your arousal coated his cock, soaking through onto his lap as his pace increased.

"So fuckin' beautiful," Price whispered as your body went lax against him, barely managing to hold yourself upright. "Fuck. I can't fuckin' wait to share you with my boys. Can't wait for you to take all of us, how's that sound, sweetheart?"

You whimpered softly. That was about all you could do in your state. Two orgasms in and you were absolutely wrecked.

Price chuckled, thrusts mismatched and desperate as he grew closer to release. "Yeah, I bet you'd like that..."

His cock continued bullying up into the plug of your womb, stretching your cunt open and forcing more drips of arousal onto his lap. Price maintained his finger on your clit, rubbing lazily as his other hand held your hip tightly and pulled you back down onto him. He was panting like a dog, grunting from deep in his chest as your tight, wet cunt pulled him closer to orgasming. He can't recall coming this soon during sex ever.

He was so close. Before he came, he took his hand away from your clit and pressed down on your tummy again, moaning when he felt the light imprint of his cock fucking up into you. You moaned and, without much warning, came again.

"Christ–" Price gritted his teeth as your third orgasm spilt around him, your walls sucking his cock in further. Still with his hand against your tummy, and still stuffing you full of his cock, he whispered lowly to you, "See, pretty girl? I told you you'd feel it right here... my cock stuffin' this pretty tummy..."

He groaned, and with his hand flushed against the soft mound of your tummy, he came inside you. You could feel his release inside you, all thick and warm, painting your cervix. Price thrust a few more times before plugging his cock inside you and tucking you against his chest, the both of you panting.

You laid like that for a while. Both of Price's hands wound around you and held him to you, the two of you basking in a heady post-sex silence. After a few minutes, Price slowly peppered your face and head with kisses, rubbing his hands along your back.

One of his large hands cupped the back of your head where you rested it against his chest, listening to his heart beating.

"You okay, doc?" He asked, rubbing you, tending to you, appreciating you.

You nodded. "M'fine. Just sleepy..."

Price placed a tender kiss to the crown of your head, continuing to hold you close as the dark tint of his car windows and the condensation trapped the both of you in your own little world. Outside the car, evening had turned to night, and it had started to rain.

"Sir..." You said after a while.

He hummed against your, his face still pressed to the top of your head.

"Do... do you really want to share me?"

Price peeled his face away from you. Gently, he grasped the back of your head and angled your face towards him. He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss to your lips, before pulling back and gazing at you softly.

"Wouldn't mind it," he joked, but then said seriously; "If that's what you want, of course. You don't have to do anything you don't want too."

You nodded in acknowledgement. "I know... and, I do, you know."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I... I like all of you."

Price smiled. "Greedy girl, hm?"

"You love it." You bit back, chasing his mouth for another kiss. He let you swipe your tongue against his lips, and he smiled against your mouth when you attempted to deepen it.

You pulled back with a huff and he laughed. "Eager?"

"Shut up." You grumbled.

Price kissed you long and hard once more before settling back against the car seat. He took a deep breath, looking back down at you. You watched him expectantly. He cocked his head at you, brows raising, imploring a silent what?

"I can basically hear you thinking. What're you thinking about?"

"What am I thinking about?" Price placed both hands on your cheeks, holding your face so that he could get a really good look at you. He smiled. "I was thinking... I mean, the boys and I were thinking... are you free this weekend?"

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#captainfern #141rugby!au #captain john price #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #captain price #captain price x reader #price smut #captain john price smut #cod price #cod smut

977 notes · View notes

rookiesbookies · 5 months

Text

Different relationships that the CoD boys are in and will probably be in for most fics I write bc they give these vibes?

Featuring: Price, Soap, Ghost, Konig, Keegan, Gaz (in that order under the cut)

Price:

Wife. You both met on a dating app when the Captain was feeling lonely. Poor man got so anamored what was supposed to be one date and a fuck turned into one date, two days, four dates then fucking, then well yk. He kept you under deep protection, the boys never really learned about you but Price sends you photos of them all the time, referring to them jokingly as his sons. You’ll meet them eventually, but only when Price knows Graves and Sheppard aren’t a problem anymore.

Soap :

Fiance. After a couple years and a lot of confidence talks by Gaz, he built up the courage. He knew you’d say yes, everyone knew. Everyone knew the night you came to the bar to pick Soap up when he was blackout drunk and didnt kill him when he vomited all over your car’s dash. Ghost knew of you first to snatch up Soap’s phone to call. He was gruff and to the point about it but he felt sorry seeing Johnny cry over missing you but not wanting to leave the team during a celebration for another successful mission. Price made you promise him he’d be allowed to walk Soap down the aisle since it was, as he said, “clear who wears the pants in this relationship.”

(Fic about this posted and in my masterlist with in pinned on my account)

Ghost:

Situationship. He has too many attachment issues to be super stable and he knows it, especially with his line of work. You dont here from him for months at a time after goodbye dates, but when he comes back he’s basically living out of your apartment because it just feels better than living on base. He crashes on the couch because he doesnt want to join you in bed to make you uncomfortable or steal your bed by accident. He kicks and flops in his sleep like a fish.

Konig:

Wife. He couldn’t have put the ring on your hand faster out of fear of makimg you uncomfortable. After the second date he knew he wanted to marry you. But he waited a year to ask, it was painful for him. He asked the two of you elope, promised a ‘real’ wedding with a big white dress and anything you could ask for when the world was safer or his job slowed down. He has large enemies so he mostly keeps you as on the downlow as he can. Everyone knows not to mess with the Colonel's Wife.

Keegan:

Fiance. He promised you when you both graduated he’d marry you, lost contact not long after, reconnected a bit later, and he put a ring on you- promising he wouldn't lose you again. You’ve been engaged for a couple years but you want to be financially stable enough to do the dream wedding you both have planned on a Pinterest mood board. You’ve been his best friend since forever and met in a math class when he didn’t quite understand algebra. He says, “im not a math person,” quite often to this day.

Gaz:

Girlfriend. You met at a bar during his training way back while a friend was working as a bartender, they let you bust his ‘fake’ ID just to talk to him. He comes to see you every time he can now, cozying up in your bed and telling you the happy and fun moments he has with the boys on missions. You play Its Raining Men and he jokingly acts like he’s having flashbacks as a running gag.

530 notes · View notes

lambertdiary · 6 months

Note

FAKE DATING WITH MIKE PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU the plot can be whatever you want but please

A/N: The 'fake dating' trope is genuinely one of my favourites so it's safe to say I had a lot of fun coming up with the plot for this one. I'll post a part two if you guys enjoy this one, so please let me know what you think!!

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: language and I guess that's it

MASTERLIST ✩ SEND ME A REQUEST

This Love Is Just For Show

It was a slow day at your job. Even though it was a Thursday morning and it was usually really busy at this time, the number of customers coming through the door was significantly lower than any other morning, but you were thankful that you didn’t have to do a million things at the time this early.

You worked at a coffee shop and have worked there for a while, so you were used to the crazy job and by this point, you remembered most of the recurring customers, but you always waited for one in particular.

You heard the little bell that indicated that a customer had entered the coffee shop, so you quickly finished arranging the coffee cups behind the counter before turning to greet your customer. You fought the smile that threatened to creep its way onto your face when you saw who it was, and gave him a nonchalant expression instead.

“Hey Mike”

“Hi” He greeted you back with a smile.

“You want your usual, right?”

“So no small talk today, I suppose” Mike leant his forearms on the counter.

“Sorry, it’s kinda busy back here”

He looked around at the almost empty café “I’m not gonna steal more of your time then. I’ll have my usual”

You took a medium cup and used it to cover your smile, marking up his exact coffee order and writing his name at the bottom.

“You know, my offer to go out for coffee still stands. Maybe at a place you don’t have to make it”

You giggle as you put down the cup, typing a few words into the computer in front of you “You’re very sweet Mike but we’ve been through this, I don’t-”

“Date customers, I know” He finished your sentence.

“Look at that, you do remember. And yet, you keep on asking”

“Just hoping you’ll change your mind, I guess”

You shook your head “Not gonna happen”

“Alright, I’ll stop” He took out his wallet and paid for his drink “I’ll just try again in a month or two. Thanks”

He immediately walked to the other end of the counter to wait for his drink, constantly eying you while you took someone else’s order. You were looking his way too, but way more discreetly than he was.

When he finally got his coffee, he thanked your coworker and walked towards the door, turning his head around for a moment to face you “Bye, I’ll see you tomorrow”

Your eyes lingered on the glass doors after he left. You thought he was attractive, sweet, funny and just nice to have around, but you didn’t know whether you liked him like that or not but sometimes you thought you’d like to find out and go out with him, but you couldn’t do it. The real reason you had rejected every single one of his invitations wasn’t the one you gave him every time he asked, it was because you got out of a messy relationship 6 months ago and you weren’t ready to commit to anything, not yet.

Hours later your shift finally came to an end and you were ready to get out of there, you had a lot to do after all. You were in a hurry, so after taking all of your things you made your way to your car and drove to the grocery store.

After finding a parking spot you entered the massive building, guiding the shopping cart in front of you. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts looking down at your phone as you checked your shopping list, you didn’t notice the familiar face quickly approaching you.

“Y/N?” Your head snapped up as you immediately recognised the voice. You forced a smile while trying really hard to keep your eyes from widening.

“Nick, hi” The shock of seeing your ex-boyfriend for the first time since the breakup was more evident than you had intended.

“It’s been so long, how have you been?”

“Good, things are good” An awkward silence took over your conversation as quickly as it had started. The two of you smiled at each other politely, discomfort present in both of your eyes “How about you?”

“Amazing, actually” You nodded at him in response, unsure of what to say next. Thankfully, someone else joined the conversation. A girl you recognised as one of Nick’s friends from when you were dating him.

“Y/N! It’s been so long” She approached you for a hug, which you politely accepted.

“You remember Emily” Nick said as you pulled away.

“Of course, hi!”

“This is so funny, we were just talking about you last night” Emily said, standing closer to Nick and slowly wrapping her arm around him.

“You were? Why’s that?”

“She suggested we invite you to our engagement party this weekend”

Engagement?

“Oh my god, you guys are engaged” If you weren’t in shock before, you certainly were now “That’s amazing!” You wrapped your arms around them and pulled both of them into a hug, hoping this would prove to him that you really were happy for them. Even though that was far from the truth.

You pulled away after a few seconds, building up the perfect fake smile “I know it’s a bit of a shocker since Nick and I were just friends when you guys were dating, but I hope it’s not weird or anything”

“Please, not at all. I- I’m really happy for you guys”

“Thank you” Emily held your hand momentarily before dropping it and taking it back to her financé’s arm “So, are you coming?”

You thought about it for a moment. You really didn’t wanna go, but you thought that if you showed up you would show them how okay you were with their engagement. Even though you weren’t, since you broke up with Nick just six months ago and out of nowhere he’s engaged now, and you… you hadn’t even gone on a single date since then.

“Of course I’ll be there”

“Great! Should we save an extra seat for a special someone?” Emily asked with a wink.

You could feel your face burn as you thought of the lack of a love life, but your mouth was faster than your brain “Yes, I’ll bring my boyfriend with me”

Fuck.

“Oh” You hear Nick whisper.

“I mean I’ll ask him if he can make it, but you know, he gets really busy sometimes, so-”

“Okay, well I’ll have Nick text you the details later but I guess I’ll see you on Saturday!” Emily pulled you in for another hug, and Nick just waved at you as the both walked away from you.

You were left standing there alone, feeling like a complete loser. You didn’t have feelings for him or anything, and you wished you didn’t care about his engagement but you just couldn't help it.

Your relationship with him was complicated, and your breakup was so messy it took a while to pick up the pieces, and the main reason for that was because he swore he would never want to get married. After being together for a couple of years you moved in together for a few months, leading you to think he’d propose eventually, but he said that was the most you’d get from him. Now six months later he’s engaged to one of his friends…

You barely had the energy to finish with your grocery shopping. You were cursing yourself for saying you would go to their engagement party and on top of everything making up a fake boyfriend. Why couldn’t you just say you were busy? Any other answer would have been better than that.

You went home with a lot on your mind, and Nick’s text with all the details for Saturday just made it worse. You let out a loud sigh as you collapsed on your bed, going through your contacts list to see if you could find someone who would be willing to be your fake boyfriend for a night.

You quickly gave up as you realised how crazy it would be to make such a request, so maybe it would be better if you came up with an excuse and said you wouldn’t be able to make it.

Unless…

You typed Mike’s name on your contacts, hoping you’d find his number there. He gave it to you a couple of months ago, written on a napkin after going to the coffee shop for a week straight. You were almost crossing your fingers, urging that your past self saved it, but you assumed you got rid of it since it wasn’t on your phone.

You sigh again, too tired to think of more solutions.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★

The next day wasn’t any better. The party that was taking place the next day was flooding your mind and unfortunately for you, the possibilities of ending up looking like a loser in front of everyone were high.

Everyone around you seemed to notice something was off, but with the busy morning that kept everyone doing something they didn’t have time to ask you the reason. That was definitely a relief, you would hate to admit what your current problem was.

Customers kept coming and that almost made you forget about the whole fake boyfriend thing, until you saw Mike approach the counter with a big smile.

“Hi” You shyly smile back at him.

“Hi, I’ll just have my usual”

You nodded as you grabbed a medium cup. You were debating in your mind whether or not it would be a good idea to ask him for help, but the simple thought of those words leaving your mouth made your face turn a bright red.

“And I’ll also have a cupcake”

You looked at him with furrowed brows. He had been going there every day for at least a couple of months and he never tried something new, so him making an addition to his order took you by surprise “Oh, what’s the occasion?”

“Buying a few extra seconds, I guess” He replied like it was no big deal. He took out his wallet ready to pay for his order, smiling when he noticed your blushed face.

If he was willing to buy a cupcake just to talk to you for a little longer, maybe he would be down to go to a party with you and pretend to be your boyfriend for a night. After all, he had been begging you for a date nearly everyday since the day you met him, and that would count as one, right?

You looked at the cupcake tray that was sitting next to you, naming the cupcake flavours while you kept a collected expression despite the heat rushing to your cheeks as you wrote your phone number down on his cup, right next to his name.

“Uh- we have vanilla, chocolate, blueberry-”

“Which one is your favourite?” He interrupted you.

“Red velvet with cream cheese frosting”

“I’ll have that one”

You tried to suppress your smile as you reached for the cupcake, blushing a little harder when your hand brushed his “Enjoy it”

“I will, or I guess I’ll let you know what I think on Monday” You looked down and grabbed his receipt, keeping your eyes fixated on the screen in front of you when you handed it to him “Thanks” Mike said, and you panicked when he started to walk away, and once again your mouth acted on instinct.

“I get off at 4” You spit out, making him stop and take a step back as you cursed yourself for how pathetic you sounded.

“Huh?”

“Today, I- I get off at 4” You repeated, thinking of something else to say “You can call me and- and maybe I’ll see you later”

A smile appeared on his face “Yeah, sure. I’ll give you a call” He nodded quickly, but stopped when he realised “I’d love to have your number, though”

“On your cup”

His smile grew bigger, and you could almost notice his tinted cheeks “I’ll talk to you later, then”

You nodded as he walked away, pushing away your embarrassment as you fixed your face to attend a new customer. You tried to stay focused on the order, but the cheeky smile from your coworker made you blush again.

“Shut up” You said, rolling your eyes at her.

The rest of the day went by painfully slowly. You were dying to check your phone to see if he had called you or at least texted you, but it was so busy that you didn’t have the time for that.

At the same time you were hoping he’d take his time reaching out to you. You felt guilty dragging him into your little show and you knew if you went out with him you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from asking him.

When your lunch break came you literally ran to the back to get your phone, your heart skipping a beat when you read the last notification.

Unknown: Hey, it’s Mike

You saved his contact right away, and then took a little too long to think of a response, writing and deleting the message a few times before finally sending one back.

You: This is Y/N!

You rolled your eyes at your own message, and only a few seconds later your phone started ringing, his name showing on the tiny screen. You froze for a moment, but rushed to answer when it rang for the second time.

“Hi” You said in a shy tone.

“Hi. Sorry for calling but it’s way easier than texting”

“Don’t worry, I agree” You let out a little giggle before continuing “I guess I should apologise for earlier today”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, writing my number on your cup-”

“No need to apologise” He interrupted you “I’ve been meaning to ask you, what changed?”

