Warning: power imbalance, dark content, obsession, and all around sexiness.
Summary: Powerful director Nick takes interest in a new project; you. (director!Nick Fowler, plus!reader)
I always see this gif and wanna write something so here we go.
Hi! Please please please reblog and leave some feedback if you read! I love you 💕
Nick waves you ahead of him. Your stomach flips as you climb the stairs up to the open jet door. An attendant waits inside, though she doesn’t wear a uniform like the airlines you see on TV. Just a sleek black dress and heels, her hair pulled back into a tidy chignon.
“To the right, sweetheart,” Nick calls from behind you.
You nod and follow his direction. The attendant leads you into the body of the plane. There aren’t rows like a commercial flight; there’s a cushy looking leather sofa with seat belts tucked into the corners, two seats with reclining backs and foot rests, and a whole dining set with cushioned benches.
“Sit wherever you like.” The attendant says. “I’m Cassidy and I’ll be your in-flight attendant.” She smiles. “You and Mr. Fowler.”
You introduce yourself with a squeak.
She looks past you. “Sir, is there anything I can get you?”
“Once we’re in air, she’ll want a drink. Something bubbly.” He says sternly.
“Yes, Mr. Fowler. And you’re usual?” She offers.
“I’ll have the same as her.” He shoulders by her, his eyes on you. “Sweetheart, what are you feeling? You can lay down, have a nap. Or maybe a window seat? You can watch take off.”
You rock back and forth and play with the brim of your crochet hat. “I… sure. That’s cool. I bet taking off is scary.”
He grins. “I’ll be here.” He winks and stares at you.
You clear your throat and look around. You move cautiously to the chair by the window and sit. You clutch your belt bag around your waist and lean forward to peek out the window. Your neck is alight with self-awareness.
You glance over as Nick lowers himself into the seat beside you. He’s watching you. Still.
“Sorry, I’m nervous. I drove to LA, you know? I probably said that already.” You smile sheepishly.
“Any turbulence, just hold onto me,” he assures you. “I don’t mind.”
“Um, that’s nice.” You nod and look out the window again.
“Simon’s a good pilot. Don’t worry too much.” He says.
“I’m not worried. Just… excited, I guess.”
You sit back and wait. Nick rests his arm on the rest between you. His fingers flutter.
“You sure you’re okay?” He asks.
You can hear movement in the plane as they close the doors. Voices call back and forth as they check the windows. You fidget.
“Really, it’s just… Just the other day I was running trays across a lot and now I’m… going to Venice.”
“Hollywood moves fast,” he clucks. “But not when you need it too.”
“Right, er…” You giggle, more nervous than amused.
“Hello, Mr. Fowler,” the attendant greets, adding your name as well, “we’re almost ready for take off. We need belts on.”
He flicks her away with his fingers and searches for his seat belt. You do the same. He clasps his and sighs. You take a bit longer, mindful of his observation.
“Here,” he reaches over to help you adjust the belt and the buckle finally slips in. His fingers graze your stomach, knuckles pressing into you right before he pulls away. “Nice and safe.” He brushes across the back of your hand.
“Thanks,” you eke out and turn back, lean over to the window.
You peer through as the plane clangs and juts and the engines begin to hum. The wheels start to roll and you blindly latch onto the armrest, only to grab onto Nick’s arm instead. You show your teeth and laugh at yourself, apologising before you pull away.
You stare through the window as the runway blurs under the plane and feel the tilt beneath you. The motion disorients you as you watch the world sink beneath you. You stare down at the grids of the city, the green, the tarmac, the water.
You feel a tickle on your arm, up and down from elbow to shoulder. You gasp and smile as the clouds surround you and you sit back. You look at Nick as he strokes your arm. You clamp your lips tight.
“Wow,” you say.
His fingers linger for a moment then he drops his hand away. His brow ticks. He sits back and nods. “Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Yes!” You answer. “I think so, at least. I bet for you it’s not.”
“I still enjoy it.” He says. “Even more with someone to share it with.”
“And thank you. I never… could’ve dreamed.”
The plane levels out. He takes off his seatbelt and you copy him. You wriggle in the chair and pull your purse around. You dig inside.
“What’re you up to?” He wonders.
“Oh… you don’t mind if I read?”
He shrugs and looks away. He raises his hand and Cassidy appears. She has two glasses in hand with pink wine and berries inside. She sets them on the low table in front of the chair.
“Mr. Fowler.” She dips her head.
“Thank you,” you say. Nick leans his chin in his hand. He stays like that for a minute before he drops his arm and sits up. He reaches for the glasses. “Here. Have a taste.”
He offers you a glass. You leave your book in your purse and push it to the other side of your lap. You accept the wine and look at the bubbles running up the crystal. You sniff it. It smells sweet.
You take a sip. Your cheeks pinch. You can taste the berries but the wine is still stringent enough to make you choke. You giggle and mop your lips with the back of your hand.
“Sorry,” you murmur.
“You don’t like it?” He keeps his away from his mouth.
“No, I do. I’m just not used to it. I don’t drink, you know?” You say. “Not very much.”
“You really are new to LA,” he chuckles and clinks his glass on yours.
“Yeah… I’m a total noob.”
“A noob?” He muses.
“Um, yeah…” you look at the wine as your cheeks burn. “Oh!” Your eyes flick up. “You’ll have to be my translator. I tried some duolingo but I can’t roll my r’s. I just kinda sound like I’m drowning.”
His brows arch and his cheeks dimple. He takes a deep sip of wine then pulls the glass away. He licks his lips.
“No problem at all. You’ll wanna keep close to me anyway.” He once more pets your arm. “You know, Venice is a tourist trap and lotta people know that. Easy to lift a wallet off a distracted traveller… or worse.”
“Oh?” Your eyes round.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got security. Yours now, too.” He sits back and shifts around. “You mind?” He taps the armrest between you. You shake your head and he flips it up. He settles in, closer to you. “Make sure you don’t go anywhere without me or one of my guys, alright?” He leans his head back and looks at you. “You’re precious cargo.”
Warnings: this fic contains suggestions of blackmail and coercion, as well as adultery. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 11th’s fic!
Jake Jensen + "Don't look away."
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
“What about Overcooked? I can play that…” You suggest as you adjust your headphones.
You can hear shuffling on the other end. You roll your chair closer to the desk and grab your controller. There’s a long breath on the other side.
“I’m a bit cooked out.” Jake says at last.
“Wanna visit my island? I rebuilt the tea shop.” You offer.
He clucks.
“Okay…maybe I can try one of your gun games. I’m warning you, I’m not very good.”
Jake hums. He’s uncharacteristically quiet today. And when he does speak, he sounds upset.
“Hey, uh, is everything okay?” You ask.
More shifting and scratching on his mic. You push the buttons mindlessly on your controller. Is he mad at you?
“Sorry I couldn’t make the weekend. My other friends wanted to go to the cafe bookshop.” You say.
“It’s not… that.” He forces out tightly. “Can we talk?”
“Sure. I’m listening.”
“No, I mean… can I call?”
You squirm. What’s going on?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask.
“Yeah, I just… I want to show you something.”
“Erm, right. Okay. Let me just get my phone.” You say.
He ends the session as the headphones click. You remove the headset and put it aside. You grab your phone and it chimes. You nearly drop it. A video call? Okay…
You answer and prop your phone against the bottom of your monitor. You sit back so your face is fully in frame. Jake’s glasses reflect the glare of his computer screen. You’ve seen his pic in his gaming icon but he looks different. His hair isn’t all spike, his goatee is surrounded by stubble, and his shoulders are exposed as he wears only a muscle shirt that hangs low to show the top of his hair chest.
“Um… how are you?” You ask awkwardly.
“Is that a new lip gloss?” He asks.
You rub your lips together at the bubblegum glisten. “How… yes?”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m… easily distracted.” His voice eases as he grins. “Especially by cute girls.”
You swallow, confused. “Jake, what’s up?”
He sighs and stares at you. He adjusts his glasses and his jaw squares. He pushes his shoulders wide. His eyes flick between the camera and his screen.
“What did you want to show me?” You ask, nerves quavering in your voice.
“Right, right…” He claps his hands. “Let me just share my screen.”
