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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— GIMME HALF

REQUEST : “hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap (legal obv) with female!reader × dean winchester where the reader is like in her 20s and dean's in his 40s :) just some rough smut with choking and hair pulling and spitting (if you're comfortable with it) and dean being like super "hungry" for her, like he's waited a long time for it to happen. also lots of dirty talks cause i absolutely love them hahah :) anyways im in love with your writing and all your stories! thanks a lot! <3” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x professor!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : miracle, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, enemies to lovers, age gap, voyeurism, smut, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, rough sex, spitting

WORD COUNT : 8.4k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — chair sex and food play. I wrote this half-asleep while listening to ASMR, like… that’s how I write most of my stories, plus, they’re always written between 00.00-02.40. Doctor Who references, ‘cause I’m a nerd. I got carried away…. Cliffhanger bc I’m cruel.

There were countless pros and cons to having houses built so close together with windows facing the same direction.

Pros: Accidentally seeing your hot neighbour walk around naked in the living room and kitchen. Accidentally catching your hot neighbour jerk off when they think that everyone’s asleep.

Yup, she’s seen all of that and more. All from that nameless, freckled, green-eyed man next door.

Even wholesome things, like him playing with his cute dog, babying the little rascal and spoiling it. Him cooking and baking, being wholeheartedly content with feeding it to the tall, Hazel-eyed puppy dog of a man, the tall man’s gorgeous deaf wife, and his tiny adorable son; the blue-eyed, dreamy dude in a trench coat; and that endearing young boy with blue eyes who looked like a combination of all three of the men.

There were times where she’d seen the green-eyed man dressed as a cowboy and even a princess to entertain the little baby boy—his nephew. For sleepovers with him, he’d read him bedtime stories while being completely animated. He’d build a bunch of forts, with sheets, the couch, pillows, and some Christmas lights. He'd talk to the little boy and hold serious conversations despite neither of them being able to understand each other. He’d teach the young boy and the baby boy how to fix cars—at least he tried to. He’d pack his best friends' lunches every morning with his hair unkempt, half asleep, while sipping on some coffee. He’d even take naps with the baby, treating him as his own son.

He’d do ridiculously endearing things, too, such as baking bread at night when he couldn’t sleep. He'd read books only when he was alone, as if he’d be made fun of by his friends, and she finally understood why. They were either romantic, erotic, or completely nerdy and abstract. He had range. He’d watch cheesy soap operas and rom-com k-dramas when he did chores. He loved to collect things such as Pokémon cards and even legos.

There were a million things he did that she thought were cute. The windows into his house were like the screens of a television, like her favourite character, she got to see him when he’s relaxed and surrounded only by those who love him

As for the cons, we’ll get to that…

When they first moved in, it was about three and a half years ago. She’d been visiting her family in Kansas City for her oldest brother’s birthday in June.

When she returned to Lebanon, they had already settled down. There was a brown and beige Ford pickup truck, a black Subaru—both parked in the front, and a sleek black Impala in the driveway.

The youngest, Jack, waved at her one day when he returned with Cas after buying groceries. Then, Cas awkwardly introduced himself and Jack, and gave her the names of the other two men who were brothers, Sam is the tall one and Dean was the freckled one.

Sam was the most social one. He’d spark up conversation with her whenever he saw her, dropping bits and pieces of information about himself, his brother, his fiancée, Cas, Jack, and Dean’s loyal dog, Miracle.

After seven months of living together, Sam moved out with his wife, Eileen. They’d just gotten married, and they both invited her. She’d gone, the wedding was pretty, cute, and modest. Y/n had spoken to a few of their close family and friends. Dean, however, kept to himself the whole night as if he were grieving. He’d smile occasionally if any of his friends came to him, he was enthusiastic, and then he'd go back into himself.

Four months later, Sam and EIleen returned; she was pregnant. It was a boy, he’d planned on naming him after his big brother, which Y/n thought was adorable. He hadn’t told his brother, but planned on telling him the day his son was born.

Y/n could tell Dean had mixed feelings about his brother’s departure, mostly negative feelings. He loved Eileen and his nephew. But when it was just him, Cas, and Jack, he'd often drink, despite concerned, useless interventions with Cas. Unless Sam, Eileen, and his nephew were there. He’d never even glance at that top-shelf cupboard.

The good thing was that at least Dean was a happy drunk.

The first time she interacted with Dean was a few weeks after she’d returned from Kansas City, she assumed two things: his heart was closed off to new people, and he’s one hot, irritating, grumpy, sour, old man.

It was the spring semester at Kansas University. Y/n was grading her students’ creative, personal essays in the office downstairs. She was perplexed by the small percentage of her students and their inability to use proper grammar or follow the thorough, detailed checklist she created to get them to pass easily.

Just when she thought she’d gotten great at making their lives easy, they return the shittiest, half-assed essays. She felt bad for the bad grades, but since the rest of her students managed to get perfect scores or at least proficient scores, she couldn’t just let them pass.

Loud banging on the door startled her from reading an impressive essay. Her blood ran cold and she scrambled up from her rolling chair, ignoring that she pushed it halfway across the room.

Her socked feet were quiet on the wooden floor, making her way quickly down the hallway until she got to the shelf where she kept her gun. She pressed it against the door and looked through the peephole, then relaxed when she saw Dean.

She was irritated by the loud knocking, though, regardless of how cute he looked when he was clearly pissed off. She opened the door and set the gun down on the table where she usually placed her keys.

“Lady, have you seen the mess you made outside?” Dean asked her, pointing behind him. She stared at him, stunned by how much prettier he looked up close. Her cheeks turned hot, but she looked past him trying to see whatever he was pointing at.

She looked at her red Mustang parked in the front as a reminder to restock the kitchen, then looked close to where his house was. She winced at the mud and the running water from her hose going into his nice lawn.

“Shit,” she murmured, toeing her socks off before moving past Dean to turn the hose off. She got distracted by the mud and the puddles as she pulled the hose, and coiled it back where it should have been. It’s been a while since she last let her bare feet feel this beneath, the smell of wet dirt was amazing, even when it wasn’t caused by rainfall.

“Do you always do shit like this?” He asked from behind, his tone harsh.

She frowned when she turned to look at his furious face, careful to not touch her forehead with her muddy hands when she used her wrist to move hair away from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, tilting her head at him. He just rolled his eyes at her, then he stared at his lawn, and ran his hand down his face. “Did I do somethin’ else to piss you off?” She asked, looking around to see if there’s anything else she may have forgotten.

“One, your cat’s too damn loud, crying and meowing for my damn dog when you let him out,” he started, which made her blink in confusion. She didn’t expect something like that to get on his nerves. “And B, why the hell do you have cameras facing my place?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, her ego being injured fueled her anger and defensiveness. “Okay, listen, Doctor Who, I said I was sorry, okay?” She could tell her words stunned him by the furrowing of his brows in bewilderment, disarming him and shutting him up. “It’s not my fault your dog likes my cat, too. And the cameras are off, they’re there to scare people, so fuck off,” she snapped before she stop herself.

Dean scoffed at her, “fuck you.” She rolled her eyes at him this time, staring daggers into his back when he turned around to get to his home.

“If you’d fuck me, maybe you wouldnt be such an asshole.” Her snide words made him freeze. He laughed dryly and he turned to face her once more, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Pretty sure I’d still hate you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, crossing his own arms. That stung, even if she didn’t know him personally and half the time she spent romanticising him based on the little bit of information she had. “And I’d rather go fuck some other chick.” She clenched her jaw and breathed in slowly, angry heat began rising up her neck the faster her heart started to beat.

Entirely unintended, she venomously spat, “according to your brother, you haven’t been lucky enough, and you’re not going to be.”

“You talking to my brother about my sex life?” He stepped closer to her, his nostril flaring in anger. Betrayal and hurt crossed his features and she realised her mistake.

“No, just overheard him ‘cause you’re an overbearing douchebag,” she lied smoothly. Truth was, Sam and Eileen did accidentally—drunkenly—tell her how hard it was for Dean to maintain a serious relationship for more than three months. They don’t remember sharing that information. It was easy for her to casually ask about Dean’s love life and availability, masking her attraction to Dean as mere surprise as to how the younger brother got married before the older one. “Makes sense now why no one will sleep with you,” she laughed mockingly, stepping closer to him defiantly.

His face was red now, too. Angry, offended, he rolled his eyes at her smug face and body language. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Sure, yeah, if that makes you feel better,” she snorted, patting his very nice, broad shoulder with her muddy hand as she made her back into her house. Preoccupied by the small mud-print on his beige Henley, he couldn’t get the last word in or stop her from leaving him flustered in her swampy driveway.

That was the start of a horrible relationship with her neighbour. The neighbour she had a crush on.

He found all kinds of reasons to complain. Big and small. And she secretly did things to piss him off, occasionally sabotaging his plans.

The thing was that deep down, she still liked him, but he made her so angry and frustrated. And it felt good to see him angry and frustrated by things she caused either on purpose or accidentally. Any attention was better than no attention.

Eventually, that all changed. The fun, the it’s-better-than-nothing feeling, it didn’t last. Fourteen months later, she stopped the cruel games and decided to avoid him completely.

When her friends offered to take her out, she agreed, even if she wanted to stay home. If Dean was home, she made sure to never say no to them, and sometimes she’d offer to take them out. Wherever.

She’d started to grade at the cafe, library, or the diner, even if Dean went to all those places often. At least he wouldn’t say anything there around all those people.

When she grew closer to Sam, Cas, and Jack, she’d find excuses not to go over to Dean’s when they offered either food, game nights, movie nights, or random hangouts. They started to notice too—the tension, the avoidance, the hostility—and they’d go over to her place instead, often without Dean, who’d choose to go out to avoid staying home alone.

It was awful. The rejection started to hurt, yet, he had her heart in the palm of his hand. Deep down, she knew that Dean wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like her.

Eventually, Dean ended his animosity, too, and everything went back to ‘normal’. She slowly started to reject offers from her friends to test the water, stayed home to grade, and didn't permit her cat to leave even if it cried for an escape. If she took him out, it was with a leash she eventually got him to get used to.

They ignored each other when they crossed paths—in the driveway, at the grocery store, at diners, at the cafe. They acted like complete strangers. She’d keep her curtains closed, at least she did for the windows that face his house. She made her presence as unnoticeable and as invisible as she could to prevent causing more damage to each other.

Then, about two months ago, on Halloween, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack went to her house to collect candy. Sam made a point of staying back while the rest of them walked to where Dean was waiting—looking anywhere but at her house—to convince her to go to his and Eileen’s place for Thanksgiving.

He was honest, cute, wide hazel eyes attempting to convince her to try and make amends with Dean. She didn’t doubt it, when he told her that Dean felt guilty, but her pride was bruised, and her heart was broken. She told Sam she would be visiting her own family for that holiday. She omitted that she’d be going to her mother’s house a few miles away, still in Lebanon. And she easily convinced her mother to let her stay the rest of the week until she had to go back to work.

Now, Christmas was near—in four days, to be exact. It wasn’t the holiday spirit that made her change her mind, it was the hurt and the exhaustion of planning her life around avoiding Dean.

So, she called Sam, she asked if he could do anything to get Dean alone tomorrow.

For the rest of the day, she would start to prepare everything—even though it was Dean who created the mess—she was willing to make the first move and hopefully meet him halfway.

She couldn’t lie that she felt embarrassed by how excited she was to see Dean. She couldn't even differentiate the meaning of the butterflies in her stomach, but she powered through her fluttering heart and her shaking hands as she prepared everything before going to see him.

She considered not doing it at all, calling it quits—but the consequences of that quickly made her miserable. That would just mean more avoidance, more hiding, more changing everything about herself to make him happy.

All of this over one little misunderstanding. One bad day where her mouth ran without consulting her brain first ruined what could have otherwise been a good friendship—perhaps even a romantic relationship.

She was twenty-six and just like Dean, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since… Well, ever. The last time someone convinced her to date them was in highschool, and even before that, it took her a month—or less—to figure out she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t like the people she dated. She realised quickly that she didn’t even want a future with them, she didn’t even allow them to kiss her or touch her. So she figured that if she didn’t want to marry them, what was the point of wasting her time?

For so long, the first thing she thought of when she felt attracted to someone was: can I stand the thought of their touch? Can I see myself kissing them, letting them kiss me? Can I stand the thought of the fights and staying with them through thick and thin? Can I picture myself with them in the future, permanently?

The answer was always ‘no’ and the attraction died immediately after the realisation.

With Dean, the answer was different. Not for some stupid reason, like fate, or the boy-next-door trope. No. This was reality, and the real reason was the fact that she got to see who he was before she was attracted to him.

It was the selflessness, the love in everything that he did, the gentleness of his heart, the kindness that radiated from him, and the ease in the way he did chores, the way he made his friends laugh, his playfulness, the loyalty, the way he was clearly protective.

It was the open windows of her house into his open windows that let her see through him, down to his very beautiful core. It was the lack of hidden things, the openness of his soul because he felt safe, unwatched. It was real because Cas, Jack, and Sam were proof that even though Dean wasn’t perfect, he was worth it.

The Doctor did say once: the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.

For the first time, she was willing to take a chance.

She smoothed down the silky emerald-green dress. It was pretty, flowing down her body perfectly, stopping at the middle of her calves…. Actually, now that she looked at herself in the mirror, her curls perfectly maintained, the light touch of makeup, the heels… was it too much?

She ignored those anxious thoughts and made sure she had everything she needed and everything that she prepared before stepping out into the cold.

The spaghetti straps didn’t stop the cold, but the heat of her nervousness at least did something as she walked up to his door and waited after knocking gently.

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see her.

“What?” He asked bluntly.

She could tell that the way she was dressed caught him off guard. His eyes moved from her face, up to her hair, back down to the boxes in her hands, and lower to her feet.

“I’ve got pie,” she said the first thing her mind thought of. Yes, it was blunt, yes, it disarmed him further… It was not smooth, but Dean looked behind him, and then he looked at her once more while biting his lip before opening the door wider, and stepping out of the way for her to enter.

She exhaled shakily as he scratched the back of his neck. Out of habit, she slipped out of her heels before stepping inside his home, planting her bare feet on the soft, long rug he had. He kindly, wordlessly, took her heels from outside and placed them on the shoe rack he had inside before shutting the door behind her.

She felt so… warm. Finally, she was inside the place she longed to be in. Right where Dean was. Along the walls there were dozens of pictures, but she didn’t go too far, she waited for him.

She felt his presence behind her and it made her shiver, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, she stared at photos of him with Cas, Sam, Jack, and other people she hadn’t met. Women and Men. Dean was smiling in all of them. And in a large majority of them, they were looking at him while he looked at the camera.

What a funny thing.

“Here,” he said from behind her, his deep voice sounded soft, gentle, unlike the last time they spoke to each other. It made her shudder. “Let me help.” She slowly braced herself when she turned around, staring into his beautiful green eyes, illuminated magically by Christmas lights.

“Thanks,” she whispered, carefully loosening her grip on the objects in her hand for him to take what he wanted—which was everything.

She stepped to the side when he murmured, “no problem,” and started to walk off to the kitchen. She followed him slowly, took a look around, respectfully, curiously, just when she heard the clicking of nails and the thump of paws on wooden floors, and the bark of his dog headed in their direction.

“Miracle,” Dean grunted, setting everything down on the table, “not inside.” While the fluffy dog did stop its excited running, his enthusiasm was not lost as he wagged his tail, and playfully got down on his stomach in front of her feet. Still on his belly, Miracle approached Y/n slowly, paws and tongue at her toes, as if testing the waters.

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she squatted slowly and laughed quietly, gently scratching Miracle’s head as he nudged her hand with his wet nose, staring up at her with adorably wide eyes—much like Sam did. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, her heart warming up when Miracle barked quietly.

He then jumped up and turned towards Dean, who was watching them—perplexed, happy, conflicted.

“You were asleep,” Dean scolded, but sweetly took Miracle’s head in his hands and kissed him between his ears. Miracle whined and stepped away, sitting in front of Dean as if saying ‘I’ll be good if you let me stay’. “Whatever,” Dean groaned with a smile, which made Miracle happy, because he laid his cheek on his paw and stared up at Dean, resting.

Now, it was awkward.

Dean caught her staring at him, her expression inquisitive. She cleared her throat awkwardly, but she couldn’t form words. She only now noticed that he was wearing a faded black shirt and hotdog pyjama pants.

“So…” Dean began instead, “pie.” It wasn’t any better, but it’s as she always said: it was better than nothing.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “strawberry… you weren’t getting ready for bed…?” She inquired, tipping her chin in the direction of his attire.