‘I ran into my now engaged ex boyfriend and made up a fake boyfriend so I desperately need your help’ you thought to yourself, but of course you couldn’t say that, not yet anyway.

“I, uh- I thought about your offer, and coffee sounds nice”

“Well… I know a place, they have the best red velvet cupcakes-”

“Definitely not here” You stop him before you let out another laugh, even though you knew he was joking “We can meet somewhere else, what time do you get off?”

“Oh, so you really did mean tonight” Mike sighs loudly, taking a hand to his hair as he tries to think of someone who could babysit his sister.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bury your embarrassment at how desperate you sounded “Sorry, we can try some other time-”

“No” He’s quick to cut you off “I just need to find a babysitter for Abby-”

“Who’s Abby?”

“My little sister, but the babysitter leaves at 6”

“Right, I understand” You try to think of a solution without sounding more desperate than you already were, but maybe it was for the best if you didn’t see him tonight.

“I’m gonna call her and ask if she can stay with Abby for a little longer tonight”

That makes you feel bad, thinking about his little sister stuck with the babysitter just because of your big mouth. You start to come to your senses, there was no way you could lead him on like that.

You let out a loud breath before saying “Mike, actually I think it’s better if we leave it for another time”

He stays silent for a moment, but then finally replies “Uh- yeah, that’s okay”

“Sorry, it’s just-” You stop when the clock on the wall tells you your lunchtime is over “I have to go but I’ll see you on Monday”

You hand up the phone immediately, the guilt coming back to you for a different reason.

You spend the rest of your shift thinking of excuses for your absence to the party, knowing that that’s what you should have done from the beginning. When you leave you’re so caught up on your thoughts you almost don’t recognise the person waiting for you outside.

“Mike?”

“Hi, yeah- uh sorry” He put his hands on his pockets, looking down at the ground “You sounded a little weird on the phone earlier”

“I had to go back to work, sorry”

“Right, I know… so, about the coffee-”

“Y/N!” Mike is interrupted by a voice you hated to recognize. You closed your eyes momentarily as you let out a breath, mentally preparing yourself to talk to her again “We have to stop running into each other like this”

“Emily, so nice to see you again” You say with a convincing smile.

“You too” She inspects your outfit and the building behind you, a smirk appearing on her face when her eyes landed on you again “I see you’re still working at the café”

You don’t say anything but your blood starts to boil, but at the same time you’re trying hard to hide your embarrassment.

Mike looked at you as soon as those words left her mouth, trying to read your expression, but when you didn’t say anything he decided to jump in “Hi, I’m Mike”

“Oh hi, I’m Emily” They shook hands and she carefully examined him almost entirely, and Mike dropped it after just a moment “I used to be friends with Y/N. Well, with her ex boyfriend, but he’s now my fiancé” She said as she showed off her ring, and the two of you simply nodded “Oh… you must be Y/N’s boyfriend”

Emily’s eyes fixated on you, giving you the same intimidating look she always gave you, making you break and fall into a moment of weakness “Yes” You replied, and she immediately turned to Mike to give him a hug.

“You should’ve said that before, she was telling us about you last night”

He was looking at you with a million questions as his eyes gave you the most confused look you had ever seen on anyone. You mouthed the word ‘Sorry’ as they pulled away.

“You guys are coming to the party tomorrow, right?”

“We can’t make it, sorry” You grabbed Mike’s arm and pulled him closer to you, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Oh well that’s a shame”

“You never said anything about a party, baby” He looked at you, amusement building in his face.

You were sure your face has never been more red than it is right now, you truly didn’t know what to say to that “Uh I- I’m sorry, I guess I forgot”

“We’ll be there”

“Mike, what are you doing?” You whisper to him.

“Great! I can’t wait to see you guys tomorrow”

She starts to walk away as she waves you goodbye, and as soon as she leaves you turn to face Mike, your apology already leaving your mouth “I’m sorry, Mike I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into me-”

“Who was that?” He interrupted you “And most importantly, why did you say I was your boyfriend”

“That was my… I used to know her when I was dating my ex boyfriend” You explained, scratching your head as you tried to think of the answer to his next question “I don’t know why I said that. I panicked but of course that’s no excuse, I shouldn't have said that, I’m so sorry”

“What did she mean you told them about me last night?”

“I didn’t, I swear I didn’t” You simply reply, but he urges you to continue “I ran into them and they invited me to their engagement party, which already was so crazy cause I didn’t think Nick would ever get married, but he would give that to Emily I guess” You start to ramble, but stop when you realise you’ve said too much “She asked me if I would bring someone with me and I don’t know why but I said yes”

“Does that have anything to do with you giving me your number today?”

“No, of course not” You rushed to reply “Look, I’m sorry I got you into this. It’s stupid and it’s immature, you don’t have to worry about her thinking you’re my boyfriend, I promise I’ll call her”

You stared for a moment, waiting for him to accept your apology, although you’d understand if he didn’t.

“I can come to the party with you”

“What?”

“I mean she’s not very nice, why give her the satisfaction? Plus, I already promised we’d be there”

“No, Mike you don’t have to do that-”

“I tried asking you on a date for weeks, I’m not gonna let it go to waste now, even if it’s not real”

You stop to think for a little too long. If he was down then what was the problem? Asking him to do that for you did cross your mind anyway, so now that he was volunteering himself you shouldn't feel as guilty, right?

“It’s just going to be for one night, and knowing Emily there will be so much free food and drinks, you just need to stay with me and maybe hold my hand a few times”

"Deal"

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!!

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fic #mike schmidt imagines #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt imagine #fnaf #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson

690 notes · View notes

enbesbians · 5 months

Text

‘LUMIÈRE (light)’

artistic obsessive! ellie x in love! reader

cw: knife play, obsessive! ellie, blood play, stalker! ellie, oblivious! reader, fingering (r! receiving), tribbing, nipple play if you squint

MINORS DNI

summary: ellie is an odd girl… she likes odd things and does odd stuff. her obsessiveness and possessive nature is too much to grasp but you can’t help yourself but needing a taste of her torture. her rebellion and outlook on the world was attractive, passing through every red flag she possibly had with a salty teared kiss. she was the light in a room filled of chipped paint and dirtied tile— her blade carving the prettiest of pictures that you seemed to love on the thick of your skin. ‘hang them up on the wall, let the world see… you are mine and always will be’

a/n: warning if you don’t like blood play and knife play… do not proceed. this was too much, ill admit, but i really wanted to grasp the insanity ellie has for the reader. this isn’t proofread so this might be all over the place and have a multitude of mistakes but let’s not pay attention to that… i hope you end up enjoying nonetheless. (i also made the mistake of referencing ellie’s room as yours… just forget that happened)

no one told you in the beginning ellie already knew who you were. she knew your name, she knew that you worked down the busy strip of the city where only cute little old women would buy brooches for their dresses and fluffy scarfs, she knew that you lived approximately twenty minutes away on foot and five by car. you didn’t know that you had already been drawn on many of the pages in her sketchbook before she said hello, lying saying that she drew it after the fifth ‘accidental’ meeting.

to be this oblivious was a skill and to be this good at stalking was impressive, it was like a new profound profession. ellie was good at being odd like this— she never questioned her own antics, thinking that whatever she did was in good faith. she just worked off her needs by impulse. the first time you complimented her thick brown jacket that she placed on the counter to buy, she got a real good look at you. that tired stare, forced to be kind after the repetitive small talk you’d give every customer. in some ways, she knew that it was fake— your ‘hello’ and ‘have a good day’ had nothing but boredom laced within each syllable— but she couldn’t get enough of how beautiful you were. you were a light that she needed to obtain in her darkness, so she took it upon herself to study you.

many times she’d come into the store and wouldn’t even buy anything— wearing hats and beanies and even her roommates clothes to hide the fact that it could be her but you didn’t pay attention even to the regulars who’d come almost every day. she learned your favorite kinds of music while you spoke with a coworker, she learned your favorite color and what you liked to eat after a long shift. she took mental notes and kept them in memory for as long as she could hold them.

she’d watch you from across the street, seeing how you’d struggle to lock the door during closing hours. she noticed how angry you got when it wouldn’t work or if you had left the keys inside, all to open the door’s gate and repeat each step. calculated and smart, making the first official meet seeming as though it was all coincidental, saying all the right words, mentioning all your favorite things, loving how your eyes beamed with excitement thinking that you and ellie had been similar in many ways no one else had.

the connection that built off that first meet was powerful. ellie played her cards extremely well making each encounter better than the last, her presence now seen knowing that you didn’t mind her random pop ins to your job, you encouraged it and looked forward to seeing that weird auburn haired girl and her raspy laugh.

after a few months, you took her to your house, cooking spaghetti that you had learned from the internet which ended up too bland and too watery, forgetting the bread in the oven that was now too crispy to enjoy, apologizing over and over that you had messed it up. ellie didn’t care, she adored how hard you tried to impress her. the noodles twirling against her silver fork that had flowers carved into it’s handle, rolling her tongue against her lips with eyes that showed her need of you. she took you to your bedroom, where the sauce of the pasta had vanished and replaced itself with the warm folds of your messy slit.

you’d explore the inside of her mouth, tongue tasting of beer and fingers of left over bread and parmesan cheese. her lips would explore the flower of your labia of the thump of your clit, dressing it with her sweet salvia and drunken words. she sucked your cunt deeply, fingers digging into the inner of your thighs with her nose tickling against your pubic bone. then she laid on the soft indent of your comforter, her hips fucking up into your face with conviction, hands buried in the back of your head as she moaned your name over and over again.

ellie was obsessed and so were you.

time worked on her side and the way you followed her made her feel invincible. you fell for her charm, the way she talked about art so eloquently and the expanse of her taste in music mixing in with your own, playing the stings of her new guitar she bought at the old record and instrument shop down the way. you fell for her odd way of speaking, the numerous ‘ums’ and abrupt laughs between her words. awkward and fantastical, hyper yet calm. scratching the back of her neck and picking at the skin of her nailbeds. you fell for her love for weed and the scent that carried on in her skin.

she dressed in clothes, weirdly put together, hanging off her body with its interesting style, looking on the brink of disintegration. they were distressed, faded, but put in a fashionable way that would look like utter shit on others. the peak of elastic from her boxers shown as she stretched, her toned abdomen crafted. her worn converse that seemed to be each pair she owned— black, red and blue, all reaching the end point of being at a functional wear. she made it look sexy, her rebellious and don’t give a fuck attire caught your attention. it brought you in.

she wouldn’t let anyone interfere. kindly asking who people were after you seemed a little to excited of their presence when theyd walk in the shop or if you had texted someone a little too long with a smile resonating on you lips. you found it cute, endearing even, not knowing that a ball of fury dropped at the center of her gullet. she’d find them, watch them, seeing how pretty the could be in the sight of your vision, knuckles whitening as she fought the urge to pound them in the center of their face. she wanted to watch them bleed from their noses or see the vessels of their eyes pop. she wanted to see them scared, she wanted them to know who she was and what you were to her. she hadnt though, she needed to act smart. she needed you as hers, without the interruption of any other. she asked you to be her partner in which you agreed to before she had even finished her sentence. and from then, she felt confident. she was yours and you were hers.

slowly, her true colors showed. the gentle shade of what you thought was her color was now a red. the anger she always had within came to the surface. her obsessive desire played in the form of her words and the tone of her voice and the pounds of her thrusts. she fucked you like she hated you, yelled at you like she despised you, touched you like she loved you. the fear of losing her bottled you up and made you sick to the point of missing multiple days from work, calling her over and over just for her to sit and stare at her phone as if she wanted to teach you a lesson only for her to be two buildings down. she needed to keep tabs, it was her own obligation. her questioning on your friends were now more rough and irritable, hating the smile she sought out for from first meet and only wanting it directed at her.

she took pictures, so many of them. polaroids hung on the chipped wall of her art room that she finally let you see, noticing her odd behavior and interest in you was a tad more than normal. her artwork had been of you, the blotches of blues, reds and yellows implementing how she felt in that very moment her brush slashed the canvas. it would’ve been smart to stop whatever was happening between you both but you were too far gone. you couldn’t get enough of her. she was just that good… just that additive… just that possessive. she owned your mind and your body and all the red flags that screamed for release had been scribbled away by the dull tip of her sketching pencil.

you said sorry so many times and she yelled… so many fucking… times.

her fingers vibrating deep into your cavern, it’s tips prodding devilishly in your walls, grunting all the names of people who called you pretty, telling you that you were hers and hers only. her tongue slivered down into your throat, singing her sensual cry as she pleaded you to never leave. ellie was a piece of work, and you couldn’t find all the pieces to her shattered vase but you still tried to tape it all together instead of using glue. she was too stubborn, too headstrong to be controlled, to be tamed.

you fell in love with her nonetheless. framing her devotion to you like a golden plaque. you loved how her pupils dilated when she stared at you, no matter how angry or how lustful they may have looked. she asked you why you were so happy even though her face stood at a permanent scowl, though she had a shadow rimming around her aura, red like crimson, hot like hell, you’ve fallen for the landscape of the scattered freckles that dotted on her cheeks and down her neck. it was bittersweet, the push and pull and dull ruinous bickering of unwarranted jealousy. you spoke like broken lovers, bodies in a celestial light fated to be doomed if only you hadn’t been so blind.

the collision of her character had you in an awe, not wanting to miss a second of hypocrisy knowing that if she told you her eyes color was brown though they were green, you’d believe her. you yearned to be close to her, trusting her rage as if that was what love was. no one has ever made you feel as alive as she had. no one made you feel as pretty as she did. you’d think of the times she made love to you, her legs intertwined with yours as her cunt rolled down onto yours, lips feathering around your ankle as she moaned her addiction towards you. you gave into her, bucking your hips into hers, needing her warmth as close as possible, needing to be inside her flesh and wear it like that brown coat she bought the first time she locked eyes with you. you were enticed with her spanks and the sting that lingered against your flesh. how her nimble fingers clenched around your throat, growling at how good your pussy felt and how pretty you looked wearing fear and arousal. you were infested with the hallucinations of her far from perfect personality, hearing the misplaced strings and untuned guitar— no matter what she played and how she played it, it felt right. she was perfect.

one argument led to separation, planned successfully as she distanced herself for weeks in which you thought was the final end. all messages that were scent had been read from her, as well as every call was denied. she thought you were fucking your coworker— the busty older woman who often brought cookies, calling all youthful people ‘baby’ as a welcoming gesture. she saw how she touched your shoulder and how you giggled at her jokes. her jaw clenched and her eyebrows stayed knitted as she thought of the worst even though in the back of her mind she knew how pathetically in love you were with her.

you missed her and you wanted her. you missed the smell of her college, the stench of weed and the sight of her breasts and how they fit so perfectly in your hands. you missed her smile and her boyish style of clothes you’d hold onto in the dead of the night.

she gave in, asking you to come over since her roommate was going to be gone for the weekend to stay over a family’s house for something she didn’t mention. you agreed a second after you viewed the text, pleading your manager to leave early that worked in your favor.

it was cold in her apartment, the thin white curtains washing like a quiet wave against the glow of the sun that sunk through— it’s beams coloring the floor orange and yellow like one of her gouache palettes. no light had been turned on, relying on the autumns afternoon sunset to bounce off the depth of her cheeks and the green of her irises. she exhaled a heavy breath and then came a thin film of bitter smoke escaping from her nostrils, brushing at the upper of her lip. you stared at her, inhaling it’s stench you hated but loved coming from her. your eyes glassy as you felt this would be the absolute end of what you and ellie had transpired and what ellie planned all along.

“so.” she sighed, “ya gonna tell me why you look like you’re about to cry?” her voice deep and empty of empathy, yet it sounded so sexy the way it croaked from her throat.

“i don’t want to lose you.” you choked, nearly letting the tear fall down your cheek.

“stop fucking up.”

“im trying.” you admitted, not knowing what you should do or what could’ve been done to prevent her from being so angry.

“you’re mine you know that? all those people who try can’t get to you. do you understand that?” her body now turning towards you. strand of her auburn hair running in between her eyes, “no one has what you and i have… no one can take that away… they don’t have the chance, the willpower, the ability to be me and anyone who has any fragment of what i am. im the only one you need… im the one who loves you. who can fuck you better than any woman could ever… face it. i know you know it.”

you stared at her, eyes staggering as you gulped every word she spat which felt like a lump struggling to be let down. her words was harsh and rough like a midwinter breeze. she was so beautiful to you, your pupils must’ve formed hearts knowing that ellie viewed you in a way that made you feel like a prize. it was true, she was better than any girl you’ve ever been with— she kissed you and no matter how long you’ve been without, you could taste the mint chapstick left over the skin of your lips.