You tap your fingers together as you lean in and wait. He disappears and a new image appears on the screen. You gasp and cover your mouth with both hands. It takes a moment for your brain to process what you’re seeing. It’s… you?
Not really. Because you’ve never taken any pictures like that. You would never. You shudder and cover your face entirely.
“Jake!” You shrill.
“Don’t look away.” His voice drops.
A chill scatters over you and you part your fingers, looking through them at the edited image. It looks so real. The pose is so lewd that your face burns.
“Why– Jake, please, stop. I don’t want to– Why would you do that?” You squeal.
“Amazing what you can do these days, huh?”
“Stop,” you beg.
“Convincing…”
“Please. It’s not really me.”
“Uh huh. It’s not, but who would know the difference.”
“What do you mean?” You squeak.
“Do you think you can be a law clerk and a porn star?” He asks.
The breath rushes out of you and you drag your hands down to your throat. You bat your eyes at the screen and gulp. “Please, I don’t want to see it anymore.”
“I can even make it a video. Wanna see?”
“Jake–”
He taps a key and the picture disappears. He’s in frame again. Smirking.
“That’s why. That face. You saying my name like that.” He pauses and likes his lips. “I’m done playing games.”
“Jake, why?”
He scoffs. “Because you’re just like every other one. Teasing me. Stringing me along. I’m not doing it anymore.”
You pout. “No, we’re friends. I never–”
“Shhh,” he puts a finger up. “Sweetheart, we’re not bargaining. This isn’t a dialogue.” He leans forward as he crosses his arms on his desk. “I’m going to give you your first assignment and you’re going to deliver. You have until midnight.”
You shake and hug yourself, rubbing your arms as your eyes prick with hot tears.
“I thought you wanted to be my friend–”
“I want to be more. Isn’t that better?” He slithers. You stare. “So, your first assignment is to give me a picture just like the one I showed you. And it has to be real.” He tilts his head. “And trust me, I’ll know if it’s not.”
“I… I can’t do that.”
“You can. Or you know what I can do?” He bites his lip and snickers. “Send your boss a copy of your extensive resume. Head to toe.”
Prompt: June 11th - Little Bitty Pretty One - Thurston Harris / “Tell you a story”
Character: Lloyd Hansen
I know it’s short but please let me know your thoughts and reblog. Also, would love to discuss any ideas these little snippets inspire!
Love you! 💞
"Come on, talk to me." The man leans on the bar as you stare straight ahead, counting the colourful bottles of liquor.
You squirm and look around. There's others watching you. The ones he came with. The same ones he was laughing with as he peeked over at you sitting alone.
"Tell you a story, how about that? Gotta break the ice," his fingers move with his words, coming close to your hand. You pull your hands into your lap. "I knew a girl like you when I was younger. Pretty but shy. Always wanted to talk to her but she was just so scared."
You bite the tip of your tongue and swallow. Where's Rita? She said she'd be here.
"It's just too bad because I wonder where she ended up. Probably with a bunch of cats and still a virgin." He scoffs.
You frown and look at the door. You knew this was a mistake. You offered to meet her at her place but she had to go see Will first. Always him.
"Who needs a cat when you got a man who knows how to treat the kitty, right?"
You gasp and look at him. You shake your head. "Why are you bugging me?"
"Got you." He cackles and smooths his mustache with his thick fingers, his tongue poking out lewdly. He offers his hand and winks. "Name's Lloyd and I saw my name on that ass."
If u want to write a story about a character that’s just you but hotter with a dark twisted backstory and magical powers and a pet falcon or something, I think u should just go ahead and do that. Who’s gonna stop you? The government?? Fuck the police.
"Don't be anti-AI because if you don't keep up with technology you'll be left behind" okay boohoo you tell me. What skill is required to use an AI. What training or personal advancement am I being left behind on. Is it likely that using an AI chatbot will ever require a degree of skill that the average 7 year old cannot perform. And on the flip side, what skills are you LOSING by using AI. What are you gonna do when the subscription prices skyrocket and you have to re-learn how to write an email or do 10 minutes of independent research or even think of your own social media caption. Which of us is actually likely to be "left behind" because of AI.
Warnings: this fic contains arranged marriage and suggestions of dubcon and noncon, as well as adultery. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 9th’s fic!
Curtis Everett + “You really thought you could leave me?”
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
Please check my pinned post for more information on my blog, stories, and asks!
Do one kind thing for yourself today and take care.💖
Callouses graze along your throat as teeth sink into the muscle along your shoulder. You whimper as another hand tickles along your hip and grips tightly. Curtis growls into your hair and snaps his teeth.
You shiver and clasp his wrist as he squeezes your neck. He inhales your scent and nuzzles your ear, teething the tender brim. You close your eyes as your muscles knot.
Fear courses coldly beneath the tide of heat flowing from your core. His hand slips down your pelvis and toys with the curly hair there. You tense even tighter as he inches closer and closer to his need.
His roughened fingers dip between your folds and you gasp past the vice of his other hand. He rubs you, lightly at first, then presses firmly and drags across your clit. You whine and bite down.
“Shhh,” he hushes you as his naked torso grazes your back.
He plays with you, deliberate and determined. He swirls and twirls his fingers, changing his motion each time you make a noise or twitch. Your insides clench over and over as you fight the rising pressure deep inside.
You squeeze his forearm and bite your tongue as you drone. Your body shakes and spasms as your voice flows out of you with the tension, the release trembling in your thighs. You gulp and gasp as your orgasm storms through you.
He doesn’t stop. Not even as you beg. His fingers are so certain, so adept, that it isn’t long before you're cumming again, thighs pressing against his large hand.
His fingers glide back and he delves inside you. One finger, into its limit, then out. A second, down to the knuckles, several thrusts of his hand as you whimper. Then a third, forced past the tight resistance until you wail.
He hushes you again, sniffing the back of your neck, his nose tickling you. He extends his tongue and licks the drop of sweat as it trickles down your nape. You roll your head over his locked hand and let it hang forward.
He slides his fingers out of you and smears the wetness up your cunt and pelvis. He snarls and shifts behind you. He pushes his fingers between your folds again and spreads them. You twitch as he angles you up.
His tip flicks down your cunt and he catches himself in the crooked of two fingers. He guides his dick to your entrance and wiggles, teasing you as he growls. He pushes his tip into you with his fingers as you groan.
He holds himself there, just inside you, as you squirm. He pushes his nose into your hair as he slowly enters you. You tighten around him and writhe. He stills you with a squeeze on your throat and rubs your clit.
You heave and dangle from his embrace as he bottoms out. You squeal as your insides tremble. Your arms fall straight and you clutch at the barren mattress. He rears back, slipping out inch by inch, then thrusts back in with a single sharp thrust.
You wail and slap the sides of his thighs. “Please, ow–”
He shushes you a third time. He picks up his pace with each delve inside of you until he’s in full rut. The friction and impact of your flesh echoes through and around you. You hang weakly as he fucks you without relent.
He falls on you with his full weight as his voice rumbles in his chest. His head hangs down next to yours and a roar breaks free like thunder. His hips pump relentlessly as he shakes the creaky metal frame.
He cums as he smothers his voice in the crook of your neck. You can feel it inside, spilling out around him as he keeps thrusting through his climax. When he finally stops, the world seems to as well. He pants heavily beside your ear as his weight crushes you.
You don’t move. Not even as he slides out of you. He kneels over you and plays with the cum leaking out of you. He pushes it back in with a hum, spreading his fingers wide as he stretches you, then pulls out gruffly.
He shoves off and the bed lurches. His footsteps slap away. You bury your face in the bed as your heartbeat steadies. You wait.
He doesn’t return. Slowly, you roll over. It takes some time to find the strength to sit up. You look down at the gush that spills out between your legs. You quiver.
A hand claps down on your shoulder and pushes you to your back. Curtis is behind you, snarling down as his dick bobs above your head. He bares his teeth.
“You really thought you could leave me?” He grits.
“No, I was–”
“You don’t move unless I move you.” He smacks your cheek lightly. “That’s a warning.”
Warnings: this fic contains suggestions of dubcon and noncon, as well as adultery. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 10th’s fic!
Steve Rogers + “I feel so complete when I’m inside you.” (Medieval AU)
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
Please check my pinned post for more information on my blog, stories, and asks!
