#[[ but I read it as a 'loss of innocence' kind of song ]] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boolger · 1 month

Text

Never getting rid of me - John Price x reader

Hi sinners, so here are some dark!john price x reader thoughts that got out of hand. Yes, inspired by the song ‘never getting rid of me’, both the musical version but also the more creepy version by Egg on Spotify.

Dead dove don’t eat. Read the tags. Mdni. 18+. Tw creepy ass Price, stalking, kidnapping, non-con and dub-con, forced marriage, forced gender role/stereotypes, non-con punishments, loss of virginity, daddy kink, squirting, just….dont read if you’re looking for a sweet fic w John price. There will also be feet kink and scent kink.

Reader is chubby and described as having a pussy and perceived to be a woman by Price. Whether or not the reader actually is this, is up to you, really. besides that, i did my best to keep the description of reader vague. I apologize for any grammatical errors. English is not my first language and i am ttired

Something something dark! Price who sees you randomly at a coffee shop where you serve him awful tea - but it’s okay, pet, because you are the most beautiful and innocent thing Price has ever seen.

Dark!Price who knows it’s best to be sweet at first as to not scare you away - he can’t lose you this early, you’re perfect for his retirement after all, even though that’s far into the future. So despite the bloody awful tea, Price does his best to be a regular at the shop.

He even walks you home afterwards, you just don’t know it. He doesn’t consider it stalking — no no, he is just making sure you come home safe after your shift! Never know what kind of men are out there after all, besides himself of course.

While you’re at work, he breaks into your house early, going through everything throughout a couple of days. After an hour or two (sometimes three if he is feeling cheeky) he leaves, going to the shop to see you. He has time off before the next mission, what else is he supposed to do?

And is that a diary? Oh my, how convenient for Price, he needs to know his sweetheart's thoughts after all. And boy, does he learn a lot of fun things in that little book of yours

He becomes obsessed with very specific things in the following days — the way you write the letter J and P. The way you organize the fridge, the way your socks and underwear smells - so sweet, so perfect. All you. He liked how you read a lot of romance, how you always drank dr. Pepper every Friday evening.

Okay, so you might prefer coffee, but don’t worry, Price knows he can fix that! You just need to taste actual tea, good tea, not the dog piss he drinks at the coffee shop almost every day by now.

He pulls a few strings and gets access to all of your electronics and oh isn’t it fun to see what you do on your phone every day, what music he needs to get on CD, because a silly lass like you can’t be trusted to have a phone when you get together in the future, can you? Not at first at least, maybe you can earn back the right with time.

Dark!Price loves seeing what kind of porn you watch. Loves seeing what your search words are, whether it’s kinky or not.

Especially after reading in your diary that you are a virgin! It has him frothing at his mouth, the urge to take you instantly, overwhelmingly strong when he sees the words for the first time.

Of course he always makes sure to put everything back in the exact same spot and way as he found it. Can’t have you stop writing in your sweet diary, it’s his favorite book already!

The first mission he goes on is awful. Sure everything goes smoothly and even though he has installed hidden cameras all over your apartment, it isn’t the same as being there.

Dark!Price who proudly shows you off to his team - the boys need to see who their captain is in love with after all. And he trusts his men, knows that they’re just as fucked up as him — they coo at the sight of you, of the few photos he has dared to take of you while you slept. Not his fault that you live in an apartment that is embarrassingly easy to break into, is it, pet?

Dark!Price who feels so proud as his men drool over your soft curves, talking about your tits and ass and when Price mentions that you’re untouched, he is pretty sure Soap and Gaz almost come in their pants. Possibly Simon too, Price knows him, but he pretends he isn't as affected by the words - As if Price can’t see the man’s erection in his pants.

He gets everything ready, his little house in the middle of nowhere gets fixed up. He always imagined he would move into the house much later, when he actually retired but he can’t wait that long to have you. He loves the idea of having his missus all ready for him whenever he returns from work. All his. He would never let you go, you would always be his. He would take care of you forever - he already imagined bringing you to his mom, bless her. Old and sick, but you would charm her, he is sure.

Price who asks you out after two months of coming regularly to the coffee shop, putting on his best charming smile - and of course you, his future bride, says yes! All shyly, barely able to look him in the eyes, but there is a jump to your step afterwards and you’re grinning like you won the lottery.

Price, who is the perfect gentleman at the date, he takes you out somewhere nice, pays for everything despite your protests, soaks in all of your attention, who loves every second he spends with you. He is ready to declare his love for you at the end of the night but he knows it’s too early. He doesn’t try to kiss you, doesn’t even imply he wants to get in your knickers, despite his strong urge to do so. No, no need to scare you away.

so imagine Dark! Price’s reaction to seeing your diary entry the day afterwards - you describe him as too sweet, unsure if you’re ready for a relationship - almost upsets him, until the last line. He would probably be a nice person to lose my virginity to. That’s as good as a love confession to him! A bloody proposal almost and despite not having planned to move things along this quickly, well he has to, doesn’t he?

It’s embarrassingly easy to kidnap you together Gaz. He just happens to drive by you on your way home after a long shift, and saying “want a lift, sweetheart?” is all it takes.

Gaz who was hidden in the backseat and the moment the doors closes and locks, he sits up and uses one of those fancy syringes to stab you. Don’t make a fuss, don’t be silly, birdie, it’s all good! Just take a nap, eh?

Nikolai and the rest of the team are almost finished packing up your things - they’ve been at it all day after all, dark!Price has personally packed the most important parts of your home, like that nice diary of yours, sextoys and underwear and all those nice photo albums you have. Nothing is getting left behind! You need to feel at home at his house after all. The boys almost deserve to have their fun with you at some point in the future.

He is there when you wake up, smiling happily at you, as you groggily take in the basement you’re currently in; See how some of your furniture is down there, the nice green color he painted the walls, how it’s your own lampshade hanging from the ceiling. He lets you take in the wedding dress hanging proudly in front of the wardrobe, the little bathroom not too far from you - the cameras that hang everywhere, not even attempting to be discreet. He has to make sure you’re behaving after all.

Dark!Price who gets incredibly turned on when you realize you’re wearing a metal collar and chained to the wall - the way your eyes widens and how confusion visibly changes into fear. Like a little prey releasing they’re in a trap - and unable to get out.

he is extremely proud over how he doesn’t take you right then and there, despite how much he wants too.

Oh how adorable your attempts at attacking him are! Even though you’re still groggy from those nasty sedatives, you hit his chest and try to claw at him. Screaming and crying, throwing a proper tantrum! He can’t help but laugh as you threaten him. “sure you’ll go to the police, pet” he agrees while he easily catches your fist that was aiming for his nose, “but no I’m not letting you go.”

you scream bloody murder, as if he has done you anything. Ridiculous. But Price patiently (and easily) fights you off all day. Teasing back, pointing out that it’s not that bad down here, trying to explain that the two of you are going to be together forever.

Price who lets you run out of energy that first day, until you’re a sobbing mess - gathering you into his arms, promising you that he is never gonna leave you, that you’re never getting rid of him. Not like all those other people in your life, no don’t worry, princess! Price will be your daddy, he will make sure you have everything you need! You’re not even going to work at that lousy job anymore, pet, don’t worry, he already quit it for you.

Dark! Price, who is all sweet and gentle as he comforts you, kissing your forehead and temple, muttering about how silly you are - that he understands that you might feel a little overwhelmed - but look at how pretty your wedding dress is, sweetheart! All in the different sizes as well, don’t worry, he has taken your measurements and bra sizes and everything, his missus doesn't have to worry about anything. He saw your Pinterest boards, Gaz and Soap showed him how the website works, and saw all the different dresses you had dreamt of. Isn’t this perfect? Just for you!!

Dark! Price who doesn’t outright admit to having read your diary, breaking in or stalking you, despite all those accusations of yours… no no, he didn’t he just … got ready for the two of you to be together - but of course he knows so much about you sweetheart, he has seen the daddy kink porn you watch regularly, yeah he knows you’re a virgin. No no, he won’t rape you, what’s that all about? No, you’re saving your virginity to marriage, you’re a good girl - the two of you can wait another week, that’s nothing.

and after everything, how nice he has been and how he has sat everything up in the basement you’re still angry with him? Don’t be absurd, sweetheart, you would come around soon - you were going to be his missus after all, what kind of wife would you be if you didn’t want to talk to him?

Something something, he ends up pushing you to the floor, holding your hands down as he takes his time to properly smell you. Your pussy, over your clothes, don’t worry - your armpits. Grabs your ankle and sniffs your foot too. Sweet all over!

dark! Price who loses control of his anger when you throw the entire tray of breakfast that he made for you, at him. The tea is not too hot because of the milk, but still. You made a mess and that isn’t nice. He takes you over his knee for that, slapping your arse and upper thighs sore, leaves you an absolute mess. He apologizes afterwards of course, not really because he feels bad about it, but because you made him do that. He has to make sure you understand that there are consequences for your actions!

Dark!Price who keeps you downstairs in that little basement of his, while you get your worst fits over with. He expected these, you’re a strong woman after all, you just need to understand that the two of you are meant for each other. Next week the boys will swing by and they’ll be witnesses as the two of you get married - isn’t that grand?

No, the shop won’t be looking for you, bird, don’t worry about that! You already quit immediately - had to move home for a family emergency, but you were very sorry about it. You already terminated your apartment lease too, moved out already! Pesky family emergency again, innit? No no don’t cry pet, Price knows you don’t have any family you’re close with, it’s okay. Nobody is hurt! All is good! You’re just being silly, you don’t know how good all of this will be for you. How you will be a perfect missus!

He will threaten and hurt you all week, but not touch that sweet pussy of yours - grope you? Sure, but nothing more than that. You’re not married yet after all.

Price who sweetly explains that he knows you love him, even if you can’t say it out loud yet! That’s alright, sweet pet, you will be able to soon!

Dark! Price who happily makes it clear to you that making any kind of fuss at the town hall and they will kill everyone. You won’t have to wear the beautiful dress at the town hall, no, Price got you something much more simple, they don’t deserve to see you at your most beautiful - it will be quick anyways, don’t worry sweetheart. Just sign the papers. No fuss, remember? No protest - look, all the boys dressed up nicely in suits - and look! They’re all armed as well. Would be a bloody shame if you were guilty of getting so many people killed, wouldn’t it?

dark! Price who kisses you for the first time after you sign the papers, who almost wants to lick off the tears rolling down your cheeks as the workers of the town hall coos, thinking you’re crying from happiness. And you are, but you’re also a little overwhelmed, aren’t you, pet? Better get you home again.

dark!price who dresses you up at home, forcing you to swirl in your dress in front of his men, Nikolai and Laswell. All of them ignore your attempts at asking for help and you’re a quick learner - you figure out that they’re not going to help you after a few attempts. You’re his girl, his sweet missus, and you’re handcuffed as you sit on his lap during their dinner at home, being fed all the nicely made dinner from a fancy restaurant. You don’t even throw a fuss as you eat all together, so you’re rewarded with some champagne and wine. Good tasting, aren’t they?

Dark!Price who grins as he sends his guests on their merry way, while you begin to cry again, begging to not be left alone with him - aw, you’re so sweet when you’re getting nervous. Is the wine getting to your head?

Dark! Price who throws you over his shoulder then, not bringing you down to the basement but instead into your new shared bedroom. Laying you down on the bed, taking in the sight of you like this. In your wedding dress, surrounded by rose petals, painted all warm colors by the sunset. Cooing at you as you hiccup and cry and hide your face behind your hands, saying you don’t want to. Don’t worry, he will be nice! All gentle for you, pet, it will feel good!

Dark!Price who cuffs you to the bed, pushing up that nice dress of yours to expose your bottom half. Looking at the pretty lace he forced you into earlier, praising you for how beautiful you look! He kisses your thighs, keeping your legs open with his strong hands, taking his time. Finally the two of you are married. You’re going to be his in every way now! With a ring on your finger, a new name — losing your innocence to your husband.

Dark! Price who eats you, Mrs. Price, out all lovingly, enjoying the sounds that escape you against your will. Loving your taste, loving the way your legs shake, the way you cry as he ducks on your clit. He makes you come on his tongue and then fingers, and you’re perfect! Squirting for him! He is lapping up the sweetness that pours from you! See, he will make it feel good for you. He even frees your hands.

Dark! Price who shushes your cries as he pushes his fat cock into your hole, ruining your sweet pussy for everybody else; he can feel how wet you are for him, croons at how good your cunt feels. How daddy will take care of you, just breathe. Yeah, just like that, c’mon princess, look down to see how the two of you are connected! He pushes in the last couple of inches the moment you look down, taking in your cry with pride, drowning in pleasure and ownership.

You’re so wet and warm around his big cock, he couldn’t help himself, lass! His perfect wife with a perfect cunt, feels so good - he is going to fill you up, don’t worry, but not until he has made you come again and again.

dark!Price who whispers “i know I know, pet,” as you whimper over how it feels weird, how it hurts because his cock is so big. Who drinks in the sight of you as he licks two fingers before slipping them in between the two of you, gently rubbing at your clit and oh, that feels nice, doesn’t it?

Dark! Price who finally begins to fuck you then - no, he isn’t fucking you, he is making love to you. The first round is all sweet and gentle, he is claiming you, taking his time. Covering you in kisses as he rolls his hips, touching all those soft places of yours. He wants to run his tongue over those stretch marks, wants to fuck his cock in between those two breasts of yours. But for now he fucks you as you deserve, enjoying your little moans and whines that grows stronger and louder, the way your body shakes and the way you grab onto his shoulder and back. How those sweet nails of yours digs into his skin.

Dark! Price who makes you come twice, cooing in your ear about how you wanted it after all, how you’re his wife forever now - before he comes himself, hot cum shooting deep inside of you.

The second round isn’t as gentle in any way - it’s after twenty minutes of holding and kissing you, cuddling you and declaring his love, that he takes you again. He fucks you, properly. He makes the bed rock as he fucks into you, making you scream and trash, before surprising the both of you by squirting again.

Dark! Price who almost fucks you the entire night - yeah, he might have taken some viagra, but he honestly wouldn’t even have needed it, because you naked in front of him is enough. Wedding dress ripped to shreds, cum all over it and over you. You’re fucked from behind, then in a mating press. You pass out during the last round, much to his amusement! Sweet missus, all tired, eh? That’s okay, the two of you got the rest of your lives together - forever and ever, because you’re never getting rid of Price. Never.

472 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 5 months

Text

The Dad Diaries: Grief

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky explains grief to Jamie as best as he can when you need a minute to yourself. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, touch of fluff, grief, loss of a friend, reflecting, talk of death, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Another part to the The Dad Diaries . Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky could hear your cries before he reached the bedroom, the sound causing a lump to form in his throat. He could picture you hastily wiping at your face when he knocked. You were in pain and it hurt him to know you were hurting. The worst part was that it wasn’t the kind of pain he could fix by patching it up. It was the kind of hurt that lingered beneath the surface before it clawed its way out.

Grief.

“Do you need anything, doll?” He asked.

“Just give me a minute, please!” You called out, your voice close to sounding like your normal self. You were trying your best to be strong when what you needed was a moment to break. People didn’t realize the weight of the things they carried until they buckled under them.

And you didn’t need to be strong all the time.

“Mama?” Jamie asked, reaching a hand out toward the door.

Bucky kissed the top of his head. “Mama needs a minute,” he whispered before he held him against his chest. He hoped his smell and steady heart beat soothed him. “She’ll snuggle up with you soon, okay?”

If anything could make you feel better apart from being in his arms, it was having your son nuzzle against you.

Jamie made a small sound, his lower lip trembling. “Mama,” he said again.

Bucky didn’t take it to heart that his son wanted you. He understood that there were days when he’d want his dad and other days he’d want his mom and times when he’d want both of you. If anything, he felt proud that his son wanted to go to you. Maybe he sensed that you needed support and love.

“I know you want your mama,” he said, carrying him back to the living room. “But you are stuck with me for another minute.”

Jamie moved his head, his eyes set in a stubborn stare. He looked so much like you at that moment, demanding with a look to know what was the matter and how to fix it. What could he say?

“Jamie, you know how you have your Uncle Steve and Uncle Sam and Aunt Nat and everyone else?” He asked, a sad smile touching his lips at the happy look in his little boy’s eyes at the mention of his friends. He wanted his child to hold onto that innocence for as long as he could. “Well, your mama had a friend who was going to be like an aunt to you, too.”

Was. Past tense. Because your friend recently passed away. You wondered if she knew how important she was to you. If she knew how she impacted your life. She was too young in your eyes to go. Still had so many things she wanted to do. While death is fair in that it comes for everyone, it doesn’t always feel fair when someone you care for is taken away too soon.

The one thing you were thankful for was that she was no longer in pain.

“Mama’s friend, your aunt, isn’t here anymore. She misses her and she’s sad that she’s gone.”

“Mama sad?” Jamie repeated, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, Nugget. She’s very sad. Grieving. And grief is… so many things,” Bucky explained, swallowing a bit as he felt a crack in his heart. “It’s loss and mourning. It’s love that you carry inside and it no longer has a place to go.”

Jamie gazed at him, soaking up every word. His son was too young to hear something like this. Too precious. But if life taught him anything, it’s that it was too short and there was no guarantee of tomorrow.

“Some days the grief comes out of nowhere. You never really know when it’ll happen or why. You may hear a song you’ve heard dozens of times before or catch a scent of something familiar and it triggers a memory or feeling,” he told him, kissing his forehead again because he needed to ground himself. “You think you’re fine and then you fall apart.”

That was exactly what had happened a few minutes prior. You were smiling one moment as the three of you sat in the living room and the next you burst into tears before you rushed out. Bucky wished like hell he could’ve manifested your sadness into something tangible so he could snuff it out. It wasn’t his battle to fight, but he could be by your side to wipe the tears away if you let him. Or whisper words of care. Or to say nothing at all. Some didn’t always want to hear words of comfort or hope when they just needed to feel.

He would be there to give you whatever you needed or asked for.

“It’s okay to feel those feelings, Jamie. I get sad, too. There’s no timeline for healing or grieving. It takes as long as it takes. And we’re lucky in a way to feel things so strongly,” he told him. You were always understanding and patient on his off days. He more than lucked out by having you as his wife. “You know what your Uncle Vis says grief is? That it’s love persevering,” he added, bouncing him a bit to make him smile. It put a smile on his face, too. “And your mama has so much love to give.”

“So do you.”

Bucky looked toward the doorway where you stood. Bloodshot and puffy eyes, but with a small smile on your beautiful face. He wanted to hold you and remind you that you weren’t alone. “Hey,” he said as Jamie reached for you. “I think he wants to cheer you up.”

“Is that right? Well, I think a snuggle with my boys is just the thing I need,” you said as you took a seat beside Bucky and took Jamie into your arms. “Sorry I rushed off like that.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered. He had plenty of moments where he needed to step away and compose himself when his thoughts got too loud. “We just want you to be okay,” he added, kissing your temple before Jamie grabbed your face.

“Mama no sad,” he said, forcing your cheeks up in a smile. The sight almost brought tears to Bucky’s eyes because it was so simple and heartfelt. “No sad.”

You giggled, a soft sound, before it erupted into full blown laughter. It soothed the crack he felt earlier in his heart. The room felt brighter, especially when Jamie joined in with the laughter. “Not sad, Nugget,” you assured him before you looked at your husband, love shining through like always. “Not anymore.”

The grief from your loss would come again in waves. Just like the days Bucky mourned the parts of his life he lost and couldn’t get back. Some days were harder than others, especially when regret and “what if’s” came to mind, but the important thing was that neither of you allowed yourselves to live alone or lose yourselves in grief. Not when there was so much to be thankful for.

You felt what you needed to feel. You asked for help and leaned on each other. And you carried on together.

Because what is grief, if not love persevering?

I lost more than one loved one recently and writing this helped me process some of the loss. We all need someone like Bucky. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

538 notes · View notes

wreckedandpolemic · 6 months

Text

white and gold - matty healy

(mdni) in which you become both entangled and enamoured with your father's boss. 13007 words.

warnings (buckle up): 18+, problematic age gap, masturbation, corruption kink, slight exhibitionism, praise, degradation, heavy daddy kink, slight dumbification, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), filth filth filth filth filth!

Your heels click against the tiled floor as you stroll across the lobby of your father’s office, giving a winning smile to the familiar security guard as he waves you through. Humming along to the song that plays over your headphones as the lift rises, you wonder idly why your father wanted to have lunch with you today; he had been oddly insistent that morning. The doors ding open and you step out into the office, fairly quiet at lunch hour. Men in suits mill around, their gazes catching on you and darting away so they can pretend their lurid thoughts aren’t painted plain as day on their faces.

Scanning the room, you don’t immediately spot the man you’re looking for. On a closer look, your father’s thinning hair and crisp suit are nowhere to be seen. Strange, again; he’s always here to meet you when he wants to take you out for lunch. Your searching gaze lands on a man heading for the lift, the sight of him arresting, practically rooting you to the spot. Greying curls haloed around a sharp, handsome face, lips plush red. A silver hoop shines in one of his ears, standing out against his dark hair. The designer sunglasses that sit across the bridge of his nose should be obnoxious, but he wears them louche and rakishly charming. He’s younger than your father, but not by much; probably nearing twice your age. You don’t recognise him — you know everyone who works for your father practically inside and out, and you’d never forget a face like his.

Suddenly, he’s in front of you, and you’re blinking dumbly at the material of his expensive suit. “Are you lost?” he asks, his voice low and alluring, wrapping around you like a caress. The sunglasses block your view of his eyes, leaving you unfairly unable to tell whether he’s reacting to you the way you are to him.

You swallow thickly, fighting to find your voice. “No,” you say confidently. “Well… kinda, I guess?” you add with a laugh. “I’m looking for my dad.” You offer his name, and he nods in recognition.

“Ah— My fault, that. Sorry, love,” he says, voice softening on the final syllable in a way that has you biting the inside of your cheek to get your racing heartbeat under control. “Kept him late in a meeting.” You nod absently, distracted as his tongue flickers out to wet his lips and leaves them pink and glossy. Hopefully you aren’t wearing your thoughts too obviously on your face. “Matty,” he offers, holding out a hand.

You take it politely, surprised at the calluses scraping against your palm. He doesn’t look the type for hard work, the very shape of him insouciant, privilege scented on him under the smell of cigarettes and expensive cologne. The weight of his hand in yours as Matty holds your gaze for just a split-second too long feels charged, tension welling between you. After a beat, you give your name and Matty quirks an enigmatic half-smile that you just can’t get a read on. You wonder what kind of picture you’re painting for him; ribbons in your hair, skirt short enough to tease without any promise, socks biting into the flesh of your thighs. Your soft pastels boast innocence, a clean sweetness begging to be ruined where the sharp lines of him are rough around the edges, something dark tightly controlled under his easy smile. The pair of you are incongruous, yet symmetrical somehow, an artist’s rendition of impropriety.

The coolness in your palm when he lets go feels like a physical loss, your entranced gaze lingering on his face for another brief moment. Then he gives a cursory nod and strolls off, the spell breaking and leaving you stock-still as if you’ve been doused with a bucket of cold water. His name rolls around your head as you pick your way to your father’s office; Matty, Matty, Matty, like a litany, the concurrent chime of warning bells going unheard, or maybe just ignored.

Your father smiles up at you when you enter his office, getting up as if to hug you and stopping awkwardly short. He doesn’t know how to act around you, a consequence of the years of long hours and late nights that afford you your lifestyle but cost you a family. You make clumsy small-talk on the drive; he asks you how uni is going, you ask about work, he forgets the names of your friends, you remember the names of his. The same circles you always talk in. It’s never unpleasant, but always stiff, artificial.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you,” he says once you’re seated in a quiet corner of your favourite restaurant. He remembered that about you, at least. “I was in a meeting that ran long.”

You try not to visibly perk up at the reminder of possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever met. “Oh, yeah,” you say, feigned casualness layered over your tone. “I met the guy you were with on his way out. Who was he? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.” Your father pauses briefly, and you wonder if you’ve laid it on too thick, showed too much interest. But you know your father couldn’t reconcile the idea of you being interested in one of his coworkers with the image he holds of you as his little girl.

He sits up straighter, adjusting his tie in the way he does because he thinks it’ll lend more gravity to his next words. “It was actually a very important meeting, or I wouldn’t have let it run as long as it did. It was with the VP of the company, Matthew Healy.” He nods self-importantly. “Very nice chap, honestly. I convinced him to allocate us more budget next quarter, which means that…”

You tune out the rest of his corporate jargon, letting the new information you’ve gleaned rattle around your brain. Vice fucking President. The scandal you’d cause selfishly thrills you more, because who could gainsay it, really? Sure, your father would have some choice words, but he’d keep them to himself in public for the sake of his job. You almost giggle picturing the vein that would throb in his forehead, and then remember yourself and focus back into the conversation right as your father finishes talking.

The waiter who has been hovering a tasteful distance away seizes the gap in conversation to take your order. You order without looking at the price, leaning casually back in the booth as you rattle off the name of the dish in perfect Italian. A few minutes later, the smooth, dark flavour of an espresso martini on your tongue, your father finally gets to the point.

He says your name seriously, levelling you with a look that’s laden with meaning over his drink. “I wanted to meet with you today to talk about something.” You nod uncertainly, unable to track where this is going. “Your last year at university is starting in September, and I’d like to know you have somewhere to go when you’re finished. Other people studying your course have been making industry connections and networking for years, and I’m concerned that you’ll be behind when you’re trying to get into work.”

You let him talk, even as you mentally roll your eyes. He’s showing care in one of the only ways he knows how, and you can’t really begrudge him that. Never mind that the idea of trudging to the office every day in a dull grey pantsuit and attending mergers and meetings for the rest of your life gives you the shivers. You open your mouth to bring this up, but pause when he continues. “I know you aren’t sure about using your degree, but there’s a dinner this weekend that I’d like you to come to. Just to see how everything works, show your face, start making yourself a name, hm?”

The refusal sits on the tip of your tongue, balancing there on instinct, but then you consider that this might be your only chance to see Matty again. Of course, he might not even be there, but it’s a risk you’re willing to take. Your thoughts haven’t strayed from him for more than five minutes since you met, he’s a nagging itch under your skin that you just can’t scratch, and you need him. “Okay,” you say, cutting your father off. He goes silent mid-spiel, having anticipated you taking more convincing than that. “Is it black-tie?”

Your father watches you curiously as you sip demurely at your cocktail. “Yes. I’m very happy you agreed,” he adds, the implicit question hanging heavy in the air between you.

With an airy shrug, you set down your glass. “Like you said, I’m not committing to anything. I just get to have a free fancy dinner, basically.” It’s a casual excuse, characteristic enough of you that your father couldn’t even begin to guess at your real motivation. The same waiter suddenly materialises with your food, and you dig in happily.