“Not to sleep,” he reassured her, taking a few steps toward the cupboards to pull out two plates, glass cups, and then some utensils from the lower drawer. “Why are you doing this?” Dean asked quietly from where he was across the kitchen, everything still in his hands.

“I deserve better that’s why,” she snapped. He blinked at her, guilty, but she paused and took a deeper breath. Careful to not smear her eyeliner, she rubbed her temples instead. She reached behind her to wrap her ankle around the leg of a chair to pull it out and sit down. “Sorry, I don’t like… being angry,” she breathed out, looking out his kitchen window into her dark living room. She switched the Christmas lights off. “It's very stressful because I…” She turned to look at him and forgot her words as he came closer.

He looked cuter in person and prettier, still. Three years and nothing has changed, he still had her heart right in his hand.

“Why?” He pressed, placing everything down on the table in front of her. Looking up at him felt intimidating, so she averted her gaze. He was much older than she was… it made her… feel dumb. See-through. Like he could figure her out in seconds.

“Because I’m friends with your friends,” she admitted without looking at him, then she reached out to arrange the plates, cups, and utensils. He sat down thoughtfully, and watched her unstack the small boxes she brought over.

“You’re doing this for them,” he laid out flatly, but he took a seat next to her and stared at her. His eyes on her made her self-conscious, flustered. She bet he could see everything, all the ugly and the weird in her.

“I’m doing this for me,” she corrected him gently, “I just want to be happy,” she sighed, removing the plastic wrap she placed over the pie she baked. “Is that selfish?” She wondered out loud, taking the knife, she stared at it.

“No,” Dean sighed, wrapping his hand around hers to take the knife. She inhaled sharply at the warmth of his touch, his calloused palms brushing against the back of her hand, sending warmth over her chest, pressing into her wrist with her heart excitedly pounding against her ribs.

She released the knife into his hold, trying to hide how much he affected her, but she doubted she could fully do that with the Christmas lights exposing the blush she could feel on her face. She could feel her veins pumping blood faster, caught up with the heavy beating of her heart. If he looked down at her neck, he could probably see it in her veins.

She looked away, down at Miracle who was still peacefully laying on his belly, and Dean looked away towards the beautiful pie to start slicing into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking her plate to give her the first slice. She looked up at Dean, taking the plate with a generous slice of strawberry pie.

“I wanted to be the first to say it…” She complained playfully, trying to maintain eye contact with him, but his beauty was intimidating, forcing her to look away, “soon as my ego stopped being sensitive,” she added.

Dean laughed softly, placing his own slice on his plate. The sound of his laugh made her smile, her stomach flipped with elation, at the crinkles by his eyes. Her breathy exhale made him look at her.

“Well, I’m forty-four, my ego’s been bruised enough times,” he told her, “I don’t care much for it when…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. She bit her lip, too, trying not to stare too long at his pretty mouth.

“Well, thanks,” she murmured, her jaw twitching as she looked away from him.

“I’d consider all this an apology,” he told her, gazing at her as she opened two rectangular boxes. She smiled, shaking her head. She pulled out a bottle of homemade eggnog along with a decorated jar filled with white frosting, and a small container with crushed peppermint candy. “This isn’t… poisoned, right?” He teased, still watching her while she opened the bottle of rum eggnog, she tilted her head at him, amused. “Just making sure… you did make all this…” he trailed off, impressed.

“Taste the pie,” she encouraged as she started making the drinks.

“You’re just trying to shut me up,” he chuckled gruffly, but he picked up his fork and started to dig in. The strawberry filling barely touched his tongue when he moaned, she watched him not even begin to chew. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, savouring the pie.

It made her blush, but she focused on covering the rim of the cups he brought with the whiskey frosting she made and the peppermint candy shavings before filling it with eggnog.

“You made the frosting, too?” He asked, tipping his head towards the jar. His mouth was full, some strawberry filling dripped down the corner of his mouth, but he picked it up with his tongue. She licked her lips, trying to stop herself from breathing airily, and passed him the eggnog with a nod and slid the jar of frosting towards him to serve herself some eggnog.

Dean dipped his finger into the frosting, collecting a large amount before wrapping his lips around his finger to suck the frosting off. She forced herself to look away from how hot he looked and ate her own slice of pie instead.

“I’ve seriously been missing out,” he murmured regretfully. “I was real childish,” he told her, “I never should’ve gotten pissed over… everything-”

“Dean,” she interrupted him, giving him a sheepish smile, “you already apologised and I forgive you. Besides, I did things, too.. on purpose… so, I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and took a sip from her eggnog, swiping her tongue along the sweet frosting.

“You did things on purpose?” He repeated, a smirk on his face. She breathed out a laugh and nodded bashfully. “Why?” he wondered, leaning into her curiously, subtly moving his plate of food towards her. She considered being blunt, but she chose to test him instead.

“Probably the same reason you got pissed at everything I did and didn’t do,” she laughed, pulling a piece of strawberry out of the pie to put it in her mouth.

“I doubt that,” Dean muttered, picking up his own drink, and taking a large gulp. She eyed him closely, her eyes becoming hooded when he licked across his lips after drinking to collect the thin layer of sweetened alcohol on his mouth.

“What was your reason then?” She wondered flirtatiously, her voice low and seductive. She pushed her plate away with her arm., and mimicked his body language, scooting forward in the chair.

She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his fork before he dropped it. She’d never quite been stared at that way before, but it suddenly—almost, made her laugh. Her legs felt weak, her stomach heavy, almost fooling her into thinking she couldn’t get up, but she did.

With a rapid heart and shaky knees, she pushed her chair back, and Miracle lifted his head in alarm. Dean leaned back in his chair, sliding his palms up his thighs, and watched hungrily as she lifted her dress up her legs, squeezing in front of him and part of the table to sit on his lap.

“Seems like we’ve both been missing out on a lot of stuff,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering for a variety of reasons, but mostly from excitement. He bit his lip, eyes twinkling as he placed his hands slowly on her thighs. She sank her teeth down on her lip, too, breathing heavily when his hands began sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress higher, and higher.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, continuing to move her dress up until his hands were wrapped around her hips where he could realise she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “I thought I should tell you, before I ruin you,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Fuck,” she moaned, moving forward in his lap until their hips were pressed together. She brought her hands into his hair, and pulled it gently, bringing her mouth close to his, but she never kissed him. She breathed against his lips and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she pulled back teasingly.

“You’re seriously gonna make me wait?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into her, his hard cock pressing into her wet core. She gasped softly against his mouth and laughed breathlessly.

“You feel good,” she praised, flushing as she ground against him harder.

“I’d feel better inside you,” he smirked, sliding one of his hands farther up her dress, his warm palm flattening up her stomach reverently, stopping beneath her breasts..

“I bet,” she moaned, arching into his touch before finally pressing her tinted lips against his. Dean moaned softly against her mouth, pressing against her hungrily, then lifted her up, carefully moving his plate and cup aside to lay her down on the table.

“Miracle, bed,” Dean ordered when he pulled away from her lips. The dog obediently stood up and excitedly made his way to where Dean’s room was. Dean kissed her once more, drawing her attention away from Miracle and back to him.

She’d never been kissed the way Dean kissed her or touched the way Dean touched her. His hands were everywhere, testing, learning, skillful. He scratched her skin sending sparks down to her already soaked core, kneading her body roughly until she moaned against his mouth. He squeezed her and made her wet. He dug his blunt nails into her and made her nerves ignite. His hands smoothed across her, sailing over her body like she were an ocean and he was a sailor.

He was desperate, devouring her mouth with his tongue and his teeth, putting his all into the kiss, licking her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth, brushing against her warm tongue. He yearned to memorise the taste of her mouth, to feel close to her, pressing and moaning against her the way he’d done when he ate the pie and frosting. He nibbled on her lips, tugging, biting, claiming, taking the air from her lungs and pulling away at the perfect time.

He rolled his hips into her frantically and finally started to move away from her now-swollen lips, the colour of her raspberry tint robbed and replaced by the redness of his kiss.

He dragged his teeth teasingly along her jaw and licked his way down her neck, pressing his stubbled face into her neck, kissing and sucking softly, searching. She rolled her head to the side, giving him all the access he needed, until finally, she moaned loudly when he sucked into her sweetspot. He smiled against her throat, feeling her take handfuls of his shirt, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath him.

He kissed lower still, then back up to the other side of her neck, and bit her collarbones, kissing every inch of her skin, her shoulders and her sternum. She loved every second of it and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, touching and scratching his skin, pulling him closer as he bucked into her bare core.

“Did you know your shirt was see-through when we first met?” He whispered into her cleavage. She laughed and replied with a breathless ‘no’. “Well.. your tits on display, legs bare in those tiny shorts, all pissed as hell… it was hot,” he chuckled, lowering the thin straps of her dress until the top started to reveal her breasts.

“Is that why you jerked off that night?” She asked, gripping his hair and tugging hard. He grunted and laughed, staring into her lustful eyes.

“You saw?” He teased, bringing his hand to her breast, squeezing roughly. “The answer’s yes.. And everytime after that, it was also ‘cause of you,” Dean confessed, “couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day and every night. I thought I hated you, but I guess I just needed to fuck you.”

She chuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body as he latched onto her nipple. She hummed softly, tugging hard at his hair, in complete bliss as he wrapped his mouth around the bud, licking, sucking, and biting until she whimpered for him to give her more—which was impossible. He moved onto her other breast, savouring her warm skin with his hotter mouth, tugging her neglected nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching.

“Please,” she moaned, yanking his hair so he’d pull away. Dean growled against her flesh and bit down hard on her breast, before pulling away, drawing a mewl from her of his name.

“You could be nicer,” he muttered, allowing her to lift his shirt up off his body, but he continued to kiss her breasts, sucking gently around the flesh to leave red marks. He lifted her feet up on the table and pressed her thighs close to her chest, opening her up to admire her soaked sex.

“We’re long past nice, pretty boy,” she teased blushing and biting her lip when he stood up straight. She didn’t look at him, too insecure to watch him as he brought his hand to the inside of her thighs, teasing her vulva.

“You think I’m pretty?” He grinned, circling her entrance, moaning at copious amounts of arousal on his fingers. “So wet… you that needy for my cock inside you?” He asked smugly.

She looked at him now, heat flooding up her face at his obscene words. Before she could say anything about it, the tattoo on his chest drew her attention away from the adorable pride on his face.

“You’re a hunter,” she stated, stunned, blinking at him with a smile. He looked down at himself then at her, speechless. She lifted her hips and hitched her dress up higher to reveal her ribcage where she had the same tattoo, twice as small.

“You’re a professor,” he remarked with arousal on his face, pushing his finger into her. He lowered himself down her body and wrapped his arm around her legs, holding her open as he breathed warmly against her wet cunt.

Before she could close her legs to him demurely, Dean dove in, his mouth hot on her pussy. He ate her out the same way he kissed her, teeth making her whimper, his tongue parting and tasting, picking up the flavour of her wetness as she moaned.

He salivated on her, humming in satisfaction while he sucked her clit into his mouth while he fingered her. Her hands found his hair once more, pulling hard and almost painfully, but his cock jumped each time inside the thin material of his pyjamas. Dean added a second finger as he moaned against her swollen clit, knuckles deep, pressing against the front of her textured walls, drawing silent moans from her, making her squirm more and more.

“Fuck,” she panted, “you’re so good,” she praised, flexing her hand above his head before gripping at the honey strands. He slurped lewdly, devouring her pussy, squeezing her hips desperately holding her close to his face while she pushed him harder against her cunt. “Dean… I’m close,” she moaned, closing her legs around his head.

He moaned again, adding another finger, shoving deep as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, drawing figures on her clit possessively. She gasped loudly and cried out his name, tensing up when she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on his three fingers. The rapture of her orgasm seemed endless as he continued to tongue at her clit, it made her writhe uncontrollably, and he smirked against her pussy.

Her whiny laugh and the way she squeezed his head to stop him made him chuckle, and he tapped her thigh once he pulled his fingers from within her pulsing walls. She released him, melting into the table while he licked his fingers clean of her release.

“You taste good,” he told her earnestly, “so fucking good.” She bit her lip, giving him a look of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to lick a long stripe up her pussy, then down, pushing his tongue past her clenching, wet hole.

“Dean, fucking…” she moaned, “oh, God, why does that feel good?” She snickered, then he pulled away hovering above her. She opened her eyes to his smug face, his clean fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly until she opened her mouth. She furrowed her brows, whining out with her hands around his wrist so he’d release, but she shut up when he spit in her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered, licking his lips. Her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes, the tangy taste of herself made her mouth water and she swallowed. “D’you know how hot you are?” He asked rhetorically, kissing her roughly once more, ravenous and stopped only when he felt her hands pushing his pants down his legs.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lip before returning the passion of his kiss.

“Where?” He asked teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist, he sat her up on the table and gently held her face in his hands, before releasing her to strip completely.

“I want you inside me,” she told him coquettishly, hopping off the table to slowly let her dress pool around her feet. “I want to ride you, to feel you stretch me open…” she walked towards him, watching him completely aroused, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, “I want you to fill me up, and make me cum on your cock…” she licked her lips, staring down at his cock, erect and leaking precum. “... I’ve never seen a dick this nice,” she told him, wrapping her hand around the base and stepping closer to him.

He grunted, “suck it then.” She laughed through her nose, releasing his cock to fondle his balls. He moaned, stumbling slightly. “I’ve been wanting to shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, a smirk on his face, “now, I’m just thinking how pretty you’ll look with your lips wrapped around me.” Dean reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck.

She looked behind him, removed her hand, and tipped her head to the chair, “sit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, kicking the chair towards him like she had earlier, then he sat, legs wide and tempting. “You’re sexier than you were in my imagination,” he told her, watching her get down between his legs, kissing his thighs while looking up at him through her curled lashes.

“Keep talkin’,” she grinned up at him, taking his heavy cock in her hand once more. Dean gave her a sexy look, smug and aroused.

“I wanna finish in your mouth,” he told her, “want to see you swallow my load.” Pleased, she moved forward and began kissing and licking the length of his cock, teasingly and experimentally feeling the velvety, veiny texture against her hand, tongue, and lips. “I want to hear you choke on my cock, and see what you look like with tears in your eyes as I fuck your pretty face.” She moaned softly, intrigued by the description of his fantasy.

She dipped her tongue into the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum, drooling over the soft head of his cock before sucking him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. She slowly took him deeper, pulling him out of her hot mouth teasingly, then swallowing inch by inch of his hard cock. “You’re so good at that, baby,” he panted, letting her take her time at her own pace, but he gripped her hair tightly. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, staring into her eyes as she continued to take his cock, bobbing her head, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, and he bucked his hips up, releasing a whispered curse, attempting to keep his eyes open to watch her suck him off.

She got comfortable between his legs, taking his freehand to put it in her hair. He took her hair, put it together, and waited for her permission before slowly lifting his hips, pushing his cock slowly into her throat. When she gagged, he slowly pulled back, then pushed back into her, lips parted, releasing quick breaths.

Eventually, he started to fuck her face in earnest, lifting his hip up off the chair, pulling her hair hard to guide her on and off his dick. Her spit dribbled down her chin in a mixture of his precum. She swallowed as much as she could, moaning and blinking tears that tickled her eyes and her jaw.

“You look so fucking…” he chocked on a moan, “so damn sexy.”

She ignored the soreness of her jaw, relaxing it as best as she could as he fucked her near mercilessly. Her pussy throbbed with every sound of his pleasure, clit aching for attention at the way he gazed down at her with burning desire, but she refused to touch herself, enjoying the build-up, the desperation for another orgasm, for his touch.

He throbbed in her mouth, turning to mush beneath her mouth. He even began to whimper and moan her name, praises and dirty words becoming scarce in attempts to hold back his orgasm, edging himself with her mouth. It didn’t take long for him to hold her with her nose against his pelvis breathlessly.

He pulled her off his cock, and released her hair to wipe tears tenderly from her hot cheeks with his thumbs, trying to get his mind off the near-pleasure of her mouth around his cock while catching his breath.

“Yummy,” she rasped, pulling a breathless laugh from him. She wiped her chin with her shoulder and smiled up at him, slowly getting up on her knees to get rid of the ache of sitting on her legs.

She got up, leaning back against the table, admiring him in his red, flushed, somewhat sweaty state. His hair was a mess from her hands and he had a blush around his neck to his ears. She knew the hardness of his body accounted for the fact that he was a hunter, as well as the scars she felt beneath her soft hands, bite marks, bullet wounds, and healed slashes.