Do one kind thing for yourself today and take care.💖
You brush the crumbs off your fingertips and bend your neck. Your veil shifts and you resist the urge to scratch through it. Sister Madeline recites the evening prayer as the others pick at their bread and sip the bitter ale. There’s a tension beneath the silence of the grazing order.
You heard it as you sat and sorted beans from the garden. They all did. The familiar horns and canter of horses. The visitors dismounting at the monastery that shares the same plot with the convent. You hear the monks have lamb and red wine.
The other sisters share looks across the table. You squirm and stare at your plate. You aren’t hungry. Not since you heard his voice carrying from the yard.
Supper finishes and you clear the table with the other sisters. No longer bound to silence, they whisper. You hear the name that keeps you on edge.
You scrape off the crumbs and put the leftover crusts in a basket for the paupers. You wipe clean the wooden plates and stack them as Sister Eleanor giggles at Sister Dawn. Sister Brenna hushes them and chides them to take extra prayers at Compline.
You drift through the remaining prayers and evening chores. You know the walls and floors of the convent well enough to walk them with your eyes closed. Your hands are forged to each task without effort.
You retire to the hard bed of an oak plank. The night keeps you awake outside as the usual creak of branches and snaps of twigs by nocturnal creatures has you imagining more treacherous trespassers. Then the low jingle comes and you are entirely alert.
When the Duke arrives to visit in one of his pilgrimages with the monks, he never fails to send the signal. And you never fail to heed it. The one time you did…
You listen to the sisters around you. Life in the convent doesn’t allow for much rest so when it is had, it’s done deeply. You rise and pull on your robes and veil. You keep your head down as you raise your skirts above the slumbering bodies and cross the room.
The corridors are so dark you can take only small steps. You reach the kitchen door and let yourself out into the moonlight. You don’t look back, only ahead. You go to the mule’s house behind the monastery and whistle in imitation of a sparrow. You wait for the return.
Nothing. Perhaps you imagined it. Or perhaps you are too quick. You shudder and push through the door. Your body readies for what is demanded of it.
The scent of straw and donkey fur meets your nose. You lean into the door to close it. You listen to the sleepy huff of the beast in his pen at the other end of the stall. You turn and search the slivers of moonlight for movement.
Your nerves tangle and your heart clutches. Something off. Something is out of place. You turn and suddenly you’re shoved back. You stumble into a stool as hands clasp onto your sides and keep you from tumbling over.
Lord Rogers chuckles and nuzzles your veil.
“Sacred sister, you’ve missed me,” He growls as he squeezes through your habit. “You’ve no idea how I’ve longed for our reunion.”
Your flick your lashes and gulp. If only he knew the same dread as you do. If only he feared so much for the mark upon his soul and yet, he has no such vow to keep. He is a noble, he is a man who can buy forgiveness. You will repent forever in this world and the next.
“My lord.” You whisper.
“Lamb, please, I long to hear my name upon thy sweet lips.” His mouth grazes yours and his breath clouds hotly.
“Steven…” you murmur as his hands run down to your skirts.
He presses his lips to yours and growls. He yanks at your habit as you cling to him to keep from falling. He turns you and traps you against the planked wall. His beard tickles your skin as he sighs into you.
“I need you, lamb.” He snarls. “I’ve needed you so badly. It is all I think of.” His hands crawl under your skirts and he kneads your thighs. “I feel so complete when I’m inside you.”
Prompt: June 10th - Pink Pony Club - Chappell Roan / “Every night's another reason why I left it all”
Character: Walter Marshall
I know it’s short but please let me know your thoughts and reblog. Also, would love to discuss any ideas these little snippets inspire!
Love you! 💞
“I thought you looked familiar.” The growl comes from the other side of the book cover.
You look above the pages as Walter glares at you, arms crossed, brows low over his blue eyes. They might be nice if he wasn’t always scowling. You go to lift the book higher and he catches it. You let him push it down.
“Can I help you?”
“Sure can, Kitty.” He sneers.
You sigh. “I’m not that anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter. When were you going to tell me?”
“I pay my rent. That’s all that matters–”
“It’s my liability to decide what matters.” He retorts.
You tilt your head and rip the book away from his grasp. He smacks the back of it, nearly knocking it out of your hands. You put it on your lap.
“Well, you know now.”
“Kitty–”
“Don’t call me that.” You snap. “You’re my landlord, not my goddamn parole officer.” You hurl the book at him and stand. “By the way, it ended six months ago. I’m a free woman to do what I want. Detective.”
“I know how it goes.” He scoffs.
You roll your eyes and spin away. You dodge away from his reach without looking. You do too. Doesn’t matter if a man wears a badge or a ball cap, they’re all the same.
Every night's another reason why I left it all,” you mutter. “Knowing I don’t have to deal with pricks I don’t want.”
Pairing - Destroyer Chris x Reader / Dark Ransom Drysdale x Reader
Summary - You work at a gentleman's club entertaining men, but what happens when the lies get blurred and real feelings get hurt?
Warnings - Smut, dirty talk, possessive behavior. 18+ Only! My warnings are not extensive so enter at your own risk!
"Hey how was work?" Chris asked from the couch, when you dragged your feet over the threshold of your shared home.
"Chris..." You released in a husky whimper, as your coat dropped to the floor and your shoulders slumped, tears already streaming down your cheeks.
"Hey what's wrong?" He asked with concern, jumping up from the couch and striding over to you with quick steps, taking you into his arms.
You pressed your face into his chest, letting out a wracked sob you'd been holding back since the night ended, while your arms hung limpy by your sides, unable to find the strength to move.
After a few minutes, Chris guided you to the couch, pulling you down next to him and keeping an arm firmly around you while your breathing began to even out.
"Baby talk to me." Chris coaxed softly and you knew you had to tell him. You didn't keep secrets from him, not ever, but you knew this would be a tricky conversation and the fear ate at you.
After a lot of coaxing yourself with deep breaths you finally leaned back to look up at him, sniffling softly as you told him everything that had happened that evening, that instead of getting out of there you let Ransom touch you, that your boss had basically pimped you out, that Ransom had fingered you, had touched you so intimately with the unspoken promise that it would happen again.
Chris' features changed as you spoke, jaw tensing and ticking as his teeth gritted together so hard you thought his teeth may break. His fists clenched in his lap and his body stiffened, eyes narrowing and darkening with every added detail, until you finally finished, exhaling a shaky breath and looking back at him through hooded eyes as you waited for his response.
His nostrils flared and he let out a harsh breath jumping to his feet. He smoothed his palm over his face and then his hair as he paced back and forth, feet clomping against the carpet angrily.
"Baby I'm sorry." You exhaled as the tears tracked down your soaked cheeks, rubbing your palms in your lap. You were sorry, sorry that your job put you in this position, sorry that you hadn't quit when he'd expressed his concern, sorry that someone else had touched you when your heart belonged to him, but apparently that wasn't what Chris was focusing on at all.
"Did he make you cum?" Chris suddenly snarled across the small space with a wrinkled nose and furrowed brows.
"What?" You squeaked, eyes snapping to his, flicking back and forth as you searched for some understanding of where his head was at.
"You heard me?" He snapped more loudly, looming over you with his fists curled at his sides, "Did you cum? Did you enjoy it?"
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish as you tried to process the question, knowing you needed to be honest, but not wanting to be as you looked back up into his darkened stormy eyes.
"I...I don't..." You mumbled nervously.
"Did. You. Cum?" Chris snarled once more, glaring at you.
"Yes..." You whispered, dropping your eyes to your lap in an attempt to avoid his gaze as more tears cascaded down your skin.
"And you let him mark you." Chris scoffed, finger poking harshly at the purple bruising on your neck where Ransom had bitten you.
"I didn't let him." You whispered as you shook, "He just did it."
"I told you to leave that job." He spat angrily.
"We need the money." You pleaded as your head hung in shame, "We talked about this."
"So now I just gotta live with the fact I'm sharing you with someone else." He yelled and your face snapped back to his.
Your body moved on autopilot, jumping from the couch to get closer to him, fists finding their way into his shirt, holding him as close as possible.
He made no move to stop you, observing you with a tense jaw and narrowed eyes, hands placed on his hips while you clung to him like you were afraid to let go.