“im all yours… no one else’s.” you breathed, “only yours ellie.” loving the way her voice sounded in your cry.

her unoccupied hand slid against your burning hot cheek. she kissed you. the lust that was now heightened is so desperately trying to be held with a simple press of lips. such an innocent kiss, with now her lips moving and yours following. sounds of cupped kisses as your lips shyly mold in with one another— her head tilting to it’s side, nose tickling against the side of yours. it picked up its pace, drowning in the movement of her tempo, finding yourself in the center of her bed.

your body quivered involuntarily under ellie’s touch, hovering you with her toned arms beside your head. the familiar bliss of her invading your personal bubble taking you by complete astonishment, a pleasant one at that. your tongue swirled around in her mouth, tasting the bitter flavor left on her taste buds, her mouth with much more expertise and experience, you’d known she was a woman of many hidden talents— your mind was fuzzy and floating to a graceful blur as your oxygen wholly snatched itself from your lungs. pulling away momentarily, an obvious string of saliva connected both of your swollen lips as eyes met, she was about to speak again yet found no need in words when the language of your bodies expressed the heat of this very moment too perfectly. she licked your lips, like a cat steadily lapping water, inhaling the bottom of your lip heating the familiar hum of her moan.

each suck, she looked at you, studying the way your lashes flickered open, chest heaving as she gave you a look of massive incredulity whilst shaking her head as a small fit of giggles escaped her mouth, silently snaking her hand around your throat. her knee pressed in between your legs, grinding down at it’s jean as her lips feathered yours, watching you roll your hips.

“such a pretty baby…” she murmured.

infested with carnality, day and night. ellie’s mind couldnt escape; as if it was the horrid and angry deep sea, crashing against the softness of the hot sand, in need of something to fix prurience, her wants which was you. to be fair, it was noticeable how you both operated whenever with each other. you wanted her just as badly as she wanted you. anyone could just sense it, feel it, cut it in the thickening air of their razor nails. the body languages, the way you both spoke, the way your eyes stared extreme intent.

“ellie…” you purred, hand riding along the dip of her shoulder blade, hands finding its way in her warm strands.

she called your name back.

the tingling sensation rose within your body, almost electrifying your whenever you heard your name being called from those pretty pale red lips. just thinking about her got you so worked up— altering her breathing, letting it become staggered and desperate.

she drew her eyebrows together at any given second you felt pleasure from her knee as if she could feel what you felt. just from your voice alone made her want to pin you down, even through the phone at every nightly phone call whenever she wasn’t angry, or when you both met… it took everything in her to tame herself and not pounce onto you. yet her eyes didn’t lie— how they looked at a squint, with a devilish dark aura, taking in each and every time you’d fumble over your words which made her blush a bright shade of red.

the air was hot and heavy despite the chill from the window, “ride it..” she grunted, moving along your grinds, feeling the heat weave through your pants onto hers. she’d slip in words she knew you’d like, calling you her ‘good girl’ from time to time. it never failed to make you shrivel up. ‘so pathetic’, she thought, enjoying you and your weak ability to hold yourself together around her. how would you manage if she used you as a plaything, diving deep into her demented mind and make you body feel disgusting as well as beautiful. would you be ready for that? she’s already given you a taste.

“you… make me… want to use you, like you’re nothing… but fuck you like you’re everything.” the words coming out slurred and meaningful. her eyes gulping the color of your eyes. she moved her body, you whining at the empty feeling of her knee. leveling her face at your legs, she pressed kisses starting at your ankle and to your knee, moving her lips as her tongue would peak through, letting spit form and absorb in your jean until she reached your waist.

“please…” you whimpered, a smile curling at her lips, fingers making its way to undo the clasp of your pants, yanking it down which made you gasp at the sudden movement. she continued her kisses, the cold inhale of her breath washing against your skin as she pressed her lips at the lining of your underwear, to your thigh and down your calf before she ran her tongue up again meeting with the fabric of your shirt.

she pressed her face into your stomach, raising her head as it dragged all the way up your torso, inhaling the sweet smell of your detergent as well as the soap that coated your skin, until she found your neck, taking a bite without much warning— feeling the flesh sink between the spaces in her teeth. ‘so soft’, she thought, letting her lips latch and suck roughly, as she used her unoccupied hand to pull your body closer to her, resting herself in between your legs once again. her tongue rippled and rolled against the aching bitten part of your neck, popping herself off before she pressed a kiss at the hem of your ear, “am i allowed to whatever i want with you?” she whispered, raising the same joint towards her mouth and inhaling it, pressing more kisses at the side of her face, allowing its smoke to slip through each release. “am i allowed to mark you, bruise you… use my fingers to fuck you? can you be my little bitch, princess?”

“do everything to me ellie…”

her eyes dilated, feeling her stomach drop at hearing her name being called yet again. something about it, drove absolutely her mad and it only was because of your voice— so gentle and sweet, whining out for her, calling out to her. oh were you not the cutest little thing she’s ever seen. you was her meat, the body that will now feel the pain and pleasure of her love, slinging you around like a dumb little doll.

cocking an eyebrow, her face glared at you, as if she hated your guts which wasn’t the case. images popped in her head of many ways she can fuck you up, to turn this ‘innocent’ being into a sobbing mess. this was the opportunity she yearned for, and possibly you did to.

the contrast from her just staring at you to her hurriedly hanging the joint at her lips, sliding her hand into her pants pocket and grabbing you by the throat, turning you around and yanking you into her embrace. your back against her chest with the hand that was on your throat, now in her pocket, coming out with a shiny object in hand— it was a pocket knife, made of real silver, etched with thorns and roses at its wooden handle. she placed it in front of your face, hearing the loud sound as her thumb allowed its blade to show, “so much trust in me… you could be in danger you know.” her joint dangling as she spoke, smoke puffing at almost each word while her body pushes closer into yours.

“i could really hurt you, you know?” her voice dark, demented and laced with a smile, the tip of the blade now at your neck, pressing it into your skin, just enough to feel it’s point but not go through the first layer of your skin. “…but look at you, such a dumb… pretty little girl, wanting me to fuck you, like you’re worth nothing but the dirt underneath my shoes.” it came clear, by the sound of her voice that it was full of hunger, the deep breaths in between her words, the groan that vibrated in her throat, her hips, grinding against your backside.

she dragged the knife down, gasping at the indention of your skin from the blade, wondering how you’d react if a bead of blood were to splash on the silver blade and run down your neck, as if a beast bit you. she knew how much you idolized her and she took advantage of that.

abruptly, she let the side of her blade rest at the bottom of your jaw, making you lift your head a little higher, maybe as a reflex or a safety mechanism— either way it didn’t matter. taking the joint from her lips and cooing in your ear, making your body sway left and right, hearing the awkwardly loud shift in clothes rubbing against each other.

“you’re mine.”

you breathed heavily, not knowing that ellie had this side to her. maybe you’ve always seen it. the way she fucked you in the past was some reflection towards it. she had this glimmer of danger that rose your orgasm to serendipity.

“say it.” she whispered, her nose dragging along your cheek, sighing out a moan. “say. it…”

“im yours…” you exhaled.

“no… no no no… louder. say it… say it louder.” her words breathless, letting open mouthed kisses to gently press onto your skin.

“im yours ellie!”

she wanted your underwear off, loving how quick you were to obey. she decided to help you a little by quickly using her knife and angling it with its cloth, slicing its side and letting the loud sound of her blade fill the quiet room, exposing your cunt, having her blade rest yet again at your neck.

“mmh… what a good girl.” laughing sinisterly. she began to draw lightly with the blade with some pressure on the flesh of your neck, before she pushed the tip a little harder into your skin, seeing a pretty bubble of ruby crimson form. she tended to it quick, seeing the blood run so prettily down your soft skin as she latched her lips onto it, sucking sloppily. you tasted so sweet, just as she imagined. pulling back she had slight remnants of your blood against her lips, with the slow run of the blood form at the small pierce at your neck.

“why must every part of you taste so good? do you know why, princess…? answer me… you know i love your voice… i could… i could just cum hearing it.” her face still close to your neck, spreading her tongue onto the wound again and letting it drag up your skin to your cheek, mixing your blood and her spit. “don’t worry, ill fuck you fairly quickly, i just like to play with my treasures, that’s all.”

you didn’t know if it was the nerves or the fact that she had full advantage of your body but something made you close your eyes shut and prepare yourself for what was about to happen. you were ashamed to admit how excited you were and how you’d let her do anything she wanted even if she were to hurt you more than she already did. ellie intimidated you. you felt as if you made one wrong move, she’d ruin you and you were willing. arousal and fear is what coursed through your body and you craved more. you’ve never felt so alive, the adrenaline puddling all throughout.

her taunting words went straight to your head went your clit. you were in pure bliss. you kept backing your hips against her crotch loving how she rutted against your ass. you felt like a needy whore and it made your gut bubble with embarrassment.

letting go of your body, she witnessed how weak you were as you fell down onto the bed. the steps of her shoes colliding with the floor as she walked around the perimeter of the bed, inhaling her loved smoke, watching you, grinding into the bed’s comforter like an art piece in a gallery. she laughed, a playful type giggle that made her throw her head back and bend at the knees until she met with your face, “oh baby… look at you… i barely touched you and you already look… like… this.” pointing at you with the knife, twirling it by it’s handle.

“i dont… it’s cause… youre… you’re…”

“awe baby… you’re stuttering… ellie doesn’t understand you, speak up. i know how loud you can get… come on pretty, speak up for me. use those lips like you use them to suck on my clit…”

leveling at eye contact, she inhaled and blew the hazing smoke at your face, extending her tongue and pressing its burning end against it, hearing it sizzle out. flicking it somewhere in the room. she still held her tongue out, showing the left over ash on it before swallowing. gripping your head, she yanked it from where it lay, your lips already ajar, abruptly spitting her marijuana taste into your mouth. “you look pretty disgusting.” the last word coming out as a snarl.

“isn’t this room so pretty…” her eyes scanning around listening to your whimpers, “maybe we should paint it red?” broadcasting the same knife that she used her before. “lay on your back.” you listened.

with her now in front of your knees, without a thought she pressed the blade against your thigh, letting its tip prod at your skin, running it down but not too deep, she always remembered that. blood started to pour from its light mark and she immediately started to kiss it, her lips coating themselves with a more pigmented color. she sucked as if he was hungry, savoring the sweet and metallic taste of your blood. using her other hand, spreading your legs further apart and seeing your wet slick expand and bubble.

the blade now barely glazing your skin, fell at your crotch, pressing it against your clit as she drew it up and down, your eyes withering at how cold the blade had been. “do you see that?” she laughed, seeing how your slick started to coat the silver.

she pressed a kiss from the mark of your all the way up onto your pubic bone as she stared at you with amusement, taking the knife away and setting it down beside you on the bed. your body twitched and turned, the tingling sting from your neck and thigh throbbing and wrapping it’s pain in a form of pleasure.

“what fun would it be, if i were the only one to taste?” she crawled on top of you, hand first pressing onto the seeping blood at your thigh, letting it slide against you. her fingers lightly covered, pressing the pads of them to your lips in which you wrapped your mouth around. it was gentle, sucking them in a bobbing motion as you took in your own taste— one that ellie fell drunk for. she couldn’t help herself, the view of you was too much, she let her lips press against yours in an opened mouth kiss, her tongue prodding it’s way into your mouth— she moved her lips slowly, humming a sweet hum into your throat. she never wasted a second to devour you within a kiss, using her time to play and tease you.

pulling back she saw the strings of spit connect both of your swollen lips, admiring at the fact that you didn’t interject her ways. you’re so pretty, she admired you, patting your face with loving stroke before slapping your cheek without a say, her moans mixing in with your shock. “oh god i love the way you react to me.”

she loved to see how you took her infliction— the facial expression, the sounds, any source of feedback, she’d take and cherish. with the way that your body talked to her, it showed how weak you allowed to portray yourself. your body spread and sunken into the puffed comforter. the sound of her breathing, in need of air but too focused on the richness of the blood and spit that smeared on your lips. her tongue tasting sweet with its intoxicating spit, sucking viscously on the flesh of your bottom lip, pulling it back.

“you’re insane…” your words wore heavy on her ears, unable to hide the smile that formed on her lips. the sound so small, weakened but clear. you was turned on and your slick seeped out from your cavern. you gave the same look with those bright doe eyes just like the first time ellie sucked your pussy. those pretty eyes stared and pierced her right in her chest. with your ability to take the pain that you were receiving, continuing to let her destroy you, that gave her the feeling of pure delight, fueling her egotistical mindset that settled itself with anger, desire and eroticism. her body burned, like the room had set itself on fire and it’s flame feathering against her skin— your body heat and hers combining into one making beads of sweat litter her forehead.

“oh… i know.” admitted that at times she indeed was. ellie was one to fall deep when it came to pleasuring activities, and most of the time it’s focused in a conjoined thing, other times only purely for your enjoyment— wanting you to concave into her submission, believe her stalkerish ways was natural and that whatever she did was right, not wrong.

the use of her knife and how deep she let it cut, she knew that the scar would stay longer than it should. the bite on your neck will bruise with a pretty mixture of deep shades red while your body would paint itself with delicate darkened browns from the force of her hands grabbing and slapping. you were now her canvas— an artist starved for her creation, her light, her venus.

the dark haired woman lifted herself up, her body now situated between your spread legs as she took a good look at the figure that lay before her.

fear. want. dread. attraction. panic. admiration.

oh yes, this is she wanted, this is what she wanted to see. “my pretty girl, my stupid little bitch.” her voice playful like a drunken woman full of giggled joy. taking off her shirt, she exposed her top half, her hardened nipples poking from her small breasts. she started to take off both her jeans and boxers which then showed her full body. her wet slick dripping slowly from her, dribbling down her leg, as her clit twitched.

“are you ready for me, angel? do you want my pussy against you?” she asked. you nodded. “i want to make your pussy so sloppy… feel it squirt… or maybe even cream against my clit. i want to hear it baby, will you let me? hmm…? is this pussy mine? is this pretty cunt mine?”

you could see the hair sticking to her forehead and the sides of her neck, the tips of her fingers rubbing up in between your folds. you gasped, hands holding onto the sheets, lifting your head as you looked at the way the veins bulged prettily at her hand and forearm.

“my pussy is yours…”

“that’s a good girl..” her slapping your pussy, purposefully aiming for her clit, the sting rummaging through your body. “im going to fill you up and make you so full of cum it’ll make you go brain dead.”

the beat of her heart, pounding against her chest and her fingers twitched against your cunt, gathering spit and letting its liquid fall down on it. the amount of eagerness ellie had was considerably concerning. at any given moment, she would probably pass out from the adrenaline— like her insides were overworking themselves, and that was proof it wasn’t going to die out any time soon.

she slapped it again, her spit splattering. “oh baby… look at how cute your pussy is when i slap it… how it moves.” in awe at how it jiggled cutely, slapping again and again, watching your wet cunt shake. “my pretty pussy… look at it…fu…ck…” her voice staggering as he pulled up your clit head with her thumb and letting strings of spit fall down onto it, mixing itself with your juices.

her unoccupied fingertips pressed themselves in her thighs, sliding them down just enough for a little of his nail to scrape against the blood coated flesh. the hand placed at your cunt found it’s way into your opening, starting with one, then a second. her wrist tightened as she thrusted up into you, your back arching at the pace she went. your pussy squelched, it’s sound loud and disgusting. the sounds of your moans bounced against the bedroom walls, feeling her fingers being gripped each time she’d thrust them outwards.