“Come closer,” she told him and he laughed, bringing himself and the chair closer, stopping when she sat on his thighs, fixing herself over his strong thighs. “Gonna cum if I tease you?” She asked, tapping the head of his cock. It twitched instantly and he moaned.

“Depends,” he replied breathily, sliding his hands up her body. She hummed softly, spreading her legs, positioning his cock near her soppy folds.

“On what?” She cackled playfully, parting her folds with one hand, circling her clit with her fingers. He watched her lustfully, the wetness that made her pussy shine coated her fingers.

“How wet and warm you feel on my cock,” he replied truthfully. He grabbed her hand and moved it out of the way anyway, taking his cock to push it between her folds, pressing the tip against her clit.

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned softly, grasping his shoulders, “you feel… I need you,” she whimpered, rolling her hips along the length of his cock. He moaned with her, moving her hips closer to him, her wetness coating his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart…” Dean moaned, watching her lean back against the table, positioning the soft head of his cock to her entrance. Completely enthralled, he watched himself slip inside her, and she watched him, biting her lip hard in concentration, the stretch of her walls around him almost painful. “Fuck… I can feel how bad you need me… I need you just as bad,” he panted, flexing his hands on her thighs, desperately trying not to thrust up into her warmth. He dug his nails into her flesh, his head tipping back, his hips rolling up.

“Dean,” she moaned again, starting to lift herself up and down his cock, reaching up to cup her breast. “Shit, you feel amazing,” she breathed out, grinding her hips against his until he was fully inside her.

“You okay?” He asked, one of hands drifting up to knead her breast comfortingly. She nodded, buried her fingers in his hair and brought him in for a kiss as she bent her knees, and tucked her feet in between his thighs.

“I could cum like this,” she mumbled against his lips. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he shook his head, her pussy clenched at the sound and she started to lift herself up again.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, sucking on his lip momentarily. “I’ll make you cum so hard…” He paused to moan, thrusting up into her slowly, meeting her hip. “...you’ll never want to fuck anyone else,” he promised her, building up the pace of his thrusts until she stopped moving with him altogether, letting him fuck up into her needy cunt.

“You’ll only wanna be fucked by me,” he continued, watching her lean back with her elbow on the table, her hands roaming his warm body, “and I’ll be there, ready to fuck you hard.” He looked over her shoulder, at the jar of frosting. “Pounding into your sweet cunt,” he swore breathlessly, reaching behind her, dipping his fingers to gather frosting, “makin’ you beg, makin’ you impossibly wet.” He smeared frosting over her nipples, over her collarbone, her sternum, until he had no more while she moaned his name needily.

“Makin’ you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He gripped her hip with frosting-coated fingers, leaning forward to lick and suck the whiskey frosting from her body. “I’ll fill you up as many times as you want,” he vowed, smoothing her hand up her back, into her hair once more, pulling until she whined his name. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

Her pussy continued to gush over Dean’s cock the more he talked—his breathless, husky voice taking her over the edge. Each rough pull of her hair made her mewl and whimper as she rolled her hips desperately against his.

“Dean, please,” she whispered, scratching down his back, digging marks into his skin the harder and faster he thrusted into her. Loud skin slapping, the wet sound of her pussy being penetrated, with every push of his cock in and out of her, squelching and driving her crazy. She dug her nails into her palm, making obscene sounds that made her self-conscious.

“I’ll fuck you all over your house, all over mine.” Another moan of his name, another rough pull of her hair. “I’ll fuck you in my car, in your car, anywhere and all over town.” He pulled away from her sticky chest, licked his lips at the sight of her, so she screwed her eyes shut. She felt a warm pool of wetness on her pelvic bone, opened her eyes to him spitting between their bodies, watching his saliva drip down her folds to her clit.

She’d never heard of or experienced sex quite this raw and dirty.

“I’ll make you scream my name, make you forget how to talk, how to walk…” She leaned back into him, panting into his ear, keeping him close while rubbing her clit. He yanked her hair, forcing her to look at him.

“Dean…”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, closing his eyes, he breathed against her lips, “and I want you forever.”

As he promised, she cried out his name when she came, squeezing his cock hard, coating him in her release. He grunted her name, cursing loudly as he came inside her, his hot seed spurting into her, filling her as he said he would.

He circled his arms around her as she writhed once more, releasing her hair as she put her arms around his neck, panting and catching her breath until the pleasure subsided.

“I want all of that,” she murmured after a few moments of silence, kissing his cheek. He squeezed her and moved back, bewildered. He moved hair from her face and tilted his head at her, drawn to her nakedness, her flushed beauty. “First, I want to shower…” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off his lap, her legs shaky, her pussy releasing the mixture of their pleasure.

“That’s a good start,” he told her softly. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled when he stood up from the chair and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “No one’s coming home anytime soon… thanks to Sammy…” Dean trailed off, smoothing his hand over his head to fix his hair.

“Thanks to me,” she came clean with a shy smile, bringing his gaze up to hers. His eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly, tugging her towards him again by her arm, his lips pressing against hers.

➥ sempiternal

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toxicanonymity · 3 months

Text

The Raid, Part 2.

panty-dropping javi art by @bonezone44

8k words | dark!javi x f!reader x dark!steve | The Raid SUMMARY: Javi and his partner get you settled in. WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon (captivity & more), kidnapping, drugs, mild withdrawal, manhandling, sharing, degradation, praise, homoerotic tension, thigh fucking, somnophilia (javi), p in v (steve, but Javi's involved), orgasm denial, cumplay, size kink if you squint, mfm adjacent, hillbilly cock. Javi & Steve RECS: Lie Still by @milla-frenchy , Crossing Lines by @lunitawrites , Helping Hands and Polaroids by @clawdee , You can be the boss by @girlboybug . TY all!! A/N: Could've been 2 parts (4.4k/3.6k) so there's a divider (ty @cafekitsune) if you want 2 reads. Ty @debbiequinn for your sleep thot and @ghoulettesinspace for your styling thots. Tagged people who asked for part 2 at the end.

✨NEXT: Javi isn't home - Steve PWP.

The DEA has left the scene, aside from Javi and his tall, blonde partner. The partner managed to catch your (ex) boyfriend while Javi was “supervising” you. Javi has given his men a talking-to and told them you were never there. With a strong grip on your arm, he's dragged you to a Ford Bronco where he's now forcing you into the back seat.

"My shirt," you beg.

Javi shrugs mercilessly. "Should've put it on before you ran." He glances at your bra before beginning to shut the car door.

He and his partner talk outside the car. Javi stands with his hands tucked into the top of his vest. The taller man leans with one hand just above the back seat window and his other hand on his hip. He ducks down to look at you, but doesn't acknowledge you. He asks Javi, "You sure we need to be drivin' around with her half dressed?"

"What'd I say?”

The blonde agent holds his hands up in mock defense. “No Carrillo, no questions." He walks around front to the driver's seat. You have a better view of him once he's seated. He's strong, like Javi. He has a thick mustache, too.

Javi gets in the passenger seat and puts on a voice like he's teaching a class and would rather be anywhere else. He addresses you by name, then says, "This is Steve Murphy."

Steve nods in the rear view mirror, and your eyes meet. Then he turns on the engine and asks Javi, "safe house?"

Javi tilts his head back and smooths his mustache. “Mm,” he contemplates.

Steve offers, "I'll head to the closest one."

Javi answers, "No. My place."

"Yours?"

"Yeah, you know, the place I live? Right downstairs?"

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Alright." After a few moments of silence, Steve asks, "informant?"

"Eh," Javi ponders. "We'll see." He puts a cigarette in his mouth, then takes the cigarette lighter out of its socket and lights up. Javi reaches down to crank the window open a little more, then exhales, aiming the smoke outside. He asks, "We need to worry about Romeo?" as he hands the cigarette to Steve.

“Nah,” Steve replies as he accepts the cigarette. He looks at the tip of the filter and takes one puff before handing it back to Javi. Steve exhales out the window, then reaches back and puts his hand behind Javi's seat to put the car in reverse.

"Nah,” Steve repeats. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that dumbass. . .Told him we'd fuck her in front of him, know what he said?”

“What?” Javi asks, bemused.

“He said go ahead." You’re not surprised.

"Ouch," Javi pretends to sympathize, then looks back to check on you. "Sorry, sweetheart."

—-

Once they get you to the apartment, the first thing they do is take you to the bathroom. You have to walk through a bedroom to get there. In the middle of the bedroom, there's a bed with leather restraints. It makes your stomach turn to look at.

Steve’s eyes fixate on it and he asks Javi, "You kept this stuff?"

Javi retorts, "Where'd you think it went, the Salvation Army?”

Javi pauses to take off his tactical vest. “Let’s wash that place off her.”

“C’mon,” Steve gently urges you by the arm toward the bathroom. You go in the restroom and stand, awkwardly awaiting instructions. You lean your back against the wall and the handcuffs drag.

Steve plugs the drain and turns on the water. Javi walks in, takes out the keys and uncuffs you. Steve retires to the doorway and leans against it, tucking his hands into the top of his tactical vest and watching. He seems to take up the whole frame.

There's a toilet next to the bathtub/shower combo. Javi closes the lid and sits down, facing you, and manspreads in his tight jeans. His shirt is stained with sweat, and the glimmer of a gold chain catches your eye on his tan chest. Javi pats his thigh closest to the tub. You sit on his thigh, facing the door and Steve. Javi strokes your face, and you look down at the floor, cheeks warm, heart racing.

“It’s okay,” Javi tells you, “Vamos a ponerte limpia y lista para una vida nueva.” (We’re gonna get you clean and ready for a new life). He unclasps your bra and you let it fall off into your lap. Javi tosses it to Steve, saying, “Check the closet out there.”

Javi reaches over to feel the water, then rests his large hand between your shoulder blades. “Now take off your pants.” He gives you a gentle push out of his lap.

You stand again and remove your pants. Javi stays seated.

You’re cowering with your arms in front of you, but Javi beckons you with a hooked finger. You come to stand between his knees. He nudges your inner elbows and you let your arms fall out of the way.

“Good girl,” he mutters, not taking his eyes off your tits. His hands come to your chest without even a glance to your face. He lightly massages your breasts until both nipples are erect. He slots both his hands under your armpits and thumbs your nipples, then slides his palms down to your hips where he hooks his thumbs into your panties and keeps going, bringing them down to the floor.

Steve comes back from the closet and sets some clothes on the bathroom counter.

Javi looks over and tells him, “Keep Carillo off my back for a while.”

Steve nods and leaves. “Hasta luego!” he shouts with an American accent on his way out.

Javi chuckles and shakes his head.

Javi eyes the water level of the tub and turns off the faucet. “How do you feel?” he asks you with kind eyes.

“Fine,” you mutter without meeting his gaze.

He extends his hand for you, and you hold it for balance. You dip a toe in and it’s lukewarm. “Get in.” He nods toward the bath and you do. He takes off his shoes and socks and puts them outside the door, then cuffs his jeans.

“How’s the water?” He asks then reaches under the sink, and you watch his ass strain his pants as he gets a bath poof.

“Uh, good.” Your answer echoes off the tile.

He sits on the side of the tub and uses a light orange bar of soap to make some lather, then scrubs you. He holds you with one hand for leverage while he scrubs you with the other. He starts with your arms, and your neck. He's not gentle.

“Ow,” you mutter at one point.

“Ay, pobrecita” (poor little girl). “You're going to feel so clean,” he reassures you. He makes you lift your arms. Then each leg. The tub squeaks under you as you scoot forward. He scrubs your legs and between your thighs. He does your breasts and your back. His arm muscles flex with his effort. When he leans over you to reach your other side, his back muscles strain his shirt and his gold chain escapes from his collar, revealing a little cross on it.

“You’re bottoming out,” he mutters.

“Huh?”

“In life.” He pauses and makes sure you're looking at him as he explains this. “It’s a good thing. Know why?”

You stare at him vacantly.

“Once you hit rock bottom, you go back up.”

You look away, and your cheeks burn. You get it, he found you at a low point, he doesn’t have to rub it in. It doesn't feel great.

Javi washes your stomach and downward. He gets close to your intimate parts, but he's clinical about it. He gets you up on your knees and scrubs your bottom. He flattens his hand and slides the side of it down your crack, making you gasp with an unexpected rush of warmth to your core.

Your skin feels almost numb in some areas by the time he's done bathing you. Then he lathers a softer sponge and washes you more gently. He drains the tub and takes his time lazily rinsing you. When he's finished, he turns on the shower and tells you to make sure he got it all.

Once you’re squeaky clean, he dries you off with a pale, yellow, threadbare towel. He inspects the clothes on the counter. It’s a Hawaiian shirt much too large to be Javi’s. Some pants, too, but he only puts the Hawaiians shirt on you. You eye your underwear on the floor, but Javi bends down and snatches it up before you have the chance to collect it.

“I’ll start some laundry,” he offers.

—. . .----

Javi makes pork and beans for dinner. While you’re eating, someone jogs up the stairs outside. “Steve’s right upstairs,” Javi tells you. “Ever need anything and I’m not here, just yell.” He takes a bite of his beans. “He’s a better cook, too,” he smiles with his eyes.

During a quiet moment, you’re startled by the sound of a woman moaning from upstairs. You look up at the ceiling.

[ohhhh, she whines. give it to me.]

“Just a porno,” Javi tells you with a smirk.

“So,” He studies your face. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“You make it sound like my life is over.”

“No, there’s still time,” he shrugs.

You refuse to answer.

[upstairs, a man’s voice joins in. oh yeah, take it, baby.]

Javi tries, “Favorite color?”

You don’t answer that either.

[yeah, just like that]

“That’s okay,” he says. “We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other.”

“You can't keep me here forever, if that's what you're trying to do.”

Javi’s eyebrows knit in concern. "Oh, sweetheart.” With sad eyes, he asks, “You really think someone will report you missing?"

"I have a job," you protest.

“Oh,” he sounds fakely impressed. “Well. . . Be a good girl, and I'll get you a better one.”

Upstairs, a deeper, clearer voice sighs, “Ohh, fuck,” making you squeeze your thighs together. That has to be Steve. It sounds like him.

[Steve sighs and grunts over the faint sounds from the television.]

You bite your lip and look away.

Javi lowers his head and raises his eyebrows at you. He reaches for your face and smirks as he makes you look at him. “Like what ya hear?” Blood rushes to your face. He chuckles as he lowers his hand.

[A long groan from Steve.]

Oh, wow. You wonder if Javi will notice the wet spot under you. You take a deep breath. When you regain your focus, he’s studying your eyes with an amused sparkle in his. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he nods, then pats your cheek.

“He’s a good guy,” Javi adds, then looks upward in thought. He tilts his head back and forth as though debating himself. “Kind of.” He pushes a glass of water toward you. “Drink.”

—-

When it’s time to sleep, Javi takes you to the bedroom you walked through on the way in. He watches your face as you eye the bed with its restraints.

“You’ve been pretty good so far,” Javi muses. “Maybe we don’t need this yet.”

“Please,” you beg. “I promise I’ll behave.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Fine.”

“Alright, then. I’m not sure if you’ll like the other option much better, though.”

He brings you to his room and heads toward the closet, which rolls open with a four-panel door. you wouldn’t really mind sleeping in Javi’s bed with him, but that’s not what he has in mind. He pulls out an old futon mattress with a striped fitted blanket and throws it on the floor. “You can choose where to sleep, how’s that?”

“Here,” you answer without hesitation and he chuckles.

“Muy bien, pobrecita. But I *am* going to have to secure you.” He takes his handcuffs out and cuffs one to a radiator under the window. Then, with his foot, he pushes the futon mattress over to it.

“Really?” You ask. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“I believe you. But you need protection from yourself right now.”

His bed has plenty of room for both of you. He’s just being an ass.

Javi lets you watch television, sitting side by side with him on his sofa. He periodically looks at you skeptically, as though wondering if you’ll make a run for the door, but you don’t. It sure has been a long day. You yawn.

“Ready for bed?” Javi asks.

You nod.

There’s a knock at the door.

It’s Steve. He’s come by to drop off a couple of bags. One is from the grocery store. Javi steps into the breezeway to talk for a couple of minutes. When he comes back in, he brings the grocery bag to the table and puts the others aside. In the grocery bag, there are brand new toiletries for you, including a toothbrush.

Javi takes you to the bathroom and watches you while you brush your teeth, then he brings one of the other shopping bags into the bedroom. There’s a nightgown. The material is thin and it’s on the shorter side. Not exactly modest. Javi puts it on you, and at least it’s more comfortable than whomever’s shirt you were wearing.

He gives you a thin pillow and pats the mattress for you to lie down. He cuffs you to the radiator. Then he goes to another room and comes back with a blanket. He tucks you in.