"You're not sharing me." You pleaded, "I love you. Only you. I'm doing this for you. For us."
"Shit." He whispered and you felt his body shift, his shoulders dropped and his forehead dropped to yours.
"You're right." He muttered quietly, placing his hands on your hips, "Fuck. I'm sorry."
"It's okay..." You whimpered, tugging at the fabric to keep him close.
"It's not okay." He chuffed lightly, eyes darkening as they met yours, "Cause now I gotta claim you harder, make sure you know that no matter what happens with him, you belong to me."
"Chris..." You gasped, feeling heat pool from the way his palms were now clutching your hips possessively.
"And I'm gonna mark you up." He continued in a low growl, "Make sure he knows it's too. Make sure he knows that no matter what he does it's me you'll be coming home too."
"God..I..." You stuttered, face flushing furiously under his darkened gaze.
"You like that huh?" He mocked, "You like me bein' all possessive over you?"
You nodded against his head, swallowing harshly as you felt wetness pool in your panties.
"Yeah you do." Chris smirked, "You like that I'm about to ruin your cunt."
He pushed away from you, quickly spinning you before pushing your torso down onto the arm of the sofa and take fistfuls of your ass in his palms, groaning as he groped the soft flesh.
You whimpered in anticipation as he roughly pushed up your dress, snapping the band of your underwear and tossing it before you on the couch.
You heard the quick clink of a belt and the shuffle of trousers before his cock was pushed through your already dripping folds, filling you to the brim.
His pace was brutal, claiming, possessive, but in all the best ways that had you moaning and whining as he worked you both towards the edge with a firm grip on your hips.
Chris dropped his body over yours, groaning deep into your ear as he smacked his balls against your ass with unrestrained lust.
His tongue darted out, licking Ransom's mark on your neck, before he growled and bit down on the already bruised flesh.
You let out a loud cry, cunt clamping down on his cock from the pleasure that only he could provide.
He sucked the soft flesh into his mouth harshly, not relenting until the mark was now bigger and darker than before, replacing all traces of Ransom with him.
"Who do you belong too baby?" Chris growled in your ear before moving to the other side of your neck, biting down to make a fresh mark there.
"You Chris!" You screamed out in ecstasy, your orgasm just within your reach as his cock pummeled in and out of your cunt, "You."
"That's right, you're mine." He grunted when his teeth finally released your skin, "Not his."
"I'm yours Chris. I'm yours." You whimpered, tears pooling in your eyes.
"Yeah you are." He groaned as he tore his torso from your back, gripping your hips harder as he stood once more, "My girl, my woman and nothing is gonna change that."
"I'm gonna come." You cried out.
"Come baby." He groaned behind you, still maintaining his unfathomable pace with incredible stamina, "I wanna feel what I do to you. I want you to scream my name so loud that people in the next town know you're mine."
"Fuck." You groaned, screaming out his name as your orgasm finally took hold, shooting up your spine and prickling heat across your entire body, "Chris!"
"That's it." He grunted as he chased his own high, digging his finger tips into your hips so hard you would have more proof of his possession come morning, "Fuck I love you. I love you so fucking much. Never gonna leave you. Never. Fuck."
He finished with a low groan, body shuddering as he dropped over you with ragged breath.
When it was all over and your bodies had separated, both covered in sweat and cum, Chris peppered you with kisses, telling you how much he loved you.
As you lay next to him that night, one arm and leg slung over his body like you feared he may run in the night, you couldn't help but worry what would come next with Ransom and just how serious Chris was about not letting anything come between you.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content and possible untagged elements such as noncon. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: A typical work assignment turns into something less than usual.
Characters: Walter Marshall, Curtis Everett
Note: blame @stargazingfangirl18
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Do one kind thing for yourself today and take care.💖
'No signal'.
Out in the farmlands, it isn't too rare to see those two dire words. You always keep a map in the car just in case. As it is, you've never quite got lost. These rural roads don't have many turn offs to do so.
The farmhouse is just ahead at the end of the dirt path curling to the left. The owner said something about a red post and you're fairly sure the one with the peeling coat you just passed is the one. You idle right before the branching lead off to check the map one last time.
The fields are so endless and the back roads so empty that you hear the car coming before you see it. You lower the map and look in the rearview. An iron grey truck spits up dust as it follows the subtle up and down of the unpaved lanes.
You wait for them to pass but they don't. Instead, they signal and pull up behind you. A large hand signals through the windshield. You squint and check the locks on the door.
The driver gets out and approaches. You roll the window down and inch before he can tap on the glass. You lean over to peer up at him.
Dark curls, a dark beard, some silver laced through both, and two bold blue eyes above the thick bridge of his nose. He wears a long-sleeved cotton pullover with sweat around the collar. His forearms are exposed under the rolled sleeves as he grips his hips and bends to see you.
"Lost?" He asks.
"Not really," you crinkly the map.
"You sure?"
"Um, yep. Pretty sure the farm I'm looking for is that one right over there." You nod to the north east.
He scoffs. "Hard Top."
"That's the one." You fold up the map.
"Uh huh. Well you just follow me on." He reaches to tap the roof of your car. "It's mine."
You flick your brows and his mouth slants.
"Walter Marshall. You were talking with my partner, Curtis." He explains.
"I was."
"No use keeping him waiting." He drags his hand away. "He's a bit of a grump."
He turns and struts away. You watch him in the mirror as you roll up the window all the way. That's lucky.
You wait for him to get in his truck and pass you. You follow him slowly, crawling along the curve and the subtle incline of the road. You glance over at the fields as you let your foot hover on the brake.
He leads you to the dusty clearing in front of the farmhouse. You park next to him and get out. You open your back door to take out your bag, your water bottle clinking against a buckle as it hangs from a carabiner on the strap.
“Curt!” Walter cups his hand around his mouth as he booms toward the house.
You uncap your bottle and drink as you wait. He turns to you as you twist the top back on. You let it dangle again and rest your hand on your bag.
“I told him to wait outside for you. I had to run into town and get some wire.” He clucks.
“No problem.” You assure him as you turn to take in the expanse.
“We bought this place off a family. Been passed down for decades.” He explained. “We’re thinking vegetables, herbs, some fruits. Buddy has an organic juice business….”
“Hey.” The front door snaps on its hinges.
You turn to the man that stands in front of it. His black shirt is smeared with dirt, the emblem of some metal band mostly obscured. His thick arms and sides are completely exposed by the cut of the fabric. His dark hair is buzzed short, his beard only slightly longer. More stubble than anything.
“I was dealing with the pipes.” He says as he wipes his hands on a rag. His attention darts between Walter and you. “You must be… I’m Curtis.”
“That’s me.” You assure him. “I got everything ready to go.”
“Cool. So, we’re thinking veggie patches—”
“Already gave her the breakdown, bud. Maybe next time, you won’t be late,” Walter interjects.
“I was here.” Curtis growls.
You shift awkwardly.
“What was planted before?”
“Wheat? Grains. There’s a few pear and apple trees still around and healthy strawberry patches we’ve kept going.” Curtis comes down the steps of the porch and tucks the rag in his pocket.
“Mm. Well, today I can do a quick test. I have a few kits in my bag. I’ll need to take samples back for more intensive testing and compare to the topology of the fields. Do you have a map of the plots that belong to you?”
“Huh, she’s thorough,” Walter comments.
You barely twitch. This is your work. You know what you’re doing. If you really wanted to be complicated, you’d speak like you do at the lab.
“Have to be. You’re paying for it.” You assure him without a look.
“Well, let us show you around. It’s a pretty big place so no use wasting time.” Curtis says and gets a snort from Walter. “I can get you a map of the plots. Might have to draw it out but I’ve got the deed here. There’s some coordinates on there…”
“No problem.” You nod.
“Here, it’s a bit of a walk,” Walter startles you as he grabs the strap of your bag.
“Oh, I got it.”
“Looks heavy.” He tugs and you cling for just a moment before you let go. “Come on. It’s only gonna get hotter out here.”
You repress your irritation. It wouldn’t be the first time the old-fashioned type treated you like ‘a lady’. Sometimes it can be endearing, mostly it’s demeaning.