Over the course of your meal, your father explains the most important figures who’ll be attending, and Matty is among them, thank God. You try, subtly, to pry into his personal life, but come up fairly short; you can’t find a tasteful way to ask if he’s married, although it’s not unlikely, with a face like his. Once your father’s free hour has dried up, he drops you home and you slink off to your room and fall into your bed.

Guiltily, you pull up a private browsing tab on your phone and search matthew healy wife. A grin spreads as you find no results, wider when girlfriend turns up nothing but a string of articles about his latest breakup. Switching to image searching, you scroll through dozens of photographs of him, posed and smiling, this time missing the sunglasses and letting you admire his sweet brown eyes. Then you come across a photo of him giving the camera the eyes, your thighs clenching as he smoulders in a way that feels directed to you, a twin of the look he gave you earlier.

You let your eyes fall closed, your phone thudding against the pillow as your hand creeps under your waistband. The first brush at your clit buzzes bright up your spine, a pleased whine falling from your lips. Instinctively, you dig under your pillow for your vibrator, your other hand tugging your skirt and panties down your legs. You lay in just your blouse and socks, the barest hint of wetness beginning to pool between your thighs.

The sudden pulse of heat as you press the vibrator to your clit is almost too much, your body tensing at the sensation. Your hazy mind conjures up an image of Matty, his spectre watching you touch yourself for him. He’s on you in seconds, the ghost of his kiss almost tangible against your lips, the idea of his calloused fingers running over your skin so real they almost feel like a memory. Rocking your hips, you chase the pleasure that rolls over you, coiling low in your belly. You can almost hear Matty murmuring encouragement in your ear, telling you how pretty and good you are for him.

Body writhing against the sheets, a whimper of his name spills from your bitten lips, pleading as you rub tight circles into your clit. Molten pleasure drips down your spine, sticking in your lungs and melting against your ribs. The phantasm of Matty’s touch trails over you, his hands replacing yours as you thumb over your nipples, moaning at the soft spark of pleasure that flickers under your skin.

It’s not enough.

Your hands are too delicate, too far from the memory of thick veins and scraping callouses that your body craves. Still, you work diligently at yourself, falling into a familiar rhythm. Your motions are perfunctory now, an aside to the fantasy building behind your closed lids. You picture Matty’s sleazy smirk, heat in his gaze as he rubs at you, working you closer and closer, filthy words pouring from his lips. Pleasure burns under your skin, close and electric under the sheets.

The coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, ecstasy rippling through your limbs as you bite down hard to keep a scream at bay. Rolling your hips, you ride out your orgasm, chest heaving as you gasp for breath and twist your fingers in your sheets.

Your face begins to flame as the afterglow wanes, the image of Matty fading and leaving a column of mortification in its place. God, how are you supposed to look him in the eyes after this? Flinging your covers off with a groan, you corral your thoughts into shape and march into the shower. Hot water pounds between your shoulder blades and you scrub at your skin until it’s pink and tender; you still don’t feel clean. It feels, suddenly, like you’re wearing a scarlet letter, like the evidence of your depravity is scrawled over your body in bold, dripping ink.

Still, you can’t stand under the shower spray forever, and the endless slog of summer reading you have to do won’t wait for your sudden crisis to be over. Taking a seat at your desk, you crack open a textbook and force yourself to stare at it until the words stop swimming in front of your eyes and you can process their meaning. You type up notes with practised ease, almost automatic and scarcely retaining the information. A chill grips you as you remember that this might be the rest of your life.

A self-indulgent fantasy drifts across your mind, and you snatch at it greedily, rewarding yourself for your work with an unjustified distraction. Is it so much to ask that you want a life of ease? To be spoiled and showered in affection, to have no expectations on you? Maybe that makes you a lazy brat, a typical, self-absorbed princess, but you’ve worked damn hard the last three years. At graduation, you’d have your pick of droning, selfsame corporations if that was what you wanted; you’d have no difficulty following your father’s footsteps, letting your own daughter trace yours.

Truthfully, your private desire is much harder. Men that run in your circles want a woman like you, superficially — from the same stock, with your own family money, barely old enough to know who you are. Under the surface, though, you know women like that. They’re your aunts, the mothers of friends and old boyfriends. Unfulfilled, wearing dead-eyed Stepfordian smiles, finding their only pinched joy in passing snide insults dressed up as compliments, laughing behind their hands when their victim du jour takes the bait. No, being one of those wives would be the only fate worse than spending your decades as a spinning cog.

Without your notice, the sun has sunk beyond the horizon, a moonbeam slanting through your curtains when you switch your desk lamp off. You slip between your sheets, clad in a thin nightdress and low-waisted underwear, the thoughts that circle your brain winding slower and slower until they slip away like a whirlpool draining from the sink.

The next morning, you really are planning on taking school seriously, in line at a coffee shop with scholarly intent before 9:30. Impossibly, though, a familiar head of curls is waiting in the queue only feet ahead of you. Your heartbeat speeds as you debate whether to speak to him, hands clammy with nerves at the sight of him. You step up to the counter to order, and Matty’s head whips around at the sound of your voice.

“Oh! Hello, love,” he grins, and you smile back, hoping you don’t look as nervous as you feel. “Hey, no, I got it,” he says as you pull out your phone to pay. Matty taps his card before you can even react, then leans forward to address the barista. “Can I get mine for here instead? Is that okay? Thanks,” he flashes a winning smile and your heart flutters.

“Thank you,” you say shyly, toying anxiously with the buttons of your cardigan.

He waves a hand, his smile almost dizzying as he looks down at you. There’s a faint dusting of stubble over his jaw, and you have to force yourself not to get distracted by thoughts of it scraping over your skin. “Don’t worry about it. Always happy to do a pretty girl a favour.” Your knees almost buckle, heat flooding your cheeks as you swallow thickly. Thankfully, the barista calls your orders and Matty goes to collect them, giving you a second to catch your breath. “Is it okay if I come sit with you? Just realised I never asked.” He grins sheepishly, and you practically melt into a puddle. “Don’t wanna distract you if you’ve got work to do, or something.”

“God, no, of course,” you say, suddenly a little panicked at the idea of him leaving. “Feel free. I mean, if you have time,” you add, a last-ditch attempt to feign casualness as you slide into a booth.

Matty sits opposite, observing you with an inscrutable look on his face before he speaks. “I’ve got time. I’m the boss, darling, they can wait.”

Your thighs clench, the casual reminder of his status sending a shudder up your spine as you smile blithely. Neither of you speaks for a moment, both taking in the sight of each other, testing the boundaries of this thing blooming between you. “Do you make a habit of taking time out of your busy day to have coffee with girls?” you say, tone teasing to conceal that you’re truly curious about the answer.

He grins. “Like I said, I do whatever I like,” he says with a shrug. “If I wanted to, I don’t know, spend my morning having coffee with a pretty girl, well. Nobody would be surprised, let’s say.” It’s a non-answer, and you swallow down the jealousy that starts to rise in your throat.

“You keep calling me pretty…” you remark idly, pausing to sip delicately at your coffee before you speak. “I’m starting to think you might have an ulterior motive, Mr. Healy.” You tack on the title with a smirk, leaning forward in challenge.

Matty swallows, slightly unnerved for the first time. “I think you’re pretty,” he says simply. “Don’t have to have any motives. Unless you want me to,” he adds with a smirk.

“And if I do? What’s that say about you, sir? Chasing after a twenty-year-old girl? Quite inappropriate, wouldn’t you say?”

He chuckles softly, eyes darkening. A shock of heat sparks under your skin as he takes your hand, gaze searching. “Very,” Matty agrees lowly. “Good, sweet young girl like you shouldn’t be getting mixed up with me, angel.” Something in you flutters at the nickname, the way it rolls thoughtlessly off his tongue.

“I don’t have to be good,” you say, deliberately widening your eyes and biting your lip in a show of innocence. “I can be naughty. If you want.” You lean back and deliberately pop a button on your blouse, a hint of pink lace peeking out from the gap in your shirt.

Matty tips his head back, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply, eyes closed and trying to compose himself. “What am I going to do with you?” he mutters, more to himself, unable to drag his gaze up from the sliver of exposed skin.

“You’ll just have to keep playing and find out,” you smirk, purposefully leaning forward as you stand to give him a deliberate eyeful. “Have a nice day, Mr. Healy. Thank you for the coffee.” His gaze burns hot into your back as you walk away, and you make a conscious effort not to look back. You’re slightly annoyed as you wander down the street — that cafe is your favourite study spot, and you’ve effectively handed it away. You’ll never be able to set foot in there without remembering Matty’s smirk, his heavy gaze, the feeling of his hand over yours.

So, despite your best intentions, you find yourself spending the morning dipping in and out of stores instead, smiling blithely as your bank account dwindles. In the end, your evening winds up the same as yesterday, mindlessly copying up text without absorbing any of the information. You’re gonna kick yourself so hard when you have to use these notes to take an exam. Giving up, you shower and get into bed, shutting your phone off to sleep at around midnight.

When you stir, you know acutely that you’re dreaming. The bed is your own, the man sharing it is not. “Morning,” Matty says, in a low, sleep-thick voice that seems so real you can scarcely believe your mind conjured it up. He kisses your nose, your cheek, the hollow of your throat, but never your lips, as if your subconscious is saving the memory for the real thing.

“Hi,” you giggle, savouring the heat of his body against yours, willing yourself still for fear of the barest shift ruining your dreamscape. Matty’s hands run over you, one taking a firm hold of your ass, the other pinching gently at your nipple.

You whimper, and he gives a mocking pout. “Needy, hm?” You nod, eyes wide and pleading, and he cups your pussy, your hips rolling as you chase your pleasure against his hand. Arousal drips out of you, soaking your panties as Matty grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. Your head swims in pleasure, distracted and flailing as the dream blurs around you. Whining, you try desperately to grasp onto the vestiges, convinced that one last touch would have brought you there.

Eyes twitching open, morning light slants through the crack in your curtains, a gentle kiss over your sweat-slick skin. Embarrassingly, like you’re a hormonal adolescent again, there’s a throw pillow wedged between your legs, desire soaking into it through your ruined panties. An experimental thrust of your hips sends a scattered, delicious burst of pleasure up your spine, but you refuse to indulge yourself, already humiliated without feeling that sudden, crushing guilt again.

Once again, you force yourself under a punishingly hot shower, and once again, you can’t scrub yourself free of the sin. It becomes something of a routine; three more nights you dream of him, and three more mornings you try your hardest to melt the flesh off your bones in an effort to forget. The fourth night, the day before you’ll see him again, your sleep is mercifully dreamless, though you still wake with him on your mind. You stand in front of your wardrobe, hands balanced on your hips as your gaze darts between two dresses.

You need to be stunning, fuckable in a way that caters to Matty’s tastes perfectly. The amount of time you’ve spent scrolling through pictures of him with old girlfriends would surely be impressive if it wasn’t embarrassing, but it’s helped you narrow your choices down to two options. There’s a wine-red number, the thigh slit so high it practically bares your ass and the neckline plunging almost to indecency — it’s reminiscent of how his last girlfriend dressed, simple, dark elegance, deep hues paired with bold, striking makeup. Then, there’s a floor-length, pastel-pink silk gown, evidence of the virtue you’ll pretend to possess until you can show him just how dirty you can be.

The second dress speaks to you, more similar both to your own style and that of the youngest girl he’s ever dated. She was still older than you, though, you think wryly, four years ago twenty-three to his thirty. That being said, you wouldn’t be surprised to find he’d fucked every college girl from here to Edinburgh whose father had so much looked at her askance once. The thought sends a ripple of jealousy through you and you shudder, picturing dozens of faceless girls under him until you want to tear your hair out. The man practically has you in a chokehold, and you’ve met him once.

Your rational brain knows it’s crazy, that the idealised version of him built up in your mind means he’ll only disappoint, but you’re almost sure you’ll get a good fuck out of it at the very least. More, if you play your cards well enough.

With ribbons in your hair, silk gloves over your hands and a string of pearls at your throat, you pose in the mirror, practising your teasing pout, your innocent smile, the eyes that say please, sir, let me make you feel good. Your mother shouts your name, and you follow the sound down the stairs and across the foyer, smiling blithely at your parents as they take in the sight of you.

Okay, maybe you’ve laid on the innocence too thick, your makeup subtly widening your eyes and faintly flushing your cheeks. But there’s nothing technically wrong with your outfit, so your mother simply heaves a sigh and leads you out to the car. You arrive perfectly, politely on time, pose quickly for the few cameras and take your seats. Wait staff linger discreetly around, filling champagne flutes thanklessly, as if they exist on a plane below the guests’ notice.

You have to bite back a grin when the placard beside the empty seat at your table reads Matthew Healy; by some magnanimous twist of fate, he’ll be directly across from you, giving you an excuse to gaze at him as long as you like. He’s late, but only fashionably so, smirking and doling out insincere apologies as he saunters to the table. You don’t stand until everyone else has, playing clueless as Matty greets everyone around the table politely.

When he reaches you, his eyes flicker over you in a way that has your knees threatening to buckle, and you finally let yourself take him in properly. He looks fucking gorgeous, dressed in another expensive suit, his curls gelled back with that same smell of cigarettes and cologne seeping from his pores. He leans forward, brushing his lips against the apple of your cheek, and you almost moan at the contact your body has been craving for days. “You look stunning, darling,” he murmurs, so quiet that you could almost be convinced you’d imagined it, if not for the dark look in his eyes when he pulls back.

A half smile pulls at your lips as he sits down, one of the ubiquitous, black-clad waiters coming forward to fill his glass. The conversation quickly turns to business you couldn’t care less about, giving the automated, reflex responses to questions you’ve heard hundreds of times. You pay attention only when Matty speaks, the low timbre of his voice addictive even when he’s not addressing you. Emboldened by his heavy gaze and the significant looks he fixes you with each time his eyes land on yours, you slip a stockinged foot out of your shoe and trace it across his calf. His eyes widen a fraction, and he raises his glass and an eyebrow in your direction, his gaze laden with promise.

There’s still time before any food gets brought out, and after a few minutes, Matty offers to take you on a spin, introduce you to some of the more important people in suits that are clustered around the room. Your father preens, convinced you’ve made such an impression in the bare moments you’ve held your own in conversation that he wants to mentor you, or something. You accept gratefully, his proprietary hold on your arm falling low to your waist as soon as you’re out of your father’s sight, the heat of his palm splayed over your hip hard to believe. “Let me get you a drink,” he says, steering you to the bar. The crowd parts around him, conversations going quiet like he’s some kind of divine figure, taking a nod and a brief greeting like a blessing from on high. “You’ll need one to deal with this lot,” he adds, jerking a thumb at the gathered crowd, still murmuring awed in his wake.

Smiling, you take a seat at the bar, letting Matty flag down the bartender before you speak. “What’ll you have, darling?”

“Surprise me,” you grin, batting your eyelashes teasingly at him. “So, you hate this stuff, huh?”

Matty huffs a surprised laugh as the bartender pours him a glass of top-shelf red and hands you an Aperol spritz. “Is it that obvious?”

You take a long, slow sip of your drink, watching the way his eyes fall to your lips, pursed around the straw. “I don’t think so. Not to anyone here, anyway. They’re all too worried about what everyone else thinks of them to worry about what anyone else is thinking.”

Something shifts in his expression as he takes in your words, suddenly appraising you critically as a person with thoughts, rather than just a pretty face he wants to take to bed. And he does. Want to take you to bed, that is. His eyes are wide, dilated, his tongue unconsciously wetting his lips more often, his gaze trained on your face so it doesn’t fall further. “Beautiful and smart,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair, all at once dropping the intensity and sinking easily back into irreverence.

“I try,” you say with an artfully careless shrug, letting one of the thin straps of your dress fall from your shoulder, enjoying the way Matty’s eyes trace the movement. There’s a dance in this, a skill; overt flirting between the pair of you, a casual, if laden, conversation to an observer.

“I want to do bad things to you in that dress,” Matty says, low and sudden, a bolt of arousal striking you at your core.

You match his tone. “Like what?”

“The kind of things a man like me shouldn’t be thinking about doing to a girl like you.”

“So, why don’t you?” you challenge, a flicker of carefully masked surprise crossing his face as you drop your facade of naïveté. “There’s always somewhere private at a party like this,” you say, implication heavy in your tone, spreading your legs slightly and licking your lips.

A muscle jumps in Matty’s jaw, jealousy and lust warring in his expression as he pictures you crowded up against a bathroom sink, mouth parted and eyes glassy. “S’that what you’re used to? A quick fuck in a bathroom with some pathetic boy?” He leans close, delivering his next words slow and quiet. “I’m not going to do that, princess,” he says with a disparaging scoff, the sobriquet sending heat pooling between your legs. “Have you ever fucked a man, angel?”

Swallowing your moan, your thighs clench as you whisper, “No.”

“Good. Means I get to show you how it should really feel. Because when I fuck you for the first time, I’m going to make you fall apart for me. Piece by pretty, perfect piece. Shall we?” he adds, standing and offering you a hand without giving you any time to process his words.

You swallow thickly, accepting his hand and standing on unsteady legs. True to his word, he introduces you to what feels like an endless string of people. Their faces all blur together, your body working on autopilot to churn out pleasantries as your mind turns over Matty’s words, spinning them over and over like a coin set on its edge.

“Stay right here,” you whisper to him as he starts to head back to your table, and you’re pleased to find when you return from the bathroom that he’s obeyed. As discreetly as possible, you press the scrap of lace you peeled off from under your dress into his hand. The sound of his choked-off inhale is infinitely gratifying, and you savour his gaze at your back as you stride away, a deliberate sway in your hips.

By the time you’re back at the table, a thick wedge of business cards is tucked neatly into your purse to be left there and forgotten about until you shake them onto the floor the next time you need the bag. All but the one sitting on the very top, with Matty’s personal number scrawled on the back. He doesn’t take his eyes off you all through dinner, his hand dipping into his pocket at every free moment, the knowledge that his fingers are running over your panties driving you wild. Your legs cross so you don’t start dripping on the seat as you throw pleading glances at Matty every chance you get.

You practically chase him to the bar as dinner winds down, draping yourself over him as much as you dare. “I need you,” you whine, pressing a hand to his inner thigh, feeling the heat of him through his suit trousers. “I can’t wait anymore,” you plead, as close to begging as you can get without prostrating yourself on the floor in front of him.

Matty laughs, condescending. “Needy girl,” he pouts, crooking a finger under your chin. “If you were anyone else, I’d take you home right now, fuck all of these people. But we can’t have that, can we?” he teases. “Because you’re a good girl, yeah? And what would people think, good girl like you all spread out for a dirty old man like me?”

A pathetic whine slips from your lips, lust overtaking you even as the gears start to turn in your mind. “Take me home,” you beg, pulse hammering in your throat at the very prospect. “I can make an excuse, say I’m meeting friends or something. I’m a big girl, they won’t care as long as they don’t know where I actually am. Please?” you pout, leaning so close that your breath kisses across his lips. “I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

And Matty is only a man, with a man’s self-control. He’s had a few more years to refine it, but he’ll never be immune. “Go on, then, sweetheart. Make your excuses and meet me out front, yeah?” He gives your ass a firm slap as you stand, the brief flash of pain melting into sticky desire that hums under your skin.

You spin a lie to your parents, some story that your friends are in a bar a few streets away, and surely they don’t mind if you slip away just a few minutes early? Honestly, they’re ecstatic you stayed as long as you did, waving you off with unsuspecting smiles. Then, before you know it, you’re in a taxi with Matty, your thigh pressed against his, one of his hands tracing a pattern into your skin. You crowd closer to him, struggling to breathe as lust swallows all the air between you.

He stays teasingly out of your reach, tutting softly when you chase his lips. “You promised to be good for me, princess,” he admonishes, trailing his hand further up your thigh. You obey, squirming as you fall back into your seat, his fingers cruelly close to where you need them. “Good girl. You want me to touch you?” Matty murmurs, leaning in to breathe the words against the shell of your ear, a shudder rolling up your spine at his closeness. You nod, bating your breath as his fingers find the wetness between your legs. “Nice and still for me, yeah, darling?”

Pleasure floods you when the pad of his finger finds your clit, the gentle scrape over your sensitive nerves somehow blinding, your hips rolling as you chase the sensation. “Matty, please,” you moan, pouting pathetically when he takes his hand away.

“You’re not being very good, love. Still, remember? You can sit and keep your hands to yourself until we get home, understand?” You nod, sinking back in your seat and sulking. “Don’t be a brat, princess,” Matty chides, closing his lips around his wet fingers, sucking your arousal off them with an exaggerated moan. “Just a few more minutes and I’ll give you what you need, yeah? Sweet, needy girl.”

You flush at the praise, at the way he can switch from gentle to commanding and back in a second. Your blood is thick with desire, heart working in overdrive to pump it through your body. Then, with no ceremony, the end of the most agonising minutes of your life is signalled by the crunching of gravel under tyres. Matty leads you into the house, his control on a tight leash until the door clicks shut behind you.

He all but slams you against it, crowding into your space, his breath hot on your lips. His smell of cigarettes and cologne envelops you, fills your lungs, dizzying and intoxicating. “Please?” you whine, and he finally, gloriously obliges. Your lips crash together, a messy slide of spit and teeth and tongue that leaves you bruised and begging.

Matty’s hands fall to your ass, squeezing hard at the soft flesh, pliant under his touch as his nails bite crescent-moons of desire into your skin. “Can you jump for me, baby?” he asks, breaking away from you just long enough to breathe the words against your lips. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, your dress hiked up so far that it bares your cunt as Matty grips you by the thighs.

Pleasure spreads slowly through you as you grind yourself against him, his lips falling to your neck as he carries you up the stairs, a squeal escaping you as he tosses you on the bed. He stands at the foot of the bed, breathing hard, greedily drinking in the sight of you. “Take that dress off. Now.” His tone leaves no room for argument, practically puppeteering you, expensive silk crumpled on the floor before you can even react. “Gorgeous,” Matty murmurs, one hand coming up to unbutton his shirt. “Can you touch yourself for me? Wanna see how to make you feel good.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, eyes fixed on the inches of skin being revealed, a covering dragged off a masterpiece. Dark ink peeks from the V of his shirt, dissonant from the toned, marble skin surrounding it. Impatient, you dip two fingers into yourself, the familiar stretch sending heat shooting up your spine. Gasping, you pinch at your clit, rolling it between two fingers, hips rocking as you moan wantonly up at him.

“Good girl. Does that feel good, princess?”

“Not as good as you,” you pout, fucking yourself desperately on your fingers. “Daddy,” you add, watching that final thread break, Matty’s eyes going dark as he collapses on the bed above you. He kicks off his trousers ungracefully, tugging your hand up to his lips.

His warm mouth closes around your fingers, sucking the taste of your desire off them with a moan. “Such a dirty little girl, dressed up all innocent like that when you just wanna be ruined by your fuckin’ Daddy.” His clothed cock grinds against your aching, soaked core, the contact achingly close to what you need, and yet agonisingly far. “You taste so good, angel. Want me to eat that sweet little pussy of yours?”

Your mind swims at the thought, his skilled, clever tongue buried between your legs, your hands tight in his curls as he devours you. But that isn’t what you need. You shake your head. “Want you to fuck me,” you say, the simmering well of desire endless in the pit of your stomach. “I need it. Please?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Matty croons, shoving his boxers down his legs. You watch his cock spring free, thudding hot and sticky against his belly. “You want my fingers first, or can you take me all by yourself?”

The subtle condescension sets you on fire, liquefying your brain and sending it flooding down your spine, dripping out of you onto the mattress. You reach down, wrap your hand around him and pump slowly, swallowing his quiet hiss against your mouth. “I can take it, Daddy,” you promise, wide, innocent eyes turned on him.

The stretch when he enters you burns gloriously, your mouth falling open in a perfect, round ‘O’ of ecstasy. Matty fills you slowly, burying himself to the hilt, so deep that you can practically feel him rearranging your insides. “Such a good girl, takin’ all of me like this,” he praises. Discomposed, his accent thickens, rounding the vowels and blurring the ends of his words. Matty rocks his hips one shallow thrust striking a spot inside you that has your vision whiting out, ecstasy buzzing in your heavy limbs. “That felt good, huh? Yeah. I know, I know,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with wet, deliberate kisses, tongue sweeping every corner of your mouth and teeth grazing your lips.

Matty pulls almost all the way out of you, your body crying out at the loss, then slams his hips against yours so hard you see stars. “M-Matty, fuck,” you whimper, back arching desperately as he fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast, the obscene sound of skin meeting ringing out around you.

“Ah-ah. That’s not my name tonight, princess.”

His hips still, the waves of pleasure subsiding in punishment. “‘M sorry, Daddy,” you whine, bringing your hand down to rub at your clit, bright heat bursting between your legs.

“That’s it, angel,” Matty murmurs, pinching softly at your nipple with one calloused hand. “So beautiful all fucked out for me. I’m the only one who can get you like this, huh?”

Subtle jealousy hums in his tone, his kiss turning possessive as you writhe under him. “Yeah,” you whimper breathily. “Never had it this good before.” It’s not a lie. Your body feels at once wound into a coil and loose on your bones, the point where your hips meet your only anchor to your physical form.

Matty scoffs. “That’s because you’ve only fucked boys, princess. Never had a man before, have you?”

“N-no, Daddy,” you whine, rubbing frantically at your clit, Matty’s rhythmic groans warm against your lips.

His lips fall to your neck, kissing and biting against your tender skin, the scrape of teeth a flash of pain undercutting your desire but gentle enough not to bruise. “That’s right, baby. ‘M your fuckin’ Daddy. Wanna be my girl, huh? Could have you like this whenever you want, never let you worry about anything, ‘cept staying all pretty and cockdrunk for me.”

Oh, God. How does he know? Involuntarily, your legs wrap around his waist, the new angle rapturous as his thrusts continue, long and so deep you practically choke on them. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. Could just be your little toy, never think unless you told me to. Want that so bad, Daddy.”

Matty’s eyes light up, wide and liquid with desire, your heartbeat hammering in your cunt as it throbs around him. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl. You wanna be my dumb little slut, huh? Want Daddy to fuck you stupid, turn you into my pretty fucktoy?” The words turn you to liquid, dripping and sticky under his skilled hands. “Yeah, you do,” he grins, arrogant and cocksure, your mind melting into fantasies of being Matty’s kept girl, of bending over with a smile whenever he liked, of spending your days keeping yourself pretty for him, and your nights split open like this. “I can feel how bad you want that, your pretty cunt keeps squeezing me so fuckin’ tight, angel.”

“‘M close,” you whimper, the words choked from your closing throat, desire clamping down on your body like a vice.

“Good girl,” Matty whispers, one of his hands joining yours at your clit, the pressure suddenly dramatically intense, every nerve in your body firing as one. “Cum for me, angel,” he orders, and your body obeys.

You come unglued from yourself, feel it in your whole body, euphoria crushing the air from your lungs. Your cunt pulses, thumping a sick rhythm in tune with Matty’s thrusts into you. Barely conscious, you feel amorphous, a messy string of liquid desire more than a corporeal girl. WIth a final, low groan, Matty spills inside of you, painting your insides white.