“If you need to go to the bathroom or anything, just wake me up, okay?” He moves your wrist to clank the handcuffs on the radiator in demonstration. “I hope tonight won’t be bad, but you might start to feel sick, or get chills. That’s normal okay?”

You nod.

He pats your head affectionately and bids you goodnight. “Sweet dreams, mi pobrecita.” He goes to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. When he comes back in the room, you try not to watch him, but you hear him rustling around near the bed. You tilt your head up enough to steal a quick glance, and he’s taking off his shirt. He doesn’t get in his bed right away, but eventually you hear the mattress creak.

—--

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling a little queasy, but you’re unsure if it’s the circumstances, the beans, or the detox. You can’t tell if you’re hot or cold, but this sleeping arrangement is not doing you any favors. You don’t want to wake Javi up, but the night feels like it might last forever otherwise. You rattle the cuffs against the metal.

“Ay, pobrecita,” he whispers. “Okay, I’m coming.” He gets out of bed.

He approaches you, barefoot. As soon as he kneels down, he mutters, “Ay, cabrón” (oh, bastard) under his breath and returns to his nightstand for the key.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you when he comes back. He uncuffs you. As you sit up, he helps you with a warm hand on your back. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, of course,” Javi responds as if he didn’t handcuff you to a radiator.

As he helps you up from the floor, something brushes your thigh and makes you tingle. Your body knows what it is before you do. When you register what grazed your leg through his sleep shorts, your face heats up and the tingle turns into a throb. Javi walks you to his bathroom with one arm around you in case you have trouble. He takes you all the way to the toilet. “You good?” he asks.

“Yeah, do you mind if I?”

“Sure.” He backs up into the doorframe, but he doesn’t close it. You glance over, and he’s not hiding the massive tent in his shorts. He’s not shy about it at all. He’s also not trying to do anything about it. “Alright, I’ll be right here.” He closes the door halfway and stands outside. You sit there for a few minutes on the cool tile in front of the toilet. The urge to be sick has passed. He peeks his head in to check on you. “How about some water?”

“Okay,” you nod. He comes in and helps you up, hard-on still blazing. He takes an empty, upside-down glass from his clean bathroom counter, fills it up, and hands it to you. You’re aching at the silhouette of his length just casually standing at attention. It takes all your energy not to look right at his shorts.

“Good girl,” he gently palms the back of your head.

You try to look anywhere but down. You focus on his bare chest. His chain drapes over his collar bone and sits above his strong, golden pecs. There’s a light smattering of dark, soft hair. And then, lower, a happy trail. You yank your eyes away. You look at the counter: A brush, a comb. Maybe he does his mustache with that. You look at his hair. It’s messy, out of place. Bedhead looks good on him. He casually rakes his hand through it when he sees you looking. Your gaze drifts back to his body. It’s really a beautiful torso you’re looking at. Broad shoulders, strong arms, narrow waist. A hint of abs under the light padding of his flesh.

“You okay?” he asks with his puppy dog eyes, which gives you an idea.

“Yeah.” You look up at him, widen your eyes, and let your face fall.

He nods. “Back to bed?”

You hold your wrist as if it hurts from the cuff and nod sadly. You check his shorts in the corner of your eye–yeah, it’s still there, as commanding as ever. The tent bobs as he walks. He walks you back into the bedroom and pauses at your futon mattress on the floor. He reaches for your hand and holds it as his other thumb brushes the indentation on your wrist.

“You’re sure you don’t want the bed?” He nods toward the other room with the restraints.

“I’d love a bed, but no. That one’ll give me nightmares, I’m sure.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Are you asking to sleep in *my* bed?” His thumb continues to brush the indentation from the cuffs. His light touch gives you butterflies.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him and your hand joins his, on your wrist. His thumb freezes. Your fingers rest lightly on top of his. “I guess I’m okay down there.” You glance at the mattress on the floor.

His bare chest rises with a deep breath. “You’re being such a good girl,” he marvels with your hand on his. “Come on. It’s okay.” He guides you to his bed and pauses when you’re right in front of it. He faces you and puts his hands on your shoulders. He dips his head and his tone darkens. “But if you leave this bed, things are going to change here,” he warns. “And you’re not going to like it.” He shakes his head. The gentleness of his voice and the look on his face sends a chill down your spine.

Javi gets into his bed, under the covers. He lays on his side and makes room for you, albeit not much. “I still have to restrain you,” he informs you as you lie down. “Do you want the cuffs or my arm?”

“Your arm.”

“Good girl.” He extends one arm and raises the other, making room for you.

You scoot back against him, mentally bracing yourself for what awaits under the covers. You're already twitching before you feel it. He inhales sharply as the hardness in his shorts hits you. With a hand on your lower abdomen, he pulls you into him, and his stiff length presses against you.

“I’m sure that’s not going to bother you, is it?” he asks and your breath hitches. You shake your head just barely on the off chance he wanted a real answer. But it is, it's going to bother you as long as he won't put it in you. You’re human, you can’t help it. He’s a bad person but you can only imagine what a good lay. He curls his strong, lean body around you like a big spoon, and he nestles the warm rod in his shorts against your crack.

One bicep is under your neck. His other arm settles over your waist. You don’t need to test his strength to know his arm is solid. Heavy. There’s no escaping as long as he holds this position.

He inhales your hair, and the hand in front of you cups your breast through your thin nightgown. He slowly palms your breast, and lightly grinds against you. You can’t help but push back on him. The shape of his arousal against you makes you salivate.

He whispers just above your ear. “Sure do love cock, don’t you?”

As he thrusts against you at a slow, steady rhythm, his hand slides off your breast, down your gown, sliding over your stomach and down to the fleshy triangle where your thighs meet. His hand stays flat. He doesn’t dig between your legs. He gently presses your mound, bringing you back against him harder as his cock throbs even harder against you.

“That can be a good thing for recovery,” he offers. “You need something to replace that high.”

He thrusts against you slower, lighter. It’s excruiating. “Mmm.” He begins to gather the nightgown’s fabric into a fist, raising the hem of the gown and exposing more of you to the air between the sheets. No underwear.

His hand rests on the bare skin of your lower abdomen, then slides down just low enough that his middle finger can tease your most sensitive place. He slides further down until his middle finger reaches the pool between your legs and he growls almost silently. He begins to move his fingers between your legs. Slowly, expertly, leaving his thumb and pinky braced on your front. The movement is just enough to drive you crazy. His index and middle fingers slide through your dripping folds and apply pressure to your swollen bud, moving to the rhythm of his gentle thrusts against your crack.

“Mm,” your moan is barely audible.

“Ohh, I know,” Javi coos reassuringly. “I know.” He ruts against you slowly. He sighs as he moves against you. The heft of his arousal pushing against both asscheeks makes you weak. If only he’d just stuff your pussy. You can hardly stand it. He must feel you gush on his fingers. “Oh, yeah,” he whispers into your hair. His throbbing erection grinds against you. His hand leaves your cunt and you feel cold, exposed. He pulls down the waistband of his shorts, then his hand–wet fingers and all–slightly lifts your thigh, making your heart skip a beat.

He wedges his naked cock between your thighs, right against your cunt, and you gasp. His swollen tip glides through your wetness and you moan, “Ohh.” He slowly slides forward and back through the warm, wet pocket made by your thighs and cunt. You push back against him. “Mm,” he grunts softly as his tip reaches your clit.

His hand returns to your breast. He massages your breast as his cock keeps sliding between your thighs and nudging your sensitive bud just right. “Javi,” you whisper. “Please.” His cock hesitates at your entrance, and you tilt your hips.

“Not today, sweetheart.”

With a small thrust, he bypasses your wet little hole again.

Then he stops moving. You push your ass back into him, and he does nothing but tighten his arm over you. He cradles your breast gently. You’re throbbing, aching to have him inside you. It feels like an eternity you’re lying like this with his arousal throbbing against your naked heat. You begin to feel a chill again and reach for the blanket to wrap yourself tighter. He helps you, then murmurs. “Good night” into your hair.

The comfort of his arms and rhythm of his breath lulls you to sleep sooner than you expect.

—-...------

Just after daybreak, you awake to the sound of Javi breathing heavily as his cock slides against your wet cunt again. Your chest is hot and fluttering. He’s aggressively groping one breast, then shifts to the other with a grunt and harsh thrust. Your body shifts as you wake up. He pants, “Morning sunshine,” and you push your ass back against him.

“Was I good?” you ask.

“Ohh,” he moans, “You were good.”

His hand comes between your legs and you gasp at the pressure of his thick fingers on your clit. He doesn’t move them, just rests his hand there, then asks “Would you like to cum?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” you whine as his cock glides against you.

He slows way down. “Because I’m only giving you one today. You sure you want it already?”

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“It’s not even seven a.m.”

“Please, Javi.”

He begins to move his thick fingers, and it doesn’t take long at all before you’re seeing stars.

“Ohh,” you moan as the waves of pleasure begin to overtake you. Your body spasms, and your walls clench around nothing.

“Mmmm, mi putita. . .por supuesto ahorita” (My little slut. Of course right now), Javi purrs into your hair. “That’s the–ohhh–thing with addicts,” he pants as he chases his own orgasm. “You want everything right–mmm—now–ohhhh.” As Javi begins to cum, he moves his hand from your clit to his cock. His cock pulses against you, and it’s too easy to imagine it inside you. He cups his hand and seals it over his tip and your front. He slowly thrusts as he cums. He slides against you, coating your folds and clit with his warm spend as your own climax fades.

When Javi is empty, he withdraws his cock, but keeps his hand in place. He rubs his spend over your oversensitive parts, making you flinch and moan.

“Ohh, I know it sweetheart.”

A thick digit breaches your entrance, pushing some cum into you, and he sighs.

“One day, pobrecita. One day.” He adds another finger. “Voy a llenar esta concha con leche” (I’m gonna fill this pastry/cunt with milk/cum).

Your first morning waking up at Javi’s place, he lets you sit at the kitchen counter and watch him make huevos rancheros and cactus.

Over breakfast, he asks, “What do you like to do?”

You shrug.

“Because getting high replaced all your hobbies,” he concludes.

“That's not true.”

“It's not? Then what do you do? Draw? Write? Do you read?”

You scoff. “Yes, I read,” you say with an eye roll and can’t help but add, “Did kidnapping replace all your hobbies?”

There's an instant surge of regret in your chest, but Javi chuckles and lets it slide. “What kind of books? I could pick one up for you.”

You swallow, rest your fork, and ask, “really?”

“Sure,” He nods.

“Okay. Maybe a mystery,” you offer, only because you know you'll need the distraction.

“Good,” he nods. “A mystery.”

Later that day, Javi has to go into the office. He leaves a glass of water for you, a bucket just in case, and he cuffs you to the radiator. He reassures you Steve will come check on you as soon as he gets home. You try your best to get comfortable on the futon mattress.

As soon as Javi leaves, things go somewhat downhill. You have a headache, then your stomach begins to bother you, and the handcuffs are driving you crazy. You’re anxious. You're horny. You’re cold. Why are you horny? After about an hour, you rattle the cuffs on the radiator. When nothing happens, you yell for Steve, then hear movement upstairs.

When Steve comes into Javi’s apartment, you hear him open the door, but it doesn’t sound like it shuts all the way. His footsteps are loud as they approach through the living room. Steve unlocks Javi’s bedroom and pauses in the doorframe. “There she is.” He rests his hands on the top of the doorframe and leans forward, stretching his back as he takes in the scene. “Damn,” he mutters. “You alright?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, darlin’.” He digs into Javi’s nightstand for the key. “Hold on.” He comes over and crouches down on the floor. He smells like cigarettes, and he must smoke the same brand as Javi.

You're mildly surprised by the way your body reacts to Steve’s proximity. You squeeze your legs together, self conscious that you’re gushing. The day before, you were so focused on Javi that you didn’t think much of Steve at the time. But after overhearing him jack off. . .There’s something about hearing a man make those primal noises. It changes his whole face, his whole presence in your eyes.

“C’mere,” Steve offers and extends his massive hands, looming over you. You sit up on your knees, careful not to expose yourself with no panties. He slots his hands under your arms and helps you to your feet. He checks you out and raises an eyebrow. You wonder if he can see through your nightgown. “He’s still got ya in your PJs, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s alright.”

“Looks good on ya, anyway.”

Steve ushers you to the restroom and waits outside. You’re starting to feel a little better already, just having someone around again. His presence distracts your body from its woes.

When you’re out of the restroom, Steve asks if you need anything else. You ask for a glass of juice. He brings you to the kitchen to get some. The sound of children playing outside echoes from the breezeway and you notice the door isn’t shut flush. Before you can really think about it, you begin to walk toward the door, heart pounding. You’re barefoot, and realistically, you’re not going to try to flee, but you want to know you could. You’re not running, you’re walking slowly, curiously as though pulled by a weak magnet toward a chance at freedom.

Steve crosses the room in two strides and steps right into your path. His massive arm wraps around you, halting you dead in your tracks. “Wouldn't do that.” His face is stone. Instinctively, you begin to struggle, not to escape, but to get out of his strong grip. His body overwhelms yours.

His arm tightens, and you whine, “Ow.”

He shakes you once, then loosens his grip. He brings his mouth to your hair and lowers his voice. “Don't make me hurt ya, sugar.” He wraps his arm around your middle and begins to drag you toward the bedroom with the creepy bed. He wrangles you over to the bed with the straps. You don’t resist much, but he’s rough with you anyway.

“Okay, okay,” you tell him. “I’m sorry.”

He throws you down on the bed and pins you with his weight, then begins to strap you in, limb by limb. Your heart is racing. But you don’t feel sick at all anymore. All you feel is the rush.

“Ya know, I should tell Agent Peña ‘bout this,” Steve mutters as he buckles your wrist.

“No, don’t. Tell him I was good. Please. I wasn’t trying to do anything.”

“Yeah, alright. We’ll see.” The bed is probably full sized. Wider than a twin. The leg restraints are spaced out enough that you feel like you’re spread eagle.

Once you’re all strapped down, Steve slowly paces next to the bed looking at you like a piece of meat.

He asks, “True you were beggin’ for cock?”

“No,” you answer as a gut reaction.

“Ya weren't? Huh. Peña’s a liar?”

“He–he got me all worked up on purpose.”

Steve freezes near the foot of the bed and cracks a smile. “So it is true. . .Hmm.” He tilts his head contemplatively. “How'd he do that? Get ya all worked up.” He dangles his fingers to graze your bare ankle. Then he walks back up toward your head, dragging his fingertips over your shin. His fingers lightly circles your kneec twice, then continue up your thigh. He pauses and strokes an abstract pattern on your inner thigh.

You don’t answer him. You don’t have to. He’s already having an effect on you.

“Well, don't worry. I'm not gonna hold out on ya. Want somethin’ from me, sugar? Just ask.”

“Thanks.”

“It's ok, baby.” He lowers his voice. “Really don't mind one bit.” He looks at you hungrily and wets his lips. His fingers get closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. When his fingers graze your outer lip, he peeks under the gown. “He left the door open for me. That was nice,” Steve smiles. “Said ya got a gorgeous pussy, too.” Your legs tense, and his hand returns to your thigh. “Nothin’ to be afraid of, darlin’.”

The leather that’s holding you down is what scares you. It’s the most unsettling feeling.

Steve adjusts himself, and when you follow his hand, you can't pull your eyes away from the bulge in his pants. Wow. He doesn't wear his pants nearly as tight on his ass as Javi, so you hadn't even thought about Steve’s dick. Now it's all you can think about. You're studying the shape his pants are struggling to contain. Never would’ve thought. And, balls. You’re pretty sure he’s got big balls. You wet your lips and realize you're staring.

“Attagirl,” he mutters. “See, that's where my partner and I have different philosophies,” Steve explains. “I could care less if you're drunk, high, outta your mind.” The hand on your thigh slides all the way up to where your thigh meets your torso. “Good pussy’s good pussy.” He traces the crease, right next to your outer lips, and his light touch makes you tingle. “I think a pretty girl deserves all the dick she wants.” He sighs, then raises his eyebrows. “And then some,” he says with a short nod.

“His heart’s in the right place,” Steve says unconvincingly. “Hurts though, don’t it?” He pouts at you as he keeps tracing the crease of your inner thigh. “Never met a whore he didn’t fuck. . .n’ can’t be bothered to give ya just an inch.

He follows your eyes back to his crotch and chuckles darkly. “Boy, you got your eye on the prize, don't ya?” He looks down at himself.

“Mmm,” he grunts when he meets your eyes again. The humor is gone from his face.