Walter waves you ahead of him as Curtis points to the east. “We’ll start over here.”
You follow him around the house and along the strips between the patches of turned soils. When you come to the border of their holding, you turn to Walter and ask for your bag. His hand twitches on your water bottle then slides up the strap. He hands it over.
You dig inside for a quick kit. You put on some gloves and start the process. You’re overly aware of them watching, standing side by side just to your right.
“This will mostly check the PH of the soil,” you explain. “It’s typically easy enough to balance it out or at least plant according to the results. Once I have the lab results back for my other tests, we can determine anything that isn’t viable this season. Unfortunately, it can take a lot of time to revive arable land.”
Curtis hums. Walter shifts in his boots.
“You been doing this a long time?”
“Almost fifteen years.” You put in the neutralizer and wait for the results.
“Fifteen? You don’t look that old…” He muses.
You ignore that. Comments like that also aren’t unusual. You’re surprised he hasn’t commented that he expected a man but then again, you think your name might have spoiled the surprise.
You continue around the farmland. It’s tedious work. Quick tests then scooping up soil to deposit in your labeled vials. At points, you dig down deep into the sediment.
You pause to grab your water bottle and gulp. Sweat stains your scalp and dampens the insides of your gloves. You put the cap on and press on.
“More water in the house if you need it,” Curtis offers.
“Thanks. It’s a big bottle.” You counter.
As you make your way around the strips of land, the sun beats down, ringing in your vision. You try to blink away the glare as even your lashes feel sweaty. You squat down to get another sample but as you stand, you sway and stumble.
“Woah, you good?” Walter asks.
You flick your lashes and look at him. “Fine.”
You fumble to seal the sample and tuck it in your bag. You take another swig from your bottle. It’s empty. You put the cap on again and sigh. You’re almost done.
You try to lift the bag and the weight tips you over before you can stand. You fall onto it and groan. You shake your head. Something’s not right.
“Hey, you okay?” Walter asks as you’re pulled back.
Curtis lets you fall onto your back in the dirt. You grumble as your arms fall limp at your sides. You can’t move. What the hell is going on?
Curtis stares at you, touching your cheek then your forehead. Your eyelids flutter and he holds his fingers under your nose to check your breathing.
“How much did you put in?”
“Enough.” Walter answers as he unclips your bottle and shakes it. “I didn’t think she’d drink it all.”
Curtis sighs.
“We need to get her out of the sun.”
🌼
Black lightens to grey. Your mind slowly grinds back into motion as your body comes back into being. You climb out of the pit of your unconscious up into the gloom of your current predicament.
Your finger twitches. That effort alone aches. You bend two, then three, then curl up a whole fist. You raise your hand and let it fall as the weight thrums in your forearm.
You smell dirt and sweat. Your mind flashes with your last memories. Laying in the dirt, writhing and weak, the sun beating down, two shadows looming above.
You open your eyes and quickly close them again. It’s not real. It has to be a dream. These things don’t happen like this. It was a job, not…
No, it was a trap.
You look again. You stare at the wooden slats of the wall. The dark stain is faded and a few scratches mark the passage of time. You turn your head. The space is typical of an old farmhouse, but not airy as you would expect. The small room is stagnant and damp.
You know that scent too. A basement. You shudder as your chest locks up. Breathe.
You press your hands down and sit up with a grunt. The effort is enough to make you dizzy. You fall onto one elbow before you can keel over the side of the bed.
You take in the space. A wooden wardrobe, the bed, a night table with a lamp on top, a threadbare rug. There’s a small sink in the corner and a mirror. It’s all very simple.
You push yourself up again and angle your legs one by one over the edge. You’re not stupid enough to stand. You hunch forward and hug your middle.
You remember Walter taking your bag, walking behind you. You never heard a thing. He was quick.
But why? Why all of this?
You don’t see any chains or torture devices but maybe they’ll bring those out later. You doubt these things are as dramatic as those dismal Netflix miniseries. It’s not all aesthetic, it’s just a woman locked in a sad room in a basement.
You wallow in the silence. Your breath is the only sound until the grind of metal scrapes from the door. You wince and peek over as the hinges whine.
You grip the edge of the mattress. Walter tuts and shuts the door.
“Try to stand up and see what happens.”
You lift your chin and scowl at him. There’s no point in asking what or why. You look at his hands. No knife, nothing. Well, he’s big enough to kill you with his own strength.
He closes the door. You watch him. He faces you and stares.
“Well? Questions?” He prompts.
You glare at him. He waits. You don’t say a word.
“Alright, well, I suppose we’ve all waited long enough.”
He turns and goes to the wardrobe. He opens it. He takes out a dress with a dandelion pattern. It’s cut in an old farm style with buttons down the front.
He offers it to you as you stare. You don’t move. He steps closer.
“You’re in no shape to fight.” He warns.
You tilt your head up and grimace. “What is wrong with you?”
His lips curve slightly.
“I’m just like every other man. I’m just honest about it. I know what I want and need.” He bends and places the dress on your lap. His nose almost touches yours. “You can deny it in yourself but you’re a woman and women need men.”
You swallow tightly. His hands spread over the dress and feel your thighs through the fabric. He leans in to drag the tip of his nose up yours.
“I’m the nice one, sweetheart, so do yourself a favour and get changed.”
He squeezes then pushes away. He turns and marches to the door, not looking back as he leaves. You huff and bite the insides of your cheeks.
You drop your head and touch the dress. Your hands hurt. Your veins are tight but hollow, tendons strained. You feel the cotton and shiver. You know he’s right. You don’t have a choice; well, you have one. To make it worse for yourself.
You slowly unfold the dress. The effort alone is enough to make you shake. Or maybe that’s the fear.
You put the dress aside and undress. Your boots are already gone; your jacket too. You strip down to your plain cupless bra and high-rise panties. You take a deep breath and let it out as you stand.
You sway and remind yourself not to lock your knees. You grab the dress and unbutton it. You pull it on and pull through each button one by one. It’s tight and the buttons pull against the holes. When you finish, you sit again.
What do you do now but wait? You feel useless and helpless and stupid. Are you just accepting this? Everyone has a plan but how do you really plan for this?
When the door opens again, you don’t react. The shadow approaches you and grabs your arm. Walter sighs.
“You need help?” He asks.
You shake your head and stand. You try to shrug him off but he clings to you. He takes you through the door.
It’s brighter in the next room. The aromas in the air make your stomach grumble. You’re hungry. Something’s cooking.
There’s a dining table on a patterned rug; a kitchenette along one wall; fridge, stove, sink, cupboards. You notice the locks on all of them. Curtis has his back to you as he uses a spatula to transfer food from a skillet to a plate. Walter makes you sit in one of the wooden chairs and stands behind you, his hands on your shoulders.
The details start to tweak in your head. Curtis wears a black button up and slacks. Walter has changed too; a grey button-up and dark shade of pants. They’ve both cleaned themselves up.
Curtis turns and brings over two plates. He places one before you on a crochet dish mat and another at another seat with the same setting. Walter lets go of you and sits. Curtis returns and takes the third plate. He joins you at the table, his hands framing his plate as he looks at you.
“That dress is nice on you.” He says.
“Bit small.” Walter remarks. “Tight.”
You grit your teeth.
“Bit older than I expected too…” Walter adds.
Curtis sniffs. “Shut up. She’s… beautiful.”
You look away. Stolid silence roils around you. Walter is the first to move. He picks up his fork and stirs the penne on his plate. Curtis taps his fingers on the table.
“Eat,” he commands.
Your eyes meet his. His jaw is set. Walter eats without pretense.
“I’m not hungry–”
“I can hear your stomach. Eat.” He demands. “No use drugging you again, is there?”
You stare at him and take your fork. You poke a piece of zucchini and lean forward slightly. You push it into your mouth. He picks up his own fork.
“You really do look good,” he snarls as his eyes narrow, his lip twitching. “Doesn’t she?”
Walter hums and swallows. “Tits are nice.”
Curtis sighs. “Jesus.”
🌼
Your hunger is replaced with unease. Your stomach churns around the meal as you remain in the chair. Curtis gets up and gathers the empty plates. Walter stands and slaps his stomach. He nudges you.
“Come on.”
You hesitate then stand. He takes you back to the small room and shoves you inside. The door shuts heavily behind you.