“come on baby… feel me.” she grunted.

she didn’t stop, she couldn’t stop. her knuckles deep, her fingers curled, hungry in the bliss that she shared. the quickening of your orgasm greeted you with intensity, your toes curling as your stomach hallowed at every moan. “it feels so good… it feels so good… it feels so fucking good.”

the tips of her curling fingers rutting at your good spot, your body tensing at how she abused your pussy so good, a warm wash fell at the start of your insides then all over your body as you squeezed yourself against her fingers, a splash of your squirt pooling and falling every time her fingers fell outward, “squirt on my fucking fingers baby, that’s a good fucking girl.” it fell everywhere, staining the bed with a light white ring wrapping around her knuckles.

slipping her fingers out, she quickly placed them in her mouth, sucking the leftover cum you gifted her as your body shook from its orgasm.

she didn’t wait, she didn’t care to. her bottom half hovered yours, a leg wrapping above your thigh as she angled her cunt on top of your sloppy one. whirling her hips around, she felt the flowery skin of your labia and clit kiss hers, a loud guttural moan escaping her mouth.

her hips moved, grinding against your cunt with conviction as your body jerked with each movement. you loved this, how nasty you felt at all the liquids that had been mixed all over your skin.

she grabbed the knife that lay lonesome on the bed, grabbing your shirt as she let it pierce through, gripping it and tearing it apart just to see your breasts that she loved so much. the point of the blade cascading lightly over your nipples and stomach, loving it’s gleam that reflected off your skin. she angled it at your lips, brushing it as you moaned against it, “lick it.”

carefully, you ran your tongue along it’s side, sliding in your mouth and letting it reappear as you pulled back. ellie groaned, a monstrous one that made her feel like her insanity was one with yours. you did it without question. the danger of her hips fucking up into yours, taking her knife as if it had been her fingers, cleaning the small dried blood that rested at its point.

“goddamn.” ellie breathed, moving herself to now her face and body was angled just above you, your legs spread and her lower half squatting. her thrusts rippled, the flesh of your clit and the poke of your bud colliding with hers as the knife now aimed at the underside of your neck. “fuck im gonna cum, let me fill your pussy baby… feel it… take it… fuck... fuck!” she announced, the pit of her stomach fuzzed as she squeezed the pleasure from her lower half, a spray of her squirt gushing from where you both connected.

“oh fuck!” you cried, shaking at the overstimulation and the wetness of her squirt, the wet pounds of her cunt mixing in with the hungry moans you both let out.

it didn’t take long for another orgasm to form, her hand gripping your cheeks as she made you watch her speak in the form of her moans. your eyes rolled back, the sting of knife pressing slightly deeper as you lay limp, cumming once again. “good girl… good fucking girl, cum on my pussy… just like that.”

it last long, unable to grasp the fact that it felt so good. “i love cumming…” you cried pathetically, “i love how you make me cum…”

“good endure it…” her hips now slowing itself down. she set the knife beside you both, pressing her lips against your moaning one’s, “you’re mine. your body… it shows that now… look it all the marks ive given you..”

“im yours ellie… only yours.”

“good girl.”

#lesbian #sapphic #wlw #tlou #ellie tlou #the last of us #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x masc reader #the last of us ellie #the last of us smut

447 notes · View notes

wandagcre · 6 months

Text

drive you mad (part 2) | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob Boss!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You had enough of your complicated relationship with Sam. You’re trying out new coping mechanisms to move on, but sadly, even going on a date with another person didn’t make things better. However, your best friend had too many tricks under her sleeve, willing to try them all to have you again.

WARNING: dom!mob boss! sam, sub!reader, fluff, some of sam's daddy issues, possessive sex, strap-on, subdrop, jealous sam, breeding kink, blow job, dubcon(?), humiliation, fake cum, praise, edging, implied size difference, mentions of violence and stalking, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship, just a lot of reader and sam fucking like rabbits omg, not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 18k+ Note: BEAR WITH ME. I am aware of how much of a lengthy (wink wink) last part this is but I swear things are looking good ;) hope everyone enjoys it!

[ LAST PART of TWO | Previous ]

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

Apparently, the worst thing that can happen is that your date for tonight shares few similarities with Sam.

You try to be humoured with how it started with your same friend again, it’s like she simply knew what your type was. Your date's name was Lucy and while she didn’t possess the tanned skin that you loved; she was still taller than you, her mother tongue happens to also be Spanish, and she also had an attractive set of thick eyebrows.

The resemblance in terms of characteristics was uncanny.

At first it felt foreign to you to dive into an established romantic date after a while. Besides the comparisons that your brain kept making, you were also unsure if any of the ones with Sam actually counts.

Nonetheless, it's been so long since you’ve been into one, you feel like a newborn learning to walk.

To Lucy’s credit, it was an enjoyable experience. She was considerate of your taste, threw you compliments that weren't only out of politeness, and preferred that the two of you decide which place you’ll be more comfortable in. Lucy was specific and admittedly it helped, because you had the tendency to be indecisive. She was chatty and at times it was comical with how she told you little stories that genuinely made you laugh as you dined in an Italian restaurant.

Lucy also took you to an arcade that recently opened. It was creating quite a buzz around, based on how you constantly see teenagers flock enthusiastically in the area.

Surrounded with glowing lights and bold, colorful neon signs, packed with a variety of games you haven't even seen before. The place was indeed inviting for you to let loose.

“This is cliché. But in a good way. I haven’t been in a place like this for a while now,” you look up to your date who had an unwavering smile.

“See! Clichés can be good! Opens the forgotten memory you once enjoyed.” Lucy beamed at you. “What’s your favorite game to play? I’d have to say I’m great at these things, so we’re totally going to win something by the end!”

“Even the claw machines?” You jab playfully at Lucy's confidence. “Aren't they always rigged? I believe just the same since I never won anything from those things.”

“Can't argue with that. Sometimes it's all about the timing and well, other times, all rigged business as you say. Lucky for you, I happen to be good at this stuff!" Lucy stretched her hands outward, comically, cracking her neck muscles as well.

You can’t help but snort at the sight. Nerves were slightly put into ease, because tonight was going well. She won you a dolphin stuffed toy and she definitely hard carried the gunning zombie game of two players, where Lucy amusingly acted out as though she was in real despair with your character constantly dying. You had a great time.

Even if Sam continued to ebb in your mind.

“Lucy, thanks for tonight.” She opened the car door for you and you exhaled with relief because you did enjoy her company. “I had a lot of fun, even if I kept dying on those two player games.”

She leaned on her car, Lucy’s look remained at you. “I did too. I was happy to be accompanied by a beautiful date. Totally worth the coins! But do know that I don’t mind if we do this again…” she extended her hand to yours, silently asking for permission if you’d let her hold you, which you accepted. “And I also won’t mind if you say no. I’ll be a bit bummed, sure, but I can handle it.”

You sense Lucy's nervousness as she fiddles with your hands, head looking down while sporting an upturned mouth. You’re still wearing the jean jacket she lent you from earlier, and insisted that you needed it more because she can handle the cold breeze better.

You loathed to think that maybe, if a specific woman didn’t occupy your mind and body this much—maybe—you’d get a better shot with the lovely woman right in front of you.

“I appreciate how you’ve been so good to me all night,” you tighten your hold, it was softer than what you were looking for. Unaccustomed to the calloused hands you have grown to love over the past few months.

“I sense that there’s a but…”

Then all of a sudden, your phone rings.

It was the devil herself.

Sam.

Retrieving your phone from your purse, you stared at the screen for a few seconds. Not even debating if you should answer, simply frozen that Sam is calling you. She wasn’t the caller type, knowing that she liked to give head's up before anything. So you thought it must’ve been an emergency if she was this insistent.

Worry filled you. Yet, you don't trust yourself to answer right away, knowing you were bound to embarrass yourself or worse; be easily pulled in by Sam's sweet nothings. She was your weak spot, your ability to say no vanishes with ease.

Taking a peek at your notifications, it only shocked you, seeing that Sam was bombarding you the whole evening. They were sweet first, her usual cheery self, until they got cold for some reason. You stifle an uneasy grimace—hating how this was confusing you to no end.

Pocketing the phone back, you had no energy for this tonight. There’s no escaping this situation or this woman, really. Why did you think it was a good idea in the first place? You decide on calling Sam the next day to get things over with.

“Are you okay? I don’t mind if you’re going to answer that,” Lucy asks with a comforting smile, gesturing at your phone that rang for the second time.

You shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

The ringing eventually stopped.

“No. Uh, where was I?” You clear your throat. She looks at you expectantly. “Again, Lucy, it’s been nice. But I think for now all I can handle is… friendship.” you answer in a heartbeat and for a moment, your date was crestfallen at your answer. “But you’re right, you know. Cliches can be nice. I never thought I actually needed this.” It was genuine; not a mere attempt of cheering her up. You didn’t realize until now how you needed to unwind in a way that wasn’t discrete nor foreign.

After a few beats of silence, the woman nodded, perhaps she has accepted her fate for tonight. Lucy bounced back to her unaffected and cheery disposition. Before parting ways, she surprisingly left a soft kiss on your cheek, almost at the corner of your lips.

“I’m content with the fact that I managed to change your mind over one thing.” Lucy quips and shoots you a playful wink.

You were still blushing at the sudden action but you didn't quip at it, giving back her jacket. “Thank you really. For keeping me warm and making this night wonderful.” Lucy says and waves goodbye one last time to you with a toothy smile on her face.

Standing from the pavement in front of your apartment, your eyes follow your date’s car as it drives farther away from you. Still stunned and occupied with your own thoughts, you pay no mind to the roaring engine in the streets, at this late hour—thinking it was one of the many overbearing and supercilious owners that likes to boast of their possession.

You rolled your eyes internally, and immediately headed to your apartment. Reaching your room, maybe the only thing you've cleaned up was your hands. Nothing had felt good for the past few days—work was demanding. Sam kept blowing up your phone, but she didn't make any move to come and see you and that bothered you still.

Even if this date was the most normal you've felt tonight, the exhaustion easily took over your body.

The paranoia comes in waves, surprising you every now and then. Because sometimes, you felt as though eyes were on you.

Mind drifting to Sam again, you wonder what could she be up to these days. What could’ve been the reason for her to call you out of nowhere. Has she missed you this much? Your heart flutters at the thought.

Was it a good thing? To avoid Sam this long even with her small attempts of reaching out?

Of course, it wasn’t. You idiot. Taking off your boots with a resigned sigh, you lazily placed them on the floor. The plushie was still on your other hand and you plopped the dolphin stuffed toy next to you in bed. It was easy to get lost as you laid all comfortable on warm sheets and cold pillows—you're off to la-la-land, dozing off completely into a dreamless state. As your body relaxed, you found it odd how all of a sudden it smells like chemical.

It was strong and vivid for your taste, that even if your brain sends a jolt of panic, you are numbed—unable to move nor wake up.

Like a terrible nightmare, it seemingly paralyzed you until you blacked out again and you didn’t have any more time to analyze it further.

How many hours has it been?

You worry that you’ll miss work. Disoriented, you feel yourself starting to wake up with eyes calibrating as they open. It smells different, though it’s more pleasant; earthly and flowery than the blur of chemical induced you've experienced before. Was it a dream? Your heart started racing—this is definitely not your bedroom. The mattress was softer than yours, the layers of sheets felt gentle against your skin. Not to mention you didn't have this amount of pillows underneath your head, like you were some sort of royalty. The bed was too wide for your limbs that were acquainted with the minimal space you were used to. Then it clicks to you; you are definitely in a different place.

But wait.

You've been here before.

In your hazy sight, you yanked on your forearm as your wrists felt oddly sore and prickling your nerves, only to find out the restraints that kept you for god knows how many hours. Your breathing pattern started racing—attempting to shake off the handcuffs. It was tight. You were still wearing your flowy dress as you glanced at your body.

"Good morning, mi amor." says the deep voice that rattled you.

Your sight makes out a figure of a person standing in front of you, ominous, yet had an amused look on her face.

How did you get in here? Into Sam's room?

"Sam? What—?" you rasped out weakly. "I don't… what is this?"

Sam had the audacity to smile through her little contraption. You poor sweet thing, she had anticipated many things; first comes the confusion.

She’s wearing your favorite shirt, worn out and tightly fitted to her body. With how Sam is built, you fear that the fabric will rip if she keeps on moving. It’s the same one you've lost during senior year and luckily for Sam, she found it in her room during one of your sleepovers and upon finding them, she had no intentions of returning it to you. The timing was perfect, she carried this piece of you as her father left her with no choice but to move away from your town then. Sam stood barefoot and her legs were covered with her silk sleepwear.

"Hush, It's okay, you're okay. You’re safe with me, (y/n/n)." Sam cooed as she sauntered your way, the bed dipping as she gently straddled your legs. It’s the same softly spoken tone you heard many times before, but Sam's actions remain to perplex you. "Relax, you’re at home—with me."

Then comes the panic.

You huff out frustratedly, "What home are you talking about? This isn't my– it isn't–! Fuck, I need you to uncuff me!” with gritted teeth, you try to kick your feet and legs in the air in protest. You didn’t like being forced into this. It was simply insane. Because either way, you were hopelessly drawn and possibly in love with Sam—enough to comply with whatever she desired.

Your wrists tug on the restraints again making them clink against the headboard and to no avail, you weren't able to loosen them up. It was a genuine pair of handcuffs. This wasn't a prank. The terror rapidly coursed through your veins, much more now that you can't move your legs as well, being trapped in Sam's weight.

"But you're with me. I've told you before, I missed having you, I even repeatedly begged you to come back home. You belong here with me."

Sam had wanted to do this hours ago—missing to be in your proximity, evading your space fully. But she knew it'll suffocate you and she couldn't risk putting her favorite pretty girl into a worse spiral of panic attack.

"No, no, no... I was with- this wasn't where I went right after Lucy... I- I got home, my house and I remember sleeping on my bed," Surely you aren't mad. You can recall the events step-by-step, hence this current situation you're in has left you confused. "How did I get here?"

"First, no mentioning of other women when I'm with you. Or ever at all." Sam breaks out a growl. When you gasp, she holds your jaw, tilting them up. Her hold onto you shifts, thumb now soothed your cheeks gently, wiping away the tears you were unknowingly shedding out of panic. "I had to do it my way, mi amor. I'm sorry."

And it swiftly shifts to anger.

A snarl breaks out of you in the midst of panic.

But oh, Sam could never hurt you.

"What the fuck is your way, Samantha?!"

Sam believed that you only need a little more push—convincing how perfect the two of you are together. After all, she has waited for you for so long and had expected that your reunion was enough to prove that. She has been so good to you. Sam thought; why did you have to look for more? She can give you everything.

"This right here." Sam quipped airily, a teasing look written on her face. "The last time you were in my bed... you were eager to leave. And you did, abruptly and odd, when I first thought of it. Then, you didn't plan on returning at all. That hurt me so much, (y/n/n)." Sam's gaze changed to hurt, head tilted as the intensity of her doe-eyes bore into yours.

Guilt prickled on your side. While you disapprove of Sam's ways, maybe you could have prevented it—this. Confronted her after what you found out. She's a friend first that you cherished before being entangled intimately. After all, communication also goes both ways.

"So, you basically took me? Handcuffed me, too. This is kidnapping, you know I could—"

"Report me? If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time. These cops are sloppy and way too easy. But still, they do make a good ear and connection for me, I must say."

You gasp at her implication. You should have expected it.

"Unbelievable. You've gone crazy, Samantha."

Sam shifted her weight, locking your hips with her thighs. Your breath hitched at the force, much more when you felt something hard poking at your pelvis.

"I hate it when you call me that. You're pushing it, baby. First you ignored me and your solution was to go and date someone else? I thought I made myself clear that I didn't like sharing you with anyone else, (y/n/n)?"

You blinked rapidly.

"It- It wasn't like that—"

"No? If it weren't for Tara and Martin giving me a heads up, you would've invited that girl to your house, wouldn't you?" Sam uttered with gritted teeth, "She must’ve done it to spite me. The nerve to leave a lipstick stain on your pretty face, tell me, did she kiss you?" Her thumb swiped your bottom lip, as if to erase the remains of what once laid in there, then up to your cheek but much more firmer than this time.

Sam was already debating ways on how she will dispose of this Lucy you speak of. Her eyebrows now furrowed and the loving eyes were ripped off, anger fixated on the red mark on your soft cheek.

"What? I don't—no, no, Sam. I'm telling you, it was just a simple date. We only ate at this restaurant and—what does your sister and men have to do with this?" you asked, growing confused even more.

If you loathed how defensive you were, Sam however, took immense pride in it. It just meant that you still cared for her feelings. So, there was something indeed. She wasn’t being delusional all this time—like her father distastefully implied.

Sam cowered onto you lower, her dark hair curtained as you were underneath her.

"Tara's wife owns the restaurant that you visited last night. As for Martin, well, I ordered him to call me in case something happened. Imagine my surprise when they both did."