A whine escapes you as he pulls out, the loss tangible in your heavy limbs. “Oh, I know, baby, I know,” he soothes, falling beside you and cupping your jaw to kiss you tenderly.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur shakily, and a soft smile brushes at his lips.

“So polite,” he says reverently. “Such a good girl.”

You pout at him and drag two fingers through your slick, messy cunt, sucking the taste of both of you off your fingers. Matty gasps, eyes wide, and you smile around your wet fingers. “You want more, darling?”

You nod frantically, the fire under your skin still raging, ferocious and uncontrollable. Weakly, you lift your head, transfixed to where his cum trickles out of you, pooling white on the mattress. “We taste so good together,” you tell him, without taking your eyes off your ruined core. “Looks so good, your cum dripping out of me. Want you to finger it out of me. Please?” you add, pouting until he kisses you gently, breaking away to smile against your lips.

“Whatever you want, you’ll get, princess.” His fingers find your hole, teasing at you for a moment before toying with your sensitive clit, a stab of pleasure-pain winding sharply through you. “S’that sore, darling?”

“A bit,” you say, your body lax as he plays with you gently. All the urgency is gone now you’ve both come, the air honey-thick, your breathing slow and deliberate. “Feels good, though.”

Matty’s fingers are broad and thick as he pushes two of them inside you, your soaked cunt accepting him easily. He crooks his fingers, brushing that sweet spot that sets your nerves alight, and begins a slow rhythm. Lewd, wet sounds echo off the walls as you both watch his fingers disappear where you take him, cum leaking out around them.

An orgasm builds slowly at the base of your spine, your body jolting as Matty’s thumb comes up to circle over your clit. He swallows your sudden moan, languid kisses that have your eyes fluttering closed and let you fall into a daydream as he brings you closer.

“Mmm, can I cum again? Please?” you moan, hips rolling down to meet him. Pleasure swims hazy through your head, your blood syrup-thick and heavy with it.

“Can you hold it for a minute, baby? For me? Just wanna watch that pretty cunt of yours taking my fingers a little longer.” You whimper as he curls his long fingers inside of you, trembling with the effort of holding your orgasm at bay. “You make such pretty sounds, princess. Tell me who you belong to and I’ll let you cum, okay?”

“‘M yours, Daddy. Your good little girl,” you promise, words coming out slurred, your tongue too thick in your mouth.

“That’s right, baby,” Matty says, encouraging, grasping possessively at your hip. “All mine, yeah? Go on, princess. Cum,” he instructs, curling his fingers against your g-spot and rubbing a harsh circle into your clit in the same, breathless moment.

All the air crushes out of your lungs, white-hot pleasure melting your brain into liquid. Matty croons reassurances as you writhe under him, the thickness of his fingers visceral where you clench around him. You moan his name over and over in a litany, tasting something divine where the word spills from your lips.

You float back down to Earth, blissed-out and smiling, adoration in Matty’s gaze as he watches you. “There you are, sweet girl,” he grins, warm hand stroking gently up and down your side. “How do you feel?”

“God, incredible,” you answer, stretching back and luxuriating against his pillows. “Best fuck I’ve ever had,” you grin, watching his jaw clench at the reminder that you’ve fucked other people.

“Ruined you for other men, have I?” he says, smug smirk pulling at his lips.

“Other boys,” you correct airily. “Men like you know what they’re doing. Maybe you’ve given me a taste for it. Maybe I’ll fuck my way through the office, get all those men you see every day eating out of my hand.”

Matty practically snarls, silencing you with a harsh kiss. “Those fucking pricks couldn’t make you cum if their lives depended on it. Believe me, darling, I’m the best you’ll ever have,” he promises, and you give a quiet giggle. Your eyes are heavy even as electricity still buzzes under your skin, and you yawn, catlike, and settle against his bare chest. “Tired, angel?” he says, a hint of humour in his tone.

“Right shattered me, haven’t you?” you complain, swatting playfully at him. “Can I stay?”

“‘Course, darling. Long as you like,” Matty says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Want me to make you something to eat? Can’t have my girl going hungry after I’ve worn her out like that.” The casualness with which he flings the words my girl sends your heart racing, one of his hands coming up to cup your jaw then trailing up to play with your hair. It’s all so sickeningly domestic, more intimate than when he had you split open and dizzy under him.

“Sounds nice,” you say sleepily, but whine when he moves to get up.

You pout when Matty tugs on his discarded boxers, and he chuckles softly. “What?” he adds as your frown deepens, watching him pull on a pair of grey joggers.

“Was looking at you,” you say sulkily. “You have a cute ass.”

His head tips back as he laughs, baring the sloping column of his neck gorgeously, his curls bouncing with the movement. “Are you objectifying me?” he grins, mock-affronted.

“Yes,” you say immediately, sitting up and tracing your gaze deliberately over his chest, muscles rippling as he breathes. Your attention falls to the tattoo at his hip, half-hidden by his joggers, and the sudden need to taste the skin there overtakes you. “What else is a big, strong man like you good for? Fucking me right and cooking me dinner, and looking gorgeous doing it,” you tease, sucking in a sharp breath when he crosses the room in two strides and catches your jaw in a harsh grip.

“Don’t be a brat, princess. ‘Cause then I’ll have to show you what I’m fucking good for.”

“Okay,” you breathe against his lips, trailing your hand down his chest and thumbing over the tattoo, savouring the way Matty shudders under your touch.

The air under your hand goes cold as he steps away. “Needy girl,” he grins. “Food first, yeah? You want me to bring it up here? Serve my princess dinner in bed?” There’s that my again, one tiny, thoughtless syllable sending a thousand fantasies flickering behind your eyes. “Or do you wanna come down with me?”

You slip out from under the covers and set your feet on the floor, only for your knees to buckle when you try to stand. “Fucked me so good my legs don’t work,” you say with a weak laugh, smiling softly when Matty comes to fuss over you. “Can you carry me downstairs?”

“Here,” Matty says, handing you a shirt and boxers that are probably too small for him; they dwarf you, the shirt swallowing you while the boxers hang indecently low on your hips. At the sight of you in his clothes, he stops still, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply for a long moment. “Look fucking gorgeous wearing my clothes, darling. C’mere, I can carry you if you want,” he offers, scooping you into his arms.

Nestled happy against his warm, bare chest, you notice for the first time how fucking big his house is. It’s almost brutalist, but still homey, evidently lived-in. Framed photographs and prints litter the walls, slightly wilted flowers sitting in a vase atop a gorgeous upright piano.

“D’you play?” Matty asks, catching you admiring it.

“Since I was a kid. Do you?”

He huffs out a laugh above you. “You think I’d have a fifty grand piano sitting around that I don’t play?”

You shrug as best you can, still wrapped in his arms. “My parents have a baby grand that nobody played until I came along. It’s like a status symbol, or something, I dunno.”

“Yes, I play. The guitar too,” he adds, slowly strolling in the direction of the kitchen.

The realisation dawns on you, and your mouth drops in an ‘O’ of understanding. “So that’s why your hands are like that. I don’t know why I didn’t put that together. You’re hardly the type for hard labour.”

Matty laughs, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “You don’t know,” he teases, pressing a featherlight kiss against your cheek. “I could’ve been a mechanic in a past life.”

The thought of him, sweaty and dripping in grease, bending you over the hood of a car, makes your head spin, and he smirks as your jaw goes slack. “I wish,” you grin as he retrieves a pan from an upper cabinet, flexing the muscles in his back gratuitously with the movement. ement.

“What are you feeling like? Eggs? Pasta?” he offers, setting the pan on the stove.

You mull it over for a moment. “Can you make me French toast?”

“‘Course I can, baby.” You watch his hands as he cracks two eggs in a bowl, whisking them together with cinnamon and sugar. He steps between your legs as the bread sizzles in the pan with a healthy spoonful of melted butter, kissing at your neck and jaw. In the light, the fading hickeys scattered over your skin are visible, and he prods jealously at them. “Who gave you these?” he says, gravel in his voice.

Shrugging airily, you smirk up at him. “Some boy,” you tease, Matty’s nostrils flaring as he fights to control his reaction.

“Did he make you cum?” he asks, nails biting possessively into your hips.

“We didn’t get that far. Just made out on the couch. He was a good kisser, though.” At that, Matty captures your lips, kissing you slow and deep, the lingering taste of red wine filling your mouth. The kiss is hard, almost aggressive, like he’s trying to forcibly erase the memory of any kiss you’ve ever had. He bites gently at your lower lip as he pulls away, not hard enough to sting, but enough for you to read the message in the action. “Careful. Don’t burn my toast.”

A mumbled fuck makes you giggle, and he turns to flip the bread in the pan. “Don’t worry, angel. Still perfect.” He watches you as he speaks, wide brown eyes liquid and luminous, framed by delicate lashes.

Still, if he gets to be jealous, so do you. “Do you make midnight snacks for all the girls?” you ask, swinging your legs back and forth off the counter.

“Can’t say I do, darling.”

The implication of his words thuds hard in your chest, a warm flicker of hope striking to life like a match under your skin. “What’s so special about me?”

“Good girl like you deserves the princess treatment. ‘Specially from a dirty old man like me,” he grins, sliding your toast onto a plate. The sudden reminder of your age gap, of the scandal you’d cause if even a whisper of this got out, sends a shuddering thrill up your spine. Matty hands you the plate, topped with icing sugar and drizzled with syrup, and you tuck in eagerly.

He picks up a pack of cigarettes from the counter, eyebrows going up when you go to reach for one. “What? I’m not always a good girl.”

“Oh, I know, love,” Matty smirks, lit cigarette dangling indecently from his lips. “Can’t have you ruining your pretty lungs, though. Here,” he says, pulling deeply on the cigarette and then pressing his open mouth to yours. Grey smoke curls from your parted lips as you suck in the smoke greedily. He shotguns you half the cigarette, your head light as the nicotine buzz hits.

You drink in the sight of him as you eat, taking advantage of the light to appreciate the finer details of him. The gentle glow of the cigarette where it sits between his plush, pink lips, the joggers obscenely low on his hips, the V of muscle that points tantalisingly down, a light trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.

“You wanna go back to bed, angel?” Matty smirks, the air between you shifting as he meets your gaze, eyes darkened.

You scoff. “Bed’s boring. You have this whole fucking house, and you wanna take me back to bed?”

Matty crowds close to you, stealing a kiss and dropping to his knees. “Alright, princess.” His fingers dig into your hips as he eases his boxers off you, dipping his head to kiss at your bare thighs. A filthy smirk spreads wide across his lips as he looks up at you. “You’ve eaten. Now it’s my turn,” he promises, and your giggle turns to a moan when his tongue meets your centre.

He devours you like he’s been starved, lapping at your still-soaked cunt in a toe-curling rhythm. A sudden flash of pleasure-pain strikes sharply where his teeth scrape at the tender flesh of your thigh, sucking and biting hard enough to bruise. A quiet moan tumbles from your lips, and you squeeze your thighs around his head to urge him back to your cunt. Obediently, he wraps his lips around your clit, the pressure at your sensitive bundle of nerves making your head spin. “C’mon, princess. You make such pretty sounds, I know you can be louder than that.”

Matty sets a dizzying pace, tongue-fucking you with fervour. Burying your hands in his hair, you shift so you can rest your legs over his shoulders, the new angle letting him drive his tongue even deeper inside you. Heat roils in your belly, winding around your organs, entangling sweetly with your veins. “Fuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his face wantonly. “Feels s’good, Daddy,” you moan out, gasping as Matty curls his tongue perfectly inside you, white-hot pleasure buzzing up your spine.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs and tilts his head up to look at you, his lips and chin practically dripping with your slick. He sucks another bruise into your sensitive skin, kissing over the mark apologetically. Your skin is on fire, tension pulling tight in all your limbs at once. “Taste so fucking good,” he moans, kissing softly at your cunt, his laugh ghosting over your skin as you flutter needily in response. “Could spend the rest of my fuckin’ life between these pretty thighs, darling.”

Your head is hazy, barely coherent thoughts drifting in and out, an incomprehensible plea falling from your lips. Matty won’t let you get complacent with a rhythm, switching between broad, flat strokes over your cunt, deep thrusts into you and sucking on your clit so fast it deliriates you. “‘M close,” you whine, tugging hard on his curls as ecstasy builds at the base of your spine. “Wanna cum for you,” you add, a hint of begging in your tone.

“Say please, darling.” The words vibrate gloriously in your cunt, a shock of pleasure rolling over you.

“Please, Daddy, I wanna cum. Need it so bad,” you plead, whimpering when he scrapes his teeth over your clit, fighting to hold your orgasm at bay until he gives you permission.

“Go on, princess. Cum for Daddy, yeah?” The words are all you need, a string of obscenities interspersed with breathless moans of his name tumbling from your lips as pure euphoria overtakes you. Hot pleasure cascades over you, racing down your spine and along every nerve in your body. You writhe against Matty’s mouth, half-convinced you’ve left your body behind, made of pure sensation.

Boneless, you slump backward, sure you could fall asleep on the cool granite of Matty’s kitchen counter. He catches you, steadying, and gathers you back into his arms. “Thank you, Daddy,” you smile up at him, curling into his chest.

The thump of his heartbeat is soothing as he picks you up again. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs fondly. “Now do you want me to take you back to bed?” he adds, grinning teasingly. He carries you back to his room, laying you softly against the pillows and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Just need you awake for a few more minutes, sweetheart. Need to get you cleaned up, then you can sleep, yeah?” He’s so tender, speaking softly and petting your hair for a moment before he fetches a damp cloth. Running it softly over you, he makes soothing sounds at your pained whimpers. “I know, baby, I know. ‘M sorry. Just a little more, okay?”

You’re half-asleep by the time Matty climbs into bed with you, sweeping your hair off the back of your neck and kissing softly at the skin there. An arm drapes over your waist, the pressure warm and soothing. “I wanna be your girl,” you mumble, more than half-asleep, barely conscious of the words as they slip unbidden from your lips. You’re unconscious before you hear his reply.

You’re sore in the morning, momentarily disoriented by the weight of a body in bed with you, before last night comes flooding back and you smile to yourself. “Morning, princess,” Matty murmurs, voice low and sleep-thick in your ear.

“Good morning,” you smile, stretching out your muscles and arching your back. Matty hisses as your ass meets his hips, his hardness pressing against you. “Oh, very good morning, hm?” Turning to face him, you reach down, slipping your hand under his waistband to palm his cock. He twitches under your touch, a sleepy moan falling from his lips as he rolls his hips into your hand. “Wanna suck your cock,” you murmur, his reaction visceral in your palm.

“Such a sweet girl,” he says, sliding his boxers off as you climb over him. You kiss his neck, the hollow of his throat, working your way down his chest. Indulgently, you bite a bruise into his chest, a twin to the ones that litter your thighs. You trace your tongue over the tattoo at his hip, his body shuddering at the sensation. His cock twitches against your lips as you press a kiss to the head, the taste of salt filling your mouth when you lick your lips.

You mouth at him teasingly for a moment, needy whines filling the air above you. Having power over him this time is intoxicating, and you hold his hips down as he tries to thrust into your mouth. “Not so fast,” you grin. “Keep still and hands to yourself, remember?” Matty swears softly as you repeat his words back to him, hands fisting in the sheets.

Teasing him for a few more moments, you kiss at his lower belly, smirking as he trembles under your lips, cock drooling. The moan Matty lets out when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock is obscene, low and keening, and you dip your head to take him in deeper. “That’s it,” he murmurs, threading a hand gently in your hair. “C’mon, sweet girl, just a little further. I know you can take it, angel.” The encouragement sends a shudder through you, liquid pleasure pooling between your thighs.

Obediently, you relax your throat, sinking further until your nose meets his skin. “Good girl,” Matty says. “Good fucking girl, takin’ me so well. So fuckin’ pretty all stretched out around my cock.” Saliva pools under your tongue, dripping helplessly from the corners of your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, thrusting gently into your mouth. “Such a pretty slut, fuckin’ drooling on my cock.”

You pull off him, a string of saliva connecting your skin for a split-second. “‘M your slut, Daddy. Can go harder, if you want,” you say, wrapping your hand around his cock, spit-soaked and dripping, and pump slowly. You lave at him for a moment, licking messy stripes over his cock before taking him all the way in one motion.

Matty groans, bucking his hips. “You want me to fuck your pretty mouth, huh, angel?” His hand tightens in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth, the stretch in the corners of your mouth gorgeous.

“You can do better than that,” you murmur. “Want it hard. I won’t break. Unless you want me to,” you add with a grin, moaning around his cock as you swallow him back down. Finally, gloriously, Matty fucks into your mouth, sets a deep, punishing pace. He pulls you by your hair, the sting in your scalp divine as he uses you; you let yourself slip out of your body, sinking into the warm, fuzzy feeling of being his toy.

“That’s right, baby. Fucking made to take my cock, yeah? Good little girl just wants to be Daddy’s cocksleeve.” The filthy words wash over you, thighs clenching as arousal thrums low in your belly. Wetness pools between your legs and you slip a hand down your body to rub at your clit. The soft spark of pleasure grants you the briefest relief, and you moan around his cock. He’s losing control, the movement of his hips turning sloppy as your throat burns raw. “Fuck,” Matty hisses. “Gonna cum, angel.”

“You wanna cum in my mouth?” He nods, transfixed by your flushed skin and spit-slick lips. “Say please, Daddy.”

He moans, long and low, as you take him back in your mouth, swallowing around him. “C’mon, princess, I wanna cum in that pretty mouth of yours. Fuck, I need it.” He fucks your throat wildly, heat firing through your body, sensation cascading over you. “Please?” The word sounds delicious falling from his lips, sliding sweetly across your brain as you moan around him. With a final groan, he spills in your mouth, a cry of your name tearing from his throat. His cock pulses in your throat, the salt of him filling your mouth as you swallow obediently. “That’s it, take it all. Such a good little cumdump for me, princess.”

You pull off him, sitting back on your heels with a grin. “Did I do good?” you ask, pouting down at him.

You’re only teasing, but when Matty meets your gaze, chest heaving and eyes lidded, and murmurs, “So good, princess.” A gush of heat floods between your sticking thighs. “Where’d my good girl learn to suck cock like that?”

Falling back onto his chest, you give him a wicked smirk. “I told you already, Daddy.” You shift your hips, grinding your soaked cunt against his cock and whining at the soft buzz of pleasure that lights under your skin. “I’m not always a good girl.”

He groans, rolling his hips against yours. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, baby.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to the tattoo in the centre of his chest. “The elderly and their weak hearts,” you scoff, hissing when he pinches the flesh of your ass.

“Oi. Be nice.” Rolling your eyes dramatically, you mime zipping your lips. His fingers wander between your legs, anticipation thrilling under your skin as he finds your clit, the rough pad of his finger scraping against your sensitive nerves. “So wet, princess. Does being my little cocksleeve turn you on, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur. “Feel a bit gross right now, though. I wanna shower first.” Matty grins, a vision of you naked and dripping wet from the shower playing out so clearly on his face that you can practically see it reflected in his eyes.

You hop up on the bathroom counter as Matty runs the shower, rinsing your mouth out with mouthwash and leaning over the sink to spit it out. Matty does the same, then steps between your legs, and you cross them instinctively behind his back. He catches your lips, mint taste mingling in your breaths as you kiss open-mouthed, hot and messy. Distracted, you lose yourself in the kiss, forgetting why you’re in the bathroom at all until the air is thick and cloying with steam.

Matty breaks away from you and helps you to your feet, tugging his shirt up over your head and discarding it to the floor. He can’t resist a greedy handful of your tit, gazing down to where the flesh spills over his fingers. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs, walking you backwards until you’re stepping into the shower.

You pull him under the spray, curls sticking to his forehead as the water soaks him. His hands trail over your body, grasping at your wet flesh as you press yourself needily against him. His cock is hard against your belly, heat pooling in your core as he pulls you in for a wet kiss. Matty grips your thighs, your head spinning as his tongue sweeps your mouth. “Jump up for me, sweet girl,” he says against your lips. “I’ll catch you, don’t worry.” Something in your chest catches as he smiles earnestly down at you, and you force it down before it bubbles out of control and something incriminating slips from your lips.

Obediently, you jump up, your legs tangling around Matty’s waist as he crowds you against the shower tile, his nails biting at your thighs where he holds you in place. You moan against his mouth as you grind your hips down against his stomach, a soft buzz of pleasure growing where your skin meets his. “Daddy, please. Want your cock,” you whine, steam curling around your bodies as you grasp weakly at his wet skin.

He laughs softly against your lips, angling your hips carefully as he lines up his cock. Torturously slow, he lowers you down, pleasure rolling hot under your skin from the point where his hips meet yours. Your cunt throbs, stretched wide around him as Matty moans against your neck. “God, this fucking cunt drives me crazy. Made for this,” he groans as he bottoms out, hips flush under the warm spray of the shower.

“C’mon,” you whimper, clenching your cunt around him and rolling your hips. “Fuck me. I need it,” you beg, scraping your nails down his back.

His cock twitches inside you, the barest flicker of sensation sending a pulse of heat thrumming under your skin. “Needy girl,” he says, clicking his tongue condescendingly.

“Please, Daddy,” you moan, writhing in his arms, the plea on your lips breaking into a whine as he pushes into you agonisingly slow. Your head thuds back against the tile as your eyes slip closed, hot pleasure coiling between your legs as you clench your cunt around him.

Matty groans as he bottoms out, your legs locked around his waist as you pant into his mouth. “God, takin’ me so well, princess. Look so beautiful while I’m fucking you like this, fuck,” he praises, his words sending heat rushing to your cheeks. His head falls to suck and bite at the flesh of your tits, pain blooming into bliss under your skin as he fucks into you slowly.

You moan desperately, scrambling for purchase against his wet skin. “More, harder, please,” you whimper, rocking your hips as arousal pools in your cunt and drips out over him. He laughs darkly, and you shudder slightly, wondering what you’ve let yourself in for.

“Harder, huh?” he murmurs into your neck. “Whatever you want, princess.” It’s the only warning you get before he lifts you and slams you down on his cock, your hips meeting hard as he strikes deep inside you. He fucks you wildly, the slick heat of his body pinning you to the wall as he mouths at your neck, his breath hot on your skin. Incoherent moans fall from your lips, your head hazy and distant, pleasure welling hot under your skin.

His lips come up to cover yours, swallowing your wanton moans greedily, the faint taste of mint on his tongue as he licks into your mouth. “God, such a good girl,” he murmurs. “Wish you could see yourself, baby. Such a pretty little cocksleeve for me.” Arousal drips between your legs, mingling with the water soaking you, your cunt throbbing at his words. “You like that, princess?” he asks with a soft laugh, subtle derision cascading down your spine. “Little slut. Wanna be Daddy’s pretty toy, yeah?”

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. His rhythm doesn’t slow, your grip on sanity slackening with every pulse of heat in your cunt. “‘M yours, Daddy,” you manage to get out around broken moans.

“That’s right, princess.” He’s practically dragging you up and down on him, using you like you really are a toy. “Gonna be a good girl and cum for Daddy, hm?” Your legs tighten around Matty’s waist as one of his hands leaves your hip to play with your clit. The rough scrape of his calloused finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves is too much, and it barely takes another minute before your world shatters.

Your scream echoes off the tile, cunt pulsing as your blood burns with ecstasy. Heat floods every nerve in your body, bone-deep pleasure swelling under your skin, incessant gasps and whines falling from your lips. Matty’s brutal pace never slows, chasing his own pleasure, silencing your whines with his mouth as you squirm against the overstimulation. “‘M almost there, baby. Just a little more, takin’ it so well, princess,” he assures you, rhythm sloppy and faltering as he gets closer. Your name spills from his lips in a groan as he pulses inside you, ropes of cum dripping sticky down your insides.

“Fuck,” you murmur, whining as he pulls out and gingerly setting a leg on the floor, testing whether they can hold your weight. Matty’s hands hover at your waist, ready to catch you if you slip, and you stretch up to press a grateful kiss to his lips.

Matty pulls you fully under the shower, reaching for a bottle of shower gel and soaping his hands. “Feeling good?” he says, cocky smirk playing on his lips.

“Mhmm,” you sigh happily, settling against his chest as he runs his hands slow and tender over your body. In your blissed-out state, you barely notice your next words as they slip from your lips. “Wish it could be like this all the time.”

Matty croons softly, brushing a thumb over your nipple and kneading at your tit. “Wanna be my sweet girl forever, hm? I’d love that, princess,” he murmurs, the fantasy rooting in your mind despite how obscenely ridiculous the idea is — you’ve barely known him a week, for Christ’s sake. Something about him makes you feel safe, though, secure. Like you’ve known him for years — although, maybe not, given the circumstances. A moan slips from your lips when Matty digs his thumbs into your back, working the tension free from under your skin as your eyes slip happily closed. He cleans your cunt gently, smirking at the cum stringing between his fingers and swirling down the drain. “Can I wash your hair?” he offers with a soft smile.

Your chest feels distended, bloated with an affection you know you shouldn’t be feeling as you nod, the scent of his shampoo maddeningly comforting, sickeningly familiar. Matty’s skilled fingers work over your scalp, a quiet kind of bliss rolling over you as you relax into his touch. Stepping out of the shower, your hair scrunched up in an old t-shirt of his that he swore he didn’t care about getting ruined, you can’t hold back a pout when he wraps a towel around his waist. “Hey, no, what do you think you’re doing?” you gasp, suddenly distracted as Matty starts to bring a towel up to his hair. Puzzled, he stares at you blankly as you snatch it from his grip. “Gonna ruin those pretty curls if you keep doing that,” you tut. “Here, sit down. Let me spoil you for a second, okay?” You’ve never felt so cared for by one of your hookups, even by some of your boyfriends, so you seize a chance to return the favour.

Obligingly, he sits on the closed toilet seat, letting you advance on him with a tub of obscenely expensive hair gel. He smiles softly, leaning involuntarily into your touch as you twist his curls around your fingers, defining them neatly and admiring the way they bounce back on themselves. You straddle his lap to scrunch the gel into his hair, batting his hand away when he tries to grab your tit. “Behave,” you chide, laughing and stepping away to take in your handiwork. With his hair loose and framing his face sweetly, he looks younger, more innocent, a far cry from the man calling you a pretty little cocksleeve not even half an hour ago.

“What are you thinkin’ about, darling?” Matty murmurs, searching gaze heavy on your bare skin.

You blink, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Just about how I could really go for that breakfast in bed right now,” you grin, teasing to alleviate the intensity in the air between you.

He huffs a laugh. “Think it might be closer to lunch by now,” he smirks. “How about I do you one better? Let me take you out for lunch, yeah?”

Your jaw hangs open in shock. Of all the ways you were expecting this to end, this wasn’t it. “Like… like a date?” A date means something, means being seen together in public, means being more than just a dirty little secret.