You go back to the bed and sit. You climb up into the corner and fold your arms over your knees. You slump and close your eyes.
You stay like that until the door opens again. It’s Curtis. He has a zip-up bag in his hand.
“You need to get ready for bed.” He says as he shuts the door.
You stare. He goes to the sink. He puts the bag down beside the faucet and unzips it.
“Get over here.”
You stay. You’re annoyed. You’re not a dog. He speaks to you like one.
He sighs. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
You don’t move.
He pulls his hand out of the bag and marches over to the bed. He grabs your ankles and drags you across, the blankets rumpling beneath you. You cry out as you try to kick free.
“One last chance to get on your feet or I will drop you on your ass.”
He lets you go. Your ankles throb. You let your feet dangle and stand.
He grips your shoulder and walks you to the sink. He pulls out a tooth brush and tooth paste. He wets the bristles then puts the paste on. You reach for it and he slaps your hand down.
“Open.”
Your lip curls before you force yourself to obey. It’s so strange. He brushes your teeth as you try not to gag. He finishes and fills a plastic cup and tells you to rinse. You do.
Next, he pulls out a jar of face scrub. He tells you to wet your face. Then he applies the exfoliant. You flinch. His large hands linger on your cheeks. His eyes dip.
“You really do look… good.”
You avert your gaze. He rinses his hands then grabs the back of your neck. He bends you over the sink and splashes water over your face. He rinses off the beaded wash and hands you a towel. You pat dry as he squeezes moisturiser from a tube.
He rubs his into your skin and down your neck. His hands circle your throat and linger loosely, he hums. He exhales a hot breath over you.
“Change.”
He lets go and crosses to the wardrobe. He opens it and pulls out a linen night gown. It’s about long enough to reach your knees; plain white with straps.
He brings it to you. You reach for it and he shakes his head. “Take the dress off.”
You swallow and look around. “I can do it–”
“Stop. Do it.”
His voice sinks into like an anchor pulling you to a halt that nearly upends you. You lower your chin and close your eyes. Your hands shake as you unbutton the dress. It falls open and reveals the cushion of your chest, stomach, hips, and thighs.
You twitch as his fingertips brush down your neck to your chest and trace the top of your bra.
“Everything.”
You gulp as he takes the dress away. You unhook your bra and he tugs it off your arms. Then you push down your underwear until they fall to your ankles. He bends to snatch them away too.
He looms close then throws the night gown over your head. You bring your arms up to poke through the holes. You open your eyes as he pulls the sheath down your body. It’s tight too, hugging your tits and ass.
His breath scrapes audibly. His hands hover around your sides then drop. He gathers up your clothes and heads for the door.
“Lay down.”
He slams the door behind him.
🌼
You lay in bed but don’t sleep. The lamp is on. You can’t bring yourself to face the dark.
You watch the door. Reality skews as time passes without notice. No tick of the clock, no numbers to count, only those walls and your fear.
The door jars then opens. You sit up. A figure fills the frame.
You stare at Curtis as he tilts his head. He’s naked. You brace yourself.
“Please…”
“Hey…” another voice comes from behind him. “Starting without me?”
Curtis winces and turns. You look away from his naked ass as he faces Walter. The other man snickers.
“Couldn’t sleep, big boy?” Walter taunts.
Curtis shakes his head and turns back. He enters the room. Walter follows and sheds his tee shirt. The door shuts with a loud click.
You push yourself against the wall, curled up as you hold up a hand in defense.
“Please, don’t–”
“Shh,” Walter hushes you as he shoves his flannel pants down his thick legs. His dick bobs up shamelessly as he stands and stretches.
Curtis approaches the bed and latches onto your ankle. You whine as he jerks you away from the wall. You flail as he drags you to the edge. The night gown rolls up above your thighs, exposing you.
“She looks good,” Walter praises as he strokes himself. “Give me her mouth.”
“Take it.” Curtis says as he drops to his knees and pushes yours apart.
You whimper. He grips your knees then slowly kneads up your thighs. Walter climbs up from the foot of the bed and strokes your cheek. You sway him away and he catches your hand. He snickers as he pulls it toward his pelvis.
“Stop! Please–”
“It’s not going to hurt if you’re good,” Walter chides.
You gasp as Curtis’ touch crawls between your thighs. His breath grazes your pelvis and you flinch. You reach down to stop him but once more, you’re slapped away.
Walter pumps himself with one hand as his other grasps your chin. He turns your head and you lock your jaw. He squeezes until your entire skull pulses.
“Don’t be bad.” He warns.
Curtis frames your pelvis, his thumbs stretched down the creases of your thighs.
“Listen.” Curtis growls. He leans in and his breath plumes against your cunt. He nuzzles you and purrs.
Walter presses his tip to your lips as his grip gets even tighter. You open your mouth and whine. He pushes inside and you close your eyes.
Curtis’ tongue grazes along your lips and you shiver. You sink into yourself as he tastes between your folds. The coolness of his mouth flows through your veins.
You tell yourself, beg yourself not too feel. But you feel it all. As Walter dips deeper into your mouth, smothering you, sliding down to your throat. As Curtis flicks his tongue up and down, swiping circles around your clit.
Your body vibrates as they violate you. Curtis reaches up your body, groping and grabbing at your stomach, then your chest. He fondles one tit as Walter grabs the other, still guiding your mouth up and down his length.
Your muscles spasm as you gag. Curtis tickles along your cunt with his fingers and teases your entrance. Walter pushes past your reflex and your eyes water as drool stains your lips and cheeks. Curtis pushes two fingers into you and you squeeze both of them as they invade your body.
They work in tandem, licking, lapping, tugging, thrusting. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you can’t do anything but let them use you. For all that you can’t do, you feel it all.
Your insides twist and tie up. The tension coils around and around. You press on Walter’s thigh as he dips deeper and deeper and Curtis’ tongue swirls around and around.
You arch your back, toes curling, and the pressure bursts. You whine around Walter as you spasm and cum. Your orgasm dominates you, conquers you, and shatters the last of your resistance.
Neither stop. Walter fists your hair as he fucks your mouth and Curtis rams his fingers in deeper and hard. He sucks on your clit as you clasp at the tangled blanket and choke. You cum again.
He eases you through and drags his wet mouth across your pelvis and hip. He growls.
“Get her up.” He snarls.
Walter pushes in one last time then slides out of your mouth. He pulls you up by your neck and moves you off the bed. Curtis angles around to sit on the edge as Walter guides you onto his lap.
You push back against Walter and he grabs your hip. He leads you down as Curtis’ hand grips your other side. They force you onto Curtis’ dick as he groans. His hand slips to your rear as your walls clench him and you push on his chest.
Walter shoves you down until you cry out. He chuckles and moves your hips. You whine again.
“Is she tight?” Walter growls.
Curtis groans. He leans forward as the night gown droops below your chest and he takes a nipple in his mouth. Walter moves his hand up your back and pushes lightly. Curtis lays back, taking you with him.
Walter keeps your motion. He rubs your ass as guides you up and down Curtis’ length. He steps closer and bends over you.
Curtis reaches down as he nibbles at your chest. He frames his intrusion with his fingers, opening you up as Walter presses against your entrance. You twitch and try to move away.
They hold you in place as Walter pushes into you. He stretches you so much it burns. Just his tip has you trembling and pleading. Curtis hushes you and pets your head.
Walter inches into you, crowding your cunt as it strains around both of them. He presses against your back as he plants his knees between Curtis’ to kneel on the bed. He bends over you and snaps his hips, bottoming out.
You squeal and Curtis grunts. He hisses. “Fuck, she’s… fuck…”
“You’re right,” Walter rolls his hips and kisses the back of your head. “She’s fucking perfect.”
Pairing - Dark Steve Kemp x Naive/Innocent/Virgin Reader
Summary - You go to your doctor looking for advice, what you get is something else entirely.
Warnings - Extreme Dubcon! Manipulation, coercion, medical manipulation, fingering, dark! 18+ Only! My warnings are not extensive so enter at your own risk!
Word Count - 3k
After a lot of deliberation, you'd decided to brave a trip to the doctor's office, deciding you were ready to take a big step in your personal life.