He looks at the leather strap around your arm. “I’ll take mercy on ya,” he mutters and takes his hand out from between your legs. He pauses with his hands on the strap. “Gonna be good for me?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

He unbuckles the strap. The metal of the buckle flicks against your inner arm. You don’t move your arm, making good on your promise to be good. Then the mattress creaks and groans as he gets up on the bed with you. He straddles one of your knees and leans forward, bracing his right hand on the mattress near your torso. His left hand returns between your legs. This time, he goes straight for your cunt. He smiles when he feels how wet you are. He lightly rubs you, teasing your dripping folds up and down. He falls into a trance. He gathers your slick and brings it to your clit. He scoots up on the bed so his head is above yours and his crotch is at your hip. He looks into your eyes as he circles your most sensitive spot. A knot is already forming in your stomach, making your pelvis lift into his hand. He wets his bottom lip, then bites it as he adds more pressure. Then speed. Your mouth falls open and a moan slips out.

His lips form a small ‘o’. “Ooh,” he marvels. “Oh, you’re a real sweet thing, I can tell.” His fingertips slide down, and one of them teases your entrance, making an audible, rhythmic smacking sound. Then he slowly pushes the finger inside. His eyes roll up toward the ceiling, and his head tilts up too. You watch his neck veins. There’s some faded tattoo ink barely visible on his chest, poking up from his collar when the angle is right. He presses his hard bulge against your hip and you gasp with a bolt of arousal.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and you moan. “Yeah, ya want that, don’t ya?” He gives you another slow thrust against the hip. “You want it right here.” He pushes another finger into you. “Ohh, yeah.” His upper palm massages your clit as his fingers pump into you.

“You’ll get it, don’t worry.” You twitch at the thought. “But you’re gonna cum on these fingers first. Hear me?”

You nod and take a deep breath. Your back arches. You reach for his pants.

“There ya go,” he nods as if that’s why he unbuckled you in the first place. “Ohh, you’re gonna go wild.”

You grab his bulge–it’s more than a handful–and massage him through his pants.

“Mmm. Yeah,” he whispers. Your nipples harden with his practiced touch, and you sigh, unable to take any more tension. His fingers curl inside you and he whispers, “C’mon, now.” The deep whisper is enough.

“Ohh,” you moan. He nods in encouragement and his upper palm bears down on your clit. You close your eyes and let yourself unravel. Your spasming walls squeeze and soak his fingers.

“Yeahh, attagirl.”

As your climax fades, he withdraws his fingers and feverishly unbuckles his belt. You throb in anticipation. It won't take much to tease another one out of you. Your core twitches as he shoves down his briefs and his thick cock springs free, taking your breath away. He gets between your legs and holds his stiff manhood loosely as he lines himself up. He shakes it heavily up and down, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. Oh, God it feels so–you’re already about to–

–Steve hesitates.

In the driveway, a car pulls up and stops.

Steve stops what he’s doing. “Alright, let's see what the boss wants,” he says with an air of inconvenience as he tucks his erection into his briefs.

“Thought you were partners,” you say and hope you don't sound too disappointed.

“On paper, sure. “ He buttons and zips up his pants. “On paper I'm a good cop, too,” he winks.

Steve pats your cheek and says, “hang in there.” He gets off the bed, then leans in close and whispers, “give it to ya next chance I get. . .skip the preamble, how's that?”

You bite your lip. Just as the front door begins to unlock, Steve sits down in a chair next to the bed, with his hands clasped in his lap.

—--

Javi opens the door.

“All good at the office?” Steve asks.

“All good,” Javi reports, and he surveys you with his eyes as he approaches. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh, she just wanted a change of scenery,” Steve reports, mercifully. Javi looks at him skeptically for a moment, then shrugs it off.

“How are you feeling?” Javi asks you with a hand on his hip and a serious look. He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you and Steve, who’s on the same side.

“Okay,” you reply.

Javi clenches his jaw and furrows his brow. His hand frames your jaw and he looks at your eyes. Then he lets go of you.

"Good," Javi nods. Then squints and asks, "He touch you?"

You look at Steve. Steve raises his eyebrows curiously. He doesn't deny touching you, but his face also doesn't give you any clues about the right answer. He’s sitting in amused suspense. Javi raises his eyebrows at you like a challenge, waiting on you to speak. You look at Steve again, and Steve winks. Unsure what it means, you begin to slowly shake your head no.

Javi clenches his jaw and his eyes narrow. His head whips to Steve and he asks, "Why not?"

Steve sighs and uncrosses his arms. He extends his hand to Javi. Javi brings Steve's hand to his nose, takes a whiff of his fingers, and cracks a smile. "Don't lie to me, putita." Javi closes his eyes, draws in your scent again, then opens his eyes and mouth as he brings Steve's middle and index fingers to his lips. Javi locks eyes with you as he tastes you on Steve's fingers. Your heart races. You failed whatever test this was.

Javi drops Steve's hand and brings his own hand to cup your jaw. "Pobrecita. . ." His hand dwarfs your face. "What’s the matter? Te confunde?” (It confuses you)

You nod, and your voice is small. "You said it's yours."

"What's mine?"

You look down at yourself and swallow. "My body?"

Javi nods. "Say it."

Your eyes settle on what you can see of his gold chain under his shirt. "This pussy is yours."

"That's right," Javi nods condescendingly. "Good girl." He brings his hand from your cheek to your thigh and squeezes it. He nods toward Steve and says, "con mi permiso" (with my permission). "Still confused?"

You shake your head.

“That's all he did? Touch you?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

Javi addresses Steve. "Alright, c’mon.” He beckons him, and Steve stands up with his hands still clasped in front of himself.

“Show her your cock.”

Steve undoes his pants again. He slides them down over the bulge of his still-hard cock, then pauses.

“Pants off,” Javi adds matter-of-factly. Steve sits back down to unlace his shoes, then takes them off. He pulls off his pants, and he's left wearing black socks and white briefs with a red and blue stripe around the waistband. Thigh muscles are massive.

“Good news for you, putita.” Javi nods toward Steve. “This one’ll fuck anything.” Your cheeks heat up and Steve shakes his head in amusement at Javi.

“Says the guy who has his own room at a brothel.”

Javi looks at your body hungrily and crosses his arms. “Give it to her,” he mutters without looking at Steve.

When Steve stands up, Javi takes his place, manspreading with his hands tucked under his arms, straining his short-sleeve button-up.

Steve mounts the bed again, putting himself between your legs. He pulls his briefs down under his balls, and you let out a little gasp. His cock is even more engorged than it was before. It’s so thick, and the veins are beautiful. He looks even bigger than Javi, but it might be an effect of his lighter, finer pubic hair. He braces a hand on the mattress again, hovering over you.

You glance at Javi and he's watching intently as Steve lines up his cock between your legs. The touch of his tip at your dripping hole makes you shiver in arousal and your nipples pucker. Steve smiles to himself under his mustache. He notches his tip half inside your entrance, then looks at Javi.

Javi makes a subtle beckoning motion with one hand, and Steve begins to push into you. You gasp as his girth begins to spread you open. He pushes further, and you whimper.

Javi scoots closer and lays a big, warm hand on your tied-down arm. You look at him and he reassures you, “You can take it, I promise.”

Then, Steve plunges to the hilt, dividing your insides with a loud grunt. You moan and lock eyes with him as he looks up at you darkly. Your body rushes to accommodate the heft of him inside you.

“Good girl,” Javi mutters to himself with his eyes fixed where your bodies are joined.

Steve withdraws most of his length, then Javi raises his palm in a stop motion and Steve freezes, biting his lips together. Javi stands up, and walks toward Steve for a better point of view.

“Go,” Javi mutters, crossing his arms again. There's a bulge growing in Javi’s restrictive jeans, and he's not doing anything about it.

Steve pushes into you again, making you moan. He pauses for only an instant before backing out again, and right away he’s pushing back in. “Fuck,” he mutters as his thick cock disappears into your hole once more.

“How is it?” Javi asks him. “Juicy, right?”

“Nngh–yeah,” Steve answers as he brings his hips back, then slams into you harder and his balls slap against you. “Goddamn,” Steve mutters. “Tighter than ya’d think.”

“Hm,” Javi hums with a straight face, then raises his eyes to meet yours. “He's gonna break you in for me.” He looks at Steve's cock sliding out of you then at Steve's face, twisted with arousal. “Right, partner?”

“Goddamn right,” Steve breathes. He ramps up to a steady rhythm, fucking you gradually harder until the force is pushing you up on the bed.

“Hold on,” Javi mutters and the vein on Steve's forehead swells with effort as he stops with only his tip inside. Steve wets his lips and rubs them together. Javi tightens the restraints to hold you steady. While Javi is is busy with that, Steve rocks ever so slightly into you, moving less than an inch forward and back. It’s so subtle it could be an accident, but it must provide relief because he moans quietly. At the sound of his noise and the look of his face, you whimper and your cunt spasms once.

“Nngh,” Steve reacts.

“Okay,” Javi announces, then stands so he can roughly see things from Steve’s point of view again. Steve resumes with a slow, careful pace.

Javi wets his lips as he watches your cunt swallow Steve's cock. Steve's cock pulls at your pussy each time it withdraws, and the sight seems to darken Javi’s eyes with lust. You twitch again.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, then looks over his shoulder “Can I?”

“Don't let her come on your cock,” Javi answers.”

Hearing Javi talk about Steve’s cock is almost enough to do it.

Steve sighs and looks at the ceiling, in an almost eye-roll. His arms strain his shirt. His sweat wafts toward you and makes your knees weak. He draws in a deep breath as he slowly pushes in again.

You imagine if the situation was different, if you were just some slut they picked up at a bar, how much fun you could have with the two of them.

You twitch around him, and he pulls out in a hurry. “Sorry darlin’,” he mumbles. He sits back on his knees and pumps himself. “Where do you want it,” he asks, staring at your body.

“Uh,” you stammer, then realize he's not asking you.

Javi pulls the gown down under your tits. Steve strokes himself faster until his breath gets uneven. He pauses, scoots up your body to straddle your middle, then resumes. You admire his balls as his fist slides up and down his shaft. His hand is so large, yet it doesn’t dwarf his cock.

Steve’s eyes narrow at your tits. He pumps himself faster and his mouth drifts open until he points his cock at your chest and moans, “Ohhh—ohhhh, fuck,” painting your tits with his cum. Your nipples sharpen as the warm spend spreads. As the last of his cum dribbles out, Steve sighs.

“Good,” Javi mutters, then comes up toward the head of the bed again. Steve tucks his softening cock away and gets off the bed. He reaches down to the floor to get a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his jeans. Then he pulls the chair toward the foot of the bed, and manspreads in his briefs to watch Javi.

Javi dips two fingers into Steve’s cum on your chest. He spreads it around slowly. He circles each of your nipples until they’re painfully erect.

Javi swipes up a bit of cum from between your breasts and brings his fingers to your lips. You take his thick digits into your mouth and taste the salt of Steve’s seed. Then you gently suck. Javi gets you to clean both fingers, one at a time, then he licks them himself.

Javi brushes your temple with his thumb. “Let’s hope this is rock bottom.”

—---

Thank you so much for reading. To help with the next ones, I would love to know what you liked most about it, and your thots are welcome, too 🖤

tagging people who asked for part 2 🖤

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ohheypedrito @weddingfairy @neobanguniberse @ladyscarlettdixon @zliteraturehoe @planet-marz1

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elishevart · 2 years

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Two sketches for the price of one! Dragon Ford and his son eating pumpkins and sleeping together! Hope you all like!

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

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Best Secret Santa - The Grid x Driver Reader Part 2

Plot: in which everyone wants to have Y/N as their secret Santa because she is the best gift giver and never fails to make peoples day going above and beyond for it!

A/N: A Part 2 was heavily requested! I know it's very far from Christmas but still vibes :)

Credit to f1-stuff for the GIF

2024

You smile happily at the camera messing with Max and his cap changing the angle that it was sat on his head.

"So we've got you and Max opening your gifts together this time because of scheduling struggles etc. What an amazing year it has been for Red Bull again. P1 for Y/N the first woman in motorsport to be a World Champion and P3 for you Max. Amazing year, amazing team mates and we look forward to having you together for the next few years!" she smiles and you both nod, Max indicates for you to talk first and you nod.

"Yeah, I'm in shock. It was a difficult year. So many people were strong this year, Lando coming in 2nd. Mclaren had an amazing car this year and the battle was continuous for the whole year and you know I think it was way more enjoyable for fans this year" you smile knowing that some people last year didn't appreciate Red Bull's and Max's domination.

"Yeah you know I agree, I think it was a more difficult year this year as we can tell. I think we'll come back stronger in 2026 with Ford as our partner. But the disparity in race wins this year i can imagine was more enjoyable" Max admits with a nod and a smile at you, pulling you into a side hug, he'd become like your older brother in the time you'd raced with him.

"Yeah of course, and it was a crazy year. Even before the season started we had silly season begin with Lewis confirmed move to Ferrari, then the confirm of the Fredrick Vesti move to Mercedes in 2025. We then had Andretti finally be confirmed in the summer break after being rejected in Feb as a 11th team and Liam Lawson and Theo Pourchaire would join the grid, so for a year that we thought would be solid it really wasn't!" the F1 presenter exclaims looking between the two of you.

"Yeah i think everyone was shocked with everything that went on in February, and how the 2025 line up is looking but you know its a fast paced sport both on and off track" you smile and she pushes yours and Max's presents forward.

"Okay here we go, Secret Santa for Y/N and Max!" Max opens his gift first from Oscar, thanking him.

"Okay my turn! I'm kind of scared!" you say looking at the bag in front of you.

"Well theres another present to come as well but because of what it is, we have to wait to give it to you" the presenter asks and Max side eyes you, looking at your reaction as you reach into the bag.

You reach in pulling out a bag of cat treats and a little fluffy mouse toy. After a second of looking at the camera and presenter confused you turn to your team mate.

"I feel like this is from you..." you laugh, observing the treats and mouse toy. However, next second another F1 team member comes up next to you with a ball of fur in their hands making you flinch in shock.

"Oh my gosh, is that?" you ask looking at the little kitten now being placed in your lap. You look over at Max with tears in your eyes before you fully start to cry.

"Oh Y/N!" Max exclaims pulling you into a hug, not realizing you'd have this kind of reaction.

"I've been saying to Max for so long that I'm really lonely these days when i go home from races!" you smile holding the little grey British short hair cat up to observe him.

You hold him against your chest which he happily nuzzles into falling back to sleep.

"What are you going to call him!" the presenter ask and Max looks over in curiosity.

"My immediate thought was Red Bull, but I think that sounds a little silly. Hmmmm I'll call him Perceval" you smile, kissing the small cheek of the sleepy kitten.

"Is that a shout to Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc?" she smirks and your face reddens a little realizing you have in fact used Charles' middle name for your new cat.

"No, No! He's a British Short Hair, and I feel like Lord Perceval suits him as he's grey and knights wore silver armor!" you explain yourself giggling a little at the end as Max nudges you.

"Thank you so much Max, I don't think I'll be able to part from him so he'll have to come to all of my races with me!" you grin, pulling him into a hug, careful not to squish Perceval who is now rested in your lap.

*Flip*

"And here we have Mclaren driver Oscar Piastri who along with his team mate Lando Norris has had a fantastic year in 2024 and has managed to come P5 this year!" the presenter exclaims looking at Oscar.

“Yeah it's been a great season for Mclaren, you know and I'm really proud of Y/N for everything she's done this year you know not just as a driver but as a woman, she made absolute history today winning and taking the championship. I cant wait for 2025, i think with the new rules its going to be interesting to see how the grid changes up" Oscar smiles.

"Okay, so this is your second secret Santa. Here are the said presents!" the presenter says as a large Christmas themed bag is pushed forward.

He reaches into the bag trying not to spoil it by looking in there taking out the first nicely wrapped gift. He carefully unwraps it seeing a Papaya shampoo and conditioner set.

"Love that we are keeping on brand, it's actually very funny because my girlfriend has this exact shampoo set i think" he says observing it, looking to see if it was in fact Lily's choice for hair wash products.

"That wouldn't shock me, its a good brand and her hair always looks so smooth and shiny!" the presenter offers making Oscar blush a little and grin.

"Mmmm next gift feels a little heavier! Oh wow, a whole cricket set! This is between three people now, this is either Yuki, Lando or Y/N because they are the only people I've told about me getting into this again recently! My trainer and I when we go back to Australia normally will play as part of training!" he says observing the painted bat that was fully personalized to Oscar and what he liked.

