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bratphilia · 6 months

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glass window (w. afton x reader)

request: "POOHKIE BEAR HEAR ME OUT!!!! dad's best friend!william. y'all just moved into the neigborhood, and you've been oh so busy with college/working that you hadn't had the time to introduce yourself to william (tho steve for the sake of keeping his identity yada yada) and so like, the moment you get the chance to? william aka steve cannot contain his thoughts abt you oml !! ur just so fucking pretty !! delicate !! those fucking skirts you wear, in the summers of utah (i think thats where the movie/fnaf location is canonically) he'd so.. hungry for you.. bonus points if theres a height/size difference omg JUST HEAR ME OUT POOHKIE!!!- i'll be going under as the 🧚‍♀️ anon!"

note: okay yeah i went a lil crazy with this one but i just loved this request sm. probably my favorite fic ive written so far.

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: age gap (reader is college age 18-21 and william is 45-50), creepy and stalking behavior from william, oral sex (m + f receiving), slight dubcon, doggy style, mating press, multiple orgasms, william having insane stamina at his age

you and your parents just moved to hurricane, utah, aka the most boring town you've ever been to. the second day in your new house, while you were at your criminology class, your neighbor, steve raglan came by to welcome your family to the neighborhood. they mentioned having a college aged daughter. he didn't think much about at the time. it was a passing comment after all.

a few weeks pass by and steve started to become a frequent visitor to your household. however, each of those times you have either been at school or at work. he had no idea who you are.

that is, until one day you come home in the evening after a class while steve is over having a glass of wine with your dad. you close the door behind you to see the door to the backyard open. curiously, you poke your head out and spot your dad with an unfamiliar face, and you stand shyly in the doorway expectantly.

"hey, sweetie," your dad says. "this is steve raglan. our next door neighbor i was telling you about."

you walk towards him when steve holds his hand out for you to shake. "nice to meet you, mr. raglan."

mr. raglan. his ears practically perk up at that. he drinks in your appearance. you're wearing a black, short tennis skirt that stops mid-thigh with a pretty white blouse.

"nice to meet you too," he says politely, trying his hardest not to come across as creepy.

your dad turns to you. "how was class?"

"it was okay. i do have a lot of homework to do, so i should probably go," you say, then turn to steve and wave as you go, "it was nice to meet you again."

his eyes never leave your bare legs as you walk away. and well, he wanted to fucking ruin you.

steve notices something interesting about you while mowing the lawn. there's a gate in the back of your house where he can see a glass door from the angle he's at in the front of his yard. a glass door that, he discovers, is the back entrance to your bedroom.

he decides to make good use of his porch.

at this point, he contemplates buying a pair of binoculars, but that felt like a little too much. for now, he had the view he needed to satisfy him. he even took a few photos that he saves for material to use in his personal time.

unbeknownst to you, steve is absolutely obsessed with you.

his heart skips a beat every time you take a walk in the neighborhood, when, coincidentally, he's sitting on the porch pretending to read a newspaper, and you wave at him and smile. he always returns your smile and waves back kindly.

one day, when you're walking past his house, he notices something gold falling to the ground. when you're out of sight, he goes to investigate, only to find a gold ring that could have only belonged to you. the perfect opportunity. steve waits about a week and keeps your ring with him on top of his nightstand.

sometimes, he notices you like to leave your door open on a particularly hot day. surely you couldn't be naïve to think no one would break in, right? you're just so pretty, who knows who could follow you home from the shadows.

on one particularly hot day, you leave your door open. almost invitingly. and steve watches as your mom's car passes by his house, going out, while he knows for a fact that your dad is working. it's his time to strike.

steve makes his way across the street and through the back gate. he looks through the window to find you reading a book while sitting on your bed. he taps on the glass to get your attention. your eyes snap from the book to the door to see him standing there.

"hi, uhm, can i help you, mr. raglan?" you say, getting up. you look shocked, clearly a little freaked out he came through the back of your house, he presumes.

steve smiles and walks in uninvited, making you back up a little as he steps closer. "hi stranger, i just wanted to return something of yours that you dropped a few days ago."

he turns up the ring in his hand and watches your eyes widen. "i've been looking all over for this! thank you so much."

steve watches as you take the ring from his palm and slip it back on your finger. "you know, i've been wondering something."

you look up at him. "what's that?"

he chuckles lightly and closes the door behind him. "i can't help but notice that you like to leave your door open, and i just wonder how you possibly think that's safe for you."

"i—i don't know what you mean," you say, confused. you fidget with ring on your finger nervously, not liking the direction this conversation is going in.

"well, you know just about anyone could come in here and take advantage of you. you wouldn't want that, hmm?" he asks, stepping towards you and cupping your jaw. "or maybe you would. is that why you do it?"

you inhale. "mr. raglan, i don't think this is appropriate—"

"neither is the way you've been teasing me, little girl," steve retorts and you flash him a scandalized look. "oh, come on, don't think i don't notice. your short skirts showing off that even tinier figure and the way you always seem so eager to get my attention. i know the game you're playing."

he cups your jaw as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip for entrance. you grant him access and he slips his tongue into your mouth. it's a slow, sensual kiss. you're moaning into his mouth as he takes full control.

steve's hands travel from your face, to your waist, and to your ass to squeeze. you whimper into his mouth and he laughs lowly against you.

slowly he breaks away from you. "take off your clothes and get on the bed on all fours. now."

you make a show of taking off your clothes for him. you keep eye contact with him as you unbutton your shirt and discard it mindlessly. then you reach around your back to unclasp your bra, baring your chest to him.

"beautiful," he comments. "take off your panties but keep the skirt on."

you do what he says and get in the lewd position steve requested a moment ago, mind racing with what he would possibly do to you. you grip the sheets almost nervously and rub your thighs together to relieve the tension in your core.

steve practically saunters over to you and gives a low whistle. "such a pretty pussy."

you blush realizing your skirt rode up to your waist. you shiver when he places a cold hand on your ass, kneeding it roughly.

"ooh," you moan, arching your back needily, making him laugh.

"need it that bad, huh, baby?"

"yes," you say quietly, turning head around to look at him.

"don't worry, honey, i'll take good care of you," he says with a twisted smile.

he leans forward to press a kiss on your slit, moaning at the wetness that drips onto his lips. he wastes absolutely no time eating you out and laps at your pussy like a starving man. you can't bear to look at him anymore, the obscene noises of him slurping causing your face to burn with embarrassment.

you can't help but push back against his face much to his delight. you can feel his beard scratching against you, as delicious as you imagined. the friction of him smothering his face into you is making you whimper and moan helplessly. you wish you could grasp onto him or close your thighs, but this position and being completely at his disposal makes it all the more hotter.

he smacks kisses on your clit, sucking and rolling the sensitive nub around with his tongue. one particular harsh suck where he tugs on your clit ever so gently with his teeth has you coming on his face. he keeps going until you're squirming and begging him to stop.

he pulls away from you almost remorsefully. "thanks for the meal, babe," he says, wiping his mouth. something that would have otherwise made you cringe in disgust if it didn't come from him.

"ready for my cock, sweet girl?" he asks.

you can only murmur out a "mhm" as you were already too fucked out to verbalize anything.

he just laughs at your disposition. "don't get too tired on me yet, sweetheart, i still have so much planned for you."

the clinking of metal gets you excited all over again. he pushes into you with a groan. "fuckin' tight like a vice," he curses.

he thrusts into you experimentally, gaging your reaction for which angle makes you moan the loudest. when he finds the right one, he picks up the tempo instantly. your room is filled with the noises of his balls smacking against your ass, his grunts and your incessant moaning. he wraps a hand in your hair and the other rests on your hip for leverage.

"you like that, baby? like the feeling of me inside you?" steve asks you teasingly but you can barely respond. "fuck, you feel so good around me. my good girl."

"please, let me come," you whine desperately, bucking your hips backwards so it meets his thrusts.

"i will, honey, i will."

suddenly he flips you over so you're on your back and bends your legs in half. the manhandling is an added bonus. "i want you to look at me when you come, okay?"

"okay..." you mumble, letting him use your pussy for whatever he pleases at this point.

one specifically hard and calculated thrust has you reeling. your orgasm is definitely in sight. you can feel your stomach begin to coil, ready to snap.

"mr. raglan!" you draw out the syllables of his name, signifying you're close.

"ngh — keep calling me that, honey, it's so fuckin' hot."

you can feel him close as well as his grunts and groans grow louder and his thrusts get more erratic and shallow. he decides to drill into you even harder for the sake of your own orgasm, making you almost scream out his name as you squeeze your eyes shut and come.

he pulls out before he finishes and beckons you over to him. "suck me dry, baby. want you to taste yourself on me when i come."

tiredly, you sit up and take is cock into your mouth. since he's already close he takes the initiative to thrust into your mouth while you gag around him. the noises you're making only add to his arousal.

he's grunting incoherent dirty praises, about how good and tight your mouth feels, and how you're such a good girl for him. he comes with one final, drawn out groan as he throws his head back. spurts of his ejaculate shoot down your throat and you try your best to swallow what he gives you, but some dribble down your chin.

you pull your mouth off of him and he brings his lips to your for another kiss, licking the remnants of his orgasm from your lips and chin. when you pull away breathlessly he's grinning from ear to ear.

"so good f'me," he compliments sweetly, making you smile.

maybe hurricane isn't so bad after all.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #steve raglan #william afton #steve raglan x reader #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf movie #matthew lillard #matthew lillard x reader #william laughs evilly during sex. its canon #🧚‍♀️

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bsxcrxts · 5 months

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mess

Luke Skywalker x fem!reader

(note: written with fem!reader in mind, but no gendered language towards reader. reader is afab with breasts)

MINORS DNI. AGE IN BIO TO INTERACT WITH MY WORKS. I WILL BLOCK YOU IF NOT.

word count: 5k shameless, shameless words. teehee

Contains: This is a sex pollen fic!!!! Very mild dubious consent due to those circumstances, but reader and Luke check in with each other multiple times. Reader calls themself a slut briefly but no degradation, the nickname "bunny" and "baby", cunnilingus, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this unless you want a baby lol), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, Luke is so babygirl

A/N: This takes place between ANH and ESB and may be the closest I've ever written reader's personality to my own irl; reader is pessimistic and self-conscious at times though it does not come up during the sex in this fic, just before and after. Not to worry, happy ending ;)

The Rebellion's cover on Yavin IV was completely blown, of course. You can't get away with obliterating the Empire's most impressive weapon of mass destruction and then trying to just stick around to find out what happens– it would be exceptionally bad strategy. The Rebellion has mere weeks to relocate.

You're just not sure why you raised your hand to be placed on the mission to scout the next uninviting and dangerous planet to build a base on.