He was following this whole time. That explained one of your conundrums of feeling eyes on you these days.

"You've been following me around?"

Sam was immovable, unphased by your words. She didn’t confirm nor deny your implication.

"You've got nothing to worry about. Come on, love — it's me." The pad of her fingertips trace on your features feather-like. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. Haven't I made that very clear?"

You scoffed at her nonchalance. "See, I would have believed you if you didn't take me unwillingly out of my apartment and cuffed me in your bedpost!"

"But I've always wanted to see you tied up like this. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I can recall you getting all flustered when I brought it up before. Wasn't it a confirmation on your end?" Sam had her pearly teeth clamped on her bottom lip. As she dropped the words, your cheeks grew hot. "Call this... me reading between the lines." Sam husked out right on your ear.

"Samantha, you are something else." A strained voice weakly comes out of you.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

You rolled your eyes. "'course you will."

Sam hiked up your dress further, exposing your undies. You squirmed at being exposed and she smacked the side of your thigh in return. You yelped as it stung in your skin, throwing your head to the side of the pillow.

"Now, don't put up that attitude with me princesa."

It was embarrassing enough how you're affected with Sam and her way with words. Were you damp in the southern part? She has to stop and not pry further with her advances—or else she'll never live it down.

"I just don't understand how you were so insistent on taking me here," You peer at Sam who had her jaw clenched as she detached her hold to you. "I dunno, we could've talked about this normally. In a space preferably where I’m not restrained like this. Samantha, I mean it. I can't play any more games with you."

Sam raised an eyebrow over your words. A game? She was absolutely displeased with how little you think of her admiration for you. The disbelief was written all over her face.

She became eerily stoic at your words. You didn’t like being the receiver of her blank expression.

"The last time I did, you were adamant on leaving me. Fully avoiding me right after. You didn’t even pick up my call. And a game? Is that what you think it is? Oh, princesa. You're absolutely driving me up the wall. You're shutting me out, I’m familiar with it.”

You couldn't retort anything back at her words, gulping as you found the truth behind them. Sam was right; you've always wanted to run away from any forms of confrontation.

You were never good at dealing with them.

Such a poor little thing, Sam thought. This was evidently giving you a whiplash, her attitude and unconventional ways, but she doesn't think she can wait any longer and the unforeseen little date you had last evening just accelerated, no, ruined her plans.

"Was she any good?" Sam lowly questioned with her other hand trailed underneath your dress, running on your upper thighs as she moved back. You shiver at the contact and warmth that spread goosebumps all over your skin.

Sam refused to call this woman by their name, it would make things harder for her. She detests how for a moment, you chose someone else over her.

You helplessly squirmed, making the handcuffs clink repeatedly once again. "She- she was nice—" you truthfully said.

When you wiggled out your legs, Sam overpowered you. She gripped your plush thighs, opened them to have herself placed in between, with your folded legs raised in the air, she took her hips to push them downward to stop you. Her own core met yours and you felt her packing.

"Nngh—!" you heated up, so close from erupting louder.

And Sam? She hated to see you suppressing them. Especially when you have deprived her of your sweet presence for so long. But she has already learned that loosening up too much wasn't the good approach. She barely knew a lick to romance, not when her upbringing was surrounded by coldness and violence. She thought in realistic terms, the romantic movies that you loved and forced her to see were pathetic. Adorable that you found hope in them, so she gave that formula a shot when she saw you again.

Only to see that you slipped away from her. It was ineffective, so to say.

Sam decided that she was going to create her own.

"Wrong answer, honey.” she smiled. “You say that yet I can tell you're already wet for me, aren't you?"

You didn’t like how this turned out as foreplay and what was worse, is how you were enjoying this deep inside. Sam being in tune with your body—she already knew that. You just needed a little more… breaking.

"Fuck off, Sam. Just uncuff me already!"

"Now don't get me started. Say, I'll make a deal with you," Sam combed her fingers through your messy hair. "If you're wet once I inspect you, we'll do things my way. If you aren't– maybe– I will let you go."

Astounded with her proposition, annoyance crept into you.

"What's so fair about that?"

"The illusion of choice." Sam grinned mischievously. "But you can't possibly be wet aren't you? It's still early in the morning and your words are insisting that you dislike this whole setup." she gestures on your body, huffing at how you're still resisting her.

"You don't own me," you attempted to stand for yourself.

Mirth settled on Sam's features. She tilted her head and an unsettling smile was set on her lips.

“Haven’t I proved that otherwise from time to time?”

You look away at her crystal clear innuendo. Of course it's Sam. Everything that she did always had you transfixed and mesmerized by her.

"You're just mocking me now. Seriously, maybe if you knew why I pulled away..." you wryly replied.

"That's the thing, I don't! It frustrates me what I have done wrong," Sam now appeared equally exasperated as you.

You look at her bewildered. She had the nerve to say all of this, while her eyes were pleading at you. It was jarring to witness her crumble and desperate to seek answers in the softest way she can, while having you handcuffed.

"I heard you! That day, when you cooked for me and wanted me to stay in.” There wasn't going to be another chance if you didn't pour it all right now. With a shaky breath and a lump in your throat, you continue. “I accidentally eavesdropped on your phone call, confirming that you were going to a strip club. I hated that you were fucking around, even when we– whatever we were. I thought it was better to stub it out right after that. Apparently, I’m still not good with keeping things casual.”

Her calloused hands came back to softly soothe your face. You were close to shedding tears as previously.

"But… I've never been with anyone else since we met again."

"Bullshit." you quickly spat out.

She gave you a stern look. Sam was displeased with how you were denying her. Still, she evens out her breathing, holding back from taking the reins for now.

"I swear on it with a knife on my throat, (y/n/n). I had to go for work reasons. I recently acquired the place so I had to finalize some things. It also helped to muddle our meet-ups in case someone was lurking."

It made you tense up underneath Sam.

"And pray tell, why the hell would someone be lurking at you—better yet, at us?" you curiously asked, worry dripped at your tone.

Sam exhaled, her eyes momentarily shut.

"Because I deal with an under-the-table business, honey." Sam meets your eyes again, holding onto the headboard. "It's the main reason why I had to step up, as I said before. My old man let his temperament slip terribly, fucked up, and I had to take the reigns. That's why I disappeared. I didn't have much choice." She appeared solemn as she admitted the truth you've been longing for.

Sam leading a mob made so much sense now for you. Always wanting to be discreet, her men tried to blend in—not wanting to stand out, and especially that night where Sam was disoriented and had bruising, injured fists, more times than you can count after your first time seeing them.

The glint of amusement on Sam’s eyes did not go amiss for you as she gently stroked your hair. “Though, I gotta hand it to my old man. I hated how his voice nagged constantly in my head, how he figured out that I had feelings for you then–utilized it to taunt me every time I fucked up.” Sam scrunched her nose. The resentment seeped vividly as she revealed more. “He’ll always say, I can’t see you yet or- or that I don’t deserve you if I can’t defend you—that I’m weak. You were my silver lining, (y/n/n). Still is.” She confessed, stroking your jaw softly as though you were her most prized possession.

Similar to that one night, your affection for Sam overpowered your common sense. You were moved by her words, ached that she had to be tormented at a young age. Feeling bile rising up your throat; you then realize how deep were you enough to be willing to ignore the unconventional and wicked ways of Sam, even if it raised red flags. But it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t posing an immense weight over you.

It was all new information to you. For god’s, she had to kidnap you and cuff you to her bed. You never thought that your sweet Sammy could ever—

"That's... okay- okay. It's a lot to take in," you whispered to Sam who was internally worrying at your response.

Before you can delve more to the sirens threatening to grow louder, Sam scooted her lower body away from gripping you, and now you feel her lips softly yet so eagerly peppering your face with kisses.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but I just want you, (y/n/n)."

She pinched your inner thigh, making your mouth open agape from the shock. Sam took it as her chance to meet your mouth with hers, no hesitation now as she was eager to kiss you. Her lips moved and you tentatively returned the gesture, dancing with familiarity that you didn’t know you badly craved for weeks now.

You groan at the overwhelming feeling of Sam and how she moved against you. Wet and eager sounds of kissing vibrated delectably to your body and it made Sam shift to a hunger and lust fueled kiss.

Soon you were gasping for air. Sam reluctantly pulled away as you did, chasing your lips for more. She was more than pleased to see you equally half-lidded and affected with now swollen lips.

“God, I wanna be inside of you already…” Sam husked out as she swept back her hair. “You’ve made me so desperate, you have no idea.” The ragged breathing made you throb. She moved aside to spread your legs apart and you became wetter at what’s about to happen. Sam quickly placed herself between your legs, now folded up. “Do you wanna feel me?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for Sam.

She grabbed you by your cheeks, “I need an answer, mi amor.”

“Yes!” you breathed out, nodding dumbly.

Sam grinned wolfishly as your need starts to crack upon the surface. She knew that this irresistible feeling goes both ways. Still, she thrived on seeing this each time, being proved right.

“Arch your back for me.”

As you complied, Sam slithered her own body flushed against yours. It gave her enough space to reach behind to unzip your dress, tugged it down, her look barely faltered with a glint in her eyes.

She saw your matching jade underwear pieces. Seethe began to bubble inside of Sam as it sinks in that you dressed up too nicely for your date last night. It drove her crazy, how your gorgeous tits were threatening to spill out of its confinement; you were such a sight for her.

Only for her and it should always stay that way.

She cupped them out of your bra, finally revealing your supple breasts. It only took one glance for her desire to take over and now you’re pressed against Sam. She feels your nipples harden on her as she begins to mark you from your neck, to your sternum, and coated them with her spit as she sucked on them needily. Throughout the process, all you could do was spill moans helplessly, eyes closed and arched your body for her—gladly letting Sam do however she wanted.

Now your body was littered with red and purple marks, some parts glistening with her saliva.

“I want to taste you too, fuck, I don’t know which one I’ll do first.” Sam admitted, voice all raucous. Taking a peek of her needy, doe eyes was enough to make you feel lightheaded. “No more dates with other people alright? So god help me, I’ll fucking behead anyone who dares to.”

You nodded, now eager to comply with Sam as your whole body ached for her. Your green light made her weak in the knees—she worships you. Sam swore that she won’t hesitate to kill more for you, if they cross you or come between the two of you.

Sam pulled you in by gripping your legs, lower body completely arched for your core to meet hers as she knelt at the bed in front of you. She thrusted her hips upward and the dull ache of your pussy throbbing intensified tenfold. She continued teasing you and while your arm and wrists were beginning to ache, knowing you can’t do anything, you started to cry, pleading for the woman to do something.

“Please Sam, can you just– shit, it hurts, I need you… please…”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Sam gently released her hold of you, pulling down her sleepwear and revealed the strap that dangled between her legs.

You involuntarily widen your legs at the sight. Fuck, you were so ready for her. She smirked at this and tugged your underwear down. Your arousal flowed like crazy, the vivid imagery of your wetness stringing on the fabric of your panties and Sam was intoxicated at it, more so with your heavenly scent.

“Wanna fuck your mouth first, (y/n/n).”

With no further warning, Sam hovered against you once again, leaving your pussy exposed and being teased with the mere air, feeling yourself drip already at her expensive bed sheets. Strong thighs and muscular lower abdomen peeked through her tight shirt, covering your entire sight.

Sam tilted her head and you see the mirth on her face. Unexpectedly, she grabbed the middle of the strap’s length and slapped it harshly on your cheek and mouth, barely an ounce of respect. You were a fan of how she loses herself onto you—because of you.

Body twitching repeatedly, without a doubt, you were craving for more.

“I need my good girl. Come on, open up for me.” Sam orders, probing your mouth open with the tip. Sam’s scent was intoxicating for you, too, with barely space from her core to your face, you almost wanted for her to ride you. Maybe later. “And I need to prep you first.”

Wanting to please her, you met her lust filled gaze and opened your mouth wide, tongue stuck out. She immediately pushed in a few inches, your tongue already swirling around the silicone. It stretched your mouth. With closed eyes you were sucking so eagerly that Sam moaned at each thrust she did, hit the back of your throat that you had to adjust your breathing through your nose–and how you easily complied with no hesitance. You covered it in the slick of your spit until your cheeks hollowed, eager to please even if you were close to gagging. Drool sloppily dripped on corner of your mouth; equally lost as her right now and Sam loved that.

No one and nothing else can compare to this sight.

“Shit, you love me moving like this huh? Being cock drunk, you’re pooling already in my sheets…”

She grunts as she thrusted harder, getting more turned on as the slick wet sounds become aggressively loud in the confines of her bedroom. Sam kept her gaze on you the whole time–loved the sight of your eyes welling up with tears out of pleasure, drooling on the corner of your mouth, and you were releasing throaty moans as she moved on your mouth.

“You missed this, don’t you?” Sam breathily asked, the bed creaked along. “Because I sure did,”

You hummed loud in agreement and this urged Sam to grab the shaft of her strap, with one final thrust, she poked it against your cheek, the head of the cock bulging against it. She groaned at the imagery—ingraining it on her mind. She pulled out with a pop noise and you were already dishevelled.

“Fucking hell, (y/n/n). Not so responsive now are you? Fuck, if my cock was real I would’ve made you swallow my cum already. Spilling them warm on your throat. You would’ve loved that, wouldn’t you?” Sam asked you through her rapid breathing and held you by your cheeks again to fully look at her.

“Yes, yes! I’ll swallow it all. I need you, I always need you, Sam,” you admit with no shame and spread your legs wide once again, your hole soaked and clenching over nothing—all for her.

“Must be your lucky day then. Because this is a cumming strap, mi amor.”

As your eyes widened, Sam pumped on the shaft, directing it to your mouth that was slightly ajar and you felt liquid oozing on your lips and tongue. She dragged it until spurts were all over your face, torso, and then your lower tummy.

You made sure to put on a show for the woman, seductively licking off the remains of her fake cum, fully immersed as if it was the real thing. Sam groaned and moaned, immediately pulled you for a bruising kiss that made your head spin.

“I know you wanted more but I need you to be patient,” Sam muttered as she pushed your inner thighs outward, positioning herself between you. “Shit, you’re dripping. I was right. Soaking, just like I expected you to be.”

“Yes, yes! But for the love of god, uncuff me, Sam… I want- no- I need to feel all of you,” you begged for her mercy. Sam simply bit your exposed clavicle. As you moaned, the action sent delicious tingles all over her body.

“No, not just yet.”

Sam’s calculations were going well so far, she’s about to have you and then keep you forever.

There’s no escaping her now.

You whined a bit more as Sam had her grip on the back of your knees, making you fold as she pressed herself beneath you. She held you by the ankle and threw them above her shoulder. Fuck, she’s got you folded. Maybe Sam should’ve let you do some stretching first.

“Need you to take a deep breath for me, pretty girl.” Sam uttered with her voice all gruff, and looking at her, you see the sheer sweat becoming evident on her skin though not as much as yours. “You didn’t like me so much earlier but now, I’m barely in, and your pussy is clenching already?” she mocked you. Her giggling burned your body, you did not expect how enjoyable it was to be ridiculed in this way. “Loosen up for me.”

With a bated breath as you relax your throbbing core, Sam slid her cock further, the head and a few inches entering you with ease than earlier. Sam was keen on looking at your expression and your mouth, in case it was too much for you. She knew it was a new thing for the two of you, she can only imagine that it’ll be a new adjustment compared to her slender fingers.

This was an insane type of stretch for you. The biggest you’ve ever taken.

“See? You’re taking it so well. I’ll make it fit.”

Eventually, it wasn’t enough for Sam as you expected. Drunk with the sight of your pussy swallowing her whole, she picks up her pace and rammed the cock inside of you—full of hunger and determination to see you fall apart; she needs it more than air.

“Shit! S-Sam, can you just–”

“Shhh. Don’t be so greedy now, where are your manners?”

The curve of the whole shaft inside of you was vivid against your walls, her impatience getting the better of her as the pace was ragged, no longer gradual. It was downright pornographic–you didn’t expect to be this loud and wet. The ache of being deliciously stretched out made your eyes roll back to your head and let out a moan. The sloshing and slapping sounds were too defined for your ears.

“You… you’re going to be the end of me, Sam,” You whisper as you bucked your hips, the squelching of your sopping pussy only motivated Sam to thrust deeper who smiled at your words.

She waited for you for so long and to finally have you was intoxicating beyond her comprehension.