"Wait, did Y/N paint this?" he asks looking at little things across the bat, everyone knew Y/N loved art in her free time and would always draw or paint for the drivers and the mechanics.

"You secret Santa did yes!"

"Then is has to be Y/N, i don't think anyone has the level of skill Y/N does!" he exclaims before placing the bat down lightly and moving onto the next gift.

"No way" he laughs pulling out a shirt that has that one smiley beluga cat meme on it that everyone compares Oscar to and a picture of Oscar smiling next to the cat.

"This is 100 percent Y/N, she is always saying i look like this damn cat!" he laughs.

"Okay final present is a bit of a odd one because we actually have to show you an announcement video... to show you the present. You've really got into Valorant recently correct?" the presenter asks and he nods with a confused look in his eyes, having no idea what's going on.

"Yeah, I've played COD for as long as i can remember with Logan, and I started playing with Lando. But Lando suggested Valorant with his friend Max who started to play it more. It's my fav game now!" he explains.

"Okay well here is the official announcement Riot will be posting in 3 weeks, first teaser to come tomorrow!" she exclaims before turning the laptop round to him.

On the screen it shows the head of riot talking about partnerships of 2025.

"As Red Bull very kindly sponsor us and our championship competitions, we are giving back by collaborating with Formula One Red Bull driver Y/N Y/L/N. She has created an agent with help of our graphic design team" he says and Y/N smiles.

"This is the second Australian Agent to come to the Agent Line-up and I'm very excited to be able to dedicate new Controller agent Ozzy to my close friend and fellow driver Oscar Piastri, he has been playing Valorant for quite a while so the character design is based off him" you explain after a cut in the video.

"Now please enjoy some gameplay footage of the new Australian Agent!" you say before it cuts to the reveal of the agent. And to Oscar's shock, the character does look a lot like him, its actually uncanny.

"This is such an amazing gift, I honestly don't know where she pulls all these ideas from... its insane how much she cares and listens to people. She's actually the sweetest person ever and I'm so happy to be able to drive with someone like her" Oscar smiles before the video moves to the next person.

2025

"Now unfortunately this wasn't a great season for you, or for team mate Max was it!" the presenter smiles sadly. You'd come P6 in the constructors while Max had come two above you in P4.

"Yeah I mean Ferrari really flew this season with two great drivers like Lewis and Charles, coming P1 and P2, obviously the Mclaren was just as quick if not quicker than last year so Lando is P3, Obviously Max in P4, the Mercedes was very quick this year hence George in P5. It was a risk with the new rules and using Ford as the supplier and the things we've got wrong we know what they are and we've fixed them for 2026 and I think we'll have better year" you sigh. Max was more consistent than you this year, but you were the only Red Bull driver to take a win this year, it was a rough year considering your 3 years of victories prior, but like Christian had said to the both of you, you live and you learn.

"That's amazing to hear! How do you feel Lewis getting his 8th?"

"I think his time in Mercedes had come to and end and I don't find it shocking that he's changed Ferrari for the better and will pave the way for Charles to become a World Champion!" you explain and she nods before pushing a bag lightly towards you.

"Onto more fun things, its that time of year that we all cannot wait for, its Secret Santa 2025!"

The bag was large but as she pulled the presents out she could see that they were wrapped awfully. She tried not to laugh as she separated out the gifts on the table observing each one.

"Okay, I'm liking the choice of paper, it's very festive. I'm going to have to give the person who wrapped these a wrapping lesson at some point though!" you giggle a little before tearing into number one.

"Omg! tickets to go see Captain America: Brave New World!" you exclaim.

"This either has to be my good friend Esteban Ocon, as a fellow MCU enjoyer or its my little brother on track, ie Mr America himself Logan Sargeant!" you ask looking up to the presenter who just giggled.

"Okay, next present is holy shit, tickets to Disney World!" you look up in shock.

"Look on the back who you are going with" she smiles.

"Tickets for me, you, Oscar and Lando! Logan oh my gosh you are so sweet you are literally the best person ever! Merry Christmas and I'll see you behind me on track in 2026!" you exclaim before the cameras cut out.

*Flip*

"George it's been a fantastic year for you coming in P5, and beating last years world champ! How does it feel?" she asks.

"Yeah, i think Y/N is a brilliant driver and its unfortunate Red Bull had as many faults as they did but that just goes to show how with her and Max it's not just the car its the driver as well. I think i would have quit half way through the season if i had as many issues as they did. But that just goes to show their resilience!" George says politely.

"Okay well, It's gift giving season and your secret Santa has most defiantly treated you!"

"Holy shit" he says turning to his left seeing the massive wrapped box and then a smaller bag next to it.

"I'm going to open the big one first!" he exclaims looking at it greedily.

"Of course you are" the interviewer laughs shaking their head.

"This is like, really expensive. No way!" he scans, after having torn the cardboard away from the state of the art bike sat in front of him, everyone knew George liked cycling, so this was a very nice gift.

"Oh and LOOK! It has mine and Alex numbers added together on it" he observed running his hand over the cyan colours, making out as though its a piece of art!

"Okay next one, is these two in this little bag, we have... ooo this is pretty heavy! It's oh okay its a book, The Art of George Russell: Every Shirtless Photo of George Russell!" he introduces before flicking through it showing the book to the camera, there was little personalized annotations on each photo inside.

"I love this so much, I know its Y/N whose got this for me because she has such a unique and interesting sense of humor, hmmmmm there's got to be another joke" he says before reaching further into the bag to pulling out a smaller and lighter gift.

"A Williams hat, and a .... Brazilian Flag Key Chain. Even though these are Y/N's joke presents they are always still so thoughtful. My time in Williams taught me so much that I carried through into Mercedes with me and Brazil was my first Win in Formula One, and it was really just special to me!" he exclaims smiling, placing the hat on his head before adding the key chain to his set of keys that he fished from his back pocket.

"Okay, last present George!" the presenter exclaims shoving a bigger bag towards him that had a bow tying it together.

He pulls open the bag spotting a few different unwrapped items.

"OH! This is a glamping set! Carmen has been begging and begging me for ages to take her camping in the Lake District as I used to do it all the time when we were kids, I tried to explain to her she wouldn't like camping as it gets kind of dirty. So this whole set is perfect!" he admits, looking through the tent, the air mattress and all the other little bits and bobs alongside it.

"Thank you so much for all of this Y/N i really really appreciate it all. I cant thank you enough!" he grins.

2026

"What a phenomenal year its been, we've had Lewis gain his 9th WDC, Y/N 2nd, Charles 3rd, Lando 4th and Max 5th!" the presenter smiles over to you.

"Yeah, I think we majorly fixed the issues we have last year, but I think we've still got some way to go and you know progress doesn't happen in one season so the on look for 27 is gonna be great!" you grin.

"Okay now it's all our favorite time of the year! It's secret Santa!" she comments and hands you the bag.

"Hmmmm, okay first gift these are..." you says as you pull out a wooden box with a carving on the top. You open it pulling on the metallic latch in the edge and spot inside custom chopsticks that had a red dragon going up the length.

"Oh woah, these are so beautiful, this has to be Mr Zhou Guanyu!" you grin holding them up to the camera holding your hand behind them as if you were one of the beauty influences showing of a blush or lipstick.

"Influencer era" you say making sure they could see every angle of them!

"Wait, can you guys get me anything I can test try them with?" you ask and you wait a little before some brings you out some dishes you could use your new chopsticks with.

"Mmm this is delicious!" you exclaim, and quickly finished up the food they'd provided you with.

"Omg these are crystals! Zhou and I were talking about these and the differences in meanings of the minerals"

You would always wear a good luck necklace in your races that got approved by the FIA when you first started racing. Everyone on the grid knew that you were into crystals and zodiacs, you'd have long conversations with Lando about the western Zodiac signs, and how him being a Scorpio worked well with your Y/S/S.

"These are really beautiful gifts, thank you Zhou! I absolutely love them and I will be sure to use the crystals at every race!" you grin smiling into the camera.

*Flip*

"Liam... Liam this will be your second secret Santa, you've had an amazing year in Racing Bulls and we cant wait to see what you do next year!" the presenter smiles looking towards the younger male.

"It's been a great second season in F1, I think after my years as a reserve driver i was starting to doubt myself but I'm glad that I'm here and racing!" he smiles back at her.

"Okay, so with your secret Santa, it's a little complicated. We're going to have to take you somewhere else to show you one of your presents. But here are the first few!" she smiles handing him a medium sized bag.

He reaches in taking out the first present which is a Lightening McQeen plushie.

"Ahhh, i think a lot of the drivers know my love for the man and legend himself, the reason i got into racing so this could be anyone” He reaches back into the bag to pull out a Red Bull team member top and water bottle.

"Oh!" He looks up in shock before laughing.

"This is definitely Y/N! She's helped me a lot through out the season and is helping me to progress each day! Thank you so much Y/N"

“Okay now if you’d kindly follow us, with this blind fold on we will lead you to the next present!” The presenter says offering him a blind fold. Off camera they walk him to the hotel elevator and out to the car park.

In front of him stands a red Chevrolet, with the number plate LM95 RBR which could either stand for Liam or the initials of his idol Lightening McQueen, with the cars number after it and then RBR for Red Bull Racing. Little did people know that you’d pulled a Lewis Hamilton 24.

Lewis was retiring after 28 season. He’d told you earlier, as it still wasn’t public knowledge. And Ferrari had come to you about the replacement, at first you were thinking you didn’t want to leave Red Bull, but a chance at Ferrari was everyone’s dream in this sport.

So you would be driving for Ferrari from 2029 onwards with Charles Leclerc as your partner, who also wasn’t aware about the move.

Obviously you had to tell the red bull team you were leaving and had pushed them to sign on Liam Lawson as their second driver, push him to be the new Max Verstappen and eventually take that number 1 seat when Max retires.

This is why you’d done the tease of the red bull merch towards Liam, and that’s why he looked shocked in the camera because you both were some of the only people aware.

“Okay you can take the blindfold off” the presenter says and he does, and tears build up in his eyes as he sees the custom painted red car in front of him. It was an older model, one that he could modify and make better which made it such a good gift as Y/N new he liked fixing cars as a hobby.

“This is probably the best gift and most thoughtful thing I’ve ever received! Oh my gosh I wish she was here right now” he says a little overwhelmed as he looks at the car.

“But I am, get in loser we’re going shopping” you shout sticking your head out the passenger side window of the car before you open the door getting out.

Liam runs over to you, pulling you into a huge hug thanking you for the gift. Cameras cut as the two of you inspect the car, pointing little details out that he may have missed.

2027

“What a season it’s been phenomenal we’ve had Charles Leclerc get his first WDC, we had Lando come 2nd with an insanely quick McLaren and he gave us a further contract extension till 2030 in his Papaya team! And you Y/N in 4th just a point behind Lewis Hamilton and a point ahead of George Russell. Great season! How do you feel!”

“Yeah I’m feeling great, there are so many names on the grid right now that it’s really spiced up the races and is having some great battles for podiums out there causing all kinds of wins! I’m proud of what we’ve done in Red Bull and can’t wait for another year!” You grin.

“Okay as usual onto presents, now this is an interesting one and I think you will enjoy who your Santa is!” She grins leaning in her hand as she watches you open it.

“Lots of Ferrari Merch, so it’s either Lewis or Charles, I want to lean towards Charles as the WDC this year! But you never know, is Lewis even in it this year? Oh my gosh did he rejoin?” You ask in shock!

“Okay what else have we got here, oh my gosh it’s a fucking Birkin bag!” You scream looking at the camera in shock. Obviously you were friends with everyone on the grid, it was just in your nature. So obviously you got talking to people about what you did and didn’t like. And when you were taking to Lewis, Carlos, Lando and Charles before a post race interview panel, you all got talking about fashion trends you liked. Hence the very expensive Birkin in front of you.

“This has to be from Lewis, but Charles was at the conversation where we talked about this bag, oh my this is difficult” you exclaims before you finalise its Lewis and you make a gesture of excitement for getting it right.

“Thank you everyone and a goodnight, I’m going to sexily walk away with my Ferrari merch tucked inside the Birkin” you whisper up close to the microphone before they capture you walking off in style.

*Flip*

“Carlos Sainz, you’ve been phenomenal in Audi this year how is the car staring to feel?” The presenter asks.

“Yea, I think you know in one season you cannot expect to get it right, but now that it’s our second year it’s coming along really nicely and I can see us being difficult for the 2028 season ahead” he explains well PR trained and ready for anything.

“Okay Secret Santa time! Let’s go” they say after continuing the small Audi on the ride debate.

“Yes I’m excited I see lots of presents for me, which can only mean uno persona, mi Amiga Y/N!” He exclaims and the presenter just rolls her eyes knowing people at this point know if they’ve been lucky and got you or if they have anyone else because of the vast presents around them!

“Okay well let’s see what Y/Ns got for you”

He proceeds to open a medium sized gift which is a jar of chilis that makes him laugh, as he observes the jar carefully.

“I shall give these to mi madre for cooking, she makes the best food with these chilis you’ll have to come try some time Y/N” Carlos says sending a wink towards the camera that fans would later go wild over.

“Oh this is heavier oh, oh it’s golf clubs and shoes, these are mmmm how does Lando say it, ‘lush’? Is that the word im looking for?” He asks coolly as he inspects the present.

He looks behind him, to see what looks to be just cardboard wrapped around something, he deems it in his head to be a canvas.

As he tears of the cardboard and bubble wrap, he’s met with a paining by you that he looked at and assumed must have taken you hours, of him stood by his race car for each year he had in F1. It was a huge canvas, one that looked like it belonged on a wall in a museum, the art on it did too.

“This is, wonderful. I don’t think I’ve seen something so good since Picasso himself” he admits continuing to look over the painting.

“Thank you for all of these gifts, I truly love them!” He admits.

2028

“So this year felt like 2024 all over again, we had the retirement of Lewis, and you are taking his seat in 2028 alongside Charles Leclerc in Ferrari, how does that feel Y/N!” The presenter asks and you smile.

“I think if you ask any driver what team they’d love to drive for before they leave it will always be Ferrari so the fact that I have the opportunity to drive for them in the next few years and try to win a championship again with them, I’d be honoured” you admit smiling.

“And now we know what last years secret Santa really meant for you when you gave Liam Lawson Red bull gear knowing he’d be driving for them in 2029 and last year, no wonder Lewis gave you his Ferrari merch, it’s because you are taking over his seat!” she asks and you just laugh and nod.

“We’ve had a fantastic year we’ve seen Lando take his first WDC, with Y/N coming in 2nd really trying to show her new team she is ready for them! While her team mate Max Verstappen didn’t have an amazing season coming in 7th” they answer and you clap and praise Lando saying how far he had come and how proud you were on him and how it was such an honor to drive on track with him.

“Okay anyway onto secret Santa Y/N!” She exclaims pushing a small bag towards you.

You grin opening it up, to be met with …. A bottle of WKD…

Very random.

“Okay so WKD is like a teen/young adult alcohol in the UK, so my thoughts would be on Lando, or like George maybe??” You ask before the interviewer has an evil and mysterious giggle on.

“So your secret Santa when you found out it was you, got a little nervous. So he prepared this recording for you, and one final present” the interviewer says before turning the laptop to you and shocking you see …

“Charlie?!! He’s my secret Santa?” You ask in shock.

“Hello Y/N, I will admit I panicked when I was given your name in secret Santa, I’ve had a crush on you since way back in the karting days when I first met you. So, as your secret Santa, my other gift to you, is a date with me! I also hope you like the final present I made for you! I cannot wait to be your team mate, and maybe more if I’m lucky in the future”

The camera pans back to you and your face in bright red, an unflattering blush in your already sun kissed face.

“Here’s the other present” the presenter says tentatively pushing forward a neatly wrapped presents, the work for sure of Pascale Leclerc.

You open up the contents finding the original CD case you’d give him, for his secret Santa back in the day. You open it up seeing a cd and a slip of paper fall out. On the paper we’re all the song titles which had something to do with you, or your career.

He’d quiet literally placed your life inside songs …. And that was quiet the gesture.

“What a whirlwind of a year 2029 will be huh!” You joke before the cameras cut off!

Taglist:

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8ripecunts · 8 months

Note

Begging you to draw Bill and Holden as that one scene from the Wolf of Wall Street

anon, you're lucky i've watched that movie and i know Exactly what you're talking about

#ask #anon #bill x holden #holden ford #bill tench #tempted to make this my header tbqh hmmm im Thinking #holden went back to that shoe shop and bought a red pair of heels but this time his size #guys he's doing this for Science. this is the behavioral science unit after all #this happened to my buddy bill in a fic once #well not the exact scene but i've read adjacent fics and they are just as delicious #would die for a fic like this tho..................#i hope this doesnt get taken down im going to sleep after this :( i dont wanna wake up to a notif of that :(#bxxxh

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cameronspecial · 2 months

Note

Hey I have this idea that I saw on TikTok….