“Yeah, princess. Like a date.” He smiles fondly. “Here, I’ll call you a car. You go home, get changed, and I’ll pick you up in an hour, okay?” Instinctively, you nod, his tone leaving no room for argument even if you’d wanted to. You open your mouth to ask how he knows where you live, the answer coming to you with sudden, shocking clarity. Right. Because he’s your father’s boss.

Well, fuck. That certainly complicates things.

…But it’s not like complicated has ever stopped you before.

#the instalove is instaloving STRONG here loool #why is this longer than my Actual Novel that im writing so far #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 #writing #smut #white and gold

616 notes · View notes

loveliestlovelygirl · 6 months

Text

tangle of strings

pianoteacher!anakin x student!reader

synopsis: mr. skywalker has been your piano instructor since you were fourteen years old. from the moment you met, you knew he was the one. he never expressed his feelings for you vocally, despite all the time you spent together. but after you turn eighteen and prepare to leave for college, he changes his tune.

w.c: 6.9k

warnings!! {minors dni}, dark content, grooming heavily featured, sexual content occurs after the reader is 18, p in v, fingering, oral, fem!reader, gentle dom!anakin, sub!reader, "loss" of virginity, jealousy, religious themes

the content you consume is your responsibility ♡

The piano is the only thing Mr. Skywalker told you that he loved.

He was never spotted with a girl or anyone for that matter in a romantic sense. He was always single, which never made sense to anyone in your small town because he is handsome. He’s always been handsome. His yearbook pictures from high school proved it.

When you would go over to his house for piano lessons, he would show you many things from his life, like his award cabinet, filled with every trophy and certificate he’s won from piano competitions or his yearbook photos. Those photos were one of the first things he showed you. It was one of your first memories of just you and him.

Mr. Skywalker takes a big stack of books off the shelf in his library all at once. Using his strength to balance the dusty books on his arms, he brings them to the reading table where you sit. He takes off the top one and opens it up before you.

Eventually, you find his picture. You cover your mouth as you giggle. He had thick glasses making him look like a nerd. But he was cute. So, undeniably cute to you. You wish he could be the same age. You would want to be his friend. You would want to kiss him.

If you were the same age, he could be yours.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he muses, his large body looming behind you as he looks over your head to gaze at the picture. “I used to be the kid everyone picked on. When I’d get home, I would write a song about how I was feeling. Some of those songs inspired the ones I play at my shows.”

When he talks, you gush. His warm voice is safe. He’s the kind of person you could tell all your secrets to.

And you did tell him everything you couldn’t tell your parents. You’d tell him your deepest secrets. Like the boys you crushed on. Or your new feelings of lust towards them that caught you off-guard as a teen. He understood you like no one else in the whole world. He was the first to know about your first kiss when you were sixteen. And he seemed… jealous when you told him.

“I don’t know how it happened,” you say. “One moment, we were talking and laughing. And the next thing I know, Drew is pushing me down on the bed to kiss me!” you squeal. “But don’t tell my parents. They’ll think I’m a whore.”

Mr. Skywalker pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I always keep your secrets. Drew is the boy in your history class, correct?”

You nod, amazed that he would remember. The last time you spoke of Drew had been several months ago. But he always pays attention to even the smallest details. That’s how you know he cares.

“I don’t know if he’s good for you,” he mutters, noticeably bitter about something. “Does he really know you? I think… he doesn’t. He’s probably just trying to use you.”

Mr. Skywalker is much older than you. And wiser. So you take his advice to heart. Maybe you shouldn’t see Drew tonight after all.

“How many times have you been kissed?” you ask him, your voice all innocent. Although your motives were anything but pure. While you might have just shared a kiss with Drew, there is one man who is truly the object of your greatest desires. You just haven’t found a way to tell him.

He shakes his head. “You know I’d rather talk about you.” That’s what he says when you pry too deeply into his private life, which only adds to your secret obsession

Anakin has always been the one thing that rivals your obsession with your instrument of choice. And it’s the only secret you kept from him all through high school because you knew he couldn’t possibly feel the same way about you.

Even if the small touches, the secret looks, and long hugs seemed to indicate otherwise. You were too afraid to ask him what it all meant. He never gave that kind of attention to anyone else.

And as an awkward teen, you were furious that you couldn’t express your love to him directly. You kept telling yourself that you would when you’re older. When you turned eighteen, you would confess to him.

Since you couldn’t tell anyone, even him, about this secret, you’d use the piano to share your soul, to put your feelings out into the atmosphere. When you play, no matter where you are, you feel him sitting on the bench beside you, watching over you.

He taught you everything you know now. He’s the reason you chose to major in Piano Performance in college to the great horror of your parents. But what did they expect? They watched you sacrifice your youth for excellence in your craft. The nights were filled with pools of tears, cries, and screams as you played until you got the part, section, or note just right.

When your fingers rest on the ivory keys, you feel him and nothing else. He’s your muse in every song you write.

The piece that won you a full scholarship to your dream university, you wrote it while thinking of Anakin. Your beloved piano teacher. Your closest friend. Your secret love.

He’d been in your life for so long, giving you lessons when you first showed an interest in music. How could you not love him?

He went to the same church that your family attended every Sunday. He played piano sometimes during worship service if the music minister was out on vacation or fell ill. Church was how your father met him, and they became good friends. He often came to your Sunday lunches.

Your mom always cooked fried catfish or fried chicken because that’s what your dad wanted. Mr. Skywalker, as you called him back in your high school years, would eat two plates of food. He’d say things like “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in years,” even if he was at your house just last week. You would laugh the loudest at his jokes. As you think about them now, you realize they weren’t funny, but you’re in love with him so it doesn’t matter.

After lunch, your parents would take care of the food and dishes, giving alone time with him. Like a young pup, you’d follow him outside on the back porch where you’d sit side by side on the creaky old swing.

“Do you cook or bake?” he asks you.

You haven’t the slightest idea of why he’d ask such a thing. You still lived with your parents. Your mom does most of the cooking. Your dad grills sometimes. “No. I get scared that I’ll burn myself.”

Suddenly, he reaches over for your left hand, the closest one to him, from your lap and holds it between his great palms. “Cold,” he whispers. He massages your fingers to revive them. “I wouldn’t want you to burn your hands. They’re so perfect… for playing.”

Anakin looks down at what he’s doing to you and his expression sours. At the time, you don’t know why. You wonder if you said or did something he doesn’t like because the mood changes instantly. He drops your hand and pats your thigh.

“You have piano hands, remember?” he reminds you. He smiles at you, and you feel secure again.

That’s exactly the thing that you always tell him. His hands spread out further than a whole octave, while you struggle to hit the two octave notes simultaneously without pulling a muscle. His fingers are long, and his palms are wide. You can’t compete with that.

You wonder what other things he’s good at with hands like those.

For the entirety of your high school existence, you pined and pined after him. He was always on your thoughts every minute of every day. You never grew sick of daydreaming about him. And on occasion that was reflected in your grades though you maintained a high GPA regardless. Every week was just your going through the motions of life mindlessly, only waiting for two short hours out of the week on Friday which was when you took lessons with him.

You lived solely for those two hours in which he gave you piano lessons free of charge. He said it was because you had such potential, but still to this day, you like to think he reciprocated some of your feelings even before he actually made a move on you.

For those two hours, you would sit right up against him on the leather cushion of the piano bench and play for him whatever pieces you were working on or things he assigned you from the previous week. He was never harsh with you even when you weren’t getting something.

You throw your hands on the keys, striking a dissonant chord that makes you both wince. Mr. Skywalker instantly pulls your hands away.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he said with concern. “I promise you’ll get this. It just takes time. I know you practice too much as it is.”

“I want to be good! I want to be a star!” With that, you break down instantly and cry. He never minds when you cry in front of him.

“One day, you will be. I believe in you,” he soothes you, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head as if you belong to him. He hugs you. “We can try again when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” you say, leaning against him to hear the echo of his heart. His heartbeat is sensual to you, even at sixteen. You can’t explain it. These stupid hormonal feelings you have for him are so wrong. But when you look up into his passionate eyes, you see the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. You have to marry him. You have to.

From the time you were five, you were afraid of thunder and lightning. Terrified by it actually. The fear is still with you today. But it was so much worse in middle school and high school. You started taking lessons from Anakin when you were fourteen years old. And you were still such a child then. You remembered the time it stormed so hard during your lesson that you had to spend the night at his house because it was too dangerous for your mother to come pick you up. But that also meant you couldn’t hide your abnormal fear of a thunderstorm from Anakin.

He had this giant plush rug under the piano. When you asked him about it, he said that it caught the sound. At the tail end of your lesson, the night you had to stay over, lightning struck close to his house and spooked you so much that you shrieked and slipped under the piano, curling up on that soft rug like a scared puppy.

Anakin was such a sweetheart because he followed you there.

“Hey,” he whispers, rubbing your back, “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

You cry into your arms, hiding your face. “I know! I know it’s stupid of me. I just—”

“It’s not stupid. We all have different fears.” After he says that, he lies on his back beside you. “But I won’t let the storm hurt you, okay. We can stay here all night.”

And that you did. You cowered under the grand piano in his parlor all night long. That was the first time you ever cuddled with a boy, only he was a man almost twice your age. But that didn’t bother you. And it seemed not to bother him. He let you hold onto him through the night and squeeze him a little harder when you heard thunder. It has been one of your most precious memories of your piano teacher.

You had always known Anakin could be a little jealous. Any time you would mention your school friends the air would get tense, as if he didn’t want you to have anyone else in your life but him. He never said that, but he didn’t have to. There was always rage somewhere beneath the still blueness of his eyes, but his rage was never directed towards you until you told him that Drew wanted you to be his girlfriend.

You were seventeen. And you were so excited to have your first boyfriend even if you weren’t in love with him. At least people might not tease you for still being a virgin because it wouldn’t be so obvious. Anakin never did make fun of you for your innocence. He always said that it’s okay to wait until you’re ready or for the right person.

Immediately after you share the news of your official relationship with Drew, he freezes and closes the lid to the piano keys.

His jaw is tight. His voice is tense. “Maybe... we should be done for today.” He doesn’t even acknowledge what you said, as if he’s afraid to.

But you have no one else to celebrate with. Drew is a secret you keep from them because he’s not involved in church. “Did you hear me?” you press.

He grinds his teeth hard, and you hear bone against bone. Anakin nods. “I did.”

You nudge his arm. “Well?”

“Well what?” he snaps bitterly. He turns slightly to glare at you. “You know how I feel ab—about him.”

You roll your eyes. Anakin is a dramatic guy sometimes. “Drew isn’t that bad. He can be sweet. And he’s going to take me to prom!”

Anakin rises off the piano bench and pats down his black slacks. “So, you don’t care what I think then?” He’s staring down upon you with overwhelming disapproval. The muscles of his arms bulge when he crosses them over his chest.

Palms against the leather cushion, you hold yourself up. You notice yourself trembling when you realize that he’s not teasing you. He’s very upset... with you. Why would he be—does this mean—does he feel something after all?

“Of course, I do, Mr. Skywalker.”

“I told you not to get close with him!” he shouts. You’ve never heard him raise his voice at you. “He has bad intentions. He’s just a dumb kid. What does he know about loving you?”

You start to sob. “I’m sorry. I thought you might be... happy for me?”

He scoffs. And it sounds like you disgust him right now. “I don’t want to hear about him ever again. I don’t want to know anything about your little boyfriend. Do. You. Understand?”

Having him speak to you that way made you feel like a little girl. And you hated that feeling more than anything else. You knew that you were innocent, and you hated yourself for it because it made you feel inadequate to love the man you really wanted.

But now you’d do anything to have that innocence again. You didn’t realize at the time how free you once were. Growing up was harder than you thought it would be. It almost broke you.

You were lucky to have someone like Anakin to build you back up again, even if he was the one that tore you down that time.

After he yelled at you, you rushed out of his home as quickly as you could. The silence lasted a day. And then he drove to your house and knocked on your door. He held in his hands a bouquet of white roses and on his lips was the apology you were waiting for.

Nothing changed between you after that. Until your next birthday came around.

Up to your eighteenth birthday, your interactions were mostly harmless. But when you turned eighteen, an official adult, the tension between you had changed. The energies you both entertained shifted and became... dare you say... sexual to a degree. Anakin seemed to treat you a little differently now that you were fair game.

To celebrate your eighteenth birthday, he was there. In fact, he was the only one you insisted that mother invite. Not Drew or any of your school friends. Just Anakin. And he had to be there because he really was your one true friend. You couldn’t imagine celebrating your birthday without him. He was always a guest at your birthday parties, but he gave you a special gift this year, one so unforgettable that sometimes you hear it clear as day.

Anakin wrote you a piano solo. One that was simple, sweet, and addicting. You told him to play it again and again. After cake and presents, you made him teach you how to play it. You were very proficient now, and often could play things just by hearing them once. But the chords he chose for your song were unique and shouldn’t have meshed so well together. But they did. Just like you and him. Unlikely friends. Star-crossed lovers in your head.

The two of you stayed at the piano all evening, messing around with the song. By the end, you both had figured out how to layer the notes and chords in an even more perfect duet. Playing piano with him was almost the best birthday gift in the world to you. But it was not what you wished for.

You wished for a kiss.

But that would mean you’d have to tell him how you felt. And you were terrified. As an adult, now you could. It was more empowering than you thought it could be.

But you never did find a chance to tell me on your birthday. You were too afraid to ruin your night with a love confession. You know he would do the right thing and reject you, but that didn’t stop you from dreaming for the impossible.

When you walked him outside to his car—you insisted—your secret birthday wish came true. Not in the way you expected. But a kiss did happen. Your piano teacher kissed you on the cheek. Your face burned the whole night through. You couldn’t sleep because you wanted to know what it meant. He had never used his lips to touch any part of you before.

Physical contact had always been an important part of your bond with Anakin since the beginning. There were always the hugs that lasted just a little too long. And he seemed to always find an excuse to hold your hand. But he was your piano teacher, and the hand-to-hand contact always felt necessary and never strange.

But following your very special birthday, you found him staring at you a little longer, a little more deeply, and he seemed to always find an excuse to touch you, not in a sexual way but in a way that led you to believe the attraction wasn’t one sided.

He’d tuck your hair behind your ears, brush the side of your arm, and sit impossibly close to you that you swore you could almost hear his heartbeat. Anakin had never been hesitant to touch you before, but if there were any boundaries before, they were forgotten by him. And you enjoyed it. His new attention made you feel special and wanted. And that was all you ever wanted.

You began to touch him too. And seek physical attention from him. You would nuzzle his arm. Slip your fingers between his. Tap your shoes against his. He’d always notice, and he always hugged you or kissed your cheek in response.

You two were getting closer than ever before. Sometimes... you would barely touch the keys, getting lost in conversation. At this point, Drew and any other boy you were interested in before might as well have been dead. There was only room in your heart for Anakin.

And you had discovered a way to tell him without using your fragile words.

You sit on the bench waiting for him to get off the phone with his mother. She called him shortly after he let you in. About ten minutes later, he comes back.

“Sorry. I was worried she was in trouble,” he says, taking his spot beside you. “Now, where were we last week?”

“We... didn’t really go over anything.”

He bites into his full lower lip with a mischievous look in his eyes. “What are you paying me for then?”

You laugh because you’ve never once paid him for his time. You nudge his thigh with yours. “Honestly, I don’t really think there’s much more you could teach me.”

He raises a brow. “Oh really?”

You nod. “Actually, I’ve been writing something for you.”

His jaw lowers, and his mouth hangs open slightly. “How long have you kept this secret?”

“Since my birthday.”

He slips his arm around your back and rests his hand on your hip. “I’m impressed. Show me?”

You gulp heavily. That had been the plan today. It is ready for him. He’d never judge you even if it were bad. But you know that it’s not. You know that he’ll know what this piece means. He knows you too well. He’s too perceptive of everything. You wrote it in his favorite key, C minor.

With your hands a little shaky, your fingers glide softly across the piano and press down powerfully in chords. Through music, you profess your love. Anakin sits beside you and waits for you to finish. When you do, he’s waiting, staring with tears thickening his dark eyelashes. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything, but you know... he knows how you feel.

You tug on his shirt, drawing him closer. A war of heart and mind reflects on his face. He’s doubting what he wants. His resistance is half-hearted. It isn’t long before he scoops you up in his arms and kisses you. This time his mouth is on your lips, wetting them, and tugging them apart to fill you with his tongue.

Drew was never this good. His mouth was sloppy and tight. Anakin kisses like he’s done this a thousand times before. And he kisses like he wants you. Like he’s wanted you for such a long time, despite how wrong you both know that is.

He holds you down in his lap, and you hug him tightly, carding your fingers through his dreamy hair. You start to feel lightheaded because you haven’t been able to breathe, but you don’t want to stop him. If you stop him, he might think and realize that he doesn’t want you anymore.

But you’re dying. Turning blue. You tap his shoulder. And he stops devouring you. His lips sparkle when he smiles. “Too much for you, baby?”

You sharply inhale, finally catching your breath. You shake your head. You want more. You need it. More isn’t even enough.

You spend the whole lesson entangled with one another until your mother comes to pick you up.

For the next month, that’s all you did. Kiss and kiss and kiss. Breathe and breathe and breathe. And kiss some more. You wondered why he was waiting to take you to his bed. You wanted that with him, but he never asked you to go that far. He seemed afraid. Even when his affection was overflowing in passion as you always knew it would be, it was clear that he was holding himself back. Did he need you to tell him what to do?

Your make out sessions extended beyond just your lesson time. Whenever he would come over to your house, he would go upstairs with you to your bedroom, and you’d end up tangled in the sheets. Though with every item of clothing on. Your parents never suspected anything was happening to their young, virtuous daughter. They trusted him completely. And so did you. You would have done anything he asked of you no matter the risks.

Even at church, he’d find a way to get you alone. In the girl’s bathroom. During the preacher’s sermon.

Anakin lifts you onto the sink and spreads your legs out so that he can fit between them and get close to you. Thumb under your chin, he tilts your face up to his. He grins before going in for a kiss.

Your lavender baby doll dress rides up your thighs as he inches closer. He presses up against the crotch of your panties. The dampness is cold against your tender flesh. His erection only grows as the friction between you builds, your bodies rubbing against each other in a clothed attempt to satisfy yourselves sexually.

And now you’re glad you waited and didn’t mess around with Drew like he wanted when you were together. Because that means Anakin could be your very first.

He freezes up when you try to unbuckle his big belt. Anakin looks at you strangely, almost disturbed by your actions.

You lean to his ear and whisper, “I. Want. It.” You had thought your seductive voice would be enough to cast him off the edge of all hesitation, that he’d bend to your will and give you what you want.

But all you did was kill the fire.

Head shaking, he backs away. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

And you didn’t see him for nearly a month after that. But you don’t regret what you said. You were tired of just endless make out sessions. It seemed so immature, and you knew you were ready for something real.

All of those memories, those beautiful capsules of your favorite times with Anakin, are the reason you find yourself on his doorstep, a quarter till midnight in the pouring rain.

Complete desperation.

You took your moms car without permission just to drive over despite the threat of a storm. And you’re still deathly afraid of them. But you came anyway. Because tomorrow, you’re leaving for college. You might not get another chance to fix things. Death would be better than living another moment without him.

“You haven’t been answering my texts or my calls, Anakin.”

The door is barely cracked open, just enough that you can see his pale face. Dark circles surround his rainy eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, not even making eye contact.

Thunder echoes behind you. The wind blows your hair around. Leaves rustle, filling the silence between you both. It’s going to storm soon. You had been stupid enough to drive to his house just before a storm. But you couldn’t take not knowing what had happened to him and why he was dodging your calls.

The eyes that used to linger a little too long won’t acknowledge you even as you stand in front of him.

“Why are you being like this? This isn’t you!” you nearly scream. You’re so afraid that he’s not only pushing you away but also ejecting you from his life completely, as if the memories you share can be erased. He’s engrained in almost every memory you have.

“It can’t happen. Go away.”

He tries to close the door on you, but you stick the toe of your right shoe in the crack before it shuts.

“Please… please don’t do this.”

Anakin’s eyes are bloodshot as if he’s been crying. “What I want isn’t right. I can’t do it. I don’t know if I could live with myself after.”

Does he really hate me so much? Is that the truth? Perhaps it’s your naivety, but you won’t let him go so easily. You have suffered in silence for nearly a decade, pining after him, waiting for him to reciprocate the depth of your feelings. Your hands shake as you reach out to him. If he would just… hold your hand like he used to, then maybe everything would be alright.

Your fingertips brush against each other. You feel the spark instantly, and it travels down your spine, leaving you wanting to touch him more.

“What about what I want?”

Anakin blinks several times before he speaks. It’s as if he didn’t consider your feelings in this decision. “You’re… not in a position to see things clearly. You’re—”

“Don’t say it!” you exclaim, squeezing your fists. “I’m not a child. I’m all grown up. And you know it. You see it.”

Anakin sighs a long time, his eyes scanning down your body. “Of course, I see it. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

Though you can never overpower him, you still try to force the door open. “Just let me in. We can talk. Just let me talk to you.”

Anakin’s frown is firm, and his stillness enforces that he’s not backing down. “I don’t know. If I let you in… if you cry… I’ll want to hold you. Then things might happen. I don’t know if I can control myself around you.”

Hugging yourself, you gaze upwards, into eyes that finally meet yours. His eyes reveal his mourning, his grief, his lust. It’s the latter that sends shivers through your body. The knowing that he wants you is more than you can take.

“I don’t want you to.”

There.

You said it.

You have told him exactly what you want. And if you hadn’t made it painfully obvious before, he knows now that you’re no longer thinking like a little girl.

Following a sigh of defeat, he backs away from the door, and you move in.

All the lights are off in his home. He must have been sitting in the dark like a vampire. The piano lid is open. He never left it open unless he was actively playing.

Anakin strides across the room to seat himself on the piano bench. He taps the spot next to him. “You’re right.... We should talk. Talk. Nothing more.”

Sitting beside him here feels like the most natural thing in the world. Here, you’re not afraid to speak from the heart. He’d never judge you even if he disagrees. But you’re not so sure he disagrees this time.

He wants you too.

“I couldn’t let you go back. I can’t believe you drove in the rain.”

You shrug. “It’s just rain. The storm hasn’t—”

The windows flash like they would in a horror flick, and thunder comes after. With a whimper, you grab onto his arm.

“I can drive you back home once we talk,” he says emotionlessly, gently pulling you off him.

But you double down and grab his arm, tugging him back again. “Don’t push me away.”

He doesn’t do it again. He stills. And sighs. “That’s the last thing that I want to do.”

With your chin resting on his sleeve, you look up at him, wide-eyed. “Just kiss me like you always do. And don’t think about it.” You stretch your arm out and fiddle with the top button of his dress shirt. “I’m not thinking.”

His chest rises and falls with his breaths. He doesn’t stop you as you unbutton his shirt.

When you rise on your knees, you’re at eye level. He’s so much bigger than you even now. He makes you feel so small. Holding onto his arm, you lean close and peck his clean-shaven cheek. He winces as if you pricked him with a needle.

“Angel, I shouldn’t.”

You kiss him again, closer to his lips, almost tasting him. “It’s me. Don’t you want me?”

Finally, he turns and looks in your eyes. Then at your mouth. “Don’t tell anyone. You... understand how this might look. What they might say about—”

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” you whisper. “What’s one more?”

You finish unbuttoning his shirt for him. Taking care of him feels good. You run your fingertips down his chest and his abdomen. His bare skin. It’s soft and warm. Suddenly, he grabs your wrist.

“Cold hands,” he murmurs. He takes your hands between them. He rubs his hands over your fast to warm them with friction.

“Sorry.”

Still rubbing your hands, he stands and leads you to the back of his grand piano near the flashing window.

Any other time, you would be trembling in fear because of the loud storm, but tonight you’re trembling because of the new feelings bubbling inside you. You’ve never been so aroused before.

“Can I hold you?” he says as pulls you into his embrace.

You can hear his steady heartbeat and feel it pumping right against your sensitive ear. Your piano teacher holds you against him and tangles his talented fingers in your hair. He sniffs your neck before taking a bite. His teeth pinch your flesh, and his tongue soothes you. The pain he leaves in several spots along your neck means that he’s marked you as his.

Your own heart is racing at lightning speed. You can’t think. In his arms, you’re helpless to his whims. You need him to tell you what to do. All you want is to please him.

“I’ll do anything,” you whisper to him so weakly you question if he hears you.

Anakin slowly unzips the back of your dress. “Consider this a teaching moment.” His voice doesn’t sound like it usually does. The undertones are sultry and possessive. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to—” He stops to pull down your dress, and his eyes wander over your pretty body. You wore transparent lace underwear and a matching bralette. He can see everything you hide from the rest of the world.

And he tells you, “You’re perfection.”

That makes you want to kiss him so badly. You try to lift yourself to reach his lips, but he’s too tall.

“Be patient,” he chides. “I want you to lay down first.” He guides you under the piano.

You lie down on your back atop the giant rug. Instantly, relaxation takes over as you remember all the times you used to lie here with him, hiding from the storm. Never did you think this would be the place where you’d give yourself to him. This must be meant to be.

He follows you after fully undressing. His body is every inch a man’s. His size makes you feel so small. He runs the risk of crushing you with his weight.

Lying on his side, he looks down at you, watching his own fingers running under the elastic of your lacy panties. “Take these off and spread your legs.” He whispers kisses to your cheek. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Nodding, you do as you’re told and wiggle out of your underwear. He snatches them from you and crunches them in his hands before throwing them over his shoulder. You proceed with fanning your legs open. The air is frigid as it touches you.

Anakin is looking where no one else has. “I’m so proud of you for waiting. Saving yourself just for me.”

You gasp as he kisses you between your legs. He kisses you there for a long time. It feels strange and wonderful. The feeling building inside you makes you moan and your toes curl. You feel so good your body aches. You hear your own heartbeat. You breathe but can’t find relief. Nothing soothes the need inside you but his mouth, his lips, his tongue. And before long you hit the breaking point, pleasure storming through your body from your place beneath him. Your cries are dampened by the thunderous sounds outside, but he hears you. He stops to look at your face. Making eye contact with him heightens the vulnerability of the situation. The intense way he looks at you burns. He notices every little change in your expression.

Anakin knows he made you feel good, but he still asks, “Did you like that?” He brushes the wild strands of hair away from your face. You know you’re precious to him. He sweetly kisses your forehead. “I like your taste.”

Your cheeks are seared by that comment. You cover your eyes, not wanting to let him see how he’s affecting you. “I did like it.”

“Do you want to do more?” He kisses your lips this time, and you taste yourself. “I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready!” you lift your head up and cup his cheek. “Don’t make me wait longer. I’m leaving tomorrow.” You bite your lip, knowing how dangerous what you’re about to say is because of who you’re saying it to. “Do you really want some college guy to be the one who gets me first?”