“As you are mine,” Sam replied and with a newfound fervor, she began fucking you deep into her mattress, hitting the depths of your soaked pussy. The bed uncontrollably shaking and with her grip on the headboard–you feared that she might actually break it.

“Oh m-mmh! Fuck, oh-Oh my god!” you cried, not even able to ground yourself through holding onto something as you’re still cuffed.

“Shhh you can take it. Just a little more,”

Your arousal dripped enough to smear itself to Sam’s hips and thighs. She grunts loudly as she fervently pounds the strap on you, "Esto es mia." her accent dripped deliciously and you whimpered, whole back arched, as Sam splayed her hand, pushing the bulge of the strap that appeared on your lower tummy. “You like that baby? Needy little thing, I’m going to fucking breed you until all you can think of is me.” you wish to have your nails dug and scratched over Sam’s muscular back, finding the ideas she kept on seeding onto your dirty mind pleasurable more than ever.

Your stomach twitched like crazy, the tangled coil grew unbearable now for your liking. Both of your muscles burned but it was barely an issue for Sam who was still relentless.

Just as you were close as Sam hit the right spot, her pounding came into a full halt.

With hazy sight, you try to blink a few times. Sam started to pull out, while you cried, canting your hips to chase more of the strap and she simply took deep breaths. She growled, slapping you harshly by your inner thighs—you yelped unadulteratedly, the sting crossing the line of pain and pleasure. Sam muttered a string of curses in her mother tongue as soon as she saw the strap coated and glistening with your slick.

The tension on your stomach twitched madly in waves. It doesn’t help that your clit was throbbing painfully to reach the needed high. You wail as you turn your head to the side, burrowing to the soft pillows. Your vision turns warped as you grew dizzy, staring at the high ceiling.

The harsh reality sinks in. Like a cold bucket of water spilled onto you, you realize that you’re in Sam’s complete mercy. She makes it known with her giggling that resonated in the spacious room, making you feel humiliated. Though, it oddly adds to the erotic atmosphere. She worked you up–gaping hole still clenching, now onto nothing.

“This is what happens when you do dumb things and deprive me of your pretty self, mi amor.” she smiled and stroked the apple of your cheek, wiping the tears away.

Sam couldn’t wait to fully break you.

While previously wallowing in deep yearning and questions, Sam however, took it up a notch. It was terrible; aware of Sam’s tendencies to be rough in bed, nothing had prepared you from yesterday. Her intentions were clearly personal and she took the detachment horrifyingly and dealt with it in unimaginable ways you never thought could happen to you. For gods’s sake, she was following you and not so long ago you were in her bed. Uncertain how you’ll face this mess, there’s one thing that you were sure of: you cannot get enough of Sam.

Isn’t that terrible?

You woke up gasping for air—your body doesn’t feel like yours. It felt as though you were paralyzed, your motor senses weren’t coordinated as you wanted them to be. It was like being plunged into a body of water for hours, coldness surrounded you and oxygen was scarce, you were completely deprived. Your lungs were clogged up and you didn’t know how to manage the air through your body. Panicking at this, the tears involuntarily well up your eyes, blurring your vision and just in time, someone catches you.

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Warmth covers your body. The soothing voice kept on lulling you to calmness. The grasp was firm on your midsection—continuously rubbing back and forth. It wasn’t like being trapped anymore. “It’s just me, mi amor. It’s Sam—your Sammy. Try to breathe slowly with me, come on baby, you can do it.”

The voice faintly goes through your hearing but it was distinguishable enough. It was still difficult to breathe but being in her proximity, you feel her pattern of breathing. She takes a deep breath and draws out the release just as slow.

“Breathe with me, come on honey,” The voice urges you gently, sweeping the hair away from your face. She anchors you through the turbulent waves. Sam thought; How can you still look so beautiful even at your most vulnerable? If anything, this had made her even more set with her plans—wanting more days of waking up next to you.

Your breathing was less ragged, albeit still unregulated.

Sam wanted to see your eyes now, the one that she loves the most, and your subdrop is depriving her of it.

She tries to paint an easy picture for you in hopes of calming you down. “You’re alright. You stayed with me—in my house the whole day. It’s nighttime and nothing bad is going to happen to you. What’s going to happen is that you’ll rest the whole day. I’ll prepare some food, we’ll go for a bubble bath, and reapply a soothing cream to your sore thigh and we can watch some romantic comedies that you like so much—you’d pick the movie, of course.” Sam finishes with a light chuckle.

Finally, the panicking has settled down, her words have lulled you to calm down. You aren't drowning in the vast and deep sea nor restrained like a prisoner. It provided enough details that you didn’t know your mind longed for.

“Sam,” you drawl out with your hoarse voice. You’re met with the beaming hazel eyes, crinkled at the corners, attentive to your next words. “Fucking warn a girl next time.”

“No promises.” She teases you, nose scrunched and tickling your side lightly.

You fight off a weak smile threatening to spread on your lips. “What do you mean no promises? I don’t think I can walk! Don’t even look smug right now–I mean it.”

The woman in front of you was not guilty at all. Shrugging her shoulder, Sam was seemingly ready to get up.

No!

You shrieked. Panic immediately courses through you, tugging her down harshly to your side once again. Your grasp was in her arm. Why were you so adamant to have her beside you? It was unexplainable but if anything is certain, your body couldn’t handle it if she left you. Not after letting her have her way with you earlier—you refuse to feel disposable, even by the slightest. You wanted more of Sam.

Sam, on the other hand, was shocked at the action but not at the reason. She blamed herself—knowing you were still processing your feelings, how rough she has been—she should have remained gentle, at least for now. Sickeningly, she loved having your attention this way. It felt like a teaser of what was more to come—to eventually have your full devotion; equally as she does to you.

“I’m sorry, honey, I was about to carry you.” Safe with me now. She murmured to no one, soon as you clung to the front of her body, legs wrapped tightly to her waist. Her arms and hands quickly caught you for support. You nuzzled in the crook of her neck, making her shiver delectably more so as you tangle your fingers on her hair—scratching lightly on her scalp.

Not long after as she started walking, she pressed multiple innocent kisses to the expanse of your neck. Sam sighed. God, everything had to be so addicting about you—even your scent. She gently drops you to the cold marble of her kitchen’s counter and before you could protest, Sam reminds you of the plans she had made for tonight.

You’re surrounded with appliances that you had no idea how to properly pronounce, one that you would’ve only seen in the magazines. She always wanted the best of the best, it seems. Hell, Sam can start a cooking show if she wants to. This part of her house wasn’t too decorated, you noticed, somewhat lifeless. You tuck the observation at the back of your mind, a piece that could be useful later on.

Soon as you settled in, Sam told you that she intends to make an appetizing flatbread and her own concoction of guacamole dip. How she managed to improve her culinary skills in these years remains to surprise you. Younger Sam was already capable of making edible food fixes and some humble meals, but her skills as she made them was evidently different and an upgrade.

Your curious eyes remained at Sam as she moved. Her apron appeared threatening—it read don’t make me poison you! Attached with a kiss mark was ridiculously endearing to you. But also very, very hot. The way Sam tied it around her waist and how it clung to her fit figure. Not to mention, you were rewarded by the sight of Sam’s hair tie momentarily trapped by her teeth then doing a messy half-pony with it.

She first started with the dough with the trusty rolling pin, her arms flexing and contracting at each force she put into it. The veins were slowly becoming prominent as Sam does her work, the outline of its curves bulging, also making themselves known. Remnants of the powder were a nice touch as she was making a meal for you.

Don’t even get started with her knife skills. Sam easily chopped through the vegetables, completely hypnotized by the motion, you failed to notice that she was preparing some greens that you personally had a vendetta with. Your eyes were fixated on how she cut through them with much precision and ease. Then, you recall her admission, leading a mob—you can only imagine how swift she must be with her sharps when using them in business situation, the menacing glare and—

What?

Now, you were thoroughly confused.

You gulped and squirmed on your seat. The ache in between your legs made you remember how she deprived you of orgasm previously which was a first. She even promised to breed you. But you didn’t know whether it was an act of mercy, knowing if she pushed you more, you would have spiraled much worse the following hours when you woke up or was it an act to build an excitement through you.

No wonder, similar to the physical hunger, you found everything in front just as equally gratifying. Even the thought of her malevolent ways, which you initially had conflicting thoughts about. You were still aching and sore, it didn’t help that Sam was quite the eye-candy as she maneuvered in her own space. Shit.

“I know you still don’t like these. I remember you shoving them sneakily on my plate whenever we ate dinner at your house back then.” Sam snapped you out of your…derailing thoughts. Oh, you wanted to be railed, alright. She dusts off her hands on her aprons after washing them. “But you have to eat up your greens, missy. Don’t make me force you.” she quips in a jest, eyes scrunched at you.

“I don’t have much choice, do I.” You deadpan and roll your eyes as Sam hummed, agreeing. “How come you don’t have a personal chef?”

Might as well shift your thoughts to something else. Admittedly, you also wanted to know more about Sam. After the continuous bombs she had dropped to you as she fucked you to oblivion.

“Ouch, baby. You haven’t even tasted what I’m cooking and you’re already doubting me?”

You laughed. “No. But I heard it’s what rich folks have. And you must be busy.”

“Not for you, never too busy.” She replied, quickly like it didn’t need much forethought. She shot you a charming smile and proceeded to chop away. Did your heart do the somersaults? Hell yes. You were always puddy when it comes to this woman. “Sometimes I do… but I prefer doing it personally for you. Especially today. But on another occasion, maybe you’ll see my personal chef.”

“Do I sense an early invitation for an indoor date?” you tease her.

Sam nodded her head adorably. “Well, yes, (y/n/n). I thought that was clear already. More things to come.”

Well, that joke of yours bit you quickly in the ass.

You coughed and turned around to your side to hide how affected you were. This version of your Sammy would need more time to be processed into your consciousness. Few weeks apart and you’re still clammy and hopeless at her forward nature.

“You haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend yet. For all I know, this feels like another booty call for me.”

“A booty call?”

Okay, maybe that was a bad idea. Sam halted her motions, you flinched in your seat as she spun the knife effortlessly in her fingers, then gripped the knife and pierced it in the chopping board—the sound resonating in the kitchen.

“You are my girlfriend and it better stay that way.” A lilt of aggression and possessiveness dripped in her honeyed voice. She couldn’t stand you doubting more of her actions. Or worse, you mentioning any traces of your past experiences of hooking up with other people. “Like I said, I despise having to share you amongst all things. I thought I made it clear; no talking of other people–more so when you were entangled with them at one point–around me. I absolutely cannot stand it.”

Her jaw grinded as it bothered her. Sam didn’t know whether she should throw up or plan to hunt them all down and slice them all up, gut them up like a fucking fish, as she pays them a little visit. Starting with this Lucy woman you just went on a date with.

Shiver ran through your spine at her tone, coupled with Sam’s harsh parting of your still sore legs, settling between them as yours dangled on the marble counter. You turn into jelly oddly both at Sam’s admission of wanting you—claiming you—and her hand that greedily ran on your ribs, dangerously under your breast, and the other brought up your inner wrist, and pressed a kiss softly.

“I wasn’t– I just wanted to clear this out. It confused me for a while, what we were. I just needed it spelled out. For the sake of my inner peace.” You stammer out and Sam’s features slowly relax to your admission.

“Well, you are mine, mi amor. I’m reiterating that for a million times more until it sinks in to you.”

She professed, tilted her head and leaned to you with no hesitation, and as you met her halfway, one of her hands rested to the side of your head, pulling you for a chaste kiss. You burned for Sam, chased her touch, and the butterflies on your stomach were still there. Not even the little cheek kiss from your date last night could compare by the slightest.

Soon as Sam pulled away, your stomach growled, reminding you of actual hunger. She chuckled upon hearing and quickly resumed her work.

“I didn’t know you were this…” You stop to find the right words. Sam tilted her head to the side again, always attentive to you. “Passionate.” Possessive, almost. Maybe you would have said that but you didn’t want to break such an intimate air between you. Not when Sam is officially your girlfriend.

Sam however, found it amusing. She’s surprised you barely caught up with her nature. Even in your younger years, she assumes that you only took it as protectiveness. Casualties were barely encountered then because you were attached to the hip, by default nobody wanted to mess with you as everyone was aware of Sam’s intimidating self. She was all talk and bite.

"You can say possessive and I won't be mad. I don't want you holding back to me."

“Okay. I was about to say that. Were you ever like this with other girls?” you timidly ask out of curiosity.

She shook her head. “No, just you.”

Sam clearly remembers this girl from her lacrosse team who wanted to ask you out for homecoming. Unlucky for her, Sam had heard her previously in the locker room, talking about you as they perceived you both in sweet and disgusting ways.

She mentally agreed with how they recited your beauty out loud. You are definitely a piece of art to Sam. She unashamedly admired you out in the open, but it appeared that you were oblivious to it. But then, they also talked about how you were possibly freaky—your innocent and quiet nature was a mere ploy in their eyes and they would like to tap your ass and ramble more of your curves.

It may or may have not intendedly caused Sam to perfectly stage an accidental scene to break the girl's ankle during one of the practices then sneered for her teammate to 'watch out next time' and 'not even think about you' in the slightest.

“Guess I was indeed full of surprises, hm?” She simply replied, getting a glass and a bottle of your favorite flavor of fruit juice for you.

How did Sam even know that this was your go-to comfort drink?

With wide eyes, you accept it gratefully.

“Yes, you are.”

Not long after, Sam had finally finished up preparing food for you two. The serving was definitely quite generous. She didn’t hesitate overfilling it with the toppings and sauce. She brought up a piece of her creation in your mouth, which you easily took a bite of. The food and its flavors melted in your tastebuds. You couldn’t help but moan in pure delight.

Sam laughed. “That good?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re stroking my ego, baby.” She places her palm flat on her chest, seemingly flattered. “Don’t talk with your mouth full—you know this.”

And you? You almost spluttered out the food you were chewing. Sam and her devilish antics will be the end of you.

It wasn’t you to be contained in one place. You were always moving, whether there was a force or not. Yet, for the last few days, you manage to be unmovable. Miraculously taking your sweet time with Sam. Time seems to fade when it comes to her. More than anything, you were in disbelief you get to call your long time crush as yours.

The small haven the two of you built for the last few days came to an inevitable end with Sam having to attend to her business matters.

You were displeased, the bubbling separation anxiety somewhat coming to the surface already. Just before Sam left, she pulled you into a deep make out session, and both of you were getting handsy. Gleaming at the thought of finally getting a sense of release, to your surprise, Sam managed to break away and compose herself—smoothening the material of her dress shirt and fixing up her tie.

To pile more to your frustration, you saw the emerald upholstered chair that Sam shamelessly paid and took when she fucked you senselessly at that lingerie boutique. As expected of the woman, she had it in her placed in the resting area of her house.

Before deciding to explore more of the nooks and crannies of Sam’s home; you eventually noticed the red lights at some corners placed in the bedroom and a brilliant idea popped out in your mind.

You retrieve your phone and dial Sam to confirm and quell your thoughts.

“Miss me already?”

“Terribly so.” you fiddle with the strings of Sam’s hoodie–the owner giggling to your direct confession. “I just noticed, but are these cameras in your bedroom?” your eyes flit to one to your right.

Sam cleared her throat. “Before you detest the idea; baby, it’s all for safety. If it makes it all better, I’m the only one with access to the bedroom cameras.”

You almost snorted because of course, she would.

Audibly, you sighed out of relief with a hand clutched to your chest. “Thank god. ‘cause I was about to touch myself.”

You’ve dropped the words so casually that Sam for the first time, was out of words. Faintly, you picked up something on the other end, a sound like a clear fall–unbeknownst to you, you have successfully made her flustered beyond her comprehension.

“Sam? Don’t tell me you hung up on me,” you rolled your eyes.

The woman took a deep breath. “No. Still here.”

“Good…”

Your eyes remained on the camera, giving the best of your pleading eyes–hoping it’ll somehow be visible enough through Sam’s static screen. Hand slithering on your ribs then your covered mounds, making you groan out loud and eventually your fingertips hovered around your pelvis–a flimsy underwear that you Sam chose for you to wear earlier. It was practically see-through. Your body felt feverish, eyes fluttered shut.