Actually, you admit to yourself, that's a lie.

You are sure why you thought it was a good idea, in fact, you're very sure, and the reason is a blonde man around your age with the prettiest blue eyes you've ever seen. You've had a crush on him since the moment you saw him, and he had also volunteered for the mission.

The reason is Luke Skywalker.

You jump at the chance, thinking that being around him in a small group would be the easiest way to get to know him. To make him really notice you, not just wave in the hallway as he walks by. Except, coincidentally of course, the Rebellion could only afford to spare two people for the mission, and they stopped taking names once they wrote yours down.

So now, a mere week later, you're alone, on a transport, with Luke Skywalker.

And things have never felt so awkward in your whole life.

In fact, you're seriously rethinking the whole Rebellion thing in general; yes, the cause is deeply important to you, but how important is your dignity in comparison? Would disappearing into the woods back on your home planet forever be letting the Empire win?

It's just that in the three days and two planetary excursions you've spent together, you've fumbled over every interaction you've had with Luke, and it's killing you. You've spoken to him before, but only in short, passing conversations, the kind of thing that's easy to run from. But now? There's no where to run. You've bumped into him at least four times that you can count on the tiny transport and rushed out apologies every time, tripped over a vine on the first planet, slipped on ice on the second. Both times he caught you before you hit the ground. You could have died from the embarrassment, melted into the floor and slipped away.

Your small talk is weak, but at least you can always talk about the weather, since it's actually topical to the mission. You don't know what else to say, desperately trying to come off as normal around him, not like some over-enthused fan who just wants to get with him because he's the Hero of Yavin IV. Luke is either oblivious, or pretends not to notice, and keeps trying to make conversation anyway.

"I don't like Hoth for it. Too cold," he says, sitting down in his seat as the two of you rocket through hyperspace, heading to the next planet. "Actually, it's all the snow. How do you build anything in all that?"

What's worse about the situation is that the mission has been fruitless. The base has to be built on a planet that is next-to inhospitable, with no current population to disrupt. It's a short list of horrible places, but you have to make one of them work.

"Well," you hesitate, "Deyer is toxic, we couldn't even breathe the atmosphere there. Plus we saw Imps orbiting Anout, which we should probably tell someone about."

"Already sent Leia a comm on the secure channel."

You're quiet for a half second. Luke talks fast, and you have to answer quickly to keep up with him, but you aren't used to hearing General Organa's first name from other recruits. Of course he's close with her. Are you trying to compete with a princess? You have to wonder.

Luke sighs and leans back in his chair. "Just like places where it's hot, that's all."

"Cause you fit right in," you mutter, completely accidentally, and hearing yourself, your eyes widen. "Being from Tatooine, you're used to it," you rush.

Hardly your best save, but Luke smiles at you, bemused. You swear sometimes he can see right through your facade.

"You know, I couldn't wait to get off that planet," he says. "There was never any adventure there, not anymore."

"Really?" you ask. "None?"

"I guess I could have stuck around to bullseye womprats in my T-16 but I'd been doing that since I was a kid."

"Oh," you note. Honestly, you don't know if you're sure of what a womprat even is, though you can guess. "So, is this mission another adventure, then?" you ask.

"It can be," Luke says. "I have a feeling it's an important one."

You nod, not sure if you have the right to ask what he means by a feeling. That's the other thing about Luke, he has this power most people don't, this Force that everyone started whispering about after he arrived on base with certain things no one had seen in a long time; a lightsaber, luck, a certain type of faith.

As you're overthinking it, the transport shudders out of hyperspace, blue lines becoming dots of light as you drift into the orbit of the next world on your list to investigate. The two of you part ways as he takes over piloting while you go to prep the packs to bring with you on the excursion.

When Luke lands the small ship on the planet's surface, you hope that this is the perfect location, but something just feels... off.

These places that you and Luke are investigating are all supposed to be disagreeable by design. Something– be it the weather, the atmosphere, the creature life– is supposed to keep most people away, including and especially the Empire. Everyone should be unsuspecting that the Rebellion would ever chose such a location for their base.

The problem is that the ecosystem here is shockingly nice. Welcoming, even. You've landed in a little clearing, but just a few yards away the landscape morphs into nothing but fields and fields, valleys and meadows as far as the eye can see, and in every field grows delicate little wildflowers; with purple petals barely the size of the tip of your finger. They seem to grow on the wild grasses, some of them reaching as tall as your hips.

"We got the right coordinates, right?" you venture.

"Yeah! I don't understand," Luke answers. "This isn't unpleasant at all."

Nerthusa, if you remember the name of the planet correctly, didn't list any conditions in the records, just that there were no sentient inhabitants. Your atmospheric indicator is reading that it's safe, so the two of you take your masks off. There's an overtly sweet smell in the air that hits you right away when you do, obviously because of the flowers.

"There's gotta be some massive creature that lives here that's plotting how to kill and eat us right now. I mean, why else..." you trail off, still looking around for a threat or an incoming storm, but there's nothing.

Luke has done his own surveilling and apparently also come up with nothing in the immediate vicinity.

"We should explore some," he says, "y'know, before we definitely pick this spot instead of Hoth for the base," he jokes, smiling at you again.

For all the grief you gave him earlier, you're not too keen on the idea of living on Hoth either, and so far, Nerthusa is beautiful. Plus, you'd feel pretty bad if you signed off on it and then it turned out there were wild herds of vicious carnivorous beasts roaming around or something. A thorough investigation is only fair, you think, so the two of you grab your packs and set off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a while, everything was fine, but about a half an hour into your trek, things are decidedly not fine in a very unique way, but you would probably rather literally die than mention anything about it to Luke. For one, he was so hopeful about this place, and secondly... well. Let's just say your symptoms were unusual.

It started off with what felt like hot flashes. One moment you'd be perfectly fine in the afternoon breeze, and the next, your cheeks would be burning and you'd have the strong urge to yank your shirt off. In the beginning, it would come in waves, and pass over you, leading you to think you'd just been pushing yourself too hard through the field or something, but how could that be true? The landscape was hardly difficult to maneuver, and your pace steady but not too quick.

The flashes were slowly replaced by waves of a different type of heat, one that was much more difficult to rationalize. Shit, you know you're attracted to Luke, but you've never, ever felt like this, not in situations outside of your bedroom. And not even then.

You can't look at him for too long or you think you might lose control. He's thankfully trailing behind you now by just a little bit, your only reprieve that he can't see your face like this. When you do glance back at him, he's looking at the ground, but his cheeks are flushed just beautifully, his hair catching the light from the late afternoon sun. His toned biceps have a slight sheen of sweat and, and, and–

You rip your gaze away. You want him. No, you NEED him.

No, you're being insane, you mentally scold yourself, but it's getting more and more difficult to rationalize your way out of it. There's a perpetual feeling low inside you now, and you can feel yourself actually dripping into your underwear.

You're not sure how much more you can take, and when you pick up on the sound of Luke breathing heavily behind you, it doesn't make it any better. Is he feeling this too?

Your resolve to say something breaks when you find yourself beginning to imagine what would happen if you stopped walking and let him run into you, pushed your ass against his cock, let him bend you over and fuck you into the goddamn ground, right here, right now. You're thinking about having something, anything inside your cunt, but especially his cock. You have to snap out of it.

"Let's stop for a second," you rush out, not giving Luke a chance to protest. You start walking away from him, hoping to put some distance between the two of you as if that will cure your ailment, so you lean on a large rock a few feet off the side of the trail you'd been walking.

The atmosphere is sickly saccharine now, stifling your breathing. There's a low mist or something hanging in the air and everything feels strangely heavy. You close your eyes for what you thought was just a second, trying to figure out how to bring up that this planet is obviously poisoning you despite what the indicators read earlier, but when you open them again, Luke is gone.

For a second, you panic; your blood runs cold, and your system is too overwhelmed with the brief shock and fear that you can almost fight off the symptoms the planet is subjecting you to. You scan the fields rapidly, your mind searching. It certainly would be worse to lose Luke Skywalker on a random planet in the Outer Rim than nearly any other bad luck that could befall you, and it would mean you'd be alone here. Under any normal circumstance the thought would certainly unsettle you, but rational thought is quickly slipping from your mind's grasp, and you feel different. Maybe even abandoned.

You wheel around and finally see him standing in the valley, several yards away, with his back to you. Your relief is palpable; you feel your shoulders drop and your heart rate settle.

And then the other feelings are back, ten times stronger.

"Luke!" you can't help but call out as you practically double over, and then, fighting to straighten your posture, take a few steps his direction.

Luke turns around and puts his hands out like he's trying to corral a frightened bantha, and that's when you know he's feeling it too. The thought of Luke being as equally aroused as you are in this moment makes your knees buckle.

"Don't, um... don't come any closer, something's wrong," he says.

"I know. We have to get out of here," you shout, continuing to move towards him. "I think I'm... I think I'm getting sick," you insist. It's not a lie, necessarily. It's not the truth either.

"Yeah," Luke says, his voice trembling. "Yeah, me too."

At least both of you are determined to avoid what's really happening.

"It's the flowers," you say, stopping a foot or two away from him. "We're allergic to the pollen, or... or, something. We should take the reaction treatment in the medpacks and leave."

Luke is not listening to you. It's evident by the way he's avoiding your gaze entirely. His eyes wander briefly down your neck to your chest before he appears to zone out completely, gaze falling to the ground.

"Luke..." you trail off. No response. "Luke?" you insist. He doesn't react until you touch his wrist– it's instinctual, and a huge mistake.

"Mm?" he moans lightly as he seems to snap out of the trance he was in, but when he looks up at you, his face is flushed, his pupils blown wide. You probably look similarly messy, you imagine, as the touch of his skin to yours electrifies you. It dulls the ache, soothes the relentless arousal even just a tiny amount. Stars, it's bad. It's worse, because you could become addicted to the way his skin feels against yours right now.

You pull back your hand like you'd been scalded. You want him like you've never wanted anyone. You don't dare to look at his body any further down than his chest, knowing if your own state is any indication, that he's hard and aching in his pants, and you don't know how you'll hold yourself back if you see him like that.

"Sorry," you whisper. He doesn't say anything, just licks his lips subtly and nods.

"Luke," you protest, "we have to get to the ship, and soon. If this is... I don't know what it is," you trail off. Half-truths. You've obviously both been exposed to an extremely powerful aphrodisiac via the flower pollen, you and Luke know there's no denying that. But the extent of its symptoms, and how bad it will get if you stay, there's no way to know.

It pains you, staying focused like this. Your heart and cunt are screaming at you to just have sex with him, to just give in to the urge to use one other to get off. What's left of your logical reasoning persists in one singular thought; get away from the flowers.