Doctor Kemp had taken over your local doctors clinic a few years ago and you felt content under his care.
He was always friendly with you, making you feel at ease with your issues and you had confided in him about almost everything. You knew that today's conversation would only be okay because of him, despite how nervous you were.
You entered the clinic with a hammering heart and shaky palms, locating a seat as far away from anyone else as possible, after a quick check in with the receptionist. You were anxious as other patients stepped in and out of the double doors for their own appointments, biting at your nails and leg bouncing as you waited.
When your name was finally called, you scampered through the doors and along the pristine white halls to Doctor Kemp's office, knocking quickly before entering, after hearing the sound of his soft voice calling you inside.
"Good morning." He smiled at you from his seat by his computer, "Take a seat."
You smiled back shyly, flopping down in your seat so quickly that you winced on impact and immediately flushed red in embarassment.
Doctor Kemp looked back at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes, lips turned up into that charming smile you'd come to know all too well.
"Hi Doctor Kemp." You breathed shakily as you tried to compose yourself, "Thank you for seeing me."
You placed your palms in your lap, spine ridged and stiff while Steve relaxed back in his seat.
"What can I do for you today?" He asked, steepling his hands in front of his chest, with his elbows on his knees as he appraised you.
"I uhh...well..." You uttered, scratching nervously at your forehead, "It's kind of embarrassing..."
"It's okay, you know you can tell me." He smiled softly before letting out a light chuckle, "I don't bite."
"Okay well..." You sighed, glancing around the sterile room to avoid making eye contact for too long, "I uhh....I want to get some kind of birth control."
"Oh is that right?" Steve replied with a harsh underbite to his tone.
"Yeah," You continued, oblivious to his change in demeanor, "I just don't know what kind of one to get or whatever, I was wondering if you could help."
"Forgive me sweetie, but last time we spoke you informed me you were still a virgin." He said sternly, "Is that no longer the case?"
"Oh, uhh yeah I am." You said pressing your lips together, "I'm just...preparing I guess....trying to be safe."
"You got yourself a boyfriend now?" He grumbled with a raised brow, flattening his palms on his thighs to stop them clenching into fists.
"No, yeah." You mumbled, "Uhh I dunno. Kind of. It's new."
"And things have been heating up?" Steve pressed, "Has he touched you?"
His fingers twitched against his thigh and his jaw ticked in irritation, as he watched your face blush at the question.
"Nn..no. Not exactly." You mumbled, rubbing your hands together in your lap, "But he uhhh..he asked me to touch him..so I just want to be prepared..."
Steve's shoulders relaxed and you watched as he visibly exhaled before his face softened. He reached across the space, taking your hand in his and gently running his thumb along your knuckles.
Your friends told you their doctors were cold and uncaring, Steve wasn't like that, he was always soft with you and always made sure to touch you in such gentle caring ways, you knew you were safe with him.
"You sure you're ready sweetie?" He asked softly, watching you nibble your lower lip.
"Yeah I think so." You sighed, "I mean I'm 23 now and I've waited a long time."
"I know." He smiled, "You're such a sweet girl, so innocent."
"Yeah well...maybe I'm ready for more ya know?" You replied, unsure whether you were trying to convince Doctor Kemp or yourself, but you were fed up of the things your friends said about you, of missing out on something your friends all talked about like it was a gateway drug.
"Okay well as your doctor I guess I'll have to trust what you're saying for the mental side of being ready," Steve hummed, still holding your palm in his, "But there's still the physical."
"Physical?" You gulped, looking up at Steve's blue eyes with your doe ones, as confusion laced your brow.
"Yeah, your vagina might not be ready." Steve replied.
"Oh." You gasped in shock, "Really? But...I thought...the girls said.."
"You think your friends know more than me? A qualified practitioner?" Steve scoffed, dropping your hand in your lap with irritation and you felt an embarrassed flush creep up your neck.
"No. Of course not. I just..." You mumbled apologetically.
"We'll need to do an examination." He interrupted, "Make sure everything is okay."
"Right..okay...sure...yeah...." You breathed, rubbing your now sweaty palms along your trousers.
"Good girl." Steve smiled, suddenly soft again, "You wanna jump up behind the curtain, take your jeans and panties off and pop the towel over your lap. I'll be there when you're ready."
You swallowed nervously, getting to your feet and moving to the clinical bed while your hands shook at your sides. You knew you shouldn't be nervous, Steve had seen down there before, several times in fact. He made sure you had regular check ups, making sure to take pictures of your pussy to keep on his files in case anything changed, although he'd never touched you, not once, just appraised between your legs with a clinical scrutiny.
You pulled the paper feeling curtain across the space, separating you from Steve's gaze and quickly stripped your lower half, before climbing onto the hard bed and grabbing way too much paper towel to place over your exposed core.
"Ready." You gulped nervously, hands desperately pressing the paper to your body.
"Okay." Steve hummed before pulling the curtain back, making your body flinch at the sudden screeching sound, "Comfy?"
"Mmm it's okay." You breathed with a faux smile, "I'm just nervous."
"Don't be nervous sweetheart." He smiled reassuringly, "Nothing you haven't done before. It'll be just like when you do it yourself."
"What do you mean?" You exhaled shakily as he crossed the room, collecting a pair of blue rubber gloves from a nearby drawer.
"I mean it'll only be like when you touch yourself." He replied, facing the wall with a wide smirk and a twitch in his cock that you didn't see.
"Oh..I..I never..." You mumbled nervously, swallowing harshly with wide eyes when Steve suddenly turned to face you once more.
"You've never touched yourself before?" He asked with a raised brow and a twitch in his upper lip.
"N..no..." You repeated.
"God sweetheart, you're such an angel." He almost groaned, quickly snapping the rubber of the gloves before blowing into the opening, "So sweet."
"Oh, uh thank you Doctor Kemp." You blushed, dipping your head under his gaze.
He smiled back, pulling the latex gloves over his large hands before releasing them to his wrists with a loud slap.
"Okay just relax for me sweetie." He said softly as he positioned himself near your lower half, "Bend your knees. That's it and just let your legs drop open."
You did as he asked, pulling your legs up and planting your feet flat on the bed before dropping your knees to the sides, opening yourself up for him.
"Good girl." He praised, "See. It's okay right?"
"Yeah...okay..." You breathed, feeling more secure knowing you were safe with him as you always were.
"Okay. Let's have a look at you." Steve purred, quickly ripping the toweling away from your core and tossing it haphazardly behind him, tongue darting out to run over his lower lip as he looked at your exposed cunt.
"Mmm. Good." He hummed with a nod as his head tilted to the side.
"Is....is it okay?" You asked nervously, attempting to glance down at your own pussy.
"Very beautiful sweetheart." Steve smirked back at you before slipping his gloved hands onto your thighs gently, "Let's have a little feel, see how she's doing?"
His palms slid along the inside of your thighs until you felt his fingers tickle the outer side of your pussy and you audibly gasped at the feeling, unsure if that was how you were supposed to feel when it was your doctor touching you so innocently.
Suddenly you felt his finger tip gently flick at your untouched nub before gently massaging it and you felt an unusual heat spread across your body.
"That feel okay?" Steve purred, glancing up at your surprised eyes and mouth hanging agape.
"Mmmhmmm." You nodded with a harsh swallow as he continued his soft movements over your clit.
"Words sweetie." Steve coaxed, "Need you to tell me how it feels."
You took a deep breath, letting your head flop back against the bed so you could stare at the ceiling instead of the way Doctor Kemp was staring back at you hungrily.
"It feels g..good." You breathed, "Kinda tingly."
"Yeah?" Steve purred in response, "You're getting nice and wet."
"Is that normal?" You squeaked suddenly, worrying as you regularly felt that flush of wetness pooling down below, often finding patches of dampness in your panties and you worried that it could mean something was wrong.
"Yeah sweetie, perfectly normal." Steve smiled, "It's a good thing."
"Oh..okay...good." You breathed, shoulders relaxing slightly, although still on edge from where he was touching you.
"Now I'm gonna need you to relax sweetheart." Steve ordered softly, "Take a deep breath. Good."
You inhaled deeply and let out a squeak as you felt one of his fingers push inside of your pussy, curling upwards to stroke your inner wall as his thumb took its place on your clit to continue the stimulation there.