It would be so easy to dip your fingers inside…

You hear Sam growl. “Don’t touch yourself. Not without me there. I swear to god, (y/n/n) I’m not playing with you…”

A whine escaped your lips at her order, actions coming into a full stop. It was no use to sneak off, aware now there’s cameras in her house and Sam was bound to figure it out no matter what.

It took Sam half an hour to reach you. You’re met with a determined woman, loosening the tie on her neck and unbuttoning her dress shirt halfway as soon as she barged into her bedroom door—while you gasped, looking still the same as Sam last checked on her monitors.

She manhandled your body, as though you weighed nothing. It spurred your libido higher than ever, mouths crashing and Sam devouring you until your lips bleed and bruised. The only thing that came out of your mouth was her name and more moans that echoed beautifully in her room. Bodies flushed together, you grinded in perfect sync, breasts brushing that made you putty. The familiar gliding of her hands soon met your soaked center. Sam slid her long and slender fingers, entering you but not fully. She started to rub circles slowly until you were worked up enough, playing with pressure, she pumped them deep into your throbbing pussy. Sam grunted at the squelching sounds, obsessed with the warmth of your core. You easily took her in, greedily swallowing all of what she can offer to you.

The twitching of your stomach was absurd and seemingly nonstop. Yet again, Sam noticed, and she took out her coated fingers out of your sopping apex.

“No, not yet princesa.” She devilishly giggled, breathless as you were on top of her lap. You simply cried and squirmed, as the lack of release was making you crazy. “Give me a good reason,”

Your hips bucked but Sam was moving away. You didn’t like it at all. Surely, you were going to combust if you were deprived of this heaven for much longer.

“Please, I can be good! Sammy… I’d do better!”

How can Sam deny you now? She giggled at your state. Sam had to admit, edging you was a form of sick atonement that she wanted to pull out of you. Forged as a punishment for leaving her dry while she was understanding and patient. Her devotion was clear as a day and you’ve failed to notice that. Yet, it was also a ploy to have you in her orbit, even by sexual means. With a sardonic smile, Sam absolutely had fun with it.

“Now you’re talking. Just like how I want you, (y/n/n).”

With newfound fervor, she resumes her motions to your pulsating and insanely wet pussy. You clenched repeatedly around her digits. It released a throaty moan out of Sam, low and breathy, spurring you to arch your head back.

“Tell me how much you need me.”

“N-need you… only—s-shit—just you, Sam! Nngh!”

Pride deeply surged on her chest. If it were possible, her love for you only heightened.

“Oh, I love you.” She confessed against your skin. “Cum for me, (y/n/n).”

The endearing look that Sam had in her hazel eyes had made you even more lightheaded as you took a peek at her. She loves you? You couldn’t believe it. Just in time, your body shook in pleasure as finally you were able to cum. With weeks worth of teasing, it definitely scratched an itch but somewhat it wasn’t enough, yet you couldn’t raise your voice for more as it exhausted you. Maybe you should start working on your stamina, you thought. But then again, Sam was insatiable with her teasing and foreplay. She had been sinfully eyeing you and grabbing you so casually without any promise of making you cum.

Your profession of love to Sam came out in a mumble. Of course, it was no-brainer that you reciprocate her love, too. She simply laughed at your state, body slumped and nuzzled on her neck, a gentle kiss pressed out of appreciation for her. Sam held you tighter, combing through your hair that had grown sticky due to sweat, all softly and breathing in your scent. She smiles upon realizing that you used her own shower items instead of yours, one that she provided, knowing which products you used religiously.

As this was happening, Sam bestowed your little date with a gift. A bloody pig head awaits the woman, the item placed not out of her doorstep but rather from the inside. The scene was gory for her or any sane person’s liking. The trail of redness was spread through her floor and has oxidized. It left a stench of rot, that flies were starting to appear in your date’s home. Sam is anything but rude, so her present came along with a note—one that relayed a clear message of threat for the woman to stay away from you and it would be better if she moved away.

Sam would have made her death swift, dealt with it clean this time as she has no longer a message to relay for you, a contradicting safety and fear which she can both offer—all in order to have you.

Your stunt of touching yourself today effectively reduced Lucy’s sentence. She cut her plans short and had given this woman a second chance and made a simple scare instead of personally gutting her up with ease. Although if she pulled any attempts of challenging her again, Sam would no longer be merciful to her.

Another day of Sam giving you a bouquet of flowers. To her surprise, today was different. Soon as you placed them carefully on a vase filled with water, quickly you retrieved your own gift for her. She always gave you something and you wanted her to know how you always thought of her, too.

You handed Sam a dark blue colored mug that was rough around the edges, a proof of your inexperienced clay making. Designed with stars and the waxing crescent as the main subject, the outline is painted in gold.

“What’s the occasion?” She asked, still in awe.

“Should there be any? It reminded me of you,” You smoothly replied. Her eyes twinkled and it was easy to say that it was a success.

Sam was over the moon. You remembered. Honestly, it was hard not to, because her pillow sheets were still related to the cosmic – only portrayed with much elegant material. Then her ramblings and how Sam would take you out to simply admire the moon at night. As she held your present carefully, you thought now of how it was a fitting symbol for her, with her tendencies of being a night owl and broody. She chuckled at your perception of her.

“Oh and I’m broody?”

You add, "It makes you hot and mysterious though, don't worry."

“We should watch the night sky sometime again. I missed doing that with you.”

With Sam’s eyes crinkled in delight and her million dollar smile directed at you, caught you in her grasp with your feet in the air—her hold flooding you with warmth and adoration—it wasn’t much work for you to smoothen and forgive her of the previous disagreements you’ve had with the woman.

She was simply your Sammy, far from the frightening glimpse you’ve seen of her as someone determined and powerful of a mob leader.

Somehow, you managed to get back unscathed when you returned to work. With absence equivalent to a honeymoon trip, you didn’t know what excuse the universe had provided over you. You explained a made up family-related emergency problem, even though you haven’t seen them in years, and it worked like a charm on your end. You weren’t fired even with the sudden absence, no resentment in your bosses’ tone, and your coworkers simply wondered and then welcomed you back.

What you did not know was that your absurd omnipotent of a girlfriend conjured something, effective enough not to pull much attention in tying her name with yours. Sam already invested in your company. It was clear for her that you wanted your own thing, getting out of work so quickly. She respected this wish of yours. A negative push from her would have made you shut like a clam and she didn’t want that—not when Sam was making progress already.

Were your spirits lifted? Without a doubt. Luck didn’t strike you this much, so you gladly took it in.

Initially, you planned to go back to your apartment after work then call your girlfriend. You can’t deny that you missed your own space, wondering if it was dust littered already, given your absence for how many days.

Although, a car was already waiting for you outside.

“After you.” Martin greets you, opening the car in the backseat. You offer him a polite smile. To your surprise, Sam was seated there too. Immediately, you tackle the woman for a tight hug. Sam returns it with a loving smile and you didn’t want to let go of her addicting embrace.

She looked stunning with her navy turtleneck and usual trousers, along with her polished leather shoes. Sam’s attire always complemented her tanned skin that you love so much–especially with the gold accessories that adorned her look. If anything, getting a sight of her energized you and made your mouth water.

She laced your hands together. “How was work?”

“Good as it can get.” You sighed contentedly, head already leaning to Sam’s broad shoulder. “I don’t know what magic you pulled, but I wasn’t berated at all? And this guy from the other cubicle was the only thing that annoyed me by far.”

“What’d he do to you?” Even without looking, you can already see Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You giggle as it wasn’t a serious matter. “Relax. I just couldn’t tune out his singing and humming today. It got on my nerves… he didn’t exactly have the voice of an angel.”

“Oh I’m sorry you had to put up with that?” Sam meekly says in hopes of comforting you and her thumb rubbing on the back of your hand.

“You know I should be the one asking you–how was your day?” you retort. You always wondered how it worked; Sam being a mob boss. She must’ve always been caught in some form of distress.

Sam bit her lip. She looked at the rear view mirror before answering you. There was nothing much to hide at this point.

“Good. Somewhat smooth, no one annoyed me with a shitty singing voice.” She replied in a deadpan which made you laugh. “No one had to face my knife nor my fists, surprisingly.”

“That for real?” your eyes went wide.

“You asked,” she mumbled. Sam held your hand tighter as though you were going to disappear in thin air. “It’s nothing like a war, (y/n/n). I know your head is getting all creative–but the machine gun out in the open? Not real. Not an efficient way to stay low, either. Sometimes it’s about looking at paperwork and more on discussions. But lately it’s more of in between securing deals, cordially as we can. Then like I said, sometimes… it takes force and grit—in case things go south.”

A pout spreads on your lips. It pulled out a hearty chuckle from Sam. As she suspected, you indeed had a comical imagery of her work.

What she didn’t know was how you grew into liking the vision of her being stern and domineering. You even thought of her office, how her seat must’ve looked like a throne to sit in. Completely lacking in warmth, assertive, cold and calculated as she gave orders around.

You blurt out, “That’s hot.”

“Hot?” Sam looked at you in disbelief and some flattery. “I didn’t expect that from you, (y/n/n).” an amused smile graced her features.

You simply shrugged and soon yawned.

“When was the last time you had time to rest? You deserve this, mi amor, and so much more. It wouldn’t hurt if you let go once in a while.”

It got you thinking. Sam is right. You weren't used to having this privilege; by means of simply resting and existing in a peaceful space. Always trying to get by, going through the tedious nine-to-five routine. You’re forgetting something but you have already succumbed to the idea that crashing onto your girlfriend’s place (once again) was a given, due to your sleepy state.

“Before you fall asleep on me, I got you this,” Sam shuffled on her seat as soon as you leaned against the car’s headrest, mindlessly fiddling with the sun pendant placed below your jugular notch. Sam got it for you a while back.

She reached at the back of the car and pulled a gorgeous bouquet arrangement. It was becoming a common occurrence every week, since you managed to make a deal with the woman. You had issues with being spoiled too much and Sam petulantly met you halfway, understood it, even if she acted like a kicked puppy. This was her alternative of spoiling you of love—amongst other things. Sam balanced her unconventional approach of romance through this, willing to give this traditional courting-like gesture another shot, not wanting to be too rough with you as it wasn’t an image she wanted to be fully attached to.

Another huge motivator for her was the discovery of your admittance when she came up with this unannounced, saying that the first and last time you received them was in high school and it was because of her. Sam can recall the time, unknowingly having missed the sight of you being tongue-tied and absolutely flustered. She loves how you glowed at this little gesture.

And now, Sam is eyeing you between like a meal to devour and the trace of gentleness is found on her hazel eyes, as always. Her fingers cradled under your jaw.

You can get used to this.

"But I'll miss you. didn't we plan movie night today?" A rare sight of Sam, pouting and tugging you close, was beyond endearing.

You almost felt bad. Pressing your lips against your girlfriend, you then lead her onto a chaste kiss. "I'm skipping just for tonight please? And it's not like I won't miss you too, either. because I certainly will."

"So smooth with your words."

"I've learned from the best."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. She didn't know whether she'd be pleased at this situation or not. Her issue lies from your current outfit, she thought it was too short. It didn’t help you were a walking vixen and dangerously unaware of it. The idea of you prancing around with filthy leering eyes following you all night? It made her blood boil.

That was already a job taken by her and hers alone.

Her grip loosened around your waist, turned into soft caressing. She beams at you, knowing it was your favorite sight and part of her.

"Mmm. Maybe it was bad that you were taking notes. Too much of it I'd say."

Your phone pings again, your friends were already telling you that they're on their way. A part of you detests to be away from Sam – but you think that your memory has gone oddly hazy and you cannot remember the last time you met up with your friends. You get out of your shared room but not without Sam hovering and sending you off with a kiss and personally driving you there.

Meanwhile Sam was somewhat pleased. Sure, she wanted all of your time, but she had to admit how she reveled in the way you have easily forgotten of her obsessive and conniving ways. Your girlfriend wouldn't let you out of her sight, of course. Constantly worried about your safety and a step ahead, decided to plant two men with a set of skills present on the scene; a safety net in case your fun night out changes its course, her gift of necklace served as an audio receiver and the expensive watch had a tracker.

What you hoped to be a good time, ended up on a terrible note. You disagree with your friends as you open up a few more details to them. It was all because of your curfew and they perceived your relationship with Sam as too intense. That was a given, right? It’s a love thing, you suppose. You fiddle with the necklace she gave you, pondering over how as though they didn't see Sam in the same light as you did. She wasn't borderline abusive. In fact, she had been greater than ever to you, more carefree, unrestrained and unfiltered. You feel it too, she was more relaxed and eager to disclose any information you wanted from her.

Now on your fifth drink? Or sixth? You scoffed and giggled. You were bummed because it took Sam a lot of convincing that you were going to be safe. That you had your own pepper spray with you and that nothing can happen with your friends beside you. It was good, refreshing even. Until it wasn’t.

“I’m just saying, you have to watch out for yourself. And we’re here. Anytime.”

“Are you sure you can trust her after that? She seems… pushy. Won’t take a no for an answer.”

“Seems too fast, (y/n). It won’t be bad if you raised your opinions every now and then, you know.”

It echoed once again to you. Sam was the best for you. Everything between you was consensual. You understood her ways, simply because it was how she was made. You can only imagine how several years of being moulded into a domineering leader with a strong gut have drastically shaped her, refusing to think of it further how you weren’t there for her.

You downed another shot and as you drank away your disappointment of your friends’ criticism of your girlfriend, a greasy man was already eyeing you.

Then you realize Sam's words from one of the nights you spent with her. She was right; these people in your circle wouldn't get it. Not as much as the two of you do.

Upon your realization, a man not so discreetly manoeuvres his way through you. You deny him but he was insistent. It was gross how he was a mouth breather, his stench hovering over you.

“The more the merrier, baby.” He didn't even believe that you had a girlfriend, in fact, he even grinned disgustingly at this information.

“You have one second before I call the fucking cops.”

“That’s a lame excuse–” He whined, looking away in disbelief thinking you were bluffing. “C’mon, I can make you straight… all it takes is a night with me,”

You took that chance to stealthily use your phone and clicked on speed-dial. You were surprised it connected to Sam instead of the cops. You don’t remember changing it although it was a better alternative, truthfully. With the initial shock, it override the rising suspicion from you; how your girlfriend set it herself.

Some men came over to assess what was happening. The greasy man rambled too much, far from convincing with how visibly uncomfortable you were. Thankfully, they came into your rescue. You hoped they were good guys. So far it seemed promising that they pushed the guy who was making you uncomfortable. They had a strong build and now were exchanging in a verbal disagreement. It was getting heavy that you had to step away and as soon as you bumped from someone at your back; it was your girlfriend, doe eyes swarmed comfort to your body.

“Get in the car, mi amor. It’s parked at the front. Lock the doors and wait for me there, hm?” She caressed your cheeks. You were clearly shaken up, still Sam was proud of how you nodded and tried your best to look at her. “I’ll handle this.”

Her thumb caressing gently on your hips, you look at her once again, to see not even the situation and what it holds for the man—but to see if she was truly alright. Sam reassures you again that it’ll be alright and focuses again on the man that had been bothering you.

Where the hell were your friends? Sam groaned lowly in frustration. It was good how she decided it was a good idea to wait out for you. Who knows what could have happened. She takes a glance at the man who added rain on your terrible drinking night-out. She lured him out. He was ecstatic, the idiot not even knowing his fate for tonight. Him trying to take advantage of you sealed it for himself.

Sam already figured that this would be easy, his throws starting on a terrible form, giving away how he didn’t have a proper knowledge of its basics. He might’ve been taller, but his lack of skill proved him to be useless. Sam immediately went for an opening, fist met his face then swoop his feet quite literally which hit his knees badly to the pebbled ground. He groaned out of pain, curses flowing out of his mouth.

“Please! I’ll do anything! Spare me, I haven’t- I didn’t even touch her!” He begged on his now decapacitated knees.

Sam quipped, “Should I be happy about that?”

“N-no, but–”

“You harassed her. Insisted on wanting to fuck her.”

Over a dim corner outside, Sam sighed and took out the silencer concealed in the back of her jeans, and personally shot him right in the head. She liked seeing her power over these people. Always begging for a way out, so desperate.

Her men didn’t even flinch, trained and desensitized. In another vehicle parked near to the scene, a few more men came out of it, dressed for clean up and quickly carried him out for disposal.