"Okay," he says. "Okay, let's go back."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk to the transport is as silent as it is excruciating. You and Luke have an unspoken agreement to stay several feet away from each other, so he trails behind you once again. There's nothing to talk about, anyway.

The seam of your pants rubs against your clit with every step. You almost feel thankful for it, because if not for the merciful contact, you're sure you would have shoved a hand down your pants already. You can feel that there's a wet patch on the crotch of your trousers and you have never felt more humiliated, or more needy. Every few minutes, you sense Luke exhale a soft, barely audible moan behind you.

Don't look. Keep walking, you think. All there is to do is keep walking.

More lies, your mind supplies, like a screwed up dialogue with yourself. You could fuck him instead.

When you reach the transport, you dash inside like you're possessed. As soon as you're both inside, you seal the doors, hoping once you're out of the environment, things might change. You open one of the ship cabinets and rummage through the med supplies until you find the reaction treatment and quickly take the pill that's supposed to regulate your internal systems.

You turn to pass a pill to Luke, who's slumped against the wall, a hand conspicuously placed over the front of his trousers. You don't say anything, just watch as he also takes the treatment, then look away, seating yourself in the passenger side of the ship, crossing your legs, not knowing what else to do.

It's supposed to be instant, but nothing is happening. You wait a few minutes, hoping. Not a goddamn thing feels better.

"If you expect me to– I can't– I can't fly like this," Luke sounds almost irritated for a moment, which you suppose is fair, but you refuse to turn around to look at him. Your nails dig into the armrests next to you. If things hadn't been so damn awkward before, maybe there would have been some kind of resolution to this that involved you implying getting rid of the effects naturally instead of torturing yourself like this.

Distracted again at the idea, you imagine getting up and kissing Luke, pressing your body against him the way it craved. You imagined him pinning you to the wall, ripping your ruined pants and shoving his cock into you at a brutal pace, giving you everything you wanted, craved, needed right now.

Stars, you were on the edge of orgasm just thinking about it, clenching and relaxing your thighs rhythmically, hips doing tiny, almost imperceptible circles on your seat.

But you caught yourself before you could finish; you couldn't see your way out of it. You barely knew Luke, no matter how much you were into him, so you couldn't muster the strength to ask him if he'd consider it– if he'd consider you. You might die from this before you gave in, you thought. Maybe literally. You reluctantly uncross your legs, denying yourself release, and shifted in your chair.

"Fuck," Luke whines, suddenly across from you in the pilot's seat. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" you breathe. His close proximity is taunting you, and when you look over at him, his head is thrown back against the seat. He's absentmindedly touching himself, rutting his still-clothed cock against his hand as his hips jerk every so often, like it's not even on purpose but on pure instinct.

Animalistic.

"When you," Luke squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, "when you sit like that, I can, uhm–"

It's your turn to be a bit snappy with him. You're more than uncomfortable and there's no getting around it now. Mere moments earlier, you still thought you could ignore the problem and it would go away, but now Luke is grabbing at his cock over his pants right in front of you. Fuck it.

"Spit it out, Skywalker," you say, giving in and letting your own hand snake down your torso to cup your heat, pressing your wet trousers and panties against your pussy.

"Can smell how turned on you are when you open your legs," he rushes out.

"Oh," you breathe, barely above a whisper. It makes sense. Enclosed spaces. No longer the open field of flowers to mask the scent of your arousal or of his sweat.

When you think of it, your hips grind harder against your hand and the chair, and you let out a moan, frustrated, self-conscious, but unable to hold back any longer.

At this, Luke suddenly keens. His hips give one, two, three little jerks, and he bites his lip in an effort to stifle his own noises, his whole body tensing, blue eyes rolling back as he very obviously came in his pants, a wet spot forming on his trousers.

"Did you–" you go to inquire, but think better of it. It's obvious what just happened. "Did it help?" you ask instead. Your face is burning with embarrassment and intense arousal. The look on Luke's face when he cums is not something you ever intend to forget.

"No," Luke sighs, "no, I'm still– it's still– I think we can't get rid of it on our own. It... it's worse than before."

When you don't say anything, he keeps talking.

"Really want you," Luke says softly, and then he's sliding off his seat, moving to kneel right in front of you. His hands come to rest on your thighs, gently spreading your legs further open. Your eyes have to be as wide as saucers when he kisses your inner knee and inhales deeply before pulling away.

"Please? It's hurting you, too, isn't it?" he asks, his gorgeous blue eyes looking up at you, begging you silently.

In more ways than one, you think. You're being haunted by all the complications of this, no matter how badly you want him. You could fall in love with him, but Luke doesn't owe you anything; you're not dating, you've never even had a conversation longer than ten minutes before this week.

He doesn't even owe you this, and yet he's offering to give it to you.

"Yes," you breathe shakily, "I want you too."

No sooner are the words out of your mouth than Luke is pulling on the belt loops of your pants. "Take them off," he whines, and you rush, shoving your trousers off in haste. It feels good to give in to the effects of the pollen, feels right. You mind gets clouded, thinking only of Luke's skin on yours.

The flowers must be similarly affecting Luke, because before you can divest yourself of your panties, Luke's shoving his face against your clothed pussy, tonguing you lewdly over your already ruined undergarments. The feeling is amplified by whatever the two of you inhaled earlier, and you throw your head back, your hips leaving the chair as you squirm, at the mercy of the mess of a man on his knees in front of you.

"You're soaked," Luke moans against your cunt. Your mind is empty, filled with the base desire to feel his mouth against your bare cunt, and you shove your panties off your legs hurriedly. Luke helps, yanking them down.

"Oh," he whines, "These are so pretty." He's holding your wet undergarment up and staring like he's won a prize, momentarily distracted by the lace trim and the smell of you on them.

"We ruined them," he laments. "I'll get you new ones, bunny."

Luke doesn't give you time to respond, or to react to the new nickname he's given you, before he's practically pushing his face against your cunt. He doesn't hesitate; there's no teasing, no build-up, just the feeling of his tongue firm against you, starved in a way you've never felt before.

You can't help but writhe on his tongue. At the start, you try to avoid fisting your hands in his pretty blonde hair, but you can only hold yourself back for mere moments before you're tugging at him, pushing his face into your cunt and grinding your hips across his mouth.

And Luke likes it, moans into your cunt below you, panting. His big blue eyes find yours when you tug particularly hard and you swear you see his eyelashes flutter. He's doing his best to get as close as humanly possible to you, too, grabbing your thighs and pulling you forward onto his mouth, the wet sound of your cunt urging him on. He licks and sucks on your clit, and you sob.

It's heady. It's disgusting. It's going to make you cum. And somehow, he knows.

"Yeah?" he barely pulls away to answer you, "You like that?"

"Luke," you cry, pushed over the edge, grinding against his face as you let the aftershocks overtake your body, expecting your body to relax as usual into the bliss of the afterglow.

Except, the desire doesn't fade. The symptoms don't go away. If anything, they've intensified, and you moan frustratedly. The orgasm Luke has given you on any other day would have sated you completely, but not now.

Luke looks wrecked on his knees before you, pupils blown so wide that his eyes look dark. His mouth shines with your release, his cheeks a bright red.

You give into your urges.

Sliding off the chair, you situate yourself so you're also on your knees on the floor of the ship with him. You lean over, crawling into his lap, and claim his mouth, kissing him the way you've only ever dreamed you might one day. It's the first time you've kissed, you realize somewhat embarrassingly, mind reeling that he's had his lips on your pussy before your mouth.

"That was so good. You're so good," you compliment him between kisses, and he lights up at the praise, smiling against your mouth, hips grinding against yours, and you can feel how hard he is.

"D'you feel better?" Luke hesitates, almost like he's too nervous to ask.

You shake your head. "No...I-I need more."

"Me too," he answers.

"Let me help you?" you ask, trailing a hand over his cock, hard and thick in his pants. He shudders and bucks his hips, nodding.

You're quick to pull him from the confines of his pants, underwear just as soaked as yours was from his earlier orgasm. You can't even think to tease him about it though, because his cock is gorgeous. Long and pretty, flushed so much it must be painful– you know it is, just as much as your cunt aches to have him inside you.

You meant to take him as quickly as you could, to satiate the pollen, to cure yourself of the beyond intense desire you feel. You don't mean to toy with him, but you can't help it, you're mesmerized. The way his cock is leaking precum makes you stop and just watch, letting him fuck your hand, twisting your wrist a bit at the tip to make him moan and keen and cry out and– and–

He's cumming again, all over his open pants, all over his shirt, all over your hand. You've never seen anything like it. Your cunt twitches and flutters around nothing as you watch him finish.

His little noises, his "ah, haah, mh!" sounds almost send you over the edge.

"Oh, baby. There’s so much,” you gasp, eyes wide at the way he's literally dripping with his own spend. His cock refuses to soften, twitching in your hand even as you pause your ministrations– the pollen has completely eradicated his refractory period.

"I needa be inside you right now, please," Luke begs.

By now the feeling inside of you is debilitating too, impossible to ignore. You rip your own shirt off, pawing at Luke's clothing that's stained with his cum and help him take everything off before you're quickly straddling him, pinning him to the floor.

Selfishly, you wish you had time to marvel at his body, to slowly worship him, to mark his abdomen with love bites and kisses instead of jumping to this point, but the need for him is overwhelming. You sink down onto his cock, and you feel like the air has been punched out of your lungs.

"F-fuck!" Luke exclaims as he feels the tight heat of your pussy clench around him for the first time, overwhelmed. You would love to take your time with this one day, too, you realize as you look down at him. He's cute beneath you, staring up at you adoringly, eyes darting from where his cock is buried inside of you, to your tits, to your face. Maybe he'd react well to being teased, but it isn't the time.

And the way he's desperately thrusting his hips up into you now isn't so bad, either. His hands grip your hips, fucking you on his dick as you grind down on him, the two of you working in tandem.

You don't know if it's because it's Luke, or if it's because of the pollen, or a little bit of both, but you feel amazing right now; there's a comfortable warmth spreading throughout your body, and everywhere Luke touches you feels addicting. The pace is fast and rough and perfect.

You may never get this again, you realize. You've got to make the most of it.

"So pretty," you tell him. "Look so good like this."

Luke moans underneath you, his breathing shallow and stuttered, hips never ceasing to roll perfectly against you. You notice the way his gaze continues to linger on your breasts and can't help yourself.

"Touch me," you whimper, pulling his hands from their place on your hips to your tits. "You like them, don't you? Seen the way you look at them."

Luke practically worships your breasts, running his hands along your body.

"You're perfect," he whines. "A-all of you. Feel like a dream around my– uhm, uh! L-like you're meant for me."