As if trying to reject the image you gave his mind, he closes his eyes and tightens his jaw. “No,” is his short answer. From the way his lips are pressed together, you know he wants to say more, but he’s saving you from his own selfish anger.

“Me either.” You rub his cheek with your thumb. “Anakin,” it feels right to call him by his first name instead of Mr. Skywalker, “I’ve waited for you. I always knew this would happen.”

He chuckles lightly. “I never gave you permission to use my name. Don’t forget—” he grunts as he slides two of his fingers between your slick folds and pushes them inside, “your manners, young one.”

These same fingers were the ones that rested atop yours when you were first learning to play piano. They pointed to the right key when you played the wrong note. They pointed to the sheet music to guide you along for all these years. They held your hands when they were cold.

And now he’s using them to teach you something new. But he’s just as skilled at fingering you as he is with music. You’re like his new instrument. He’s plucking all the right strings in just the right way to make you cry out for him. With your body pliant, he controls when you come. He doesn’t make you wait for it. He uses his thumb too and nudges until you come. It’s wetter than the last. And he instructs you to lick his fingers off when he’s done.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks again. “Don’t hate me for asking.” He hangs his head a little.

What he doesn’t understand is how insatiable he’s caused you to be. There were so many times you thought you might explode from how desperately you wanted him. But now it’s okay if that does happen.

“Keep going. Please,” you beg. You’re not ready to stop. You’ve waited for this moment since you were fourteen years old. If it were up to you, you’d live here forever.

“If that’s what you really want,” Anakin moves from lying at your side to settling himself between your legs.

“It is,” you reassure him. Holding onto his neck, you pull yourself up a bit. “Can you kiss me too?”

He grins before pushing you down, his large hand spread out over your soft stomach, and he chases your lips as you fall. You’re partially distracted by his mouth as his cock slides inside you. You had expected it to be more of a challenge, all things considered. Throughout high school, your friends always complained about how much it hurt their first time. Some girls bled too. And that had scared you, which is one of the reasons you never took Drew up on his many offers of a “good time.” Deep down you knew he wouldn’t treat you right. But Anakin clearly is experienced with having sex. Maybe he wasn’t as alone as you thought he had been all those years.

This being your very first time, it does sting when he fills you completely, his bony hips pressed against yours. You feel the tightness and the stretch. But you enjoy how it feels. You’re so close to passing out just because this is as close as you can get to someone.

Anakin rocks in and out slowly. Maybe he can feel that you’re tired. He’s being gentle with you despite how much he wants to rail your cunt to shreds. You can tell when he’s holding himself back. He has that weary, pained look in his rainy eyes. A part of you wants to tell him that it’s okay. Let go. But you both know that you couldn’t handle the full extent of his lust.

“Can I come inside you?” he asks before sinking his teeth into a bruise along your neck.

Short of breath, you answer, “I said... anything.”

“Okay,” his shaky voice whispers. He buries his face into the curve of your neck and moans your name into your skin. He pulls your hair gently as he finishes, his heat spreading through your core. It’s so much that you feel it leaking out.

After, he holds you there all night long. He doesn’t let you leave. And you wouldn’t want to escape.

The three words he says to you as you leave his house the morning after, you realize that he’s lied to you all the years you’ve known him.

The piano isn’t his only love or his only obsession.

It’s an outlet, and yet a mask for his sin nature which you understand more deeply than any other girl ever will.

He’s kept his real obsession hidden from everyone but you.

add yourself to my taglist!! @hanasnx @princessswifie @doblasftcisco @multifandermissesanakin @jadegmfu @coldkiss @mysteriouslydelightfulcloud @karei009 @anda-the-valkyrie @avoxzy @edclynns @ter-luer @anakinniesluv @purelevna @forets-noyees @anisgirl7 @reine-lalune @ssskywalkerrr @anakinsbbgirl @sweetcheesecakesblog @moonlight-kr @anonymous1996s @luvanaise @ziggystarduzzt @gwdnsqal @lonelywitchv2 @tembud @obsessedrebel @c-losur3 @just-here-to-readd @slut4ani @abaker74 @anakinbbg @ellebunnie @sandymorgan12 @ultraviolenceticket @emotionallybruisedx @ririszn @itsoneofusworld @pheonixfucu @kittycai @mushy-mushroom04 @crack240 @emotionallybruisedx

@universallypiratecolor

inbox me if you want to be removed from the taglist. ty

443 notes · View notes

miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Forget about him. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, virgin!reader, virginity loss, cheating, p in v sex, protected sex, get a glass of water, (sorry if I missed any.)

That hotel room service song by pitbull may have had a bit of influence on me. Good luck. Not edited!

You noticed the stares you gave each other the very day you walked off of the helicopter onto the base.

You were Laswell’s niece, and maybe that’s what drew him to you. Every time he looked at you, he seemed to have this dark look in his eyes and you always made eye contact. It seemed as if he was always looking at you. And it was true, he was.

You know what you feel is wrong.

These feelings that you have for your Captain, they’re not normal. Not when you’ve got a boyfriend anyways.

Your first couple months were normal. You and your Captain always made prolonged eye contact, it made your stomach swirl. He started smiling at you, giving you a small wave. Small waves turned into hanging out more, hanging out more led to more and more shared conversations-feelings. The more you got to know John, the more trouble you were getting yourself into. He put the both of you on watch together. You ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. You spent every free second you had talking to him.

When you first started, you spoke to your boyfriend every day. Every day turned to every other day. Every other day turned into a couple times a week. Now? Maybe he’d hear from you once a week.

John was aware of your boyfriend. And he didn’t have to meet him to know that he hated him. Because you were supposed to be his. But he knew he wasn’t completely in trouble, if he got close enough to you, if he pulled you away from him. Maybe you’d go for the older man. Or maybe he was delusional.

On watch one night, is when he made his first move. The both of you sitting up in the watch tower, completely alone, late at night. Talking about anything and everything. It was a perfect opportunity. You sat next to him, you’d made some kind of joke, his hand being placed in your thigh, it was innocent, to you. “You crack me up sweetheart.” He laughs.

You lean into him a little bit, making more small talk. When it’s perfect, he goes in for the kill. Leaning right into you and planting his lips right on yours. You freeze up for a second, not realizing what’s happening exactly. His hand slides further up your thigh and you kiss him back. Your brain screams at you. Every nerve ending in your body lighting on fire, a preview to hell for when you go there for being a cheater.

You pull away, standing up. Your eyes are wide. Lips plump and slightly pinker from his. “John.. I have a boyfriend.” You breathe. “I’m sorry.” He breathes. “I.. I don’t know what I was thinking.” You breathe. Hurrying out of the watch tower, he’d understand. The very moment you’re gone, John is smiling. You kissed him back, you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.

You rushed back to your room, opening up the door and closing it behind you. You take in a deep breath, sighing as you pull your phone out of your pocket. You have a couple missed calls from your boyfriend. A few text messages, but a couple messages take you off guard. They’re from someone named Erica.

Hey. Sorry to bother you. Is this your boyfriend? *attached image*

Your eyes narrow as you read across the screen.

Yeah, what’s going on?

I’m really sorry. We’ve been sleeping together for a couple weeks and I had no idea he had a girlfriend.

Your stomach falls. You felt bad for kissing John. You were going to tell him. No matter the consequences you were going to be honest.

Thanks for telling me.

You shake your head. Now what?

You hear footsteps coming toward your room, and you recognize them immediately. They’re John’s. You notice his shadow by your door for a while. Something sliding underneath your door. You swallow hard, waiting for him to back off before gently walking over to pick it up.

Folded in half is a note. You swallow hard as you read it.

I know you feel what I feel. I’ll be at the hotel on 5th street tomorrow. Room 312. If you feel what I feel, you’ll be there. 8pm. -price.

You lay back on your bed, clenching your eyes shut.

What were you going to do?

—

Your nerves are completely shot as you head up the elevator. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you can barely take it.

What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here. Your lower stomach clenches up and you take in a deep breathe. The elevator opens up, and you step out. Turning the corner and making your way down the hallway. The red and gold designed carpet is stiff under your shoes, you can see the door.

Room 312

You stand outside for a second. Taking in a deep breath. Once you knock, you know there’s no going back. You raise your hand, hesitating a second before knocking quietly at the door. It opens pretty quickly, and your Captain looks back at you. He stands to the side, letting you come inside. “Hey.” He takes in a sharp breath. Following behind you as you walk into the room. He sits down on the edge of the hotel bed. Legs spread apart, his hands resting in his lap. “I didn’t think you’d come.” He breathes. Your eyes flash to his jeans, how tight they are on his big thighs, he’s fit. Obviously for being in the military. His thighs are large, his jeans squeeze around them. You clench your eyes closed.

You bite your lip nervously. “To be honest? I didn’t think I would either.” You laugh. You’re clutching at the strap of the backpack you have. He can see you’re nervous.

“You don’t have to do this.. you can always go back.” He breathes.

Your brain is foggy, your boyfriend is probably at home, asleep. He’s thinking you’re asleep or on watch. You shake your head. “I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.” You avoid his gaze. He stands up, taking a few steps closer to you. He reaches out, grasping your backpack and pulling it off of you. He sets it down on the chair, pushing your hair behind your ear. Rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re a good girl.” He breathes. “Regardless of how you feel or.. if you think what you’re doing is wrong.. you’re still a good girl.” He breathes, clutching a handful of your hair at the nape of your neck. “He’s stupid to be playing a girl like you, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you.” He sighs. Cupping your other cheek, pressing his forehead to yours. Your body is warm, the buzzing you hear in your ears is loud. You can’t stand it anymore, you need him.

You sigh into him, he can feel your warm breath on his face.

“I don’t know what to do Captain. This feels wrong.” You sigh. “Because.. in a way.. it is wrong.” He sighs. Pulling away from you. “Even if he cheated first.. you’re still cheating.”

“I just need a minute.” You breathe. Snagging your phone and going into the bathroom. You clutch handfuls of your hair, frustrated at what you’re feeling. He’s hurt you so bad, you don’t like him anymore. So why are you hesitant?

Your phone buzzing brings you out of your thoughts.

“Hey.”

You feel tears filling your eyes, you shouldn’t be here, but you shouldn’t be there either.

“Hi.”

You lie.

“Everything okay?”

“No.”

“What’s going on?”

“I know about Erica.”

It takes him a few minutes before he starts typing a reply.

“Please come home so we can talk about this in person.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Don’t do anything irrational please. I know how you are, you need to come home.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It was just a couple months. She meant nothing to me Y/N. We just.. you know. You’re a virgin and I have needs that need to be fulfilled.”

Your eyes widen. A couple months?

“How long?”

“Y/N…”

“How long?”

“Almost a year.”

After a few minutes of you sitting there, your phone starts to blow up. He’s calling and messaging. Begging you to come home. Begging you to see him, meet up with him. So you answer it as you open up the bathroom door, looking up at John as the words leave your mouth.

“Y/N. Please just hear me out-“

“I answered to say that I understand.” You breathe, pupils blown wide as you stare at John. He’s waiting nervously.

“You do?”

“Of course, everyone has needs. I have needs to be fulfilled. Which is why I’m not on base right now. I’ll have someone come by, to get my things. We’re done.”

You throw the phone down, stepping toward your Captain. “I have to be honest before we do anything.” You sigh, looking down. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never had sex.” You sigh. “That’s alright.” He laughs. “I’ll be gentle with you. But only if you’re sure.” He tugs at the hem of your shirt, toying with the belt loop on your jeans. “Yeah, I’m sure.” You breathe. “That’s a good girl..” he breathes. He grasps the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. Once it’s off, he’s kissing you. You feel him melt right into you. Moaning into your lips. Finally, after those months of dreaming about you, you’re right here.

You don’t have a bra on, his fingers moving to dance over your nipples, his hands are warm against you. You know this is right, you were meant to be here, you’d made the right decision.

When you pull away from him, he can see that you’re getting overwhelmed by his touch. You’re breathing hard and all of the blood has rushed to your lips and cheeks. Your cheeks are flushed bright. Deep breathes leaving your lips. “You alright?” He asks. “Y-yeah. Yeah. I’m just really turned on.” You laugh, blushing even more. He can’t help but smile. “It’s alright. I’ll give you what you need.” He mumbles.

He reaches for your waistband, popping the button in your jeans, unzipping them and tugging them down your legs. Helping you step out of them. He glides his fingertips up your thighs, looping his fingers under the hand of your panties, tugging them down your legs too. You’ve never been so turned on in your life. “This will be our little secret, yeah? Nobody has to know.” He breathes. You nod your head, eyes fixed on his. He pushes you back onto the bed and you move yourself up it. Watching him pull his own shirt over his head. Unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down. Once he’s fully exposed to you, he’s moving up the bed. Moving himself between your legs. He’s got something in his hand which you realize pretty quickly is a condom. He clutches it tight, kissing you more. Attacking your nipples with his lips, sucking gently at your skin until you’re whining. You tilt your head back, staring up a the ceiling. You don’t know how on earth you’ve gotten into this situation. You’ve never felt so good.

He tears the packet open, sliding the circle out before tossing the empty packet onto the nightstand. He rolls the condom over the tip of his cock, rolling it down his shaft until it’s snug on him. “You ready?” He asks. You nod your head eagerly. Making him smile. “It might hurt… just for a second.” He breathes. You nod your head. “You can always stop me. You can still leave.” He breathes. You shake your head. “Please just fuck me, John.” You scoot into him further, hearing him chuckle. “Alright baby.” He moves closer, brushing his tip over your clit, feeling you jump away from him. Earning a deep laugh from him. He presses his tip into your entrance, pushing into you slowly. The lube from the condom helps him slide into you. You grip the blanket on the hotel bed tight, face scrunching up slightly. “Almost there..” he sighs. Feeling you squeezing around him. “Doing so good- so close.” He breathes. He can feel beads of sweat growing at his hairline, his body feels like it’s on fire.

If Laswell ever found out about this, John is dead.

“There we go.” He breathes. He’s filled you up to the hilt, your body is stiff. “Try to relax. M’gonna move now okay?” You nod your head, keeping your eyes closed. “I know it hurts darling.” He breaths. He hovers over you. Grasping your hands and pinning them above your head. “But it’ll feel so good once you’re used to me. Just relax.” He breathes. He draws his hips back, pushing himself back into you. A cry leaves your lips and he muffles you by kissing you. Thrusting his hips up into yours. He can feel tears on your eyelashes as you kiss him. “Shh.. it’s alright.” He moves himself back, letting go of your hands. He lowers his hand, resting his thumb on your clit, putting a slight amount of pressure on it. You shake slightly, letting your body get used to him. You finally open your eyes, looking down. You can see him slide out of you, thrusting back inside.

You hear him laugh. “See that lovie?” He breathes. You nod your head. “You gave me your virginity.” A gasp leaves your lips as he presses again your clit harder, circling it faster. You’re getting used to him. Lifting your thighs up and holding them apart for him, getting a better look at him. You’re panting, “you’re going so deep.” You whine, looking up at him. He bites his lip slightly. “Yeah. You’re doing so good for me.” He lowers himself down so that he can kiss you again. His lips are soft against yours. He latches onto your bottom lip with his teeth, tugging at it gently. His body feels good against yours. He’s overwhelming you. You’re panting hard and he can’t help but notice, smiling down at you. “Hey. Look at me.” He grasps your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. “Relax alright? Don’t need you passing out on me now.” He smiles, still lazily rocking his hips into you. You nod your head. “Yes sir.” Hearing him laugh.

“Still obey me even off duty.” He shakes his head. He lowers his head down, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, hearing you whine. “John- it feels so good.” You grit your teeth. Eyes filling with tears. He smirks down at you. “Yeah? You feeling good now?” He chuckles. You nod your head, tears spilling out of your eyes. He’s keeping a steady pace, rocking his hips into that one spot that he knows how to find so easily. He’s going to make you fall apart beneath him. He knows you, he knows what you’ll like. He’ll treat you so much better than that stupid boyfriend of yours ever did. He brushes your hair out of your face. “You’re too overwhelmed. Relax into me. Just give yourself to me.” He breathes. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, continuing to reassure you as he pushes you closer and closer to the brink of pure bliss. Your thighs shake, he keeps you pinned down between him and the mattress beneath you. “It feels so good.. I.. I-“ a cry leaves your lips. Sobbing as you reach your high. “That’s it. Give yourself to me.” He mumbles, kissing you again to muffle your moans. He grits his teeth, clutching hard onto the mattress as he finishes into the condom. He can’t help it as he ruts his hips into you harder than he intends. “Oh fuck-“ he gasps. His arms flex as he clutches at the sheets. You swallow hard, unable to move or talk.

He slides off of you, moving to go clean up.

You slip your clothes back on while he’s in the bathroom, staring at anything. Still in complete disbelief of the events of tonight. Not only had you broken up with your boyfriend, but you had sex with your Captain. You’re staring down at your hands as you wait. Sitting on the edge of the bed. He emerges from the bathroom, fully dressed once more. Moving to sit down next to you. “Are you alright?” He asks. You nod your head, eyes still fixated on your hands. “Yeah. Just.. shocked is all I guess.” You mumble. “It’s alright. It’ll start to fade out.” He chuckles. “Uh.. yeah.” You laugh nervously. “Should we head back to base? We have watch in about an hour..” you laugh. “Yeah. Probably.” He smiles. He moves closer. “Hey. I hope I didn’t push you into anything.” He sighs. “No. No you didn’t. I wanted this.” You laugh. He nods his head. The both of you getting ready to sneak out, leave your keycards in the front desk drop box.

—

It’s been a couple weeks, and John wants to talk to you. But you’ve been avoiding him like crazy and he can’t seem to corner you anywhere.

He’s ready to just face it, walk right into your room when he knows you’re in there. But on the way there, he runs right into Kate. “Hey John. I’ve got a couple questions about the upcoming mission. Let’s go into your office.” She crosses her arms. He nods. “Of course.” He smiles. Leading her down the hallway. He opens up his door, stepping inside. He flicks the light on, Kate walks around to his chair. Crossing her arms. She sighs. “I know about what happened between you and Y/N.” She’s got her back to him. He clears his throat. “What are you talking about?” He leans forward. She turns around, facing him finally. “I know that you had sex with her.” She purses her lips. He stays quiet. “I noticed she was acting a little different, her little boyfriend she’s been seeing asked me to check up on her, said he hadn’t heard from her in a while. So I looked at her phone. Went into her room and found this.” She throws the little note he’d written to you onto his desk.

“Laswell that’s a massive invasion of privacy.” He stands up. “Yeah. And you’re also in your forties John. What the hell were you thinking?” She puts her head in her hands. He shakes his head. “I was thinking that I like her. And now I’m thinking I regret nothing.” He sighs. “What do you want me to say?”

“I just.. you made her break up with her boyfriend John. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I didn’t make her do anything Kate. He cheated on her and she broke up with him. If you’d really gotten her phone like you said you did, you’d know that.” You narrows his eyes. She groans. “I can’t believe you.” She sighs. “She’s on the next flight off of this base, and you can be the first to go tell her.” He shakes his head. “No.” He’s stern.

“No?” She asks. “Y/N is a consenting adult. She’s on my task force. My jurisdiction.” He shrugs. “You could lose your job. John.” She grits her teeth. “Oh well.”

“You’re a Captain and you’re going to throw it all away over a girl?”

He shakes his head. “She’s not ‘just’ a girl, Kate. She’s a fully grown woman, who I happen to care a lot about. I’m sorry if you don’t like that, but I want her close by so that I can take care of her. Because I love her.” He sits down. Seeing her clench her eyes closed.

“Jesus Christ.” She mumbles.

She turns her back to him. “How the fuck did this happen?” She sighs.

“I knew it the day she stepped onto this base.” He sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for going behind your back. But.. she’s.. god. I swear that girl is my best friend.” He sighs.

“I’m furious with you John.” She sighs. “I’m not happy that you went behind my back, that you’ve put her into this position. And she’s been avoiding you like the plague so you need to fix this. She can stay on this base for now, but if something goes wrong and she looses her job, or ANYTHING happens to her, I’ll have your head Price.” She flares. “You understand me?”

He nods his head. “Loud and clear.” He mumbles. “Now go make this right.” She sighs.

He stands up, disappearing out of his office. He makes his way into the mess hall where everyone should be having dinner. Making his way up to Soap where he stood with the rest of his task force. “Hey. You guys seen Y/N?” He asks. “Uhhh. Yeah. She was just over at the fridge.” Soap nods. John looks over, eyes locking with yours. You rush out of the room quickly and he’s quick to go after you. Trying not to make it obvious. You go to close your door behind you, but he stops it with his hand. You step back. He steps inside, closing the door behind him. “You can’t avoid me forever, darling.”

His back rests up against your door and your eyes clench shut at his nickname. You turn your back to him. Setting your tray down on your nightstand. “I’m sorry.” You mumble. “What’s going on? I thought we were okay.”

You sigh. “We are okay. I just.. you told me it was a secret. So I thought it was a one time thing.” You sigh.

“I.. I didn’t really want it to be a one time thing.” He mumbles. You turn to him. “What?”

He crosses his arms, laughing. “Course not. I like you. I just.. thought maybe you’d change your mind or something else would happen.” He shrugs. “No.. I.. I didn’t want it to be a one time thing either.” You mumble.

“Good. So you can stop avoiding me and let me see that pretty smile.” He smiles. “Oh.. and uh.. it’s not really a secret anymore.” He mumbles. “What?” Your eyes widen. “Kate.. she uh.. went through your things. And your phone. She found this.” He holds up the note. “She what?” You narrow your eyes. He sees the way your face changes. You snatch it from his hand, grasping the door handle and ripping the door open. “Wait- Y/N.” He tries to stop you but rush right down to his office where you know she is. “What the hell is this?” You seethe as you step inside. “You told her?”

“I didn’t think she’d be mad!” John shrugs. “Maybe you should tell me what that is?”

Your voices being raised gathers others at the doorway. “Maybe I shouldn’t because it’s my goddamn business Kate. You went through my stuff? And my phone? I came here to get away from that.” You hiss. “Y/N- come on honey.” John reaches for your arm but you shrug him off. “Y/N. You’re not thinking right.”

“Oh, I’m thinking just fine. I’m a grown woman, who deserves privacy. And if I want to risk my job by fucking my Captain, I will.”

Everyone who’s standing outside of his office has wide eyes, mouths open wide. “You’re not my mom and you promised you would leave this alone.” You growl. “You clearly can’t handle it!” Kate throws her hands up. “Because you’re always breathing down my back. I’m a grown woman. No more of this Kate. No fucking more.” You growl. “Okay. I’m sorry I went through your stuff Y/N. But I worry about you.” She sighs. “I understand that. But if I have something seriously wrong, I promise I will come to you about it. But you have to give me a little bit space sometimes. For christs sake, I’m in the military putting my life on the line and this is where you draw the line?” You breathe. “Alright, no more of this. We’re taking a walk, we’ll come back to this later.” John pushes you back, hearing you sigh in frustration. “Everyone please go back to your posted chores please!” He calls.

“Christ in heaven you’re sexy when you’re going off.” He mumbles in your ear, hearing you laugh.

“You’ve got it had John.” You mumble. “Yeah. Maybe I do. But that’s something we can talk about after I’ve fucked you, hm?” He smiles, pushing you back toward your room.

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #john price x reader #john price #captain johnathan price

852 notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 3 months

Text

Favorite Place

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Your family sucks, and Frank is there to pick up the pieces.

warnings: non-specific descriptions of difficult family, swearing, Frank being a sweetheart

a/n: I’m basing this off of my daydream from Saturday, my exhausting week, and the amazing song “Favorite Place” by Humbear. Some sweet Frankie feels for you all.

w/c: 2.5k

“From the day I met you, you’ve been mine. Loving you is my favorite place to be.”

The denim of his jeans chafed against the pad of his finger as it tapped over the fabric aimlessly. He was restless. Waiting impatiently as the current of people ebbed and flowed through the cavernous hallways. An endless stream of weary travelers, not a glimpse of you among them.

You’d told him to stay home. That your flight was late and it wasn’t worth the loss of sleep. That you could catch a cab back to your place. That you were fine on your own. And while Frank would rather swallow rusty nails than leave you to fend for yourself in the JFK airport on a good day, he was damned sure you’d need him when that plane landed after this week.

He’d asked to come with you. Gotten closer to begging than he’d come in years. But you’d smiled a bit sadly, shaking your head while you told him it was too much trouble. He had things he needed to do this week in New York. You would never demand that he drop all of that and accompany you to a party full of people that neither of you knew, who expected you to wait on them hand and foot as if you were hosting the thing, who would make comments intended to sting while they smiled innocently and pretended not to know better.

It was torture. Watching you jump through the same hoops, trying your best to please your family when you both knew it was impossible. You’d made great strides in self-advocacy since you’d met Frank, distancing yourself from them and standing your ground, but your sister’s engagement party was different. He could see it in your eyes: you needed to be there for her. And, because of his shit luck, he couldn’t be at your side as you waded through the pain.

He loved your kind heart. But that meant it hurt all the more to watch it get broken by the assholes who raised you.

Which is how he found himself next to the towering wall of windows on the arrival side of JFK at all hours on a random Tuesday. Silently hoping that it had gone miraculously well. That you hadn’t been desperately wishing he’d been your back up because going to the damn thing stag made it harder to cope with their games. That you’d felt loved and appreciated, like you deserved.

The pit of doubt in his gut fluttered at the idea. Mocking him as his mind wandered down the least-likely path.

Craning his neck around the corner, Frank’s eyes flicked between the nearest TV screen and the flow of people tumbling out of your designated gate. Your flight was on time, he’d been tracking it all day. The time on the screen read 3:26 a.m. Twenty minutes post landing.

“C’mon doll.” He muttered under his breath, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he grew increasingly restless. “Where are you?”

He held his breath, finger still hammering across the rough fabric covering his thigh, until finally—FINALLY—he spotted the top of your head.

Bobbing slowly out of the doorway and through the maze of connected stanchions towards the exit, your crown inched closer and closer to him, still shrouded in a sea of other passengers. As the herd began to disperse, they revealed you.

Your posture was hunched, and even from his distance he could tell you were a bit haggard. You rubbed a fist against your left eye, wearily stumbling forward, completely oblivious of your audience. Frank straightened up, hands instinctively sliding into his pockets to make himself look approachable, not wanting to startle you as he gingerly stepped into your path.

Your chin tipped up, face still slack with fatigue, but after a moment your eyes flashed with recognition. Hobbling forward a bit faster under the weight of your backpack, you met Frank halfway—his footsteps lengthening as the urge to sweep you into a hug overpowered him. When he was within reach, your arms unlatched from your sides, stretching towards his hips feebly as your face crumpled.

In one swift motion, he had you safely encircled by his arms, barely needing any strength to tug you both out of the flow of traffic so you could have a moment to process. Tucking you against his body, his hands slid under the straps of your bag, gently removing it from around your shoulders and setting it on the ground to lean against his calf. Once the literal burden had been lifted, he splayed a palm over your upper back, rubbing back and forth as your breaths became shallow.