Major fluff!rafe & protective!rafe

Reader comes to stay with Cameron’s because her parents were abusing her and Ward offered for to live with his family. Reader think that cleaning their house earns her love. Rafe takes care of her.

To Earn Your Love

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Emotional and Psychological Abuse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Sarah found Y/N at the curb of the Country Club. Y/N had been sleeping at the club in any hidden nook or cranny that she could find before she got kicked out. She was once a patron of the establishment; however, once her family finally removed her from their membership, the employees who saw her during the day could no longer allow her inside. Sarah was quick to offer Y/N a place to stay at Tannyhill and after hearing her story, Ward was quick to agree that the girl could stay. Her parents had disowned her for planning on going to university after her gap year instead of working at the family business. They had her future set in stone and when she didn’t want what they had planned, they suddenly didn’t have a daughter anymore. Y/N didn’t want to accept the offer. How would it look if she is seen staying at the Camerons? What would people think about her parents? Sarah and Ward were able to convince her to stay though and through this whole process, Rafe remained silent in the corner of the room with an unreadable expression on his face.

Rafe couldn’t believe that the Y/L/Ns would do that to their own precious daughter. He graduated with Y/N and he knew what a sweet and nice girl she was. She was a daughter that would make any parent proud, except for Riley and Ford Y/L/N apparently. As he listened to her explain the details of how they would treat her, his ball would curl up at the signs of emotional and psychological abuse she had been experiencing. They made her believe that a parent's love was conditional on certain factors and that she could only be worthy of being their daughter if she did everything they wanted when that was far from the truth. Rafe had to stop himself from paying her parents a visit.

———

A crash coming from downstairs makes Rafe bolt upright. His first instinct is to grab the baseball bat he keeps by his bed and to check on Y/N in the guest bedroom. When he finds the room empty, he dashes downstairs in search of her. He hears movement coming from the kitchen, raising the bat in preparation to swing. He steps into the dimly lit room about to hit whoever is inside when a tiny yelp stops him in his tracks. “Y/N?” He turns on the lights to find Y/N hunched over broken glass with fear in her eyes. Tears begin to brim her eyelids and she rushes to pick up the shards. “I am so sorry I woke you. I am going to clean it up right away. You can turn the lights off and go back upstairs. I will clean it,” she insists. In her haste, a jagged edge slips across her skin and crimson liquid blooms across the cut. She continues to clean up the mess that she made. Rafe squats in front of her and gently holds onto her wrists to stop her. “Hey, forget about this. You are bleeding,” he shushes. She drops the glass onto the floor, letting him place her on the counter near the sink. “I really need to clean it, Rafe. Someone can get hurt.” He places a hand over her knees, “It’s okay. I’ll clean it. Just let me take care of you first, Princess.”

She gives him a meagre nod and holds out her bleeding finger to him. He grabs her hand, running the finger under the water before patting it dry. He steps away from her for a second to grab a bandaid from the cabinet. He places the bandaid on her wound and gives a kiss to the injury. She sets her hand back onto her lap, dropping her gaze to her lap. “I should get back to work,” she mumbles. She jumps off the counter and goes to get the broom in the pantry. Rafe’s eyebrows come to a knit, “Get back to work? What were you doing down here in the dark, Princess?” He assumed she came down for water. But upon looking around the room, he spots cleaning supplies scattered around the kitchen.

“I’m cleaning. I’m sorry I woke you. I promise it won’t happen again. You can go back to sleep now,” she promises, sweeping up the glass. Rafe tries to conceal his anger so he doesn’t scare her, yet the thought of her thinking that this is normal infuriates him. Once she has the glass cleaned, he takes the dustpan from her hand and puts it away. He returns back in front of her and tilts her head to look at him. “You don’t need to clean for us, Princess. We have a cleaner,” he informs her. She shakes her head, “It’s okay. I can do it. How else am I supposed to show you that I am grateful for everything? How am I supposed to earn your love?” Rafe starts to think back since she has started staying with them. How the house has seemed clean even though it has been a week since the cleaner came? How, when he came home late at night, it would sometimes feel like someone was in the room next door as he went upstairs? “Princess, how long have you been doing this?” he questions. Her eyes find his, “Every night since I’ve been here. I was doing such a good job too. I haven’t woken up anyone since tonight.” He brushes her hair back from her forehead with his thumb and places a kiss on the skin. “You don’t have to do this anymore. You don’t have to earn our love because we already love you,” he whispers to her, bringing her into a tight embrace.

She disagrees, “You guys deserve a clean home and not to be woken up in the night while I do so. Am I not doing a good job? Should I use a different cleaning product? Or should I wipe the table in a circle instead of up and down?” “You want to do a good job, then we need you to stop, okay? Because you can’t earn something you already have and we don’t want the people we love staying up to clean. I don’t want the person I love to hurt herself doing this every night. Plus, if you keep taking any more of my love, then I won’t have anything more to give,” he swears to her. Her hands land on his bicep, “You love me?”

“I do and I also really want you to go to sleep right now. So how about we go back upstairs, yeah?”

“Can I just finish cleaning the kitchen first?”

“If you do, then I am going to stay and help you.”

Her face freezes as she thinks about his condition, “I guess we can go upstairs.” Rafe grins in victory, taking her hand and turning off the lights as he leads her upstairs. “Rafe, can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep so early,” she questions, which makes his heartache. This is obviously so engrained in her schedule and he couldn’t believe they hadn’t noticed. He nods, pulling her into his bedroom with her. As her head rests on his chest, Rafe vows to himself that he is going to show her what love truly is.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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roosterforme · 3 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 29 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your hormones are raging to the point of distraction, but Bradley channels that energy toward a purpose: christening the new Bronco. When the two of you attend Mickey's birthday kegger, Bradley realizes everything would be easier if his friends knew you were pregnant. Hopefully the first visit with your new doctor will set your minds at ease instead of making you more anxious.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, pregnancy, angst, fluff

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You woke up to your alarm for work on Friday morning, groggy and nauseous with a growling stomach. "Roo?" you asked, popping up in bed when you realized he wasn't there. The house was silent. His spot in the bed was cold. You groaned and rolled over to grab your glasses. You needed to eat something immediately or the vomiting was going to start.

Still wearing your underwear and shirt from last night, you shuffled to the kitchen and downed a full glass of water and the plate of peanut butter crackers Bradley left out for you. "Roo?" you asked between bites. You opened the sliding glass door, but he wasn't in the backyard. When you turned toward the front door to see if the Bronco was here, something caught your eye through the front window. "What the hell?"

You grabbed the throw blanket from the couch and wrapped it around yourself as you shoved the last cracker into your mouth. When you opened the front door, you saw your husband and your dog in the driveway. Bradley had moved the Bronco to the street, and he was wearing gym clothes and hosing down the cement slab.

"What is going on?" you called out, squinting against the early morning sunlight as he waved to you. "What are you doing?"

Bradley was smiling brightly as he dropped the hose next to the industrial sized broom and started running toward you. "You have to hear it, Sweetheart." He was fumbling with his phone. "The most beautiful words." He thrust the phone in front of you as a voicemail message started to play.

"Hi, Bradley, this is Terry from the Ford dealership. I'm just calling to let you know your new Bronco is here."

You groaned as he bounced on the balls of his feet, and Tramp wandered past your legs and back inside. "I still don't understand why you have the hose and broom out...? Are you cleaning the driveway? For the new Bronco?"

"Yes," he replied as if he was talking to a very small child. "I wouldn't want to bring it home to a mess. I want it to feel welcome."

You closed your eyes as he put his phone away and let his palm come to rest against your belly. "It's barely even light out, and you're cleaning the driveway for our new car to feel welcome."

"It's not just a car, Baby Girl. It's a Bronco. And I was too excited to sleep."

You opened your eyes and kissed him before you shook your head. "I can't imagine how you'll be when we start shopping for baby stuff."

His brown eyes lit up as he rubbed your belly. "As soon as you give me the green light, I'm ready to go. I can't wait to decorate the nursery. And I really think we should talk about getting a contractor to work on the attic."

You held up one of your hands, trying to keep the blanket wrapped around you. "Can we just do one thing at a time, Roo? When are we picking up the Bronco?"

He kissed your cheek and moaned. "I knew you were as excited as I am. We can go right from work later today."

"Okay," you agreed with a shrug before shuffling back inside and leaving him to finish cleaning the driveway.

-------------------------

It was Friday, Bradley's wife was pregnant, he was about to pick up his new Bronco, and everything was perfect. A little too perfect. He tapped on your office door as soon as he got out of his afternoon lecture, and when you opened it, you looked upset.

"What's wrong?" he asked, ducking inisde with you and closing the door. He cupped your face in his hands and stroked your cheek. "What is it, Sweetheart?"

You let out a needy moan and then licked your lips. "I am so fucking horny."

Well. At least that was better than there being something wrong that he couldn't take care of. You turned your head slightly and took his thumb between your lips, and Bradley grunted. "Holy shit. You're not kidding." He was met with another soft moan and your fingers on the fly of his khakis while you sucked. He had to grab you to make you stop before you had your hand down his pants. "Okay," he whispered. "Here's what we're about to do, alright?"

You nodded, looking up at him like you trusted him completely as he removed his thumb. "Tell me."

"If you're ready to leave, we'll stop and pick up Bronco number two and drive them both home, and then I'll do whatever you need, okay?"

You sucked in a deep breath, and your voice shook. "Okay."

Bradley carried your work bag for you, and when it was just the two of you in the elevator, he wasn't sure how you managed to make it through the day. You were a mess. You had him pinned to the wall, one hand at the back of his neck, the other resting on his abs, and you were kissing him like you would at home in bed.

He wanted this. Badly. Your tongue stroked against his as you traced his scars with your fingertips. Every little gasp and sound you made went right for his cock. "I need it so bad," you whispered, pressing your lips to his mustache. "God, Roo."

"Fuck," he groaned as the elevator started to slow. "I'd take you right here if I could."

You were whimpering as the doors slid open revealing Maverick. Bradley desperately tried to move your hands to more suitable places on his body, but you just pressed your cheek to his chest and smiled as you said, "Hey, Captain Mitchell."

He smirked and replied, "Lieutenant Commanders."

"Sir?" Bradley croaked, taking both of your hands in his and pulling you out of the elevator.

Maverick shook his head, and Bradley expected that he would get a text this weekend, but he'd deal with that later. Hand in hand, you and he ran toward the Bronco, and he quickly got you inside and buckled your seatbelt. But you lured him in for more kisses with your fingers in his hair.

"You taste so good," you whined, licking his lips and tongue.

"Shit." He was hard now, and he was going to have to try to get you to behave on the short drive to the dealership. Bradley wrenched himself away from you and tucked your hands to your sides. "I love this, I really do, but you need to try to behave for like thirty more minutes."

He ran around to his door, wrenched it open, and soon he was pulling out of the parking garage. You had your head tipped back and your eyes closed as you whispered, "I can't explain it, Bradley, but all I can think about right now is your cock. Just huge and delicious. Fucking me and making me scream."

"Jesus, Baby Girl," he gasped, nearly driving off the road.

You turned toward him, eyes wide now. "And I swear to god, you have never looked hotter than you do right now. I want to put my mouth on you."

This was doing nothing for his raging erection as he adjusted himself at a red light. When he saw your hands coming his way, he grabbed them and said, "Absolutely not. Sit on them." You whimpered, but you did as you were told and tucked your hands beneath your thighs. "Now listen closely, Sweetheart." The light turned green and he gunned the accelerator. "I love this enthusiasm. So I'll tell you what we're gonna do. When we get home, we're breaking in the new Bronco."

"Yes," you gasped, biting your lip and nodding. "Fuck me in it."

"I sure will," he rasped, unsure how he was going to manage your hormones for the next eight months. He really hoped this elevated sex drive meant everything was healthy for you and the baby.

As he pulled into the Ford dealership, the bright cherry red Bronco was parked at the front of the building, and he sighed when he saw it. "There she is. Isn't she gorgeous?"

You unbuckled as soon as he parked. "It'll look even better when I've got my pants pulled down inside of it."

"Damn straight," he growled, climbing out his door and adjusting his pants the best he could. You came running to his side, and the two of you walked into the building, trying your very best to act normal. Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple as you took some deep breaths. "You're doing great, Sweetheart," he muttered as he flagged down Terry who left him the voicemail message.

"You're back for the red Bronco!" he said as he headed over. "Why don't you step into my office so we can sign the final paperwork and get the keys."

Bradley felt you link your fingers with his, and the two of you sat side by side while Terry printed out some pages and rambled on about the extended warranty. You kept glancing at Bradley out of the corner of your eye and squirming in your seat. And if you thought he looked hotter now than he ever had before, then the feeling was completely mutual. You looked so damn good, even struggling through your morning sickness, that he wanted to get his hands all over your body.

When your teeth sank down into your lip as you looked at him, he thought about sweeping everything off Terry's desk, telling him to get the fuck out of his own office, and nailing you right here. God, you'd make the prettiest sounds, too.

"How does that sound?" Terry asked, looking from you and then back to Bradley.

"I'm sorry, what?" Bradley replied, trying his best to get his libido under control. "I missed what you said."

Terry smiled serenely like he didn't know he was practically in the middle of a porno right now. "Would you like me to show you all the controls and interior features? Go over how everything works before you drive off with it?"

"Nope. I think we'll be fine figuring it out on our own," he replied immediately as he grabbed the proffered pen from the other man. He scribbled his signature on the bottom of the paperwork and then passed it to you to do the same. "You ready to get busy, Baby Girl?" he asked as he stood.

"God yes," you moaned as he took the two sets of keys from a rather stunned looking Terry. "Let's go."

The two of you ran back out to the Broncos, and Bradley groaned. "Oh, hell yes. A hot wife, a baby and two Broncos. Someone pinch me."

"Just get in," you commanded, shoving him toward the red one. "You can deal with not knowing the controls, and I'll meet you at home."

Bradley let you take the keys out of his pocket before he climbed inside the new one. He took a second to inhale that fresh, new car scent. He ran his fingers over the leather steering wheel. Then he kissed the keys and cranked the engine, barely taking the time to adjust the mirrors before pulling out onto the main road behind you.

It took eight and a half minutes to get home, and the sun was dipping lower in the sky, but it was by no means dark outside when Bradley pulled in the driveway next to you. Your movements were sure and intentional as you unbuckled your khaki belt while you walked around the blue Bronco and went straight for the back door of the red one.

"Are you coming?" you asked with desperation as you climbed in the back and looked at him still sitting in the driver's seat. You were on your knees on the seat, pulling your uniform pants and cute underwear down your thighs. "Please?"

"Holy fucking shit." On all fours. On the backseat. Back door open. You were just asking for the fuck of a lifetime, and he was going to give it to you.

"Bradley?"

He killed the engine and left the keys on the dash as he climbed into the backseat behind you. It was roomier than your shitty Honda, but he still had to work with what he had. "I got you, Sweetheart," he promised as you folded your arms and let your head rest on the seat with your gorgeous ass up in the air. He tasted you there, running his lips and mustache down through your soaking wet pussy while he undid his own belt.

You sighed in relief as you pressed slowly back for more pressure, and as soon as he had his hard cock hanging out the front of his pants, Bradley took your hips in his hands. You tasted and smelled delicious and familiar as he licked and kissed you everywhere as his hands slowly crept around to your belly. His fingers stroked you softly where he knew your tattoo was, and he licked you from hole to hole.

"You're really worked up," he murmured as he kissed along your ass cheek and swiped his fingers through your pussy.

"I told you, Daddy!" you moaned, and he coated his cock up with your wetness and his precum. Then he got himself in position behind you, glancing around to see if any of the neighbors were out and about. But it didn't matter. You were already too far gone. He reached behind himself and closed the door a few more inches before it hit his boot, and then he covered your body with his own.

As he slid his cock slowly inside your pussy, he could already feel you clenching around him. When he bottomed out, you were whimpering pathetically. "Roo."

"Shh. I know, Baby Girl. I'll take care of it."

You nodded beneath him, glancing back as he kissed your perfect cheek. "I love you."

Bradley's heart melted even as he started to slowly thrust. He kissed your shoulder through your uniform shirt and wrapped one big hand around your belly. "I love both of you," he promised. Then he patted the seat right next to your folded arms. "In a few more months, there's gonna be a car seat right here. And I can't fucking wait. I can't wait to meet our baby."