The idea does you in. "Oh, oh god," you cry out, clenching on his cock and cumming for the second time in a matter of minutes. It wracks through your body, making you shudder and collapse against Luke, who redoubles his efforts, holding your body against his as his hips continue to fuck against yours, which is all the better for you; you can't believe it, but you still feel that your body needs more.

It's obvious that Luke is losing all concentration, lost in his own pleasure. He chases his own orgasm, rutting into your body like a man possessed, until you feel him erupt inside of you.

“Ccan't stop cumming..." he whines as you feel his cock twitch in your cunt, and now you're dripping in a different way than before, "Again, bunny, I n-need it again.”

"Fuck yes, me too," you cry out.

No sooner have the words left your mouth than Luke is flipping the two of you over, throwing your legs around his waist. You cross your legs behind him, drawing him even closer, and throw your hips back towards him, desiring to take everything he can give you.

He gasps sharply as he sheathes himself inside you again, overstimulated, but still absolutely insatiable.

"Does it hurt?" you ask, your own pussy sure to be sore soon, you knew.

"A l-little but it feels s' good," he whines. "Can't stop. Don't wanna stop."

"Then don't, baby. Fuck me hard," you insist.

He listens, his pace brutal, completely drunk on your pussy. Under any other circumstances you'd want to tease him for it, but you were much the same for him. His moans were relentless, whining and gasping at every thrust as you ran your nails down his back, clinging to him. One of his pretty hands comes to play with your swollen clit, rubbing against you gently but firmly.

"Y'like it?" Luke asks.

"So much," you answer. And then, because you're feeling a bit brave; "Feel like such a slut f'you," you say, sultry, hardly above a whisper.

Luke's eyes go wide for a second before he suddenly kisses you deeply.

"Y'wanna be my slut? Is that it?" he asks against your mouth.

"Yeah," you cry out as his cock perfectly hits that most sensitive spot inside of you.

"That's really hot," he whines. And then, like a silly little afterthought, "We're kinda both sluts right now," he huffs out with a laugh and you can't help but to smile as you kiss him again.

Hardly thinking anymore, you kiss at his neck, yet again wishing in a possessive way that you could mark him more permanently, but this would do for now. Luke shudders against you, crying out.

"Ah, oh, m' c-close. Y'gonna make me cum again for you, bunny."

"Yeah? Good," you say, and grab a handful of his beautiful blonde hair, tilting his head back so he's looking at you, "Want you to cum inside me again."

"Oh, unh, I ccan't hold it," he babbles, "cumming."

Luke sloppily ruts into you as he finishes; there's so much it's practically spilling out of you. He's falling apart, and you are too, following him over the edge mere seconds later.

You can sense that the pollen's effect is waning, but it's not yet gone from either of your systems. Luke's cock, despite having just pumped you full of cum, remains hard inside your pussy. You still ache for another orgasm, not yet content.

"Oh," Luke whines as he shifts inside of you, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"Baby?" you ask, "are you okay?"

"Uhn," he chokes out, "yyeah, just, oh, ffuck, sensitive s'all."

"Just one more, baby, it's gonna feel so good. One more time," you coax, despite your own aches and pains.

This time, it's much gentler; not romantic, not quite, it still feels like there's an urgency, but the two of you are well-worn out, bodies nearly giving out despite the influence of the pollen; his cock oversensitive and your cunt full to the brim of him.

Luke presses a soft kiss to your forehead and you freeze, just for a split second. It shouldn't change things, but it does. It's not the time to be caught up in the logistics of all this, but your mind is beginning to be released from the brain fog caused by the flowers and suddenly there's nothing else to think about.

He must sense something about the change in your behavior, because he holds you close, and rocks into you softer. It makes you like him even more, makes you so fond of him you could cry. You don't. Instead, you pull his face towards yours and let yourself kiss him tenderly in return, unbearably erotic, tracing his skin as you moan quietly into each other's mouths, a mixture of sensitivity and pleasure mingling.

It's not long before the two of you are close to cumming again, and in a moment of greed and blind arousal, you pull him closer by his hair and bite and suck passionately at his collarbone, knowing it will bloom into a beautiful, dark mark that he'll hopefully remember you by, at least for a while. He liked it earlier, you remember. And he likes it now, you observe. Luke absolutely melts, gasps and moans delightedly, and spills inside of you for a third time, triggering your own orgasm as you clench around him.

Finally, you feel spent. Your cunt flutters with aftershocks, but there's no uncontrollable lust accompanied with it anymore. Luke slips out of you, his cock softening at last. The two of you lay on the floor of the transport for a quiet moment, breathing together, your muscles only now feeling the burn of your exertion.

Reality has set back in.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out when you can finally think of anything to say, grabbing your clothes from the discarded pile nearby and holding them in front of your nude frame, as if there was anything Luke hadn't seen that evening.

Luke, who's been lounging on the duristeel floor quite comfortably, sits up and furrows his brows.

"Sorry? Why?"

You look at him pointedly, and gesture vaguely. "Kind of a mess, isn't it?"

"Oh, we can clean up," Luke says, his mild confusion obvious.

"I... I don't know if I meant literally," you say slowly, "I mean, the whole mission has been a mess. I'm a mess. This is a mess."

"I don't think you're a mess," Luke wagers, his tone careful yet reverent, and it shakes you. "and I don't think this mission has been all that terrible either. 'Cept for Hoth, really, but that's besides the point."

You're silent. The air might as well have been punched out of your lungs.

"If you want to pretend all this didn't happen, that's fine," Luke continues, "but I like you, and– and if you feel the way I feel, maybe you'd think about going on a date sometime? After we find a planet to put this stupid base on?"

Something in you relaxes, despite the fact that your heart is pounding. "Yeah. Yeah, I- I like you too. We can do that," you can't hide your smile.

"This is going to make a real funny story one day," Luke says, smiling back. "I told you. Adventure."

"Yeah, well... I don't know if we should put it in the mission report."

Luke actually laughs then. It's a sound you hope you get to hear for the rest of your life.

"Share the sonic?" he asks, "You weren't kidding about this mess," he says, gesturing to your shared fluids on both of you.

"That tiny shower? We'll be pressed against each other like sardines," you tease. "I'll probably slip and fall and break my ass."

"I'll catch you."

"Well then, how could I say no?" you wink.

"I guess I'll see you in there," he jokes back, starting to walk down the small corridor to the refresher. When you join him, you were right, there's barely space for the two of you to even turn around comfortably, but you wouldn't change a thing.

“One more thing," you say as you step inside, "There's no way in hell we can put the base here.”

Luke sighs, an over-exaggerated thing, and pretends to roll his eyes.

“Hoth it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: holy shit guys. I finally did it. two years in my mind. three days to write. here it is. I hope you love it.

#luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x reader #star wars smut #luke 💛#becca’s bs

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moonit3 · 6 days

Note

I've been completely addicted to reading your yanderes since yesterday, especially Harem and the Twins.

Therefore, I would like to request a part 3 of the Harem, if possible with more yandere fem, I am extremely lacking with yandere female, if it is not a bother, I thank you in advance for your attention and I am happy with your stories

𓆩❤︎ YANDERE! CONCUBINES HAREM

⟡ cw: yandere! female (of course), gn! reader, mentioned somnphilia (nothing happens i swear), overthinking from concubines, age gap (but like one line only), mentioned blackmail, pure fluff i guess?

⟡ word count: 1.1 k

⟡ notes: a new format? yep, i got a little tired of the same old ive been using since the very first post and its like it changed a lot…also, i am giving up my life to try to get the new mythic mercy skin (even started playing competitive to get more points) and to have aventurine in star rail (i barely have tickets, so i am going to wait to the anniversary rewards…), either way i am working hard to archive my goals and you should too! enjoy today’s writing, my dear readers :)

earlier today you forget to lock your office’s door to prevent the concubines to enter and spend time with you during work hours, which basically mean they are all over the room in completely silence, observing you working in the documents. it’s wearied to have an quiet audience like this one, but you enjoy hearing the breeze outside your office while working and the ladies definitely know, so they keep to themselves when staying at the room with the only goal to admire you.

you catch most of the ladies moving their gaze away when you stare at them when the files start becoming boring, it’s cute to think about these women who often flirt and shamelessly throw themselves at you acting like this. it reminds you they acted so desperate before as many believed that you would kick them out if any of them showed interest in you, but the ladies now know better.

stretching your arms behind your back, a faint smile slowly made to your lips as you know today’s paperwork is coming to an end. it’s a challenge to stay sit down behind the desk and analyze every new law made by the council as the elections has taken place a few months ago. if you only could ask your personal advisers to finish the work so you could take an hour or two to rest, but that won’t be possible as it is necessary to have your signature at the papers.

a yawn came out of your mouth, calling the ladies’ attention towards their beloved one while you didn’t notice their watchful eyes, you did notice how tired you’ve become in seconds. and almost instantly, your body slowly fall into the desk and right there, you began dreaming about tomorrow’s work.

the little noises of snores made all the concubines step closer to check on your sleeping body.

some of them poked your cheeks to try to wake you up, but immediately failed when you just turned out to prevent them from doing so. others had the idea to bring a plate of your favorite meal so you could smell it and suddenly wake up to thank them, but you payed no mind for it. and the remaining ones just accept that you won’t wake up any time soon, so just they carried you back to your chambers to have a proper bed to sleep on.

seeing how your chest goes up and down with your soft breathing, the concubines couldn’t help themselves to just stay quiet to watch you sleeping form. it’s adorable how their great leader looks so precious in a defenseless position like this! all the things they could do with you right now are possible, but they aren’t animal, no. never in a million years would these lovely women use your body without your consent. so, the ladies just stay inside your chamber to admire you.

“should we get our love’s plushies to let them feel savior in their dream?” the daugther of a merchant asked.

“don’t be ridiculous, anne. do you think [name] would be happier if we show that we learn about their secret stock of plushies? I don’t think so.” the third daughter of a former general answered. “also, they can’t know we stole some of them.”

the others nodded, a little scared that you would discover of all the things they have stolen from you. would you learn how many of your undergarments just vanished? or would you question they found out about your recent discussions with the former emperor? every single of them loved hearing the old man scolding you for not having any heirs to the throne, even daring to ask you if you are sterile or just a coward.

while they got angry at the your father for speaking nuisances about your body, the women couldn’t be happier when hearing the words coming out of lips. ”i will h-have my f-first night soon! just let me choose someone, okay?” and that only made them more eager to stay around you. all the ladies made a pact to keep their newly found secret away from the man who are part of the harem, after all, they are already rivals and none of them need more people to complicate their plans.

that’s why the women of the harem have become more overprotective over you in recently days, not that you’ve noticed any change on their behavior. you are too busy working to make the nation better and to take care of the harem as a whole that you barely notice the immense change on their behavior.