She didn't want things to be messy. But she had been listening to your entire conversation; unbeknownst to you that the necklace also served as a down low spy-like device for her. Sam was happy that you were quick to jump in her defense–how you trusted her. Frankly, she was afraid that her attitude and sense of ethics would be something you’d be disgusted with. Being proven otherwise, it warmed her heart, increasing her devotion tenfold if it were even possible at this point.

It was easy to lure you out of your circle of friends grasp. She thought of some point how useless your friends would be, now that you have her. Sam knows they’ll only add as a burden and mess.

As she drove the two of you back home, her free hand constantly rubbed random patterns on your exposed thigh. The streetlights were just as warm as your girlfriend’s touch. Her constant glances at you each time you were in red light. The reassuring smile that barely left her plump lips.

When you waited for her – you didn’t even care what could the man from the club could face. Was it terrible that you reveled in the high possibility of him being a dead meat?

One thing for sure is that you only had one good takeaway this evening.

With your parents out of the picture a long time ago, disapproving of your ‘lifestyle’, and siblings being far and preoccupied with their own lives — this was it for you: Sam is your family. Each time an emergency or a milestone happens to your life, only Sam is there for you, without fail.

You only needed her and she was more than enough.

"Tara wants to see you." Properly and not from afar as Sam instructed, the voice echoed in her mind. "Not today, because I want you all to myself right now. Some other time, maybe."

Your eyes crinkled. "When have you not? But yeah - I'm totally in. She was practically a baby when I last saw her." Both of you giggled at your remark.

You discovered another room in Sam’s house. Barely gone through all of them, you found out just now how she had a gaming area. Littered in between retro and modern game machines, and how it glowed differently from arcades, made it appear much inviting. Now in low lighting in the afternoon, you ended up playing pool with your girlfriend. It was a game you always sucked at; with your shitty aim and handling. Bad news for you, it’s Sam’s favorite and opposed to you, of course she was great at it.

Terribly cocky too.

Not that you minded, because she was attractive for how she flaunted it. She’s carefree with you, seemingly retracting to her playful self that gave her a youthful joy of a glow. With her dressed up in tight cycling shorts that were covered with a sweater around her midthighs; Sam looked appetizing.

Back to the game, your motor movements suffered. Each time you aim and thrust the pool stick, the ball bounced off like a fish - far from the pocket points. Missing the target was also a common mistake for you.

She laughed. “No, baby, you’re holding it wrong too.”

“How is it any different from yours?” You retort.

“It can be your posture as well and the pressure you apply when hitting. Don’t be mad now.”

Huffing, you were so close to breaking this pool stick. “Maybe if you showed me!”

Sam chuckled. She liked your adorable scrunch getting all focused to at least score a point. she gets from your behind, bodies now flushed. Her soft chuckling continues as she notices how you stiffened at the contact. It blows her mind, how years ago things were in reverse; it was her who always panicked at your comforting touch. she welcomed it, relishing each second, replaying the memory of times she missed you before meeting again. She beat herself up mentally at how different she should have approached it.

Sam shook her head, focusing on the present. she has you now and it's all that matters.

“You just have to…” She took your forearms in a grasp and smoothly ran them to your hands. “Hold it like that. Your other fingers for balance however, depend on your level of comfort. It’s a matter of practice–which is what we’re doing.”

“Is that so?” You tease her, turning your head enough to meet her face, hooded eyes greeting you. You feel Sam growing breathless much as you do.

Her hazel eyes had a specific glint to them. They beautifully shone and no doubt had a swirl of lust growing bigger onto them. You purse your lips to hide the spreading smile. Instead, you retaliate by leaning over the table exaggeratingly; practically bending over it. Sam could no longer hold back a small moan escaping her mouth.

It was a matter of a different game and Sam decides she’ll humor you.

However, it was proving to be a difficult task. You just had to rub your ass against her hips. Now practically enveloped by her, weight almost all into you. You wiggle a bit more. Then you felt something else. Fuck. Was she…packing?

She had a cocky smile now. It’s been a while since she has used this on you.

“Mmm, mi amor. And your aim? Don’t push it up like this,” She grabbed your hand to reenact it. The ball thumped as it bounced – showing how you usually hit. More of her weight was on you, her front deliciously pressed on your back. “I noticed you tend to do that.”

“Oh, do I?”

You were playing dumb now. Although, with skins inevitably brushing, it doesn't take long for the two of you to crumble and give in to do something with the tension.

“Fuck this.” Sam muttered, fingers digging on your thighs as she immediately hoisted you up to the pool table. Back of your thigh’s skin rubbed to the rough texture of its surface, somewhat adding to your gnawing hunger.

Sam was bouncing with excitement to take you in here. Mouths crashing in dire need of each other, she explored your mouth as though she hasn’t before, tugging your bottom lip until you tasted iron.

“Oh, oh… god,” you whimper.

Sam gawks at you with darkened eyes. “You think you can tease me like that?”

Your jaw slacked as Sam's teeth sunk in the skin of your neck, far from finished and continued by nibbling with pent up fervor, and the pleasure of her ministrations as the moans rolled off your tongue with ease. Her open mouthed kisses were messy against your skin but nevertheless, you welcomed her through arching your neck to give her more space to paint you red and purple.

Some of the balls clanked as you guys moved desperately, grinding on each other.

“Look at you.” She giggled and had your cheeks on a firm grip. “My pretty girl so eager to get fucked dumbly. Did you feel my cock earlier at your little tease of a show?”

You helplessly looked at her with half-lidded eyes, nodding.

“Yes, please…Sam,”

“Please what?” She mocked you, doe eyes filled with mirth. Her hands slowly moved from your cheek to your neck. Sam gives it a squeeze, making you hum in delight. “I won’t continue if you don’t use your words properly.”

“I…I want you to breed me, like you said months ago,” you murmured and looked away.

Blood rushed in your clit. You were throbbing in need and full of embarrassment. But it was the truth that you wanted to be fulfilled. You didn’t know it caught Sam in a surprise, her joy and libido had gone through the roof.

Sam relishes onto this, a wolfish smile on her features as she takes every inch of your skin with her lips and hands. And you? you can barely keep up, clung onto your girlfriend’s neck to gravitate yourself in the spiraling haze in your head, pretty sounds continuously tumbling off your mouth.

What you want, is what you’ll get.

You managed to take off your top, now almost completely bare in front of your girlfriend.

“Good girl. So, so good. I knew you had it in you, mi amor.” You’re met with Sam’s patronizing smile. You gulp in excitement at the praise she’d given you. “You remember your safe word right?” She asked as her hands wandered, pulling your own shorts down and underwear. As you nodded, a predatory look was fixed on her face. “I’m going to make you forget it, I promise.”

Her irises were ignited with a newfound desire, turned you on your back and bent over as previously, against the pool table.

Sam stroked her strap and adjusted your legs. She wanted you wide and ready. Your slick was smeared on your innermost thighs and some of them formed with strings of your arousal, greeting her as she spread you out. God, she can’t wait to ruin you.

Without warning, the skin of your pulsating hole was being dragged out by the strap's length and all you can do is whimper loudly in complaint. The head teased you a little with her pace agonizingly slow. As she pulled out though it didn't last as she decided to ram the entire length back inside of you, absolutely filling you to the brim. You moaned as it burned inside of you. Sam reach on your tits for balance as she started thrusting, picking up a pace. With all things going on at once, your eyes rolled at the back of your head and face pressed against the rough surface.

"Wait... oh my god, fuck, wait!" You trembled underneath her, your palms outward against her the table, weakly attempting to push away determined Sam. "So- so big, Sammy, I don't... oh! d-don't think, I can't!" You deeply underestimated her cock. But reeling onto it was simply addicting that you felt conflicted.

“You can and you will. You wanted this, didn’t you (y/n/n)?” She mocks you again. Sam was right, you wanted this. “Whoring yourself to me, this is the least you can do. Fucking. Take. It.” Your girlfriend punctuated each of her words with a hard thrust, each time you swore that it went deeper into your walls.

Sam was spurred on with your erotic reactions. She wanted to see your limit, see you truly fall apart. For god’s sake, you were already dripping wet, gushing and smeared all over Sam’s cock and hips. Once she found a rhythm pleasing to you both, she moaned along you as the base also met her clit – sending shocks on her end as well.

You were so fucked out right now and an orgasm was ripped out of you so suddenly. “Nngh… oh!”

Breath heaving, you felt the wetness run down your legs. Sam slowed her movements and stayed deep inside of your walls. More liquid gushed out of you, mixed with your girlfriend’s fake cum. It felt heavy and so full inside of you that you can’t get enough. It was beyond gratifying and out of body experience.

“Another one, come on. I have to fill you up to the brim,” Sam whispered against your ear, white-hot that it sent shivers down your spine. Your hips surely will bruise after this, as she resumed pounding relentlessly against the fine wood. It also made you embarrassingly more wet, too. Her pounding didn’t falter at all, Sam’s own hips still at work.

“Fuck– I….Ah!” Your eyes were squeezed shut.

Sam took pride in your current state. She gripped you tighter on your lower back and the other firm on the edge of the table. Sheer sweat already covered the two of you and the pool table continued to shake, now no longer in a prim and proper placement; instead it was crooked due to the movements that were forced upon it. You were fucking like animals.

A vast incoherent mumblings came in a slew to you. Your head pressed against the table and tears came out of the corner of your eyes. Your ears weakly register the mean giggling of Sam. The erotic sound of the skin-to-skin slapping continued to fill the space of your room, synchronizing with the creaking sound of the table. With your mouth agape, you felt the shaft being thrusted in a different angle, the cock’s tip kissing your cervix repeatedly. Sam dug so deep into you that it made you dizzy already.

“Gonna fill you up real good,” Sam continued to penetrate you mercilessly, her aggressive and determined grunts vibrating pleasingly to your body and adding to the carnal state both of you were in. It was too easy to sliver her cock in and out of you now, fully lubricated given your sopping core. “My breedable little bitch. Fuck, I’d say you’re meant for this. Meant to take this huge cock, hm?” The stretch had you bucking your hips onto Sam, gyrating along her teasing thrusts in and out. “Tell me how good it feels. How I make you feel so good.” Her honeyed voice taunting you. Begging you.

You envision Sam’s words to your heart. If only it were possible, you wouldn’t mind a single bit of carrying her child. After all, there are countless good qualities that your girlfriend beautifully possesses.

“You… you feel so fucking good against me,” A strained, throaty moan tumbled out of you. Sam hummed in your validation. “O-only you can have me- do me like this, Sammy…”

With your reassurance, came the rocking feeling of being so full again. Now Sam doesn’t move an inch, refusing to do so and determined to keep all of it plugged inside of you. You’re sure that she has moulded her entire cock out of your warm walls, stretched it out with no hesitation until it explored undiscovered spots from before.

To your shock, Sam flipped you again. It was insane how she recovered so quickly. Almost buck naked she sat now on the pool table and made you come up to ride her properly. She’s met with barely a resistance on your pussy as she easily shoved it up again with no trouble, moaning loudly and growling possessively as the curve of her length faintly made its outline known to your lower tummy’s skin.

“God you look so beautiful with my cock inside of you.” Her grunts were vivid as Sam’s white hot breath directly hit your ears. You feel your core gush more wetness, body all feverish, loving how she's also desperate and enjoying this much as you do.

She needs you. She admires you. Sam wants all of you.

You bounced helplessly and cried some more, to the point that your safeword dangerously hovered on the tip of your tongue. Until finally, Sam emptied out her fake cum inside of you – some of them dribbling down and smeared some more. Both of you were heavily breathing and Sam balanced your bodies – yours being slumped and weak against her, breathing ragged and eyelids heavy. You were fully spent and satisfied.

“So beautiful. Are you alright, mi amor?” Sam asked in pure concern. The lust on her eyes slowly dissipated, soft and only focused on your current state.

“Y-yes,”

Then a person barges in. You’re pretty sure that it’s a man who just squealed. He caught the sight of you and your girlfriend in a compromising position. You jump slightly and it was a bad idea, because one: you are naked, and two: Sam was still nestled deep inside of you. She also grunted at your accidental rocking.

Your stomach churned as you and Sam sober up quickly. Of course, you didn't like being seen like this if it weren’t only for Sam’s eyes to perceive you unashamedly. As expected, Sam hurriedly covered you first – fast and most as she can, at least. Your back was turned away from the man who entered the room, facing the wall.

Meanwhile, Sam had her chin tilted up, seemingly exasperated. If it weren't for your comforting touch on her forearm, she's sure of combusting in a messier manner, sporting the intimidating signature look on her demeanor. She almost looked unrecognizable with her cold and unamused gaze.

"I instructed you to knock three times." Sam quipped with a deep voice. “The receiver was also there, was it not? You could have buzzed in and waited outside.”

"Miss Loomis.. I- I- I did, I knocked before—”

Being in closer proximity to her, you felt some wetness gush out of your pussy. Blood rushed on your cheeks, as you made the previously pristine and high-end of a pool table now all messy and coated of your fluid. You caught a sliver of Sam’s defined hipbones and lines in her abdomen were prominent more than ever. She tucked her strap back as she pulled the cycling shorts up as quickly as she could. The room felt still for what feels like hours.

"And is that enough? I strictly told you to never enter, especially when I’m with my partner."

Sam had a scrutinizing look over him. She’s more than fucking pissed. The mob boss has never seen his face before. It must've been a new recruit. If it were any other mistake, maybe Sam would have spared him.

But no, he had to walk in while you were naked.

She bent down to reach underneath the pool table. She retrieves a gun. Your eyes widen but she hushes you, reassuring that everything is fine. although her eyes expressed the clear fuming with her jaw clenched, you gulped at the sight.

Sam scoffed, she hated being messy in front of you. For her, increases the likely of you leaving her. "Don't turn around." She orders you still with gentleness lace on her tone. "I mean it. Just… stay here."

Okay, you're more than fine with the sight.

Definitely so wet and turned on.

Sam moves and so does the man. Out of the room, you hear a few clicks and the cocking sound of the gun – the metal, spring, and unlocking of the weapon and you don't look further than that. And with the door slightly ajar, there's a loud sound that clearly indicates a shot. It's quick and followed with a heavy thud. A clear shot has been made. Your eyes widened. It rang your ears a little but it soon faded.

"What the hell was that?"

"He's a dumb one, a new recruit." Your girlfriend replied blankly. She fluidly moves around the room and reaches for her phone, eyes not leaving your naked body. "I need you to do some cleaning up- uh huh. in here, near the living room- second one, yes." Then she quickly hung up.

"I hate being interrupted. He had to ruin it. Almost saw you, too. I'm sorry baby, but I had to finish him off.”

Sam sighed and rubbed her temple. She wasn't a fan of losing control in front of her beloved. Although this one tested her greatly, feeling an immense protectiveness, she didn't like one bit having any of her men seeing you in this vulnerable and naked state. Prancing around normally as though your sight isn't engraved in their filthy little dimwit brains. Now she worried only about your reaction; knowing your initial response was to run away, same as you did after opening up to her even then. She always pulled you close—held you tighter—whenever you did.

She left a tender kiss behind your ear. You were immediately flooded with comfort. Her touch had a tendency to numb your worries down. It was familiar and gentle. Were you afraid? Surprisingly, you were not.

Out of all times you’ve seen her ‘lose’ it – was seemingly always out of making sure that you're safe, free from worries, gives you enough room as much as she can (knowing that Sam cannot resist invading your personal space) and has done anything to harm you in any way.

Sure, she just killed in front of you. But now, you can care less – knowing what your girlfriend’s nature and work entails. Besides, she has done it in your honor. In a twisted way, you interpreted it as a sign of her unwavering commitment to you; that you’ve always been a family to her – one that she plans on building one with, anyway. So instead, you reach to cradle Sam’s cheek and pressed a lingering kiss on her irresistible burgundy lips.

“You have me, always. Don’t worry.” You profess to her - a promise you intend to keep.

Sam grinned, visibly relaxing. Finally you fully understood her viewpoint.

Does it make you equally sick? Who the hell knows.

taglist: @not-alesha, @women-lover-kisser , @bluetreecloud20 , @danniackerman , @natsbraids , @melissabarreraswife , @bratydoll , @fantasylandbitch , @rocknr0ll , @mokotodenis123 , @deliriosinrose , @red1culous , @jennasoneanonly , @gaylorvader , @pixielovers2account **i can't tag others? :[

#gg.writes #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam loomis #lesbian #wlw #fanfic #au #scream vi

997 notes · View notes