“You’re here.” You murmured, your voice cracking with immense relief and gratitude.

“Course I am, sweetheart.” Frank hummed, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Cabs ain't cheap these days. Makes more sense this way.”

You undoubtedly saw through his attempt to pretend he hadn’t worried about you every minute you were gone, but you didn’t call him out. Instead, you shuddered beneath his touch, a watery mumble tickling his chest. “Thank you.”

“Anythin’ for you, honey.” He promised, cradling your head as you pulled away from him slightly. Your hips were still parallel, your fragile form secured in his hold, but you tilted your face to meet his. His heart clenched painfully as he took in the shadows beneath your glassy eyes. “How was the trip?”

If he wasn’t already damn sure you were overwhelmed, the clouding of tears in your eyes would’ve signaled your condition. You weren’t one to cry in front of strangers—it had taken him months to reassure you that it was alright to cry in front of him in the safety of your own apartment. If you were so easily brought to tears in public, you’d had a beyond terrible week.

“Oh, honey,” Frank whispered, his own eyes prickling in sympathy as you dove back into his chest. “You’re alright darlin'. I gotcha. You’re back home now.”

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled, your words muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t mean to..I’m sorry.”

Frank's chest squeezed uncomfortably as your voice shrunk with the apology. He felt a flash of anger deep in his stomach as he registered the fear in your words. What had those bastards done to you? “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart. It’s why I came.”

“I’m so tired, Frank.” You whimpered, heaving in an indelicate breath in an attempt to regain your quickly fleeting composure.

Shushing you softly, Frank clasped you as close to his chest as he could before his grip went lax. With the tip of his thumb, he brushed away the lines of tears over your pretty face, his brow kneading together with concentration. “I betcha are, doll. It’s late. Let’s get you home and in bed, yah?”

More tears began to slip over your cheeks as you nodded miserably. Bending your knees, your body tilted as a trembling hand shot out for the handle of your carry on. Huffing a laugh, Frank snatched the bag up, throwing it over his own shoulder with a shake of his head. “I got it, honey. You just focus on you right now.”

Your bottom lip jutted out as your eyes overflowed with tears of appreciation. “I love you.”

His heart swelled with affection. Planting a firm kiss to your forehead, he let your faces rest together for a beat. “I love you too. Whatcha say, you ready to get outta this hellhole?”

His joke had the intended effect. You chuckled weakly, nodding and leaning into his side so he could lead you out of the building. Though you were more than capable of handling yourself, Frank couldn’t help but become more confident in his decision to ignore your excuses and meet you at the gate as the two of you roamed the airport. You were bleary eyed, clutching his hand meekly and stifling yawns as he found the path to freedom—clearly more than willing to let someone else take the reins for a bit. Frank trusted you to navigate, that was never the issue. He was just happy he could take something else off your poor shoulders on the trek home.

It took far too long to escape the airport, hail a taxi, schlep through the endless traffic of the city streets, and usher you up the steps of your building and into your apartment. But you both made it. Eventually.

Your place was tidy and dark—the outcome of a deliberate effort on your part to take care of all the housework prior to your departure. At least your former self had thought ahead, making sure your exhausted future form wouldn’t also have a pile of dishes to attend to. Once you’d stepped across the threshold into your cozy home, your posture collapsed. You grew impossibly small, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth as you scrubbed a hand over your face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed, hm?” Frank’s hand grazed your lower back as he encouraged you forward towards your cramped bathroom. A wave of fondness blossomed in his gut as you sleepily nodded, shuffling forward towards the edge of the sink. You flicked the lights on, flinching briefly at the burst of white light from above the mirror. As you cranked the faucet on, Frank tangled his fingers with yours, twisting them carefully away from the basin.

Tsking softly, Frank lowered the lid of the toilet with his free hand, nodding to the porcelain seat when you looked at him quizzically. “I got it. Sit your sweet ass down for a minute.”

You snorted a laugh, but didn't protest. Frank gave you a once over as you began to lounge, satisfied as your posture unraveled with a tinge of relief. He squeezed your fingers, bending to press a kiss to your knuckles before dropping your hand to retrieve a washcloth from the linen closet.

The stream of water began to steam against the cool ceramic of the sink. Dipping the cotton towel beneath the water, Frank wrung out the escess moisture before bringing it to your face. With two calloused fingers, he tilted your head up, a tiny smile curving his lips when your eyes closed instinctively.

You were so vulnerable like this. Tired and emotional, baring your pristine neck to him in a massive display of trust. He regularly questioned your relationship for this very reason. After everything he'd done, dousing his hands in the blood of dozens of men, you still trusted him innately. You felt safe with him. You loved him. Whether or not he thought he deserved it.

You were his constant. And he'd be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to make you feel loved right back.

Swiping the warm cloth over your face as tenderly as he could, Frank carefully lifted your chin, positioning it at different angles so he could wipe your face clean of the grime that always seemed to accompany travel. Cupping your cheek, he stroked a thumb beneath your eye as a droplet fell, feeling parallel agony as your brow pinched in an effort to keep your feelings at bay.

“Let it out, sweet girl. It's just me.” He whispered, free hand refreshing the washcloth with a new rush of water.

A sob burst out of you, rocking you forward in his hold. The pained sound echoed off the tile in the room, closing in on the two of you as you bit your lip to stop another gasping cry. Scrunching your eyes ferociously, you shook your head, your chest beginning to tremble with effort as you held everything in.

Kneeling in front of you, Frank tossed the washcloth over his shoulder, not giving a single shit that the dampness began to transfer to his clothes. Cupping your face gently, he brushed away stray tears and murmured your name in an attempt to compel your eyes back open. “Stop holding it in, sweetheart. That ain't helpin' anyone.”

“It-It's stupid.” You choked out, lashes fluttering as your eyes opened again, gaze downcast with shame.

“Don't say that, darlin'.” Frank chastised, his words lacking any heat. “It ain't--”

“It is!” You objected, your voice tearing over the statement. “I do this every fucking time, Frank. I think it'll be better, I expect them to be mature or whatever and when they aren't I let it get to me. And then you're stuck with this..this mess,” You gestured to your puffy, shining face, looking at him miserably. “And you have to take care of me because I'm too fucking weak to stand up for myself or just leave.”

“Stop that.” Keeping his voice low, he allowed it to sound a bit more firm, not appreciating the way your brain was misdirecting all the blame to your own beautiful conscience. “You're not weak.”

You scoffed in disbelief, turning your head to stare at the wall. He called your name softly. “You're not weak, darlin'. Say it back to me.”

Your lips pressed together in a tight line, your aggravatingly endearing stubborn side making an appearance. Drawing a curved line over one cheek bone, Frank raised an eyebrow at you expectantly and you deflated. “I'm not weak.” You mumbled, tone conveying your skepticism.

“You're kind, and thoughtful, and determined.” Frank explained, eyes boring into yours, searching for the doubt you definitely held. “And, while they don't deserve you, I understand why you care so much, honey. They're your family. It don't matter that their assholes, you're gonna love 'em anyway.”

Nodding in agreement, your bottom lip quivered. “That's stupid.”

Frank chuckled, tugging your face into his neck so he could scratch the back of your head. “Maybe. But it's how it is, ain't it?“

He took your silence as confirmation.

”I ain't sayin' it's fair, darlin'. The guy upstairs is a special kind of evil for putting my girl through all this when she cares so much about everyone else.“ You burrowed further into Frank's neck with a small whine, not sure how to handle the praise. ”Your heart's just too big, honey. It's easier for them to get under your skin.“

”Too easy.“ You groused, lips tickling the junction between his throat and shoulder.

“That's ok, sweetheart. Because I'll always be here. Anytime you need me to hold ya, or to put someone in their place. Just say the word.” He vowed.

“Thank you,” You exhaled, mewling in appreciation as he draped the washcloth over your nape.

Twisting to kiss your forehead, he pulled you fully into his lap on the bathroom floor. “Always, babygirl. Now let me finish cleaning you up and we can lie in bed while you tell me all about it.”

He couldn't fix your family, no matter how much he wished he could. But he fully intended to remind you that he always had your back when things got tough.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase

#frank castle #the punisher #marvel #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle imagine #the punisher imagine #the punisher x reader #nmcu #jon bernthal #fc #my writing

228 notes · View notes

strawberries-and-racing · 1 year

Text

i wanna be yours - mv1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

requests that came together and inspired this series:

• nsfw prompts 9-13 (in pt. 2)

• 'listen up. Obsessive possessive crazy max for sweet innocent reader smut.'

• 'ok so we need dark FICS of any driver of your choice but make him very obsessive and possessive and don't forget the smut. Keep it up girlllll!!!'

summary: a lot of tension building between possessive max and sweet y/n.

warnings: alcohol consumption, fluff, slightly crazy max, some cliches (im sorry!) also the title is based off the arctic monkeys song because i felt like the vibes matched also i love arctic monkeys💕

a/n: screaming once again!!! this is the first fluff ive posted and it's part 1/2. the next part has the smut as promised but i wanted to take my time and build this up please enjoy🙏

the flight to the UK was long, but well worth it. two months ago you'd been offered an unbelievable opportunity.

an opportunity you'd been dreaming of for years, one you'd spent what felt like an eternity working towards— an engineering internship. not just any internship, one with the red bull formula one team.

you'd be able to travel with the team, shadow the engineers, help with various tasks around the paddock, and design parts at hq. an absolute dream.

after scouring a thousand real estate websites, you'd finally found the perfect place for to live.

a little 1 bed 1 bath apartment, tucked into a beautiful, quaint little neighbourhood. just 30 mins to the red bull hq.

you'd dedicated many late nights and ikea shopping trips to making the apartment your own. your comfortable escape from the grueling hours of studying and pressures of the internship.

you led a busy life, but it never bothered you. you adored what you did and formula one had been your passion since you were a little girl.

and now everything was falling into place. in fact, tommorrow you'd leave to attend your first race with the team. austria. red bulls home race.

you were ecstatic to say the least.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you hurriedly made your way through the paddock and into the red bull garage. your eyes glued to the schedule on top of the pile of papers in your arms.

you were on your way to assist one of the senior engineers in preparation before the race began.

you were nervous, and it was no help that you weren't exactly sure where you were supposed to be meeting him.

suddenly, you stumble over your own feet and bump into someone.

you feel hands on your shoulders, their grasp firm, steadying you.

you look up and are taken aback by the pair of strikingly blue eyes staring back at you. his eyes were the kind of crystal blue that would capture anyones attention. but despite their bright colour, they had a sort of inexplicable depth, darkness to them.

there was something in his expression that you couldn't quite read. something stirring beneath the surface of his icy gaze. it was as though he wasn't just looking at you, but into you.

you abruptly become aware of his hands, still on your shoulders. you're so oddly aware of them, as if it's your first time being touched by anyone.

he holds you firmly, as if trying to hold you together. the moment seemed to last forever. the two of you frozen in time.

a stranger's eye contact and touch shouldn't be affecting you in this way.

"you okay?"

it's only once he speaks that you realize who the man standing in front of you is.

your eyes widen, cheeks flushing. you straighten up quickly, mouth slightly agape.

"oh'" you start, at a loss for words "yeah, im sorry." you manage a small smile.

you straighten up an take a step backwards, pulling away from his grasp. you miss the warmth of his hands more than you'd ever like to admit.

"it's okay, no worries," his eyes linger on you a moment longer before you both go your separate ways.

as you walk away, you cant help but glance back at him.

max verstappen.

you'd certainly heard him speak before on tv, but something about his accent in person was enchanting. his energy seemed to linger on you like perfume.

everything about him caught your attention, long before you'd bumped into him in person.

you'd seen his dominance on track, it was impossible not to notice. he could control the car like no other driver, handling each corner perfectly. he pushed the car to the limit every race and it payed off.

it wasn't just his driving you noticed. his persona. it was everything. and you couldn't ignore the fact that it was sexy.

his short temper, his tendency to snap easily.

it was unreasonably and indescribably attractive.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

the next time you see him he's across the room. you're studying the notes that the senior engineer gave you, papers and writing utensils spread across the table in front of you.

he was discussing something with his race engineer, he certainly wasn't doing anything that was particularly interesting or peculiar, he wasn't even looking in your direction. but for fucks sake you were distracted. you were somehow absorbed by his prescence.

ever since bumping into him you couldn't seem to get him out of your head. last night you'd replayed the memory over and over in your mind, finding it more difficult than usual to fall asleep.

all day, you'd silently prayed you would bump into eachother again. your relentless efforts to push your thoughts and feelings to the back of your mind were useless.

the mere idea of him was addictive, so alluring. he was drug-like to you and impossible to ignore.

although it was unknown to you at the time, max had found himself similarly hooked on you. or rather, the thought of you. even though he found enough strength to avoid looking at you, he was well aware of you. sitting at the table in the furthest corner. he was even more aware of the fact that your eyes kept flickering in his direction.

your energy was unlike anything he had ever known. you walked around with an aura of pure innocence. yet you seemed untouchable.

your smile shone. your laugh was contagious. you radiated sunshine. max had come to know these things about you.

you were magnetic in such a way that made him curious.

it stirred something inexplicable inside him. like you were another thing for him to win, to claim. another thing for him to dominant. to corrupt.

your innocence was tangible. and max wanted to be the one to wreck you. it was all he thought about.

ruining you.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

the light in your apartment was soft. that's how you preferred it.

you relished your alone time. your small apartment was tailored exactly to you. it was always where you felt perfectly safe and at ease.

light from the sunset was just beginning to spill through your windows. you're stirring a big pot of soup on the stove with lazy motions.

a buzz from your phone catches your attention, the screen lights up and you see a new message. it's from andrew, one of the young engineers at red bull who you'd grown close with over the past few months.

your eyes widen upon reading the message.

a dinner with drivers? you couldn't deny that it sounded exciting.

but then again, you were already in your pajamas and the soup was beginning to steam.

you suck in a breath.

fuck.

the three letters of his name were more than enough to change your answer.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you spent half your time getting ready frantically choosing an outfit.

finally, you'd settled on your favorite black dress. your hair fell over your shoulders in soft curls left over from the day before.

now, you were standing outside the restaurant. you take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves.

you walk in and the hostess greets you with a friendly smile. you're led to a booth connected to a big table that's only half full.

andrew waves you over and you take a seat next to him in the booth. lando sits across from you.

youd never spoken with lando outside of strictly professional context and you were pleasantly surprised by his charming humor. you're engrossed in the conversation with the two boys as the rest of the group fills the table. you look up to greet the others.

your breath hitches when you see him. his eyes stare into yours with the same intensity as they had two days ago. you don't break the eye contact until he sits down and a dark haired boy you've never seen before calls his name.

despite the abrupt rush of blood to your head, you manage to hold up the conversation with lando.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

max couldn't keep his eyes off you for long, and the longer he watched the tighter his grip got on his glass, until his knuckles turned white. he was so focused on you laughing and smiling with lando that he didn't pick up on the way you fidgeted with your ring. a nervous tell.

max clenched his jaw as you leaned in close to something lando said. far closer than what many would deem an action between two casual friends. your giggles and blushing and landos knowing smirk and your hand jokingly smacking his arm made max see red.

"you alright, mate?"

"im fine."

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

as the night goes on and the chatter and laughter get louder, people begin shuffling around, moving to talk with new people.

lando is called over to a different group of friends and andrew leaves with him, leaving you alone in the booth.

"having fun?"

you recognize his voice immediately, sense his burning presence as he slides into the booth, sitting next to you.

"yeah." you manage a smile. "the food was really good."

"that's good." he says, briefly glancing away. your eyes involuntarily trace over the tendons of his neck.

he was wearing a dark button down, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. simple, but ridiculously sexy.

he turns his eyes back onto you. "i didn't know you were gonna be here."

"oh i—" you hesitate for a second, his eyes making your heart skip a beat.

"andrew invited me." you explained, turning slightly so you could face him.

"mm, so are you..." he gestures between you and andrew a few seats down, you know what hes asking.

"oh no, we're just friends." you toy with the edge of your napkin.

it was a bold topic to bring up during a first conversation to say the least, but it didn't feel weird. there wasn't the usual tension, usual coldness that typically came with talking to someone for the first time. it was comfortable, you were able to relax a little.

"hm." is all max answers with. he spreads his legs slightly and pushes his hips forwards, getting comfortable. his leg brushing against yours.

the casual action had your heart thrumming in your ears, beating so loudly you're worried he can hear it.

you swallow, having to glance away. you feel your cheeks turning red.

why max verstappen had such an intense effect on you was still a mystery.

"so um—" you start, trying to make some small talk that would distract you from his arm that now rested on the ledge behind you. you take a breath, composing yourself before speaking. "how often do you guys do this kind of thing?"

he shifted again, his leg touching yours, but he doesn't pull it away this time. the knot of nerves in your stomach tightened. you felt your face turn even redder. the physical contact made your body ache for more.

max smirked, his ego swelling as he saw the effect he had on you.

"once in a while, usually after a race."

you nod, biting your lip.

"congratulations by the way." you say, it wasn't surprising he'd taken first yet again, but you said it anyways. you prayed he wasn't able to pick up on the way your words came out slightly shaky.

you wanted to do nothing more than relax into him, but with the way he was looking at you that proved to be impossible.

you took a sip of your wine, desperate to cool down as an unexpected surge of heat washed over you which lingered between your legs.

max was different than anyone you'd ever talked too before. he reminded you of nobody. his sense of humor was unique and hilarious.

as the conversation continued you grew immensely fond of the dutchman sitting beside you. although you were absorbed in the stories from his childhood he told you, you remained acutely aware of how close the two of you were now sitting.

max's night couldn't have been unfolding more perfectly. your body language made your thoughts and feelings painfully obvious.

he picked up on the way you blushed immensely at any slight touch from him. the way your pupils dilated as you stared at him. the goosebumps that spread across your chest when he complimented your dress.

but the loudness of the restaurant was a little too much for him. there were too many people here. he craved something more intimate, more private.

"do you wanna get out of here?"

you're caught off guard by his words.

the question was so cliche, yet coming from his mouth it made your heart throb.

"there's a beautiful view not too far from here," he continued, "we could walk?"

his voice was like velvet and he leaned in close, speaking in a low tone as if he didnt want anyone to hear except you.

by now, you're practically having heart palpitations. the pit in your stomach gapes wider.

it was already hard enough for you to keep your sanity intact with him while surrounded by other people. you honestly aren't sure if you could handle being out alone with him.

you nod slowly your head spinning, breathe quickening.

"oh, yeah i'd love that." your voice was unsteadt, yet enthusiastic.

without another word he starts getting up, but before he slips out of the booth he gently touches your leg with his hand, as if reassuring you.

his fingers may as well have been made of hot metal, his touch affected your entire body, his fingerprints burned into your skin.

you felt like a little kid with a crush as you gingerly got up and followed max out of the restaurant, butterflies in your stomach and in your mind.

you don't notice all the eyes on you two as you leave the restaurant, too caught up in the giddiness you were feeling. your own eyes too focused on max in front of you, more specifically on his back which looked so good in that damn shirt.

max, on the other hand, was well aware of all the eyes on him. he fought to keep his cocky grin at bay. there were at least 20 other people there, and out of everyone, you were leaving with him.

he opens the door and lets you by first.

"thank you," you say, the night air cooling your overheated body.

"of course."

amongst the ever present—extremely active— butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, you felt a twinge of genuine nervousness.

you realize that you had just left a restaurant, alone at night, with a guy you technically barely knew. was this safe?

it certainly felt safe. max felt nothing like a stranger.

your nervousness melted away once max fell into step beside you. you looked up at him, at those intense blue eyes.

you were walking so close your arms touched. you had the urge to reach out and take his hand, but of course you didn't.

so there you were, walking alongside max verstappen into the dark night, to see the promised beautiful view.

you'd only walked two blocks before max carefully took your hand in his, entwining his fingers with yours.

please let me know if you want to be tagged for pt.2 (this might end up being three parts)❤

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #mv1 #mv33 #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #prompts #fanfic request #f1 fanfic

864 notes · View notes

love-lilly02 · 7 months

Text

The Challenge pt. 4

AN: This chapter was supposed to be out yesterday but I got kinda sick so I couldn't edit it, Anyways, enjoy!!

“Would you mind spotting me?”

The question seems innocent enough, if you weren’t asking it to the scariest man on the base, much less your lieutenant.

Ghost lifted his head from where he was sitting on a bench, unwrapping his hands after his own training session.

You quickly back tracked at his expression, rethinking your choice. “You don’t have too, I think I got this set-“

“No, no I got it.” He stood, moving behind you, standing a little too close, but you chose to ignore it.

The set was fairly easy, and you finished quickly, thanking him quietly as you moved to put the weights back on their stand.

“Can I ask you somethin?” Ghost questioned, and you turned to see that he was studying you intently.

“Yeah?” You prompted, tilting your head slightly.

“That bet… Why’d you do it?”

You shrugged. “I was drunk, mostly. Figured there couldn’t be any harm. What’s the worst that can happen, anyways?”

That made him chuckle. “You have no idea, do you?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, furrowing your brow in confusion. The tall man walked closer to you, moving you slowly till your back hit the wall.

“This ain’t just a game to those boys, it’s a challenge. Whoever wins you won’t be kind, I hope you know that.” He places an arm above your head, effectively pinning you against the wall. You can feel his breath through the mask, and the warmth against your neck sends a shiver down your spine.

“Honestly, darlin’ You’re a right fuckin tease when you wanna be, hm? Acting all innocent, like you don’t know how much we all want to-“

“I’ve got it!!”

Soap’s voice cut through the whole training room, as he ran in frantically waving a piece of paper in the air. “I found one! Take that bitch, I’m in the lead!”

“Wait, what? Found what?” You and Ghost jumped apart from each other, both running over to where Johnny was doing a -frankly crude- victory dance. Your heart was absolutely pounding, heat still flying through your body at the encounter with Ghost.

We all want to what? What do they want to do…

“You did not find it, I did.” Kyle huffed, diving for the photo in Soap’s hand. “Give it back you pathetic excuse for a-“

“Hey,” Price said in warning. Kyle just huffed and backed away from Soap.

“Finders keepers,” Soap teased in a sing song voice, throwing the photo on the bench. “The first of ten. Which puts me in the lead.”

“You aren’t in the lead if you stole a photo, that’s not how it works.” Ghost said, kneeling down to pick up the image.

“Like I said, finders keepers. S’not my fault Gaz wanted tae hoard the photos till ‘e got all ten. His loss aye?” Soap nudged you playfully on the shoulder, but you were too busy trying to see the image to acknowledge him.

Gaz looked pathetically over to Price, opening his mouth to plead his case. Price beat him to it, however. “Soap, that’s not nice. Gaz found it, he takes the credit.”

“Awe, come off it captain, It’s just a bit of fun huh?”

“Johnny.”

“Yes sir.”

“Still dont think it’s fair,” Ghost threw in.

“Whadya mean? I found the image-“ Kyle protested, turning to Ghost now.

“Yeah but from where?” Ghost challenged, placing the photo back on the bench

“Online? Don’t see how it matters, it’s a photo.”

“But it’s not creditable, this could be edited-“

And so it continued. You had long since tuned out the bickering, leaning down to look at the photo. It did look like you, a smiling child holding an award for something you couldn’t really read.

The closer you looked, however, the more you started to see the imperfections. The girl in the photo had straight hair, at that age yours was more curly. And she was holding a ball in her hands, a basketball.

Of all the sports you played, basketball was never one of them.

“That’s not me.”

They were still shouting, yelling over each other to be heard above the voices. Johnny was pressing Kyle for where he got the information, and Kyle was refusing to say, under the excuse it would give them a ‘better advantage’ than he had. Johnny was still trying to insist they should share the win, and Price was just yelling for everyone to calm the fuck down.

“Hello?” You called, trying to raise your voice above all of them. “Hey, I said that isn’t me.”

But the yelling continued. It seemed to go on forever, all of them arguing over one small image. The topic slowly changed, however, till they started crossing into uncharted territory.

“Look-“ Gaz snapped, breathing heavily. “I found the photo, just like the deal said. That makes one out of ten for me. You lot can do what you will but I’m not sharing.”

“You didn’t have a problem sharing last night, isn’t that right?” Ghost hissed, and the gym was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Your head ached trying to figure out what the boys were saying, the double meanings behind everything, but you couldn’t keep up.

“I don’t give a fuck what I did and didn’t do last night, what’s fair is fair.” Kyle snapped, turning to grab the photo.

“You’re just mad cause you don’t want to think about one of us fu-“

“That’s enough!” Now it was you who was yelling, and the boys watching you in disbelief.

“Look, this isn’t like that, okay! I’m sick of you all objectifying me like i’m some fucking doll. I don’t know what side bets you have going on but I want out of this one. I made the deal drunk and you all watched me try to get out of it the next morning, and now you’re yelling like fucking children over a picture that doesn’t even have me in it. I never even did basketball for fucks sake! And you would know this if you acted like normal fucking human beings, much less behave like the grown men you are and ask me.” They all looked at you in absolute shame, as you threw the photo on the ground.

“And for the record, I am not fucking one of you on a deal. I don’t work like that so get the thought out of your head.”

You shoved past the wall of muscle made up by both Price and Ghost, storming off to your room.

For the longest time, he sat there and thought about exactly what happened in the gym.

Kyle was no fool. He understood what bringing up the photo would do, and he knew Soap would try and take the credit, as they had agreed the night before.

He didn’t actually know why he changed his mind. Kyle had no problem sharing you with the others, they were right anyways.

He shared all the time.

But something about introducing you to… this… scared him. As if they could frighten you off.

He knew that wasn’t true, so why did he think that way?

An apology message sat, typed out on his phone. He was procrastinating, heavily, on sending it, worried that it might be a little too much for you to handle.

Was it? You had taken your the whole team so nicely, he thought you would be ready…

More photos of you sad scattered on his desk. A lot of them looked like what Price had found before, a bunch of family photos with you missing or images of a girl who looked exactly like you but she wasn’t you.

Today’s events proved that.

Anyone else might have been saddened at the revelation. Putting weeks of work into one image, just to be wrong? Enough to crush a man, if it was done correctly.

But Kyle Gaz Garric is no ordinary man.

Before he can think about it too much, he hurriedly hits send on the message and closes his phone.

Now, we wait.