“it’s been hours that [name] has fallen asleep! can we wake them up to spend some time with us? please.” a foreign princess was immediately stopped from touching your forehead, her hands quickly slapped away by a older woman.

and that woman is no other than a renowned actress who retired of her incredible care to become part of the harem, but still gaining enormous revenue from her previous works. “didn’t we said to let our love to rest? oh, wait. we have been talking about it for the past hour or so and you keep insisting on waking them up? you are dumb.” the woman’s words made the princess’ face go completely red as a tomato, then leading to a silent argument between the two of them. with everyone else to witness it.

the discussion continued for ten minutes until both stopped when noticing that you’ve wake up due to their constantly shifting in their voices. of course, both of their face became red of embarrassment while the rest of the concubines could only watch you yawning, probably thinking on what you would to the troublemakers.

“…how long i was sleeping?” even with your best attempts, you can’t keep an eye open to see how many women are inside your chamber.

“a-around seven hours, your majesty.” one of them answered. “are we disturbing your rest? if so, we can leave.”

“oh, don’t worry…” a yawn escape of your lips, interrupting your words. “…you, ladies, aren’t bothering me at all. i was just thinking if you guys would like to rest with me.”

did they hear correctly? are you really asking that or they are just imaging those words to make themselves calmer of this situation. but they knew this is real when you began patting the bed, asking them once again if they would like to sleep with you for the rest of the day and of course, all of them accept it.

it didn’t took much time to you fall asleep again, this time surrounded by many and many ladies over your immense bed who almost fought each other to gain the opportunity to lay next to you. the only reason a conflict didn’t broken out was because you began cuddling a pillow of yours, leading to the concubines crying to themselves while others took photos of this precious moment to use as an important blackmail material in the future or perhaps just to sell at a high price to the male concubines.

@moonit3 . don’t repost it, don’t modify it, don’t plagiarize, translate it without my permission.

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

part i: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the next decade.

Companion series to my sharing the bed one-shot. Follows the relationship between reader&felix from beginning to end. It will be a multi-part series.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: eventual smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending.

One of your father’s disgruntled bodyguards shoves you for walking too slowly. You have enough tenacity to glare at him when you stumble, but even at fourteen years old you are smart enough refrain from retaliation. You know your father will not take your side as you are already in trouble for sneaking out last night. You met with some school friends and attended a house party like a normal fourteen year old, a punishable offence because your life is anything but normal.

You just hope this punishment is a physical one. A few smacks might sting but you’ll get over it, whereas you don’t want to lose your already limited phone or computer privileges.

You walk into your father’s office with the expectation you will be alone, so you stop short when you see the back of a stranger’s head.

Your father’s guests are usually suited old men or pretty young women, not a beanie-wearing teenage boy. He’s kicking his legs like he’s in an ice cream parlour and not in a chair across from one of the most powerful men in the country. Your father is behind his desk, hands steepled and attention determinedly fixed on you. Punishment time is the only time his attention is so rapt.

The door closes behind you, the guard outside slamming it shut. The boy in the chair looks over his shoulder at you. He has a soft face, much too soft for a place like this, his cheeks sweetly freckled and mouth like a pretty pink bow. He has dark eyes, his eyebrows the same shade of dark brown. His hair has been dyed a strawberry blonde, bangs sweeping out from under the beanie. He has to flick them out of his eyes as he looks you over.

You stare at him. A change in routine does not bode well for you and this is a massive change.

The boy just smiles. It is disarming in its sweetness and it petrifies you. You know how to behave when an ugly brute glares at you but a pretty boy smiling is unnerving.

Your father clears his throat. You and the boy both look his way, the boy dropping his gaze in a subservient way while you glare.

“Daughter,” your father says coolly. He gestures to the free chair beside the boy.

Some days, when you are feeling especially petulant or when your father is distracted with his phone even while meting out punishment, you will stomp your foot and refuse him. Maybe it is your stunned bemusement, but today you oblige without argument.

Your gaze drifts to the boy as you approach your seat. The boy does not look at you.

He looks like a normal teenage boy, wearing a hoodie under a flannel and blue jeans ripped at the knee, but you know better. There is always a flaw and this one is immediately jarring: his shoes are army regulation boots, the same as your father’s guards, albeit smaller. You have no idea why he would need them. He looks about your age and is a slender, delicate thing.

“Sit,” your father says. You realize you have standing there, staring. You look at your father and obey, sinking into the other chair. “Good.” Your father folds his hands on his desk. “My loving daughter,” he says dryly, “It has occurred to me that your present circumstances are not the most conducive to your development and well-being.”

You cannot help but scoff. Talk about understatement of the century.

The security teams? The constant surveillance? The knowledge that your wealthy father has accrued so many enemies that you can barely step outside without feeling threatened?

The fact you desperately want something bad to happen, because at least it would be different than the bad in here?

Your father just frowns.

“Don’t test my patience,” he says. “Especially as I have constructed a compromise according to your whims, young lady.”

Your brow furrows. You have no idea where this is going but you know you won’t like it, because you never like it.

“I only want what’s best for you,” your father says. “You’re my daughter, after all. My only child and my only heir. I want you protected but I want you capable, and you can’t be expected to thrive with the company of my men constantly surrounding you.”

Your heart kicks up with hope even while your brain knows better. Your father is not a generous man and he is clever with his words. There is a reason he has reached the heights he has reached. No one is better than your father and your father settles for no less than the best in turn.

You are an agonizing disappointment, but you lash out because you would be a disappointment regardless. Your father does not want a human daughter but a plastic doll that he can lock away until it has use, at which point he expects unending gratitude for your very existence.

This might sound like a concession of freedom but you know him better than that. The vice is tightening, not loosening. You will never be free.

“I have a gift for you,” your father says. “This is Felix.”

You and the boy, Felix, look at each other. Felix smiles again. He has the audacity to wave at you, a little salute and cutesy tip of the head.

Your nostrils flare with a sharp intake of breath. You look at your father.

“What is this?” you ask, so much wrong with this scenario that you don’t know where to start.

Your father smiles for the first time since you walked in the room. He needs to be in the position of highest power and that is obtained through making everyone else small. The more visibly uncomfortable you are, the more at ease he feels. He slouches comfortably in his big chair as he stares you down. You feel trapped in the little seat across his desk.

“This,” your father says, “is your new bodyguard.”

You look at Felix again. He is once more looking at your father like an obedient little puppy. It’s for the best as you are certain your expression is betraying every single thought. You are angry, confused, frightened. The confusion worsens your other emotions.

“Bodyguard,” you repeat. “He looks like he’s twelve.”

“I’m fourteen,” Felix says, startling you with a deep voice that does not remotely match his face. The rounder sounds are accented with an Australian twang. “Same as you.”

You look at each other again. You hide your confusion under a piercing glare. Felix draws his mouth into a flat line, not quite smiling, not quite frowning. He taps his fingers on the arm of the chair, a mismatched rhythm, some song only he can hear. His leg bounces.

You look at your father.

“Fourteen,” you say. “And short. And skinny. Look at him! I could throw him out a window!”

“You could try,” your father says, drole. “You wouldn’t succeed. Oh, hush.” He swipes a hand through the air when you open your mouth to speak again. “Felix is more than competent, believe me.”

Your father would not hire a second rate bodyguard, but there is simply no way this Felix kid is good for anything. You just can’t believe it. This is a test of some kind, maybe a mind game.

Your hackles are up and they won’t come down. Felix flicks some hair out of his eyes and the motion makes you jump. He doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and sits a little straighter, looking like every goody-two-shoes keener you ever gave a sneer.

“You will no longer require a full security detail,” your father says. “Not at home or at school. No where, barring certain occasions under my discretion.”

This has your heart racing again. Currently, your father has guards posted in several places around your school. No one but the school administrators know they are for you, but that doesn’t matter because you know. You know they are not general security, that they are specifically watching your every move. If you skip a meal or eat too much, they know. If you talk to one person and not another, they know. If you forget to do homework or flunk a test, they know. If you put on more make-up or roll up your skirt, they know. If you fall, if you laugh, if you flirt, if you breathe a little too hard, they know, and they report it all back to your father.

It doesn’t end there. They keep you on a schedule for your “protection” and if you stray from that agenda, they are on you. That means no chatting too long after class, no extended bathroom breaks, no stopping to smell a fucking flower. In the car, out the car, through the doors, at your seat, at your locker, upstairs, downstairs, fuck, fuck, fuck. How you’ve lasted this long, not even you know.

You spend all day suffocating under the extension of your father’s eyes, then you return home, flanked by bodyguards, only to be stuck with supervision until you are finally permitted to go to bed. Naturally, this is the easiest time to escape so you are in the habit of breaking out at night. You’re good at it too. Most nights you move without any detection, having memorized all the chinks in the mansion’s high-tech security armor. Last night was the result of some bad luck.

Now you are here, your heart racing, your breath catching.

It must be a trick. You look at Felix then your father, trying to hide your eagerness and your suspicion.

“In exchange, you will have Felix,” your father says. “He will attend school with you as a classmate. He is in all your classes and extra-curriculars. You are to keep him with you at all times of day. He will accompany you everywhere at all times of day.” Your father leans in. “Do you understand that? At all times of day.”

It does not sound too different from the security team other than the obvious fact there is only one of Felix. Even if Felix is the most skilled bodyguard in the world, he is still just one person. It seems too good to be true so it must be. Your father is waiting until you are comfortable so he can rip the rug out from under you, to put you in your place, which is flat on your back like a stupid, helpless, needy baby.

You will not give him the satisfaction. Curtly, you say, “I understand.”

“Good,” your father says. “I’m having a new bed installed in your bedroom as we speak. It should be ample space for two people without your privacy being overly encroached. When you get home, you will clear a space for Felix to move his things into your room.”

Despite your effort to remain neutral, obvious surprise blinks across your face.

“Wait, what?” you ask, darting forward in your seat. “What are you talking about?”

Your father tips his head as if perplexed with your outburst.

“Did you think you were getting away with something?” he asks. “Constantly sneaking out at night, evading my men. Do you know every time you pull a childish stunt like that, it endangers me and my business just as much as you?”

Your anger bubbles to the surface as quickly as his, cold laughter punching out of you as you say, “Oh! Your business! Of fucking course!”

“Don’t use vulgar language with me, child!”

“Don’t call me a child!” you snap back with as much fervour. “I’m fourteen years old! I’m not a little kid and I don’t need some other idiot kid babysitting me! I don’t need anyone fucking watching me!”

Felix is sitting ramrod straight, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and your father. He says nothing. He just sniffs and scratches a little circle on the exposed skin of his knee.