Your stomach tightened, more intense heat searing at your skin as sweat began dripping from your brow.
"Oh..." You gasped at the new intrusion.
"Yeah, that okay?" Steve asked and you had to swallow, reminding yourself to use your words when all your body wanted to do was writhe and mewl.
"Mm. Feels. Good." You mumbled, chest heaving up and down.
"Yeah? You got more of those tingles?" He coaxed as he continued pumping his finger inside of you, dragging the tip against your wall and rubbing over your nub in soft circles.
"Yeah and my tummy feels funny." You admitted with a shaky breath as the strange sensations kept building.
"Good, that's what's supposed to happen sweetheart." He hummed in approval, "This is all good so far."
You let out a raspy moan as he continued working your cunt with his finger, feeling yourself becoming wetter and wetter as he continued.
"God. You're so tight." Steve groaned to himself as he stared at his finger disappearing into your virgin pussy over and over, "Dunno if you're gonna be able to take two."
"Huh? Two?" You squeaked, catching the end of his sentence and lifting your head to stare at him with a small amount of fear shooting through you.
"Of my fingers sweetie?" Steve smirked as if it was completely obvious, "Need to get two in to make sure everything is all good inside."
"Oh, okay." You nodded before dropping your head back down. You were being silly, you had nothing to be scared of, Steve was a good doctor, he'd take care of you.
"Just remember to breathe sweetheart and relax." He coaxed with a hitch in his throat, barely holding himself together as his cock pressed stiff and hard against the inside of his slacks, weeping and needy.
"Okay Doctor Kemp." You whimpered as your tummy tightened further.
"Call me Steve." He rasped as he tickled the tip of his middle finger against your opening.
"Steve?" You questioned, though it came out shaky and weak.
"Mmm. Yeah sweetie." He hummed, "You call me Steve, we know each other well enough."
"Okay Steve." You whined softly before letting out a loud moan, "Ahhh!"
"Oh yeah there we go." He grinned as he pushed his middle finger into your pussy to join the other, "Doing so good sweetie, got two fingers in there."
"Oh god. I feel...funny...." You mumbled as heat spread to the tips of your ears and tingles spread across your abdomen, stomach tightening in a way you'd never experienced in your life.
"That's good sweetheart." Steve hummed happily as he sloppily fucked you with his fingers, "That's perfect, you're going to have an orgasm."
"I am?" You gasped, unable to stop yourself from wiggling and digging your fingers into the plastic feeling bed to try and ground yourself.
"Yeah. Just let it happen." He continued, pressing more firmly on your clit and slapping his palm against your core with each thrust of his fingers, "Let me help you."
"Okay Steve." You whined, back arching from the bed involuntarily like it had a mind of its own.
"That's it. Fuck you're perfect." He groaned, using his free hand to grab his cock through his slacks, squeezing it tightly, "So tight, so wet."
"Steve." You whimpered as you felt like you were about to plummet into the abyss, body overtaken with the strange but pleasurable sensations.
"Say my name baby." He grunted, "Say my name when you come on my fingers."
You felt his fingers curl inside you, pressing on a spot that had you suddenly crying his name as your vision whited and your whole body was taken over by a white hot bliss.
"Oh god. Steeveee!" You moaned with tears pooling in your eyes.
"There we go, there she is." He breathed shakily, slowing his movements to work you through the high, "Keep breathing sweetheart, you're okay."
When your body finally relaxed against the bed, shoulders slumping with exhaustion, Steve slipped his fingers from your core, settling his dry hand on your thigh.
"You okay?" He asked softly, looking over your spent body with a proud smile.
"Mmhmm." You hummed with a lazy nod, "That was...good....I liked it...was it okay?"
"It was perfect sweetie." He reassured you, "I'm just gonna have a little taste to make sure?"
"A taste?" You said, head tipping up and eyes snapping to his, seeing a dark glint in his eyes you'd never noticed before.
"Yeah, you can tell a lot by the taste?" He smirked.
You watched as he brought the creamy coated, blue latex to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the wet digits before sucking them into his mouth with a low hum.
"Mmm god." He groaned, shifting on his feet as his erection throbbed, "Fuck."
"Is it okay?" You breathed, worried by his reaction.
"Perfect. So perfect." He hummed as his eyes rolled in pleasure at the taste of your innocence.
"Okay good." You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and letting your legs drop flat onto the bed.
Steve slowly pulled his gloves off with loud snaps of rubber, before looking at you with a gleeful smile.
"Get dressed sweetheart and we'll have a chat." He grinned before stepping towards his desk and pulling the curtain across the space, as though he hadn't just seen every part of you.
"So it was all okay?" You asked as you pulled the curtain back, clothes now firmly in place as you crossed the space and carefully sat in your seat, watching his reaction with interest.
"Yes and no." He hummed with a nod as he typed something on his computer.
"What is it?" You replied as anxiety began niggling in your mind.
He let out a sigh before turning to face you, placing his hands on your knees softly.
"You're ready sweetheart but there's a small problem." He said with a serious expression that had you shifting in your seat, hands clutching each other uselessly.
"What is it?" You mumbled as fresh tears began to pool.
"Well you're so tight that it's going to be difficult for you to have sex, painful." He admitted and your eyes widened in surprise, you had never thought about the fact that someone may not be able to fit, it hadn't even crossed your mind. You internally scolded yourself for being so stupid and naive. Your friends spoke about sex like it was so easy, you should have known it wouldn't be that simple.
"Oh." You murmured, "Is there something I can take to help?"
"I think it would be best if you come back tomorrow for a longer appointment and I will pop your cherry for you. I'll be able to do it safely and with minimal pain for you." He said, brows furrowing in concentration to stop the smirk threatening to over take his face.
"You mean? Like with equipment?" You squeaked nervously, cursing yourself when you felt more wetness pooling at the thought of Doctor Kemp playing with you again.
"No sweetie, I'll do it myself, with my cock, take real good care of you." He said softly, reaching a hand up to cradle your cheek with a genuine tenderness, "Then you should be ready for other people."
"Really? You'd do that?" You almost whimpered under his touch.
"Of course Sweetheart. Anything to help." He smiled, "I wouldn't be a very good doctor otherwise would I?"
"I guess not." You giggled, watching as his lips twisted up into a charming smile.
"Okay then." He grinned as he released you, "You go home and get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."
"Okay doc...Steve." You corrected yourself with a shy smile before standing, "See you tomorrow."
"Can't wait sweetheart." He smiled, watching your ass jiggle as you walked away, with his lip between his teeth and a promise to his cock that tomorrow was the day he would finally make you his, you just didn't know it yet.
Prompt: June 8th - Living La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin / “I feel a premonition.”
Character: Geralt of Rivia
I know it’s short but please let me know your thoughts and reblog. Also, would love to discuss any ideas these little snippets inspire!
Love you! 💞
"I feel a premonition."
Geralt sighs and shakes his head. He kicks the dirt as he drags the whetstone up the blade. You stare off into the sky.
"It's probably those berries I told you not to eat." He growls.
"You should listen to me…"
"I'm not in the habit of listening to sorceresses." He sneers as he tilts his sword to reflect the moonlight.
You set your eyes on him. "I've told you, I am no witch. If I were, I'd not be sitting here with ropes on my wrists."
"Your charms do not work on witchers." He grits.
You roll your eyes. "I was only passing…"
"A black rot follows you. Look." He bows his head and you follow his gaze.
You look over at the green foliage as it darkens and curls in on itself. A moth falls from the air and the fire between you fizzles to smoke. You frown.
"It's not me." You plead. "I swear it--"
"Yet it goes wherever you go." He challenges.
"Or maybe wherever you go."
He squints at you and snarls. You stare back, hooking your bound hands around your legs. You shiver.
"It's cold."
"I'm not the one put the fire out."
"It wasn't me!"
He huffs and sets the sword side. He stands and bends over the charred sticks. He focuses on the task, blowing and fanning the embers.
He circles around, not far from you. You lean forward and slowly tug up the loose leg of his trousers. You hook a finger under as he grunts and you touch his skin. He roars and falls into the freshly lit fire.
"Charms don't work, huh?" You grin and hold your wrists to the flame until the rope breaks. "Though my plague be even more potent"