My Masterlist

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #john price x reader #simon ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

201 notes · View notes

ahdraftingco · 2 years

Text

Oneshot: Trouble

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x Innocent!Reader

AO3 Crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44157645

Summary: Ellie's gone. She ran away a while ago, after she discovered Joel's lie. It was a lie he had to make for his own sake because he couldn't handle losing her but still, he lost her. Now, he walks the wasteland alone, searching for purpose…and that's when he stumbles onto you. A bright, young woman who had gotten through the worst of it without losing her innocence to a world gone mad. If only you knew what was in store for you now that Joel has found a new person to latch onto…

Word Count: 8.2k+

A/N: As always, please read through ALL the warnings before proceeding: porn with plot, dead dove: do not eat (this story is not for the faint of heart so don't say i didn't warn ya), borderline non-con, dark!joel miller, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, age gap, use of the word "daddy"/"baby girl", bondage, forced orgasms, gunplay, praise kink, somnophilia, size difference, genuine fear/peril, death threats, cum play, rough sex, sexual coercion, squirting, breeding kink (unprotected piv, possible pregnancy/pregnancy talk), angst, mentions of violence, degradation, references to death

This fic will contain spoilers to TLOU Part One, so if you haven't played the game, please be aware that I will be referencing canon events. Hope you enjoy the sinister Joel I've made up and yes, I did based the physical description off Pedro Pascal's portrayal of Joel ~ ♡

It's been months since Ellie left Joel. He had gone out to look for supplies, since she had been sick. It wasn't until he got back and saw that she had taken up everything she could carry that he realized it had all been an act to let his guard down.

He had thought they were past what had happened at the hospital, since it's been almost five years, but the truth is…he knew what he had done was unforgivable. She was the cure. She wanted to die for the cause. She knew what she had to do but he was the one who wasn't ready to let her go.

This is the price he will pay for it.

It breaks Joel down more and more every day that passes as he scavenges the east coast, hoping he'll find clues of Ellie's whereabouts somewhere. Though, he taught her well, which meant he was almost certain she'd be hard to find.

If she's smart, which he knows she is, Ellie would've made it to the north before the winter began. That way, there's no chance of Joel ever catching up to her in the snow.

With a heavy sigh, Joel makes his trek up the state highway, weaving through abandoned cars. He'll be in New York soon. There once was a station there, but it quickly grew overcrowded and fell soon after.

Not enough food for people to eat, not enough protection for people to survive.

The infected would be roaming in the city, but Joel knew to avoid the densely populated areas. He didn't want trouble.

And yet, trouble always finds him.

Trouble had a name this time. Your name, though he didn't know it just yet.

Instead, as he watches you from a distance, Joel calls you baby girl in his mind, seeing how much younger you were than him. It was obvious you were older than Ellie though. You were an adult, a young one, but an adult all the same. It makes him wonder how you ended up here all alone.

You're humming to yourself, as if the thought of a threat nearby didn't phase you. It's a song he has heard before. Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks. He can almost hear the guitar riff, but it wasn't anything he could play.

However, at this moment, he wished he could.

Seeing you happily whispering the lyrics to yourself as you take down your laundry fills Joel with a kind of desire that taints his soul. It's dark and twisted, the way he wants to bottle up your joy and keep it all for himself.

How could you be so carefree in a world gone mad? It's as if no one has ever hurt you before.

Maybe…you didn't even know the infected existed.

That's impossible, but it looks like you're completely self-sufficient. You have a lake house and he can see the fishing equipment. You also have a garden with rotating crops that are growing well despite the incoming winter.

Who taught you to live life like this?

Peaceful, alone, without a care.

Joel is almost…disappointed. He'd imagine if anyone else had stumbled upon you, you'd be taken easily. You were like the easiest prey for a hungry predator, since you were clueless to the danger you could be in.

It makes Joel want to protect you…but it also makes him want to own you. There's an insatiable need to show you how much you need him to keep you safe, from people just like him.

So, that's exactly what he's going to do. Joel will make you his. He will weave himself into your life until you can't possibly live without him anymore.

That way, you'd never leave him like Ellie did…

❅❅❅❅❅

Today's catch went swimmingly, as it always does. You reeled in enough to have extra to dry into tasty jerky. Winter is approaching and you start to see your breath in the air, knowing that a storm is brewing. You'll have to start chopping some more firewood to store in the basement in case it's an extra cold winter. The temperature has been dropping every passing year, while the summers have gotten hotter.

You're thankful you won't have to think about summer preparations right now. Having to deal with those forest fires took up so much of your time. Winter is destructive as well, but at least it requires you to stay in instead of slave away all day.

Another winter alone, though. You let out a sigh at the thought. How long has it been since everyone you loved passed away?

You're tired of burying people…

Last month, you had to clean up the house a few miles down the lake. You hated having to do it, but your parents taught you well. The moment someone died, you needed to put them out of their misery or they'd fester and become worse creatures than the resurrected undead.

So, you put a bullet in their head and dug a grave for them. Then, you would spend hours rummaging through their house for any supplies before giving it a good thorough cleaning. It was your way of laying them to rest.

You'll miss that man though. Neither of you exchanged names, but you would trade fish for some of his pepper plants. Sometimes, he'd have canned goods for you that he had made himself. You still have some in your basement now. That'll help for the winter.

All these thoughts help you get through deboning your catch. You light up your wood fire stove so you can make a serving of stew and start the dehydrating process. It isn't until everything is in the pot that you register the rustling outside.

Is that the wind or…no, it can't be.

No one ever comes around these parts. It's so hidden by the trees that only an experienced person would think someone lives out here. That's sort of why your parents bought this house. It was secluded in the best kind of way, which aided a lot when everything went to shit. You were born here, raised here and will likely die here.

However, you weren't expecting that day to come so soon. Whoever is out there…they won't hurt you, will they? Your nerves heighten as you walk towards your door, debating if you should grab your gun.

You don't, because the person knocks.

It's a gentle knock, just three light taps. You calm down a little at that. You figure if it was a malicious person, they'd just break down your door. You haven't ever encountered a malicious person before, since you try not to believe everyone is bad. The people you know have all been kind, despite everything.

You hope this person will be the same.

So, you open your door and…

"Hello there." The older man at your doorstep says in his southern accent. "I was just passing through and I noticed you had a fire going. I don't mean to bother, but would it be alright for me to spend the night here, away from the cold?"

You look the man up and down. He doesn't seem like a threat, though he does have a rifle on his back and a pistol tucked at his belt. He's wearing a brown jacket with a flannel underneath along with several other layers that look like they're getting soaked through from the light snow that's starting already. He has a patchy beard with some grays in it along with soft brown hair that matches his eyes.

The man doesn't look intimidating, besides the weapons he's carrying.

So, you do what your parents had always done when people stumbled upon your little house and tell him, "you can stay the night if you agree to bury your weapons somewhere outside. There's a shovel out back. Choose any spot away from my garden, please."

"I will happily take that offer, thank you." His voice is smooth and gentle, so you ease up a little as you watch him leave to go fulfill your request.

The man returns later with just his bag and as a show of faith, he empties it at the doorstep so you can see what he has in it. You notice how few supplies he has, so you sift through your cabinets for some spare canned goods.

"You can have these." You bring them to him. "I've got plenty."

"You're very kind." He gives you a brief smile before taking the cans from you. "Are you always this welcoming to strangers?"

"I wouldn't call you a stranger. You're simply a traveler passing through. Nothing strange about that in our world."

You quickly leave after you say that to give him a change of clothes, since his are soaked and the spare in his bag doesn't look very warm.

"Would you like to use my bath?" You ask, pointing over at the bathroom down the hall. "I haven't heated any water, so it'll be a minute, but you can take a nice, warm bath if you'd like."

"That sounds wonderful." He seems pleased with your offer. "You're a very good girl, treating me with such hospitality."

"We all deserve some normalcy." You leave him with those words so you can go start the fire for the bath water.

It takes around half an hour to boil enough water in intervals, since your stove is quite small and you can only carry so much water at a time. Though, the man, who lets you know that his name is Joel, helps with that, lugging the pot of water back and forth for you until the tub is filled. You tell him to take his time and that dinner will be ready whenever he's done.

When Joel finishes his bath, he meets you in the kitchen and you pour him a bowl of stew, which you invite him to eat by the fire. You've already eaten your portion so you opt to spend time organizing stock since the storm is coming in stronger than you anticipated. You haven't harvested your winter vegetables yet and you should probably do that now before they get buried.

"Something on your mind?" That southern accent sounds close now and you look up to see Joel standing beside you, empty bowl in his hand. "Thanks for the stew, it was delicious."

You smile, taking it from him so you can quickly wipe it clean and set it aside. Then, you answer his question with a light sigh, "I didn't expect the snow to start falling so quickly. I need to go out and salvage what I can from my garden before I'm snowed in."

"Can I help with that?" Joel offers and you shake your head.

"I can't ask you to do that. You just bathed, plus you're my guest."

"I can always bathe again. You shouldn't be out there alone right now. Let me help." His voice has this tinge of leadership in it that makes you want to follow him, so you eventually agree.

"Alright. In exchange, you can have some of the harvest." You make him a deal.

"Can I ask for something else?" Joel catches you by surprise with that. "Would it be okay if I stayed here until the storm ended?"

"Oh…" He's right. If the storm has started already, he'd be stranded out there if you kicked him out tomorrow.

But, is it really smart to spend an entire storm with a man you've just met?

You can't let him trek through the storm though, so you tell him, "if you help me with some repairs around the house, then you can stay as long as you'd like."

"I'd like that." His smile makes your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the evening is spent shoveling snow and pulling out as many vegetables as you and Joel can carry back and forth to the house before the storm gets significantly worse. You're both soaked head to toe and you're freezing once you both get back into the house. The fire isn't going to warm you up, so you'll definitely need a bath. But, you don't want Joel to get sick, so you offer to have him bathe first, but he declines, since you need to too.

"One of us is going to get sick waiting to bathe." You tell him as you start boiling the water for the bath.

"Then why don't we bathe together?"

Your ears must have been deceiving you and you turn to Joel, who is peeling off his soaked outer layer. He doesn't seem phased at all by what he just said but you're flustered.

"H-how would that work?" You're suddenly feeling warm all over, despite your shivering.

"It'll be like sharing a hot tub." He says with a chuckle. "Just keep your underwear on. I can keep my shirt on too, if you're more comfortable that way."

Now you're embarrassed for a whole other reason. Why did you just assume he meant getting into the bath with him naked? There's no way he'd ask that of you and you feel bad that you even thought such a thing.

"That would work. You don't have to keep your shirt on, but I think I will." You're too shy to be that bare in front of him, but keeping your shirt and underwear on is fine. He doesn't say anything else about it as you both start prepping the bath once again.

When it's ready, you realize there's another problem with this scenario. It's not all that big of a bath. How would you both fit?

"You'll just have to sit between my legs." Joel tells you while he strips. "I'll get in first and guide you into a comfortable position."

You let him take the lead, though you turn away when he pulls off his shirt and don't turn back until you hear him get into the bath. Then, you strip as quickly as you can, leaving yourself in just your shirt and underwear. Joel puts his hand out and you take it, letting him help you in. He has you sitting between his legs, with your back against his chest, and…it's oddly nice.

The bath water is very warm and your shirt rises a little since there's air under it, so you try your best to smooth it out, though that doesn't help much.

"Do you want to take it off?" Joel asks you, his warm breath tickling the back of your ear.

"I…" You would but… "I'm not wearing anything underneath."

You aren't the biggest fan of bras. They're only good when you're exercising or doing some heavy lifting and don't want your breasts to get in the way. So, you don't wear them regularly unless you feel the need to.

"I won't look." He rests his chin on your head. "I'll keep my eyes up so you can get comfy."

That would be nice. It's odd how easy things are around Joel because you feel like you can trust him to do as he says, so you opt to pull off your shirt, tossing it aside. It hits the floor, the wet sound echoing through the room. You adjust yourself so that your breasts are submerged beneath the water and when you tilt your head up, Joel has his lifted to the ceiling, not stealing any glances at you.

Though, it wasn't his eyes you should've been worried about. You hadn't noticed where his hands were resting until you felt one of them slide up to cup your breast and the other slips down into your underwear. You're about to say something but then Joel rolls his thumb over your nipple and you can't stop the light moan that leaves your lips at the sudden sensation.

"Does that feel good, baby girl?" He whispers right into your ear with such sultry affection. "Do you want daddy to keep touching you like this?"

Before you can reply, Joel presses a finger against your entrance and forces his way into you, making you gasp. Your toes curl when his finger does, filling you up so much out of nowhere. It's nothing like when you touch yourself and in combination with his other hand teasing your breasts, you can't hold in the soft whimpers from how good it feels.

You need to tell him to stop, but then he thrusts another finger inside of you and you cry out from how much he's stretching you out. You've never been this full before.

"You're so tight." That word lingers in the air and you're getting dizzy from his seductive tone. "Has no one ever touched you before?"

You shake your head, not knowing why you're able to answer him but not able to tell him to stop…

"Are you telling me this is all mine?" He pushes up against a spot inside of you with his fingers that makes your whole body shiver in reaction. "You're sucking me in, baby girl. I'm jealous of my own fingers."

There's so many questions you want to ask him, like why he's doing this to you and why it feels good even though you shouldn't want a random man you just met to touch you, but none of those questions can be asked when every breath you take is stolen by a moan or whimper.

Something's building inside of you, that tension you've only felt on occasion when you've been bored and masturbated. However, this is even more intense than those times, because you're not the one setting the pace.

Joel is aggressive with his touch, fingering you at a pace you wouldn't be able to. Then, every now and then, he spreads them, reminding you of how big his fingers are as they stretch you out.

You're on the cusp of your orgasm and that scares you.

Why are you about to cum from this?

Why aren't you stopping him!

"Don't hold it in." He urges you to let go. "Cum for your daddy."

You're not my—you can't seem to finish your own thoughts because he's forcing your orgasm onto you, his fingers ruthlessly grinding against that spot inside of you that makes you cum hard. You're thankful you're in the bath right now because you swore, you squirted for the first time. You've never came that much before, tears streaming down your eyes from the intensity of it.

The pleasure sears every inch of your skin, making it hotter than before and the steam from the bath isn't helping your mind calm down. You're getting lost in that daze and it's not ending.

Especially not when Joel keeps going and he adds another finger, spreading you wide open. You're gasping for air from how filled you feel and he must not like that because he takes his other hand and shoves his fingers into your mouth. You gag on them, not expecting to have his fingers invade your mouth, but he doesn't care that you feel that way.

Instead, he goes, "be a good girl and enjoy yourself."

You wonder how you're supposed to enjoy yourself when your mouth is as full as your pussy is but soon enough, you understand. Every moan you want to make is forced back down your throat by his fingers and it's hard to breathe like this but that just causes your body to tense up more around his fingers. They're hitting you so deep inside that you're going to cum again all too quickly.

You try to tell him to stop but your words come out all gurgled up from the saliva pooling up in your mouth since his fingers are playing with your tongue. You're practically drooling and you try to swallow, but that means you have to suck on his fingers to do so, which only riles him up more.

"That's good practice, baby girl." He encourages you to keep doing that to prepare yourself for something else. "I can't wait to bury my cock in this pretty little mouth and your tight wet pussy."

You're on the verge of tears again and you don't know if it's out of fear or arousal as you get closer and closer to your next orgasm. You don't want his cock anywhere near you but you realize then that he's been pressing his hard cock up against your back this whole time. If you thought his fingers filled you up, you were certain his cock would break you.

You start to panic, trying to shove his arm away from you so he can stop fingering you but that only angers him. So, Joel retaliates by pulling his fingers out of your mouth and wrapping his hand around your throat, squeezing it hard.

"Don't make me kill you." He threatens and you go completely still. "I don't want to, but if you keep misbehaving, I will."

"Please…" You sob out of pure fear. "Don't hurt me."

"I would never want to hurt you. You're my precious girl, so don't make me do anything I don't want to, okay?" He lightens his hold on your neck then and you inhale as much air as you can, trying to find your composure. "You're going to cum for me again and then I'm going to take you to bed. Understood?"

You don't want to say it but he'll kill you if you don't so you nod and tell him, "I understand."

"Address me correctly when you're talking to me." His fingers press into your neck, as a little warning.

You swallow your nerves then go, "I understand, daddy."

"Good girl. Daddy likes it when you listen." He gives you a soft kiss on the cheek, changing his tone all too easily. "Now, let me spoil my baby girl."

You brace yourself as his fingers curl their way back inside of you, going much more gently this time. Strangely, it's not enough to get you close. His pace is too slow, too soft, and you're trembling from how much you want him to be rougher with you.

"Say what you want." It's like he can read your thoughts. "Tell me and I'll do it for you."

You shouldn't say anything but your body is craving that feeling too much, so you give in and say, "more, please. I want more."

"Do you want me to go faster?" He asks as he does exactly that and you nod profusely. He suddenly slows though, so you know what you have to do.

"Yes, daddy, please go faster." You say what he wants to hear and he ramps up the speed again, giving you what you need. "Please don't stop, I'm so close…"

"I want to see it." Joel growls in your ear before you hear a pop and the plug in the tub is no longer in place. The water suddenly drains out rapidly and you stiffen at the cold air hitting your warm skin. "You better cum a lot for me."

You don't know what he means until he starts to move his fingers side by side inside of you and you squirt uncontrollably, screaming from how forceful he is at drawing your orgasm out of you. You can't think straight because you can't stop cumming, every orgasm gushing out of you against your will.

"Stop!" You shout because it's too much, you're too sensitive now and you're going to pass out. "I keep cumming, I keep–"

"That's good." He slowly corrupts you. "You want to keep cumming. You want to drown in the pleasure only I can give you. Enjoy it, baby girl."

And you do.

You hate how much you end up enjoying it, bathing in such bliss. It consumes you completely…and you faint somewhere along the way. You've never felt so good before. Your body can't handle it and you pass out from the high…

❅❅❅❅❅

Joel dries your hair for you while you're unconscious. He likes how peaceful you look, having fallen asleep to the orgasms he gave you. He wants you to look like this everyday and he'll make sure it happens.

A sweet girl like you deserves to be treated well.

Maybe that's why he can't resist touching you in your sleep. Joel watches as your chest begins to rise and fall more and more with every gentle stroke of his fingers. You're getting so wet for him now. He wonders what you're dreaming of and if he's in it.

He'd like to be. He wants you to only think of him. He's the only one that you need. He's the only one that matters. No one else will take you from him.

Joel refuses to make the same mistake twice. He loved Ellie like a daughter, raising her to be a strong woman. A woman strong enough to leave him in the dust because of a lie he made.

So, he has to be more careful with you. You're malleable, he's certain of that. You'll need some persuading, but you'll listen to him. First, out of fear, but eventually, out of love.

All he needs to do is tie you to him the only way he knows will work…by making you fall for him.

❅❅❅❅❅

It isn't until you wake that you realize your body is still heated from all the orgasms. You're aching from the waist down and you wonder why…until you see Joel between your legs, his tongue dragging up and down your pussy like he's starved for your taste.

How long has he been…you can't even formulate the sentence because he flicks your clit with his tongue and you squirt just a little from how overstimulated you are. A whimper leaves your lips because of it that draws Joel's attention to you and he smiles, happy to see you awake.

"How did you sleep?" His voice is so eerily calm…

You're unsure of how to answer that, so you ask back, "did you sleep?"

He nods. "I slept great, holding you in my arms."

"How long have I been asleep?" You're confused…

"A little over two days."

Your eyes widen at his words. Have you really been passed out for that long?

"Why are you down there?" If you've been asleep, why is he touching you?

"I needed to make sure whenever you were awake that you'd be nice and ready for me." He teases your entrance with three of his fingers before slipping each one inside of you slowly.

You brace yourself, expecting for the sudden stretch to hurt but…it doesn't. His fingers feel thick inside of you, but it's not anything you can't handle.

What did he do to you while you were asleep…

"You're almost ready for me, baby girl." His thumb presses lightly on your clit when he says that, sending shivers through you. "I've opened you up as best I could."

"Please, Joel…" You plead to him. "I don't want this."

"Your body says otherwise." He tells you as he curls his fingers and you nearly cum just from that. "See, you want this. Why are you running from it?"

"You're not giving me a choice." He's throwing himself at you and you're unable to stop him.

"I did give you a choice." Your breath catches in your throat when you hear the safety of your pistol flick off and Joel presses the barrel against your bare chest, right where your heart is. You only notice then that you're completely naked. "Either I kill you, or you enjoy my touch. I had assumed you'd chosen the latter, but if I'm wrong…"

His finger hovers over the trigger and you shake your head profusely, not wanting to die like this, not when his fingers are still teasing your insides. It's unbearable, the weight of the gun on your chest while his fingertips drag along that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

So, you succumb to the scenario you've found yourself in, "you're not wrong. I want this. I'll enjoy myself. I promise."

"Then, cum." He commands, keeping the gun steady on your chest. "Show me you're being honest."

You bite your lip and choke back your own dignity as you grind your hips against his hand, thrusting his fingers inside of you the way you need them to. You gasp when he starts to follow your rhythm, pushing you closer to the edge. It's a great distraction, because you barely notice the way he's trailing the pistol up your chest, but you're well aware of it when it brushes against your lips, forcing you to part them open.

Before you can beg him not to, Joel rests the barrel of the pistol in your mouth, the cold metal coating every one of your taste buds. You gag a little when he drags it against your tongue, but you can't focus on it while his fingers are inside of you. Tears start to stream from your eyes out of sheer terror and the most warped and frightening smile curves on Joel's face the moment he sees you.

That's when he undoes the safety of the pistol yet again and rests his finger on the trigger, his voice more menacing than ever as he goes, "cum for me right now or I'll blow your brains out, baby girl."

Every muscle in your body tightens at the threat and that's all it takes for the tension in your body to explode. You can't tell if you're screaming or moaning as your orgasm ripples through you violently, locking up every sense with nothing but pleasure. You can't feel, you can't see, you can't think.

All you can do is cum because that's what he wants from you.

Relief washes over you when Joel pulls the gun out of your mouth and tucks it away behind his back. His fingers release you from their hold and an empty feeling is tainting your mind. You've been so full for so long that it feels…wrong to be hollow.

How much has he corrupted you? How long is he going to stay until you're exactly what he needs you to be?

His baby girl…

You need to get out of here. You need to run. You need to fight Joel for your life back because you can't be his.

And yet, you can't find it in yourself to shove him away.

Not when he's whispering so softly to you, "good girl, that must've felt great. Let me make you feel even better now."

It isn't until you feel the tip of his cock press against your pussy that you snap back to the reality of it all. You're going to have your first time right now and he's going to fuck you raw.

The last bit of rationality courses through you as you plead, "please, don't do this. I don't have any condoms, I don't want to–"

"It's okay, darlin'." His southern accent sends shivers down your spine. "This is what you were meant for. This is what your body craves. Just let it happen and I'll take care of you."

You claw at his chest the moment he starts to force his way inside of you, his cock stretching you out more than his fingers did. You've never felt this kind of pressure before as he opens you up with every thrust. He doesn't like that you're trying to fight him, so the next time you shove at him, he smacks you right across the face. You gasp at the feeling and he pushes more of himself inside your swollen pussy then, smiling.

"You're so tight and yet you're taking every inch of me." Joel suddenly grabs you by your hair, pulling you forward so you can stare at the way his cock is slowly disappearing inside of you. "Almost there, just a bit more."

"Let me go." You cry out, wanting him to take his hand out of your hair. "Please, it hurts."

"Grab onto the headboard and I will." He makes you a deal and you listen, wrapping your hands around the metal.

His hand leaves your hair, letting your head drop back onto your pillow, and you relax just a bit. It doesn't last though, not when he pulls out a piece of fabric from his pocket and binds your wrists.

"Now, hold on tight, baby girl." His hands rest at your hips now, gripping your flesh. "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

You don't understand what he means until he pulls his cock out of you and rams it back inside, hilting all of a sudden. He's too deep, too big and all too much for you.

You try to say something but he raises his hand at you before you can, instructing, "if you want to speak, you better address me correctly or I will have to teach you a lesson."

You swallow at his threat, your throat going dry. Goosebumps rise on your skin and you're scared to say anything but you want him to be gentle. He'll break you if he keeps being this rough.

So, you stuff your pride away and beg, "please go slowly, daddy."

His smile softens then, liking how you've listened, and he rewards you by rolling his hips, letting you get used to him being inside of you, grinding himself back and forth against every spot that makes your pussy tingle.

It's starting to feel good and that's frightening because you're biting back your whimpers. You can't enjoy this. It's wrong. He's taking you by force and yet your body is desperate enough to meet him halfway, wanting more.

"Does my baby girl enjoy being fucked?" Joel adjusts a bit so that he can thrust upwards into you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "Tell me you do."

You keep your mouth shut, not wanting to say a word, and he doesn't like that at all. So, when you're right at the cusp of your orgasm, he pulls out of you, leaving you struggling against your restraints.

"If you want it, say it." He starts to rub his hard cock against your pussy, teasing your sensitive clit with the tip of it. It's torture because it's not enough to get you there.

You need more. You need him inside of you.

Joel takes his time to torment you, dipping into you just a bit before pulling out, dropping his cock over and over again on your pussy, rubbing circles around your clit.

Eventually, you can't handle the denial anymore so you cave and go, "please fuck me. I want to cum."

"Say it again." He wants you to embarrass yourself further and your skin burns from it.

"I want to cum. Please fuck me. I need you, daddy." You add on, hoping that's enough.

It is, because the moment he thrusts inside of you, you cum. You cum all over his cock and he rewards you by fucking you harder, making your orgasm even more intense. You're gasping for air because it doesn't seem to stop. You're throbbing inside and every thrust sends such waves of pleasure through you.

"You're milking my cock so well." He praises you. "Someone's desperate for my cum."

Your eyes widen when you realize he must be close from the way he's pumping into you and you panic, "please cum outside, don't cum in me."

"How am I supposed to cum outside when you're not letting me go?" He tries to pull out but your pussy is gripping onto him too tightly.

"No, don't, please." You can't get pregnant. You can't have a baby with a man you've just met. You can't…but he won't let you decide otherwise.

"You'll feel so much better once you're all filled up." Joel reassures you in the worst way possible. "Soon, you'll beg for it."

There's no way you would. Why would you ever want such a thing?

"Enjoy it." He says sweetly to you, looking at you with such affection. "We won't be able to fuck much when you're pregnant, so it's best to make every time count."

You want to ask why he wants you of all people, a random girl he met in the middle of the woods in the winter, but you're certain he won't have an answer. Perhaps this was all just bad timing and even worse luck.

It doesn't feel like much at first, when he finishes inside of you. It's hot and it spills out of you when he pulls away. Joel takes his time, pushing as much cum as he can back inside of you. You hate the orgasms you have from that simple action.

It isn't until the second time that it feels…primal. You can't explain it, but when he's fucking you like a feral animal, you find yourself leaning into it. Your body isn't in tune with your mind anymore. It's not listening to your pleas because it knows it feels good to be taken by him. He never hurts you unless you do something he doesn't like, which is rare. He only ever wants you to feel pleasure.

Days go by of this, of just…constant breeding. You will sleep, then wake up, fuck, have breakfast, fuck, have lunch, fuck, do house chores then fuck in the shower afterwards, then eat dinner which always ends with you bend over the dining table because you're the meal he's actually hungry for. This cycle repeats until you get your period.

The disappointment on Joel's face stings. It's like you failed him. You couldn't give him what he wanted. You don't like the feeling…but a tiny voice in your head reminds you that you shouldn't want to please him anyways.