“You are my daughter, this is my house, and I will do with both as I please,” your father says.

“Then maybe I don’t want to be in this house!” you shout.

“You want to leave?” your father asks. He smacks a vicious hand down on his desk, rattling his computer. “Go ahead. Pick yourself up and walk out that door. Where are you going to go from here? You have no money and no skills and no protection. See how long it takes someone to pick you up off the street. You don’t want to be my daughter? You want me to ignore you when they put a gun to your head? The least they will do is kill you, you stupid little thing. But go on, since you’re so wise and brave and all grown-up. Walk out that door. I dare you.”

You sit on the very edge of your seat, your hands balled into fists. You long to swing them at his smug face but you can only sit there, vibrating with rage.

“Do you have something more to say?” your father asks.

You kick his desk, the adrenaline forcing it out of you. He smacks a mug and it smashes on the floor. Felix still does not react, though his gaze does linger on the broken mug.

“What about him!” you shriek, pointing at Felix. It draws his attention back to you, his eyebrow lifting at your pointed finger. “You’re going to leave me alone with a boy? In bed?” You imbue this exclamation with all the suggestive horror you can. “I can’t share a room with a boy! What if he’s a pervert! What if he takes pictures of me! What if he rapes me! You really trust some random boy to be alone with me?!”

The silence that follows is somehow more shrill than the yelling. Your father stares at you, resolutely focussed with such a cold glare that you shiver.

Felix shuffles in his seat. His mouth opens and he looks contemplative, weighing his words, but your father speaks before he can.

“Felix,” he says, “put your hand on the desk.”

Felix delays only seconds, more surprised by the order than reluctant. He obediently rests his hand on the desk, palm facing up.

Without looking away from you, your father grabs that hand and flips it over. Felix jerks, his feet planting, but he manages to restrain whatever instinct rattled him. He looks at his hand, at where your father pins it to the wood.

You look there too, fuming, then you look at your father. He is still glaring at you, even when he reaches into his desk. Your brow furrows when he retrieves an enveloper opener, a sleek little knife, shiny and sharp. He smacks it onto the table beside Felix’s hand. It makes you jump.

Felix just looks at the knife, tipping his head as if only mildly curious.

“Felix,” your father says. “Pick up that knife.” He leans back in his desk chair and crosses his arms, his expression bland and uncaring as he looks at you. You shake less from fury than fear, looking from your father to Felix.

Felix picks up the knife with his free hand. He looks at it, his expression revealing nothing.

“Thank you,” your father says.

He has not looked away from you even once, asserting his knowledge that Felix will obey without his supervision. You try to be as steadfast as him. You act like you couldn’t care less about the unknown boy and his freckles and beanie. This is between you and your father. You glare just as fiercely.

“Now, Felix,” your father says, “I am going to count down from three, then you are going to drive that knife into your hand. All the way through to the desk. I trust you know the spot that will do the least lasting damage.”

Your gaze whips from your father to Felix, staring at him wide-eyed as the stupid boy doesn’t even flinch. He just turns the knife over. His brow briefly pinches as he rests the tip of the knife against a soft spot on the back of his hand.

Your horrified brain is already several paces ahead, picturing his bloodied hand pinned to the wooden desk. You taste bile and it is only partially for the gore. The rest is for the fact Felix does nothing more than blink at his hand.

“Three,” your father says. “Two.”

You scream, “Stop!” at the same your father says, “One.”

You tackle Felix. The adrenaline flies out of you the same as that kick. The knife clatters to the desk and both your chairs fly out from under you.

Felix is fast. He flips you around so he takes the brunt of the fall, your head pillowing on his stomach when you land in a tangled heap on the floor. His beanie falls off when his head hits the ground. He barely winces, looking down at you.

You stare back at him, breathing hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you ask. Tears fill your eyes, much to your horror. You try to suck them in because there is nothing you hate more than crying in front of your father. You don’t even know what is prompting the tears. Maybe it’s the forced recollection of how thoroughly his guards have invaded your life, the revelation that you will be forced to share every living moment with another intruder, or the fact he almost maimed a fourteen year old boy just to make a point.

Or, maybe, the fact you fell for it like you always do. Just a stupid little girl, high in her emotions, vulnerable and weak and in need of intervention.

You push away from Felix, directing all your emotions at him.

“You’re a fucking lunatic,” you say, spitting when you talk. “What did you think you were doing? Freak. Do you think you’re brave? You’re an idiot.”

Felix props himself up on his elbows, just staring back at you. His gaze flicks up when your father stands. That awful man circles the desk to look down at you.

You refuse to look up. You wipe your arm under your nose. Tears blur your vision.

“Felix,” your father says, “there is a car waiting outside. Take my daughter home. She is not to leave the house tonight.”

You wrench your arm away when Felix tries to help you up. He says nothing to your glare but at least he’s smart enough not to smile again. He gets up and dusts off his pants, then retrieves his beanie. You clamber to your feet and march toward the door without looking back or waiting. Only when your hand is on the doorknob does your father call your name.

You freeze, wanting so badly to ignore him and storm outside, but once the coldness settles in your veins you cannot move.

“Come here,” your father says. As if under a spell, you can only move when he demands it. You turn, facing him as he approaches. You hold still, your eyes full of tears and fists curled at your side.

Your father walks up and swiftly strikes you across the face. Tears spill over and you grab your cheek, heaving with frightened breath as your useless new bodyguard just stands there and watches.

Your father sighs.

“You’ll learn,” he says. “One way or another. If I have to chip at you with an axe until you take my shape, I’ll do it. You’ll thank me one day. Felix. Take her home. Now.”

You let Felix take your arm and guide you out of the room, too drained to fight him.

You refuse to be accommodating. If you’re unhappy then you will make Felix unhappy too, and if Felix is unhappy then maybe he will leave. Then your father will be unhappy and you finally won’t be.

You glare at the massive new bed taking up space in your room. It is still a big room otherwise, with plenty of space for two people, but your things are spread out everywhere and you have no intention of moving them. Instead, you empty out a single bedside drawer and point to it.

“There,” you say. “That’s yours.”

Felix is standing in the bedroom doorway wearing a backpack. He looks around the room, not sneering at its lacey, ivory princess-ness but not looking too enamoured either. He is passive as ever, quietly receiving his surroundings. He closes the door behind himself and shrugs the backpack down to the crease of his elbow.

“Kk,” he says. He puts his backpack on the floor by the bed then takes off his beanie and puts it in the drawer. He sits on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap. He stares at the wall.

What a weirdo.

You stare at him until he looks at you, then you scoff and roll your eyes. You dump your things on your desk and stalk over to your private bathroom door.

“Can I go pee without your supervision, or do you need to hold my hand?” you ask sarcastically.

“I don’t need to,” Felix says, “but, uhhh, I guess I can if you need help. But if you have a problem with doing it by yourself then we should probably take you to a doctor. I know first aid but I can’t really help with incontinence or like the opposite. Lol.”

He says the word lol out loud, a single grating syllable. You do not dignify his weird humour with a response. You stomp into your bathroom and slam the door shut.

There are bars on the bathroom window now. You grab the nearest bottle of soap and chuck it there, furious when tears spring back to your eyes. You feel violated even in your privacy, glaring at those bars as you shower and wash away the day.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, touching where your cheek feels tender from your father’s strike. He usually doesn’t hit your face or anywhere someone could see swelling or a cut. You suppose today’s slap was more personal than strategic.

You put on a thick sweatshirt and sweatpants. When you step back into your room, the weirdo is standing at the window with his hands behind his back. He is wearing just his ripped jeans and a t-shirt, plus those ugly army boots. He looks at you when you open the door, giving you a brief assessing stare before he smiles.

It would disarm someone more naïve. You just glare.

“Where are your things?” you ask.

He tips his head like an inquisitive cat. “Huh?” he asks.

“Your things,” you say venomously. “Aren’t you moving them in here?”

“Uh, I did,” he says. He turns and points to his side of the bed. “You gave me a drawer, remember?”

This kid unpacked a beanie.

Maybe it’s a good sign he isn’t fully moving in. Maybe this whole charade is just your father threatening you. He will torture you with this invader until he thinks you have learned a lesson, then things will go back to normal. Felix probably isn’t even a proper bodyguard, and how could he be? A skinny, pretty fourteen year old boy? He’s probably an actor or model or something.

You give him a derisive smirk and shove past him. He just shrugs and approaches the bathroom door, pausing before entering. He looks back at you.

“Don’t go anywhere, yeah?” he says, then walks into the bathroom and closes the door.

You exhale sharply. You had no intention of going anywhere, honestly too exhausted to do anything but putter around on the computer, but fuck this kid. He’s your father’s paid actor or some other nonsense, so who does he think he is to give you any orders?

You storm out of the room with the intention of marching around outside, but you stumble when you enter the upstairs corridor.

The huge house is eery in its silence. You shudder as you look around.

Even when your father is not home, the security team is here. Someone is always awake, at least one person keeping guard in the corridor, the rest of them scattered in the house and guest house. But they’re gone. They’re all genuinely gone. And because it is late evening, all the housekeepers and cleaners are gone too. You have not been in a house this empty your entire life. It feels uncanny, ghostly even. It completely halts your half-baked plan to leave, not that you planned on going much further than the pool-house.

You stand still, suspended in the unfamiliar emptiness.

“Whatcha doin’?” Felix’s freaky deep voice is suddenly right beside you. You jump away from with a startled squeak. He just stands there, his mouth in that stupid flat line, his shaggy blonde hair bouncing when he tips his head.

“Nothing,” you snap, annoyed that he scared you. “I’m just going to the kitchen for a snack. Is that against the fucking law now?”

“It’s not really healthy to eat this late at night,” Felix says, “but it’s not illegal. That would be weird.”

“I hate you,” you say. His even temperament has been driving you insane, so it is satisfying to see a flicker of genuine surprise on his face. “Just leave me alone.”

“Sorry,” he says, recovering quickly. His voice is steady. “Can’t do that. Sort of my job, you know?”

You roll your eyes then turn and stomp all the way down the stairs. Felix trails behind you without protest, not making much noise despite the boots but he is impossible to ignore regardless.

You go to the kitchen and open the fridge. You aren’t hungry but you feel like you have to eat something now just to prove a point.

Felix ambles up to the counter and perches himself on a stool. You look over your shoulder at him. He waves.

“I’m not making you anything,” you snap.

“That’s fine.” He folds his hand on the counter. “I’m not hungry. Thank you.”

You reach into the fridge and grab an eggplant out of the produce drawer. It is a ridiculous response, but you decide to out-weird the weirdo, making eye contact as you bite in the raw eggplant. You try to hide your displeasure, chewing the thick vegetable slowly. Felix tips his head very far then straightens. His eyes narrow.