"Daddy," you whined, and he planted his palm on the upholstery and held your body as he started to fuck you harder. He knew you wouldn't feel better until you could barely walk, and right now that's what he wanted, too. He thrusted harder as the sounds got more obscene, knowing anyone could see what was happening right now if they looked this way. You turned back with an absolutely delighted expression on your face and whispered, "Watch where you're bracing your foot."

Then he really let you have it, spanking your pussy lightly with his damp fingers and making you squeal while you clenched around him. He turned your head with his other hand so that your mouth was pressed to your forearm, hoping to muffle some of the noise before returning his palm to the upholstery. Oh, you were close now, and so was he, but he'd spend all night out here fucking you with this steady rhythm until you got what you needed from him. Because you always gave him everything.

As he stroked your clit with his middle finger, you whined his name, and your legs started to shake. "Come on, Baby Girl. Come on," he coaxed, pushing himself deep and staying still while you squeezed his length and shook beneath him.

A pitiful cry of Daddy was all he heard as you started milking him for everything he was worth. He rolled his hips until he was done, and then he gently wrapped his hand around your neck and guided you so your back was against his chest. He kissed your ear, letting you hear how he was panting to catch his breath while he said, "Baby number two gets made in a Bronco."

---------------------------

Well. The red Bronco now smelled like new car and filthy sex at the same time. And you had Bradley's cum all over your uniform pants. And your nipples hurt from rubbing against the backseat. But you felt incredible as Bradley closed up the doors, locked it and patted the hood before leading you to the house with his arm around your waist.

"All better?" he asked, slipping the key into the lock as you rubbed your face against his bicep.

"So much better," you replied as Tramp greeted both of you. "In fact, I think I'm going to go relax in the bathtub."

When you tried to walk away from him, Bradley grabbed your hand. "Whoa. Not so fast." He yanked you gently back into his arms. "First of all, now that the new Bronco has been appropriately christened, you get to take a set of the keys." He dropped them into your hand as he kissed your forehead. "And second, I read about taking baths during pregnancy, and you can't have the water as hot as you're used to."

You gaped up at him. "You read about it?"

He nodded as his cheeks started to turn pink. "Yeah. Just online. You know, just because you like taking baths. And sometimes we take them together. And I know I told you I wasn't going to start shopping too much yet, but I did order a tub thermometer on Monday. And it arrived yesterday. And I hope you don't think I'm crazy right now."

You squeezed him tighter as you whispered, "I don't think you're crazy. I think you're sweet and smart. You always seem to think of things that I don't. And on that note, would you like to get the thermometer and meet me in the bathroom? Naked?"

He patted you on the butt and whispered, "I'll feed Tramp and meet you in there."

You stripped out of your uniform and turned on the water, but you didn't crank it as hot as you normally would. You dipped your toes in and swirled them around as you thought back to last weekend when you sat in the empty tub and counted for three minutes until your pregnancy test was ready. It was fascinating to you, growing something inside you that made you so reactive to everything. Every time you thought about your upcoming appointment, you got antsy, hoping they would tell you everything looked as it should.

Bradley kissed your shoulder as his body met yours. "I brought the goods," he whispered as he dropped the floating thermometer into the tub and held up a sleeve of crackers and a bottle of cold water.

You moaned and reached for the food, knowing you should eat something now while you still felt okay. "You're the best husband in the world."

As you shoved some crackers into your mouth, Bradley knelt and kissed your belly. "Hi," he whispered, making a huge smile break out on your face. "It's me again. Just checking in." He kissed your belly button and looked up at you as he said, "Mommy and I are hoping to see you next week with an ultrasound." He paused and pressed one more lazy kiss a little closer to your tattoo as he stared. "Your tits look fucking incredible, Sweetheart."

"Do they?" you asked, looking down at yourself. "They're so sore."

Bradley grunted and shut off the water after he checked the thermometer. "So what you're saying is I can look, but I can't touch? Because that's just mean." He climbed into the tub and helped you in while you laughed.

"It didn't hurt too much the other day when you were very, very gentle," you whispered as you straddled his lap facing him. These slightly cooler baths would take some getting used to, but it wasn't too terrible.

"Got it." You ate a few more crackers as he intently focused on your half submerged breasts like they were about to cure cancer. His thumbs were soft and when his lips met your nipples, you arched your back until you were getting just the perfect amount of pressure.

You let him kiss and nuzzle around for a few minutes while you played with his hair. When his mustache started to feel a little too rough, you yanked him back, and he stopped. "You're bristly."

He raised one eyebrow. "Do you want me to shave?"

"No!" you gasped running your fingers down his cheek to stroke his facial hair.

"I will if you want me to," he whispered, kissing your palm and pulling you a little closer. You curled up against his chest and hugged him.

"I don't want you to shave, Roo. You're so handsome this way." You kissed his sparse chest hair. "Thanks for getting the bath thermometer and making sure I got a new car. And thanks for fucking me all the time and taking care of everything."

He chuckled. "How can you go from feral and horny to sweet and snuggly so quickly?"

"It's the hormones," you replied with a yawn. "And as soon as I get out of the tub, I'm probably going to fall asleep. So if there's anything else we need to talk about, we have to do it now."

"Just Mickey's birthday party tomorrow," Bradley reminded you, and you groaned.

"I forgot all about that. I'll have to bring crackers and hope I don't hurl everywhere. And how the hell am I supposed to avoid drinking at a kegger?"

"I have a few ideas."

-------------------------

Bradley's ideas were decidedly not the best, but you didn't come up with anything better, so you just went along with him. It was blazing hot out the following afternoon at the beach, and you felt a little bloated in your bathing suit, but your husband literally couldn't keep his hands off you.

"Roo!" you scolded when he came running over to you mid football game while you lounged on your back on a towel next to Phoenix. He dripped water all over your legs before dropping into a pushup position above you and kissing your lips until you giggled.

"I can't help it," he panted. "I'm obsessed with this bathing suit. You wore it to the cliffs beach the first time you kissed me."

"Gross," Phoenix moaned as Bradley dipped his tongue into your mouth before standing again.

Then he flopped down on her towel and kissed her cheek as he said, "All thanks to my very best friend."

"Go away!" she screeched, pushing on him until he got up and ran back to the rest of the guys who were all tipsy and trying to tackle Mickey. "He's horrible. I can't believe you married him," she said as she rolled onto her stomach. You wanted to be able to do that, but you were feeling pretty nauseous.

"We all make mistakes," you replied, trying to discreetly eat another cracker. "Bradley's is the fact that he didn't reapply sunblock yet. I should probably call him back over."

"Please don't," Phoenix moaned. You sat up on your towel and tried to stretch, and then you saw Bob making his way down the beach. But he wasn't alone.

"Maria!" you called out, waving your friend and Bob's new roommate your way.

Phoenix raised her arm in greeting, and you didn't miss the way Bob smiled down at Maria as she turned toward the towels as Bob headed for the water, catching a pass from Javy on his way.

"Hey," Maria greeted, dropping her bag down next to yours.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" you asked, patting your towel next to you.

She dropped down as she said, "I didn't really know I was. I got home from taekwondo right when Bob was getting ready to come here, and he invited me. Then he waited while I got changed."

You could tell she was looking at him through her dark sunglasses. Interesting.

"Is he driving you crazy with his dice collection yet?" Phoenix asked her, and Maria started laughing.

"No, but it was so cute when he unpacked them. He has them all sorted by color, and he told me about his Dungeons & Dragons character while we drank a bottle of wine." Suddenly she stopped talking and cleared her throat. "So, how are you two?"

You gave her side eye as your stomach started to gurgle. You were really afraid you weren't going to make it through the day without being sick. You watched Jake pumping the keg of beer and squirting it directly from the nozzle into his mouth, and you prayed they finished the whole thing before anyone tried to offer you another cup. "I'm fine," you said absently. "I'll be back. Let me make sure Bradley puts on more sunblock."

You grabbed the tube from your bag and headed toward the water as Maria and Nat started to discuss workplace politics. "Bradley!" you called when you got a little closer, but he couldn't hear you over the sound of the waves and the guys all yelling. "Roo!" You waved your hand in the air, and Reuben turned toward you right as he was looking for a receiver to catch his throw. The football spun in slow motion, powerfully thrown, and you gasped as it was headed right for you. It was going to hit you in the stomach.

At the last second, you dropped the sunblock and turned, squeezing your eyes closed and holding out your hand. The ball hit you hard in the hip, and you gasped in pain.

"What the fuck, Payback!" Bradley thundered as he ran toward you, kicking up wet sand as your eyes welled up with tears behind your sunglasses. "Sweetheart! Are you okay?" His big hands were all over you, as you tried to nod. When his fingers grazed your belly, he pulled you close. "Where did you get hit?" he asked, wrapping his other arm around you.

"My hip," you managed, and his hand dropped lower as he pulled you to his chest. "I'm okay. I just wanted you to put more sunblock on."

Now Reuben came rushing over. "I'm so sorry!" he said, reaching out a hand and placing it on your shoulder.

You could feel Bradley tense up, and you had to whisper, "I'm okay. It didn't hit my belly. I swear, Roo."

Then he snapped at his friend. "Can you fucking pay attention next time?"

"I'm sorry," Reuben repeated, and you left Bradley's arms to give him a squeeze instead.

"I'm fine," you promised him. "Bradley's just protective, and it did hurt a bit."

"I will be extra careful," he promised.

"And I won't wander into the game unless I'm completely ready to play."

"It wasn't your fault," Bradley growled, and now you had to put your hands on his arms.

"I'm fine," you reiterated. "Just put on more sunblock, okay? I don't want you to be in pain and bright red tonight when I will probably need you for special activities."

That got him to quirk one eyebrow up as you kissed him. "Okay." He bent and picked up the tube and tucked it into the pocket of his cutoffs, and as soon as you wandered away, the football game picked up again.

------------------------

By the time Javy and Jake started the bonfire, Bradley was feeling pretty drunk. Reuben was still keeping a safe distance from him, which was making Bradley feel a little bit bad. It wasn't like he hit you on purpose, but the idea of the football hitting you that hard even close to your belly scared him. A lot. But you were claiming you were just fine, and he believed what you said. You even showed him the exact spot where you said you would be sore and bruised by tomorrow, and it seemed like it was a little closer to your butt than anywhere else.

Right now, you were laughing with Nat and Maria, and you had a red solo cup of beer on your hand that you weren't drinking. Every time you looked at him a certain way, he pretended to fill his cup all the way and switched with you. It was working out well enough, except that he was getting drunk twice as fast this way.

"Come on," Nat was saying as she pulled on your arm. "Do a keg stand! I'll do one if you do one!"

You gave him the look and he sighed. He hadn't done a fucking keg stand since he was at UVA, and frankly he was too old for this shit, but he knew what he needed to do. "Nat, I can drink you under the fucking table any day of the week."

She turned to him, eyes flashing. "Prove it."

Next thing he knew, he was doing a handstand on top of the keg, one leg held up by Bob and the other by Javy, and Jake was squirting a steady stream of whatever shitty beer this was into his mouth while he tried to swallow it before it dripped down to his nose. Everyone started counting, and he made it thirty seconds before he started shaking his head. Once his feet were back on the sand, he realized his vision was a little blurry.

When you wrapped your arms around his waist, he hissed. Shit. He never did reapply the sunblock like you told him to. Oh no. Now Mickey wanted him to do another keg stand.

"Okay, birthday boy," Bradley replied, and you released him so he could have another go. This time, he couldn't remember how long he lasted, but everyone was slapping his sunburned back and jostling him around a lot. And he was drunk. Like really fucking drunk.

"How did he get like this, Angel?" Jake asked as he slung his arm around you.

Bradley scoffed. "Hey, that's my wife," he slurred as he reached for your hand.

"Yeah, I'm well aware," Jake replied, and then Bradley started laughing when he remembered that you and Jake were friends, and he decided to lay down on your beach towel for a little bit.

He couldn't be sure how long he was there, but the air was cooling down as the night wore on, and he felt kisses on his forehead. "Baby Girl."

"Yeah, I'm right here, Daddy," you whispered, taking his hands in yours. "Thanks for drinking enough to kill a horse."

He started laughing hysterically as he got to his feet. "You're fucking funny."

"I know, Roo," you said as you tugged him along the beach. "That's why you married me."

"No, it's not," he swore. "No. No. Not just that. I married you, because I had to."

You laughed as the new Bronco came into view, and Bradley wondered where everyone else was. "You had to marry me?"

"Oh yeah," he replied. "I knew it right away. Couldn't live without you. You're too sweet. And your ass is too fucking fine."

He let you push him into the passenger side door, and he kissed your forehead as you buckled him in. "Oh, Bradley," you giggled. "You're a mess." You were cupping his face gently, and you were going in and out of focus a bit, but he knew he didn't have to worry too much about anything while you were here.

"I love you," he whispered, and you pressed the softest kiss to his lips. "I love you and the baby."

As you brushed your fingers back through his hair, you told him, "Please don't barf in my Bronco, Sweetheart."

-------------------------

Bradley couldn't even move until Sunday afternoon. You tried your best not to laugh too much, but the combination of his hangover and the sunburn were perhaps the funniest thing you'd ever seen. He was walking around the house completely naked and holding his head. When you tried to facetime your parents, you had to send him back to the bedroom, and you could hear him moaning the whole time.

"Do you want more aloe?" you asked him as you munched on a peanut butter cracker. "Or something to eat."

"Stop talking about food," he begged from his spot on his stomach on the bathroom floor. "And if you put more aloe on my back, I need you to do it very softly. Like how gentle I was with your tits, okay?" Then he groaned and lifted his head up from the bath mat. "God, I can't even fuck you properly right now."

You squeezed aloe onto your hands and carefully massaged it into his skin. "That's okay. Maybe you can watch me masturbate later?"

"Fuck! That's like a punishment! My hands are fine. I'll finger you. It'll be great." He winced as you rubbed him a little too hard by accident, so you kissed his pink cheek.

"Just rest up, Daddy. We have a big week. I need to finish my portion of the presentation for Annapolis."

"I can help you practice it," he promised, petting Tramp when he wandered in to get an update on things. "And don't forget about 4:30 on Wednesday afternoon. That's the most important part of the week."

You combed your fingers through his hair, and his eyes closed as your tummy swooped. "First appointment with the obstetrician," you whispered. Excitement filled you up every time you thought about it, but so did a bit of anxiety. You'd been waiting seemingly forever to get to this point, and as you rubbed your sore hip, your mind filled with negative thoughts. What if they couldn't do an ultrasound? What if you didn't get to see the baby? What if there was something wrong?

"Hey." Bradley was sitting up, and his arms were open for you even though he looked a bit like a lobster. You crawled willingly into his overheated embrace, and if you were hurting him, he didn't say a word about it. "Wednesday, Baby Girl. I couldn't be more excited. Just wait, everything will be perfect."

You were surprised to find that the week didn't drag too much. Work was busy, and Bradley's sunburn was starting to peel. When you were on the verge of tears on Tuesday night because your libido was so insane right now, he fucked you hard in the kitchen while he said, "Next time, please force me to reapply the sunblock!"

"I will," you moaned as you came, delighting in the feeling of perfect release.

And next thing you knew, it was Wednesday, and you were about to meet your new doctor for the first time. And hopefully you were going to see your baby for the first time.

"Are you nervous?" you asked Bradley as he laced his fingers with yours as you sat in the quiet waiting room together. There were expectant mothers at varying stages of pregnancy sitting around you, and you tried to imagine how big you'd be in a few more months.

"Excited," he replied, kissing your cheek and ear. "Just really fucking excited. I've been thinking... about starting a notebook. Kind of for the baby? Like how sometimes I like to write down what I'm thinking and feeling for myself."

You nodded. "I love your deployment notebooks. I love what you wrote about me."

He kissed you hard on the lips. "I think I want the baby to be able to read about how much I was looking forward to meeting them. When they're older, I mean. They can read about how I feel like my heart is going to pound out of my chest right now," he said with a laugh. "And how I can't wait to hold them and give them a name. All about how much I love their mom."

Tears filled your eyes as you turned to tuck your face against his neck. "I like that idea." You kissed the side of his neck and told him how much you loved him back, and then you jolted in your seat as a friendly looking nurse called your name.

"Come on back, you two," she said with a smile. "Hopefully mom and dad can leave with some new family photos."

------------------------

I'm hoping for a family photo in the next part! I also don't know how she's going to survive Annapolis right now. I also can't believe Maria and Bob aren't about to fuck nasty. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 30

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unholyhelbig · 15 days

Note

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid.

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

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