“I’m pretty sure that’s toxic,” he says.

You stop chewing.

“Yeah,” he says. “Eggplant, yeah. I think when it’s raw it’s like not good for you or something? I think there’s like a chemical in it. Maybe it’s only if you eat a lot of it, uhhh, I don’t know. Just in case, I wouldn’t eat it like that if I were you.”

You stare at him with a chunk of raw eggplant still on your tongue. He could be bluffing. He could be playing mind games. He could be telling the truth, since he delivered each sentence so uncertainly. Maybe he’s just bad at mind games. You’re good at them. You’ve been playing them since you were a child, so you just stare him down, swallow the eggplant, then take another bite.

His brow furrows. You are pretty sure your displeasure is a little more obvious now, your mouth partially open as you chew. Felix did not balk at stabbing his own hand but he looks very scandalized right now. You consider it a success.

“Stop it,” Felix says.

You take another bite, ripping into it with a ferocious tear.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “What? Are you trying to commit suicide by eggplant?”

You just shrug, chewing with your mouth wide open now. His stool scrapes the ground and you brace yourself, shuffling in the opposite direction when he circles the kitchen island.

“Spit it out,” he says.

“No,” you say, spitting eggplant as you say it. You very nearly choke.

“Seriously,” Felix says. “This isn’t funny.”

You chew obnoxiously big in his direction and he pounces, smoothly intercepting your escape. He cages you in against the counter, blocking you when you try to move. You drop the rest of the eggplant and push at him, dribbling mushy vegetable and cursing through your mouthful.

“Spit. It. Out,” he says, putting his hand under your mouth like a mother to a baby. You shove that hand away, then try to shove his face away. He clearly doesn’t want to get too physical with you, but eventually he grabs your chin and holds you still, your face pinched in his hand. You stare at him, breathing hard through your nose. “Stop it,” he says.

The house is empty. The house is genuinely, seriously, completely empty. Your father trusts Felix that much.

Who is this fucking kid?

You spit the eggplant at him. It spatters on his shirt and wins you an eye roll. It’s the first expression from him to make you smile.

“Bed time,” he says, stepping back to brush the mess off his shirt.

You cross your arms and lean against the counter. “No,” you say.

“No?” he asks. His deep voice fractures with a higher-pitched sound of surprise. “Why not?”

Because you hate your father and everything he puts you through. Because petty victories are your only victories. Because there is something seriously wrong with Felix if this is his life situation, and there is something seriously wrong with you for the same reason.

So you shrug. “Make me,” you say.

There is a beat of silence.

Then the world is upside down because Felix picks you up and slings you over his shoulder. You cry out, slapping his back as he marches to the stairs. Where is he even hiding this strength?

“Put me down!” You pound on his backside while he carries you up the stairs. “When my father hears about this—”

He puts you down on the landing, swinging up a step to afford him an extra foot of height over you. He holds your wrist in his hand and looks at you very seriously.

“What?” he asks. “When he hears about me doing my job?”

You try to tug your hand back but Felix holds it tight.

“Are you serious right now?” you ask. You continue to squirm your hand in his grip. “Who the fuck are you? What do you even get out of this?”

“What do you get out of this - this - everything?” he asks.

“I get my life,” you snap. “In pieces and only for a little bit, but mine.”

“Me too,” he says.

A breathless silence follows. You realize you are holding his hand, having twisted and turned so much that he clasped your fingers with his. You both look there then at each other. You abruptly let go.

“Can we go to bed?” Felix asks, softening his voice. “Please.”

Your lower lip wobbles. You look at the stain on his shirt. You think about his hand on that desk.

“And what about my other question?” you ask.

He tips his head again, but his expression is no longer neutral. He wears his confusion openly, briefly but substantially.

“What?” he asks.

“My other question,” you say, blinking back your tears. “Who are you?”

“You tell me first,” he says. “Who are you?”

It’s easier to fight and scream than plainly express yourself. No one ever listens, so you are not practiced. You have Felix’s undivided attention but it suddenly feels like too much. You do not have it in you to glare anymore. You meet his pained gaze with your own and join him on the next step.

“I’m tired,” you say. “Let’s go to bed.”

He goes to check the security system while you get ready for bed. You are already nestled under the covers, shivering despite the thick layers because the house sounds so quiet and you are honestly scared. You jump when the door opens and Felix enters, your eyes meeting in the dim light. He looks away first, going about his own routine. You turn your back to him.

The bed is big but you still feel it dip when he gets inside. You look over your shoulder. He is laying on his back with his eyes closed. He is clearly still awake but the semblance of sleep accentuates the natural innocence of his face. You have seen the flicker of a few deeper emotions, none of them childish, but he looks his age while laying there.

His eyes open. He glances at you. You wonder what you look like to him.

“Good night,” he says, shattering the terrifying silence.

You don’t argue it. You just nod then turn away, closing your eyes, letting the sound of his breathing lull you to sleep faster than usual.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #bodyguard au

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dragcnbreak · 6 months

Note

AHHH THE AGE REGRESSION ONES R SO CUTE I NEED MORE!!!!! maybe one where reader is having like a breakdown/ptsd flashback which results in them regressing involuntarily and mike comforts them? could be headcanons or a fic idrc :3

IM SO GLAD PEOPLE GET THE CG MIKE VISION… here is my attempt at writing something along those lines!!! I hope u enjoy nonnie <3

◞♡࿐

The Schmidt household was practically a second home to you. You crashed on the couch more often than not and even had a drawer full of your things in Mike’s room for easy access. Your living situation was less than ideal and you felt more comfortable with Mike and Abby than anyone else so it just worked out.

That’s how you found yourself outside their door one morning, knowing it would be just Mike at the house as Abby had already left for school. You used your key and offered a shaky smile to the sleepy man on the couch. “Hey.” He says at first, taking a few seconds to look up at you. When he finally does, his eyes widen at the tears running down your cheeks and he rushes towards you.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Mike asks, using his thumb to wipe under your eyes. You don’t answer but instead, you start to sob loudly. He’s definitely awake now, all his attention on you. He helps you the best he can to the couch so you can sit down. The second he sits down with you, you fling yourself into his arms and continue your breakdown.

Mike is quick to hold you, rubbing your back softly and whispering soothing things like “it’ll be okay” and “I’ve got you”. It helps more than he knows and the both of you sit there for what seems like hours.

When you begin to quiet down, you detach yourself from him and rub at your eyes. “Are you feeling any better?” Mike asks you and you nod lazily, a sudden tiredness washing over you. “T’ank you, Mikey.” The slurring and the nickname alerts Mike to the fact that sometime during your crying session, you slipped into littlespace.

You didn’t age regress too often, specifically around Abby. But Mike was always more than happy to take care of you when you did, especially when you were sad. “Of course, baby,” he uses his favorite nickname for you when you’re in that headspace, “how about we get you something to eat and drink and then you go take a nap?” He continues.

You nod again, “m’kay.” The idea of eating doesn’t sound too bad and you know you need to stay hydrated, even more so after crying. Mike grabs the television remote and turns on Abby’s favorite channel with all the cartoons. He gives you a kiss on your forehead and then hurries to the kitchen.

He and Abby had just had breakfast so he heats up the remaining pancakes and bacon, periodically checking on you. He slathers the pancakes with butter like he knows you like it and also cuts them up. Mike then delivers them to you on a plate.

You lighten up a bit at the food, starting to dig in as he goes to get you a glass of water. He comes back and sets it on the table in front of you. Before too long, you’ve finished your food and water and are back rubbing your eyes tiredly again.

“How about that nap?” Mike offers with a knowing smile. You nod and make grabby hands, indicating you want to be picked up. The man isn’t the most built but he works out enough to easily pick you up, knowing how much you like it when he does. You wrap your arms around his neck while he holds your thighs not too tight.

In a few seconds, you’re in Mike’s room and he deposits you carefully on his bed. He tucks you in so you’re nice and safe and comfortable. He’s about to turn away when you stop him. “Can we cuddle, please?” You ask and he already knows he’s not going to say no. He hums and slips into the bed, fortunately already in comfortable wear.

In the bed, you turn to face the wall opposite the door and Mike catches on, wrapping you up in his arms. Before he knows it, you and him fall asleep even with the sun peeking through the blinds at you both.

◞♡࿐

this was kinda therapeutic to write because ive been going through a tough time myself :( tysm for the request <3

#mine #text #my fanfics #sfw agere #sfw age regression #agere #age regression #mike schmidt #michael schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #five nights at Freddy’s movie #mike schmidt x male reader #mike schmidt x female reader #mike schmidt x gn!reader

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pascallllllll1 · 1 year

Text

Dizzy Spells

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Word count: 1K+

Description: Pedro being the caring and loving boyfriend he is forces reader to get looked at after experiencing dizziness and fainting.

Warnings: Mentions use of IV’s/needles and unplanned pregnancy. Age gap relationship (very legal)

Pssst!

“Hey! Don’t play with that!” Hissed your overbearing boyfriend who currently resides at your bedside while reaching to stop you from fidgeting with the tape holding the IV in place. You’ve never been a needle person, your parents always scheduling appointments with your family doctor growing up for vaccinations and shots to save you the embarrassment of having a melt down in front of school nurses through the years. Now coming into young adulthood needles continue to make you very nervous, but you're not a blubbering baby that needs to be held down anymore. Some might call that growth. Right now you’re just thankful to whatever higher power is out there that Pedro won’t have to witness hysterical sobbing caused by a tiny needle, all because you’ve been light headed lately and may have fainted a few times. Which leads you to now, where you lay attached to an IV keeping you hydrated while reclined in the stiff bed, your boyfriend of only 5 months by your side stressing over every little thing while waiting for the doctor to come back with test results from your blood work.

“I’m sorry! It’s just really itchy. I wanna go home babe, I really don’t see why we had to come there’s nothing to worry about! It’s probably low iron or something.” Whining you poke out your bottom lip and look up at Pedro with big doe eyes and rest the side of your cheek on his broad shoulder. With a deep sigh Pedro opens his mouth to begin his speech on how it’s better to be safe than sorry and how he cares about you taking care of yourself when two short knocks come from outside the waiting room door. You're quickly repositioning yourself and begin sitting up eager to get this over with and calling out whomever was waiting on the other side of the door to come in. A tall busty woman walks in, clipboard and files in hand looking about Pedro’s age if not older, she looks over to you both when crossing the space to the end of the bed and does a double take when looking to Pedro then back to yourself. You can hear the hesitation in her voice before she asks,

“So who have you brought in with you for support today… Y/N?” She glances down at the now open file to double check your name before her eyes meet yours again waiting for an answer. Nervous, you look to your left hoping for Pedro to speak up for you. Suddenly realising how the question may have come across to you the doctor clarifies her meaning.

“I’m sorry, it’s just your results have come back and due to the nature of them I wanted to confirm you wanted him in the room to hear or if you’d like privacy and for him to step out a moment.”

“The nature of them?” Speaks up Pedro worriedly, concern deeply etched across his face. The doctor looks to you for confirmation that you’d like him to stay. Your mind is spiralling out of control with ideas of what’s wrong with you, what could possibly be going on inside your body, and already searching for ways to solve these hypothetical scenarios reeking havoc in your head. Needing Pedro now more than ever for moral support and comfort you nod to the woman to continue on with the test results.

“Ok. First and foremost I’d like to make it clear that you are healthy and nothing is wrong with you.”

Pedro exhales shakily at the new information and pulls you against his chest with his left arm around you, he kisses the side of your head and takes a moment to breathe you.

You look up to the doctor and ask,

“So what's going on with me then? How come I’ve been so dizzy and fainting?”

“Because you’re pregnant, about 3 weeks along.” Your body tenses up when you feel Pedro quickly release you from his embrace and shoot up out of the bed towards the doctor. The sound of a file opening and paper being hastily sorted through fills your ears. This is way too early in the relationship to be happening. Does he want a family with you? To marry you? A future? Does he see you as his end game? For crying out loud you weren’t even together publicly yet- HIS FANS! How would they react? Would they hate you over such a large age gap? Would they hate you for taking him off the market? Would they hate you for trapping him with a baby? Would he still have a career or would his fans drop him because of who he’s with? You couldn’t live with messing up his life. His dreams and achievements he’d worked so hard for. A large familiar hand pulls you out of the black storm of doubt and back to the present moment. The other comes up to cup the side of your cheek and trace a delicate thumb over your trembling bottom lip. Shifting your focus to the man now kneeling on the bed in front of you, your eyes are met with tearful brown ones staring back at you, undeniably full of love and childlike amazement.

“Baby,” Pedro pauses and takes a moment to clear his throat and sniffle,

“I will support ANY decision you make, and YES this is all 100% your decision to make,” closing his eyes as his voice breaks Pedro exhales loudly and wipes at his eyes before his hands resume to their previous spots.

“But I want to make it so very clear baby, I will stay by your side and support you and our child, I love you Y/N. I want our family if you’re willing to give it to me.” Looking at the man across from you now, there’s not a doubt in your mind that he’s the partner you want to have in life. You and him. Seeing the love he has for you, for your unborn baby who you’d literally just learned about triumphs any previous worries you’d had initially. He’s your person and your his, together you’ll share the most special experience two people can share, raising a child.

“Our family.” You whimper out.

“Our family.” Pedro confirms wrapping you up tight in his arms.

Thank you for reading!! I’m still learning and figuring this all out so any comments are more than welcome! I’d also like to mention that yes I’m writing about Pedro Pascal himself but I’d like to make it clear this is all pretend and a fake fantasy. In no way do any of us know who he really is as a person and this isn’t me trying to make him something he isn’t just sharing my personal daydream fake scenarios with y’all! Hope you enjoyed:)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction

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norman-fucking-reedus · 3 months

Note

omg since your requests are open,,, idk but imagining a female reader fucking herself infront of Daryl while he is chained to chair drives me insane to think about.. like reader's feet are on his knees and daryl feels her every movement but dang he can't do anything and the reader is a bit dominant.. i'd love if you wrote smth like this. im obsessed with ur writing!!

Anon lets make out rn cause ive had this idea for a while ESPECIALLY based off this picture??? Like hello??

I changed it up a little since i got the hottest idea in the middle of writing so I hope it makes you kick your feet in the way the way I did while writing this 😽 (I SAW UR OTHER REQUEST TOO BABE YK I GOTCHU 🫶🏾)

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“Dammit girl! Untie me” Daryl thrashed in the wobbly chair, growling from where it sat at the edge of the bed in front of you. You simply watched him struggle in the tight ropes, becoming redder by the second. “I like you tied up. Even more when you’re my personal chair” You ran a hand across his lap and winked.

Daryl grunted when you straddled him, hands pulling at their restraints. You could feel his bulge growing as you slowly ground your hips down, a strained groan coming from him. You cupped his chin and placed a few soft kisses on his lips, moving to his neck and back up to his lips, only pulling away from him. “Tha hell ya doin’ ta me?” Daryl watched as you opened the dresser drawer and tossed two objects on the bed, sitting down next to them.

You couldn’t hold back the wicked smile that fought onto your face as you stood up and removed each article of clothing, tauntingly slowly.

Daryl’s watched you, closely, breathing picking up as you slid your pants down, and moved to undo your bra. He watched as you teased the hem of your undies, sitting down in front of him again.

His cheeks heated up when you kicked a leg up, ankle resting on his shoulder as you spread yourself, running a finger down your slit through your panties. Daryl watched, hands fidgeting with rope as he became uncomfortably hard in his jeans. He wanted to touch you, feel all over your body and maybe inside.

You continued massaging yourself until the fabric was soaked, and Daryl’s breathing was the loudest thing in the room. His face was red and a thin layer of sweat was present on his whole body. Suddenly all his clothes didn’t fit right.

He could do nothing but watch as you pushed your underwear to the side, erotically spreading your pussy lips before reaching to grab one of the objects. It was a long, white vibrator you had “found” at the start, but really you just stole it from the sex shop when everything went to shit. It roared to life in your hands, and you leaned forward to press it onto Daryl’s bulge, soaking in the way he threw his head back and his body jerked.

You kept it there only for a minute, leaning back and bringing it down to your cunt, massaging between your folds and moaning when it reached your clit, holding it in place as you brought your fingers to your entrance, easily slipping in.

The scene was something out of a porno, and Daryl swore his mouth was beginning to water as he just watched you. The way he could feel the strong vibrations travel through your leg, the way he could see your fingers curling and scissoring open, he was starting to get desperately needy.

As you neared your orgasm, you pulled completely away from yourself, chest heaving as you came down, eyes meeting Daryl’s. His pupils had been blown so wide, you weren’t even sure there was color anymore. “Enjoying my show?” You whispered, pulling your leg off his shoulder as you moved to stand over him, bending over the bed so that he had a clear view of your backside. “J’st let me touch ya, doll. Why ya gotta torture me?” He rasped, eyes roaming as he took in the sight of your ass right in front of his face, so close yet so far.

Daryl was impossibly hard in his pants, the scratchy fabric sending lightning through his body whenever he accidentally bumped his tip against it. He was so needy it was starting to hurt, even more when the clear dildo you were bringing to your folds came into view.

You rubbed the silicone up and down against yourself, grinding when you brought it to your clit. You could feel Daryl’s eyes on you as his hands tugged and pulled at the binding ropes, but he had taught you how to tie some real good knots. He could do nothing but pitifully whine as he watched the dildo slowly slide into you, the clearness giving him a whole different show.

He could see the way your pussy stretched around the toy, working it in and out slowly, soft moans coming from you as you did. His cock throbbed as his eyes never left your cunt, wishing that instead of that dildo you would use him like a dildo, riding his sensitive cock for as long as you wanted, fuck he just badly wants to be inside of you.

As if reading his mind, you flipped yourself around so that you could face him, pulling the dildo out as you looked at him, eyes drinking up the messy state he was in. His face was so red, sweat rolling down his forehead as you could tell he was just so hard in his pants. Daryl’s fidgety hands had started to rub his wrists raw against the rope, the pain only adding to his boner. He looked a pure fucking mess. You swelled with pride at that.

Your hands began undoing his pants, pulling them only half down to his knees. For a split second, Daryl thought you were finally going to touch him, even if all you did was grab him through his underwear he just needed to be touched. Instead, he watched as you added some spit to the bottom of your didlo, and suctioned it right onto his muscled thigh, giggling to yourself like a psycho as you straddled it, purposely grinding your dripping cunt on his leg as his wide eyes stared into yours.

You cupped his sweaty face in your hands, wiping it as you just held his face and stared beyond his eyes and down into his soul. He could feel you sink down onto the toy, and watched as your gaze darkened and your eyelids lowered. “You’ve been such a good boy for me Dar. Watching and staying mostly silently. Can you be even better for me and cum without me having to touch your cock?” He desperately shook his head no, traitorous tears pricked his eyes as your pace increased. “Can’t- Need ya- Need ya ta touch m’cock, please mommy I need it so bad” He babbled and you cooed, giving him a warm kiss that he completely melted into.

He always begged so sweetly, and it went straight to your full cunt, however, you had to force yourself not to give in, not when you had already got this far, Your hands moved to grip his shoulders, lifting yourself up and down at a rough velocity, the sound of your ass slapping down on his thigh filled the room and Daryl’s head, his eyes flickered between your face and the way you rode his thigh.

You reached behind you and patted around until you found the vibrator, bringing it to life and pressing it against your clit, the one hand you had still on your boyfriend’s shoulder curled into the flesh, lewd moans pulling from your chest. Daryl felt himself getting dizzy watching you, hair sticking to his forehead and cold pain shooting from his raw wrists. It was so hot, too hot. His vision was beginning to blur, heart pounding so hard he felt like it would come out his chest. His body trembled and he threw his head back when you very lightly pressed the vibrator to his clothed cock, adding fuel to his orgasm as it pumped through his entire fucking soul, tears finally rolling down his cheeks as his cock pulsed itself empty, soaking erotically through the fabric. The toy turned off, and you slowed your hips, watching the way Daryl’s body went limp.

“Very good boy. That’s exactly what I wanted to see, handsome” Your voice was like candy as you whispered in his ear, sighing as you lifted yourself off the dildo with a wet pop, moving to cut Daryl’s hands free as you fully straddled his lap, feeling his release on your puffy pussy. His shaky hands immediately went to your hips, waist, thighs, holy hell your skin felt so good. His poor wrists were red and raw, a small amount of blood forming. “We’re gonna wrap your wrists up. Think your little friend will wanna join us?” You whispered against his lips, pressed down on his soft cock, feeling the cooling cum ooze out from underneath, sticking to your cunt. “If yer talkin’ about m’cock hell yea. Get tha’ fuckin’ dildo off me” He grunted and you realized his legs were also still bound together. You giggled, popping the suction cup off his thigh and stretching to cut the ropes off his ankles.

You moved off his lap so he could finally stand and stretch, kicking his pants completely off and his soiled underwear, which revealed how his cock was dripping in his own release. You were almost on him immediately, falling down onto your knees in front of him. “Your wrists are gonna have to wait a minute”

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I need to fuck his fucking soul into my body NOW 😾

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