During your period, Joel teaches you how to suck his cock, since he can't fuck you. As a reward for learning, he caters to you, helping you with your cramps, rubbing your belly when it aches, cuddling you like you're the love of his life. It's…jarring, to say the least. You'll go from him fucking your face to him caressing your back and whispering sweet words to you.

Run. That tiny voice yells into the abyss that is your mind right now. Run far away from here.

You want to listen but…where would you go? You grew up here. You don't know anywhere else. This is your home and he's the intruder.

An intruder who's making himself at home.

"Does your stomach still hurt?" Joel asks because you've tensed up against him, your thoughts influencing your nerves.

"A little." You lean into his chest, not because you want to, but because he's warm and the winter has been cold. "I'll be okay."

"You'll always be okay, baby girl." He presses a soft kiss on your forehead, taking in a long breath before saying, "I'll keep you safe."

Safe from who? You wonder, because you aren't safe from him…

❅❅❅❅❅

Another month passes and you're late. You counted the days, mainly because Joel made you, and you're late. You've never been late before, which can only mean…

"We won't know for sure, but we can find out." You suggest. "There's a convenience store a few miles up. There's no food there, but there's plenty of pregnancy tests. I remember seeing them."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, hoping he'll take the bait. Please say yes.

You need to get him away from your house. You need to kill him but you can't do it here. You need to do it somewhere he isn't familiar with.

A place where you know a gun is hidden.

"Better to be sure." Joel agrees to the trip. "But you're coming with me."

"Okay." You knew you'd have to. "I'd like to walk with you. It's a nice hike, now that the snow has melted."

The rest of the day is spent preparing for the day trip. When it's finally time to sleep, you're surprised to feel Joel's cock harden behind you as he spoons you. He rubs himself against you and you hate how your body reacts to it, leaning into the feeling.

"Just to be sure." He whispers to you and you know what he means. He doesn't have to say much else.

You feel him nudge you until you're on your hands and knees and he's situated behind you, pulling down your pajama pants. Joel lines his cock up at your entrance and in one single motion, he fills you to the very brim. You can't hold in your moan, not when his body is pressing down onto you, engulfing you completely as he starts to pound into you.

"How does it feel to be mine, my sweet baby girl?" He asks, his hips meeting your ass perfectly.

"So good." You don't lie because you know it'll be the last time you do this with him. "Please don't stop, daddy."

"Never." He says, grabbing you by your hair so that he can kiss the back of your head. "I wouldn't dream of letting you go."

With his hand still in your hair, Joel continues to fuck you from behind, tugging you back to meet him. His lips on yours are sloppy, but you kiss him back, feeling connected with him on all levels. Your body moves against his in perfect harmony and you drown in the moment

It isn't until he whispers the words "I love you" that your heart pinches just a bit, remembering the reality. You're going to kill him tomorrow, this man who loves you in a sick and twisted way.

"Fill me up." You whisper back, giving him something else, since you can't give him your love. "I need you, Joel."

That's enough for him to finish inside of you, the heat spilling into you in waves. His cock pulses inside of you for a few moments before he pulls out and lays back beside you.

You go back to the way you were laying before, and he spoons you to sleep. You wonder what it'll feel like to sleep alone, now that you've slept with someone for this long.

You're going to miss it…maybe even him too…

❅❅❅❅❅

Now that the snow has thawed, the ground is much less muddy. You still had to wear your boots, which aren't uncomfortable but they're harder to run in. You don't think you'll need to run but…you want to stay prepared.

Joel tells you a bit more about himself on the walk to the convenience store. You're unsure if you want to know more about the man you're about to kill, but you can't refuse him, so you listen.

You don't expect him to tell you about Sarah…but now everything makes sense. Perhaps, he's been waiting for a chance to make things right. To raise a child who won't end up dying in his arms and leaving him forever.

You clutch your stomach when he's not looking, scared of your own mind. Scared that the tiny voice in your head is now whispering guilty thoughts…

You can't. It's not reasonable to have a child in a world like this. Especially not with a man like him.

You say that, but Joel has warped you in a different way. You won't lie and say you won't miss him when he's gone. It's hard not to miss someone you've spent the last two months getting to know in more intimate ways than two normal strangers would.

As a war breaks out in your mind, you and Joel get to the convenience store. The front glass is shattered, but it's always been like that. Looters at the very beginning of it all broke it, which is why there's moss going on the shards that were left behind. That's what your parents told you.

You miss them more and more with each passing day. They were well-prepared to have you, knowing they've set up a little oasis in the middle of disaster.

You can't have this child with Joel. You're ill-prepared to be a mother. You're unsure if Joel would even be a good father, even if he claims that's all he wants to be.

Would a good father taint someone else's daughter the way he has tainted you?

You hold back your sigh as you and Joel walk over the glass to get into the store. It's a small store, so it's not difficult to find what you're looking for. You wonder if these will even work, since they probably have an expiration date, but you just have to know.

For your own sake, more than Joel's.

Once you've packed a fair amount of pregnancy tests into your bag, you tell Joel that you've stashed some canned goods behind the counter in the off chance you might get stuck out and about, and you wanted to check if they were still there. It's not a lie, but you stashed a gun there too.

So, you go to the floorboard you hid everything under and pull it open and—

The sound of a gun's safety flicking off freezes you in your tracks. You swallow, hard.

Fuck, did Joel figure it out? You're too frightened to look up, scared that you'll be staring into the barrel of a gun.

But then, a new voice appears and she goes, "step away from her, Joel."

You glance up then and your eyes meet the girl's for a second. She's young, maybe barely eighteen, and yet she wields the gun you had hidden in the floorboards like she's used to handling them. That thought should worry you, but you're more worried about how she knows Joel.

Did he…do something to her too?

"Ellie, please." Joel pleads, his hands up. "Don't take her away from me."

"I know what you did to her." Ellie has her finger on the trigger, ready to shoot him. "I saw what she put in her bag."

"She's pregnant. We're going to be a family." He tries to reason with her. "Come back with us. We have a home. You'll have a little brother or sister soon. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"You're sick, Joel." She gestures for you to come over to her and even though Joel's eyes pierce into yours to stop you, you still make the trek over to her. Once you're securely behind her, she continues her harsh words to Joel, "you don't know what it means to be family. Family wouldn't do this, wouldn't do the things you've done."

"I can change. I can do better. I'm sorry."

You've never seen Joel so weak before. The once scary man that held you captive is now cowering before this girl.

"Sorry won't bring them back." Ellie tells him and you wonder what she means by that. "So, don't come looking for us. I'm taking her and I'm leaving now."

"Please, don't take her." He begs, his voice cracking as he goes, "I love her."

You open your mouth to say something, but Ellie stops you. Maybe she knows what you're about to say, or maybe she just doesn't want you to say it back to him. Not that you would…right?

"This isn't love, Joel." She tells him for you. "Whatever this is…it sure as fuck isn't love. I'm sorry. You did this to yourself."

The moment those words leave her mouth, she shoots Joel. You cover your ears at the sudden sound as it echoes through the quiet.

You hear Joel scream and you realize then that Ellie didn't shoot him in the head. She shot him in the leg, so he couldn't catch up to you two.

"We have to go, now." She grabs your hand and you both start to run.

Run, that voice comes back in your mind, run and don't look back.

❅❅❅❅❅

You and Ellie take a break once you're a good distance away from the convenience store. You give her some of your water, since it looks like she's low on supplies. She asks you about what happened and…you tell her. Not in full detail, but enough.

"That fucker." She seems angry at Joel for more than just what he did to you, but you won't pry about what exactly.

"Who is he to you?" You ask Ellie, wanting to know that instead.

"He's trouble. The kind of trouble I need the strength to take care of before he hurts anyone else…" She says, the anger leaving her voice as a sadness seeps in, "but I'm not strong enough yet. I couldn't kill him…but I will one day."

You can tell she doesn't want to, and you understand why. You might be the only one out there who understands her because you feel the same way.

There's no way Joel isn't looking for you two.

So, your journey with Ellie begins. You're both on the run from Joel, but also finding the will to hunt him too. All while wondering if he's imprinting himself onto you the way he wanted to.

You press your hand on your stomach and chills run through you.

You should've known Joel was trouble the moment he walked through your front door…

A/N: I've always wanted to write a villain!joel since I feel like it actually fits his character a lot, if he was given the right set of circumstances. I also am a big fan of the "I need to kill him before he kills me" trope, but with a twist! The addition of Ellie in this part makes me really happy and gets my mind rolling. The latter half of this one-shot is very plot-heavy, which is new for me but I kind of like it? It really builds up to a possible sequel! So, if you're interested in a sequel, please let me know! This really does have the potential to be a whole series ♡

#the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us

1K notes · View notes

maniculum · 11 months

Text

An Excerpt from the Aberdeen Bestiary

I've started preparing the bestiaryposting, and have encountered one entry that doesn't really fit into what we're doing. Not only is it one of the longest entries, but instead of "let me tell you about this animal", it's taking more of a "we all already know about this animal, so I'm going to share some stories about specific ones" approach. But out of a sense of completionism, I can't just not post it, so here you go.

Dog

The Latin name for the dog, canis, seems to have a Greek origin. For in Greek it is called cenos, although some think that it is called after the musical sound, canor, of its barking, because when it howls, it is also said to sing, canere. No creature is more intelligent than the dog, for dogs have more understanding than other animals; they alone recognise their names and love their masters.

There are many kinds of dogs: some track down the wild beasts of the forests to catch them; others by their vigilance guard flocks of sheep from the attacks of wolves; others as watch-dogs in the home guard the property of their masters lest it be stolen by thieves at night and sacrifice their lives for their master; they willingly go after game with their master; they guard his body even when he is dead and do not leave it. Finally, their nature is that they cannot exist without man.

Also of the nature of dogs

We read that dogs have such great love for their masters, as when King Garamentes was caught by his enemies and taken into captivity, two hundred dogs went in formation through enemy lines and led him back from exile, fighting off those who resisted them. When Jason [Licio] was killed, his dog rejected food and died of starvation. The dog of King Lysimachus threw itself in the flame when its master's funeral pyre was lit and was consumed by fire along with him. When Apius and Junius Pictinius were consuls, a dog that could not be driven away from its master, who had been condemned, accompanied him to prison; when, soon afterwards, he was executed, it followed him, howling. When the people of Rome, out of pity, caused it to be fed, it carried the food to its dead master's mouth. Finally, when its master's corpse was thrown into the Tiber, the dog swam to it and tried to keep it from sinking.

When a dog picks up the track of a hare or a deer and comes to a place where the trail divides or to a junction splitting into several directions, it goes to the beginning of each path and silently reasons with itself, as if by syllogism, on the basis of its keen sense of smell. 'Either the animal went off in this direction,' it says,'or that, or certainly it took this turning.’

Again on the nature of dogs

Often, also, when a murder has been committed, dogs have produced clear evidence of the guilt of the accused, with the result that their unspoken testimony is for the most part believed. They say that at Antioch, in a distant quarter of the city at dusk, a man was murdered, who had his dog with him on a lead. A soldier had been the perpetrator of the deed, with robbery as his motive. Undercover of the growing darkness, he fled elsewhere. The corpse lay unburied; the crowd of onlookers was large; the dog stayed at its master's side, howling over his sad fate. It happened that the man who had committed the crime, acting confidently in order to convince people of his innocence - such is the cunning way in which men think- joined the circle of onlookers and, feigning grief, approached the corpse. Then the dog, briefly abandoning its doleful lament, took up the arms of vengeance, seized the man and held him, and, softly singing a pitiful song, as in the epilogue of a tragedy, moved everyone to tears; and the fact that the dog held that man alone, of the many that were there, and did not let him go, lent weight to its case. In the end, the murderer was at a loss because the evidence in the case was so plain; he could not clear himself by objecting that he was the victim of anyone's hate, enmity, envy or spite, and he could no longer rebut the charge. Because it was very difficult for him, he suffered punishment, because he could offer no defence.

A dog's tongue, licking a wound, heals it. A dog's way of life is said to be wholly temperate. A puppy's tongue is generally a cure for internal injuries. It is characteristic of a dog that it returns to its vomit and eats it again. If a dog swims across a river carrying a piece of meat or anything of that sort in its mouth, and sees its shadow, it opens its mouth and in hastening to seize the other piece of meat, it loses the one it was carrying.

In some ways preachers are like dogs: by their admonitions and righteous ways they are always driving off the ambushes laid by the Devil, lest he seize and carry off God's treasure - Christian souls. As the dog's tongue, licking a wound, heals it, the wounds of sinners, laid bare in confession, are cleansed by the correction of the priest. As the dog's tongue heals man's internal wounds, the secrets of his heart are often purified by the deeds and discourse of the Church's teachers. As the dog is said to be temperate in its ways, the man who is set over others diligently studies wisdom and must avoid drunkenness and gluttony in every way, for Sodom perished in a surfeit of food. Indeed, there is no quicker way for the Devil, his enemy, to take possession of man than through his greedy gullet. The dog returning to its vomit signifies those who, after making their confession, heedlessly return to wrongdoing. The dog leaving its meat behind in the river, out of desire for its shadow, signifies foolish men who often forsake what is theirs by right out of desire for some unknown object; with the result that, while they are unable to obtain the object of their desire, they needlessly lose what they have given up.

Some dogs are called licisici, wolf-hounds, because they are born of wolves and dogs, when by chance these mate. In India bitches are tethered at night in the forests to breed with wild tigers, by whom they are mounted, producing very fierce dogs, so strong that with their grip they can pull down lions.

#maniculum bestiaryposting #dog #medieval literature #medieval art #medieval manuscripts #illuminated manuscript

155 notes · View notes

cockslutpadalecki · 1 year

Text

Don’t Be Cute, Be Nasty (2)

Summary: You hate the thought of being inexperienced and Joel, your caring stepfather, just wants to help out. Practise makes perfect, right?

Characters: Stepdad!Joel Miller x Stepdaughter!Reader.

Words: 3.1K.

Warnings: stepdad/stepdaughter relationship, step incest, reader is over 18, innocent!reader, sort of corruption kink, lots of pressure over reader, oral sex (female receiving), squirting, vaginal sex, loss of virginity, 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: You can read part one here. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

“So,” Joel’s voice sing-songs at you from the open doorway to your bedroom, “how far you’d let him go?”

You glance up from your book, your stomach instantly tightening at the sight of him. It’s been three days since your date with Craig— four since Joel taught you things no stepfather should ever teach his surrogate daughter— and this is the first time you’ve been alone with him long enough for him to question you about it.

When you hesitate for too long, he softly urges, “C’mon,” shrugging he smirks, “I won’t be upset.”

“Se-second,” you rush to placate him. “Just second.”

“How was it?”

Here it is. The question you don’t want to answer. How can you tell him it was just… okay? Mediocre, in fact. Nothing compared to how he made you feel.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, clear in your intent that you’re not willing to elaborate. Joel thankfully takes the hint.

“You go down on him like I showed you?”

You nod, not sure if you imagine the way he tenses at your response, but you realize you enjoy the thought of him being jealous.

“He like it?”

“He came if that’s what you mean,” you mutter, turning your attention back to your book.

The words blur on the page as you sense Joel moving in the doorway before hearing the door click closed. For a moment, you think you’re alone until Joel’s feet come into your periphery, just to the edge of your bed.

You don’t wait for him to speak— the order to look at him threatens to break the silence, but you don’t need him to say it, his mere presence reeks— demands obedience. You crane your neck and stare up at him as he moves to sit beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“Look, there’s coming because, y’know, you’re getting your dick sucked, and there’s coming because it’s the best damn blow job you’ve ever gotten.”

You shrug. “I don’t know, I mean, he almost tugged a clump of my hair out, then when he finally caught his breath, he asked me how I learnt to suck dick like that.”

Joel smiles down at you, tongue caught between his teeth. The memory of his cock heavy in your throat reminds you exactly how you had been taught.

“Good girl,” he praises, “nobody else will ever hold a candle to you now.”

“Why?”

“Because you gave him the best damn blow job of his life, princess. He’s gonna remember it when he’s well into his 40s, fat and balding, jacking off alone in the spare bedroom ‘cause his wife ain’t doing it for him no more.”

You don’t know whether to smile or be revolted, imagining Craig like that. Instead, you give Joel a kind of neutral look, not sure of how to keep the conversation going.

He blows out a puff of air with swollen cheeks. “So, just second and a half? He didn’t go down on you?”

You screw your nose up at that. “No.”

Joel notices and tuts. “Don’t you want him to return the favor?”

Squirming beside him, you finally sit up on your knees, giving him another casual shrug. “I guess, I don’t know, I just— the thought of someone’s mouth… y’know, down there. Seems kinda gross.”

“But you put your mouth down here,” Joel replies, a noticeable husk to his tone. Your eyes catch briefly before they drift south, noticing the way his thumb rubs across the zipper of his jeans.

Swallowing deeply, you look back up at him just as he leans in, his hot breath brushing the shell of your ear.

“Trust me, if I got the chance to put my mouth down here,” his hand glides across your thigh, skimming his fingertips along the seam of your cunt, “you’d be begging me not to stop.”

As tempting as it sounds, you’re still not sold on the idea. He pulls back a little, tongue teasingly balanced on his lower lip.

“No?” he says. “What if I kiss you a little? See if you like it?”

“Hm, I don’t know.”

His hand moves, cupping you fully. “Just try it, if you really don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

“But-”

“C’mon, you think Craig will be this lenient with you? You don’t want him to think you’re a second-base only kinda girl, do you?”

You shake your head. Joel smiles.

“I didn’t think so.”

“Just a kiss,” you reiterate with a shaky voice. Flames of heat are already pulsing through your thighs at the thought of his lips on you.

His mouth is only inches from yours when he husks, “Just a kiss.”

Heat is all you feel. Pulsing, rippling heat that threatens to shatter you from the inside out. Pressure builds inside you— everywhere— as Joel fucks his fingers back into you while his tongue laps at your clit.

Every stroke, every lick is precise. This is no longer a lesson in how to eat pussy, it’s merely for enjoyment now as Joel mutters praise against your saturated flesh.

He lifts his head momentarily, encouraging you wordlessly to prop yourself up. You do so on shaky elbows, entranced by the sight of him between your thighs, your essence smeared all over his beard and lips.

Joel smirks. “Still think it’s gross?”

“N-no,” you mutter, “please don’t, s-stop.”

He smiles wide, stare still locked with yours as he presses a featherlight kiss to your mound. You groan, eyes rolling, elbows threatening to collapse beneath you before you’re able to regain some semblance of composure.

“See, a common misconception is that oral is all about stimulating the clit, but,” he presses another kiss to your skin, this time to your swollen bud, letting his words linger in the air as his fingers retreat slowly, “you wanna make her come as hard as possible and the best way to do that is...” His voice tapers off as he slips his fingers back inside you, crooking them at the knuckle to create the perfect angle. Your entire body tightens when his fingertips nudge something inside you, and light sparks instantly begin to electrify within your veins.

The sentence remains unfinished as Joel licks his bottom lip before opening his mouth wide, allowing his tongue to sweep a line up your cunt.

“Jesus Christ.” Your elbows finally give way and you fall back onto your bed with a breathless whimper.

“You like it like this?” he asks against your pussy. His rhythm increases and the little flame tingling everywhere down below quickly dissipates.

“Mm,” you shake your head, forgetting he can’t see you. “No. Slower.”

“Slower, huh?” he replies, amused. “Like this?” His fingers and tongue ease to a pace that makes everything inside you feel like it’s about to burst. Words die on your lips as you try to answer, but whatever sorcery Joel is doing to you with his tongue and fingers render you mute.

He doesn’t deviate— keeping the perfect cadence until you can’t hold on any more. Your hands reach between your legs, grabbing a fist full of his hair just to have something to hold onto. Every nerve in your body shorts out as you come explosively with a squeak.

Joel continues to lick and fuck you until the sensation wanes, but as soon as it passes, another wave of heat washes over you. More intense than the first.

“Oh my g-” you cry out, suddenly feeling like you need to pee. You try to wriggle out of Joel’s reach, but the way his spare hand snakes around your thigh, means you don’t get far. “No, I can’t, I’m gonna pee!”

He doesn’t listen, and a rush of something gushes from your cunt into his face. You’re too strung out to be horrified, the inexplicable ecstasy heating you from the inside out extinguishing your embarrassment.

Everything is tinged in white. The room spins. It’s not until you feel wet lips kissing over your belly that you manage to find your way back to consciousness and Joel’s dark brown eyes gazing at you as he climbs up your body, his light smattering of chest hair tickling your skin.

“You still with me, Princess?” The question is soft. Spoken in light amusement.

“Uhh,” is all you can manage. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you— all heart eyes and lust, while you want to die from shame. Bringing a hand up to your face, you do your best to cover it from view.

He tuts gently. “Hey, why you hidin’?”

“I peed on you,” you say, voice barely even a whisper.

Joel laughs above you. “Kinda, yeah, but it’s not a bad thing.”

You glance at him through open fingers. “It’s not?”

“Nope. Not when it means that I’m really fuckin’ good at making you come.”

You can’t help but laugh in agreement. “So it’s okay?”

“Princess, it’s more than okay,” he affirms, rutting his still clothed cock against your soaked cunt. “Feel how hard you made me doing so good like that.”

“Mmph,” you groan at the contact. “Want me to return the favor?”

Now it’s Joel’s turn to moan. “Fuck.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, eyes trailing the length of your naked body before looking back at you. “God knows I’d love you to, but you’re so wet already, would be a shame to stop now. Wouldn’t you rather do more?”

“More? Like…” you let the sentence linger.

Joel just looks at you, but you both know what ‘more’ means.

“If you want to,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“I guess,” you reply, unsure. “I mean, I don’t know, like, shouldn’t Craig be my first?”

“Do you want him to be your first?”

No. “I don’t know what I want.”

“What if you wait for him and it turns out to be terrible? He tells all his friends about you, how bad you are at sex, do you want that?”

You shake your head furiously. “Definitely not.”

Joel smiles, shifting between your legs. He tugs his jeans down just below his ass. Just enough to allow his dick to spring free.

“C’mon, I taught you how to suck cock, lemme show you how to take it, baby.” His voice is rough, gravelly and thick. He moves, running the head of his shaft down through your folds, allowing it to rest at the opening of your sex.

You wriggle beneath him, confused. Your body craves him, can feel your cunt contracting around nothing as it aches to feel him inside you. But your brain is telling you it’s wrong— you should wait for Craig, regardless of how bad it may be, yet Joel is right here… ready, wanting, to fuck you. Ready to turn you into a woman.

He’s not doing this to score points with his buddies, he’s doing this to help you.

Who is he going to tell if you’re shit? Nobody. Who will he mock you to if you fail to do something right? No-one. Joel can help you finesse the finer details, details that could set you apart from everyone else. He’s already shown you so much, he may as well take you all the way.

You could be a pro at sex before you’ve even started.

“Okay,” you squeak, immediately dubious as to whether you’ve made the right choice.

“Yeah?” he smiles.

“Yeah.”

Joel slowly runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he rises up a little, giving himself room to slide a hand in between you. You feel him tug his cock a few times before his hand appears in front of you, and he gently teases his fingertips past the seam of your lips.

“Get them nice and wet for me,” he instructs, watching you devour his flesh like a tootsie pop. “Oh, good girl, yeah, loads of spit, baby.”

When he’s satisfied, he pulls them free— a string of saliva connecting your lips to his fingers until it breaks like the most delicate strand of spun silk. His hand disappears once more, slathering his cock in your spit and then his body is draping back over you, bringing with it the warmth of his erection against your opening.

You barely feel any pressure at all until all you can feel is pressure.

“Wait, wh-what about a condom?” you suddenly blurt out, trying to push him away.

“S’fine, I’ll take you to get a script tomorrow,” he hums, pressing his lips to your throat, barely listening. “S’better without.”

Your reply gets lost amongst kisses as Joel nips at your mouth, his eager tongue seeking yours. It’s not until he groans against you, you realize this is the first time you’ve done so.

After everything you’ve done with him, the least intimate action is the one you save until last.

It’s a distraction— pulling your thoughts away from the intense stretch between your thighs. You wince a little, wriggling uncomfortably as Joel pushes further in.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you gently.

“It hurts.”

“I know, baby,” he kisses you again, deep and slow, “it’s gonna a little, but you’re doin’ so well. Almost there. Just relax.”

At that, he snakes a hand between you, using his thumb to slowly massage your clit, still tingly from your orgasm. Everything instantly loosens inside you and he slips the rest of the way in with a stifled moan.

“Oh good girl,” he emphasizes, placing another kiss to your lips. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, m’just… full.”

Joel laughs softly. “Ready for me?”

You nod. Removing his hand from your clit, he retreats slowly. You feel weird as he slips out, like your pussy needs him back. When he slides back in, it’s a little easier, but there is still some resistance the further he gets.

As he fills you all the way, you feel the small thatch of curls at the root of his cock tickle your skin followed by the weight of his pelvis. It’s a strange sensation, but one you already sort of enjoy, and you begin to anticipate it.

Joel repeats the process ten more times, speeding up a little with each thrust, and you can feel yourself relaxing more and more as dull pain slowly melts into pleasure.

“How you doin’?” he asks above you.

“G-good,” you gasp out when he thrusts a little harder. “Oh, fuck.”

“You like that?”

You nod immediately.

“Want me to do it again?”

“Mhm.”

He does— gently at first until he’s fucking you at a pace that makes your cunt ache. You can feel your wetness drip around him each time he pulls out, and when he drives back inside you, it helps aid his momentum, filling you entirely to the root.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl, aren’t you, huh?” he whispers against your lips, teeth nipping at your flesh each time he sinks inside you. “So good for your Daddy.”

Words get lost in the back of your throat.

And you almost lose yourself when Joel rises up onto his knees, grabs your hips and begins pulling you on and off his cock.

“W-want me t-to s-stop?” he stutters, noticing the way you tense beneath him.

You shake your head, breathlessly muttering, “No,” in response.

“Shall I slow down?”

You repeat the process, your plea to ask him to go faster dying on your lips. You’re too afraid to be up front.

“God, look at you, good enough to fuckin’ eat.”

A hand slips between your thighs, thumb poised across your clit as Joel orders, “Tell me what I need to do.”

At first, you’re confused by what he means, until it finally dawns on you. He wants instruction, his words ringing through your head.

Every woman is different.

“Is this alright?”

“Mm-hm.”

“C’mon princess, how will any man ever be able to get you off if you can’t tell him how?” His eyes locked with yours, he lifts your knee to his mouth, and presses light kisses to your skin, his facial hair gently tickling the flesh.

Your body tenses under the combined scrutiny of his stare, along with the feel of him everywhere, all at once. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to swallow down your embarrassment, but the words finally tumble out.

“Move your thumb down a little.”

“Good girl,” he praises, words thick with the sound of a smile. He does so and your hips cant towards him, needy. “Oh, there we go, that’s better, huh?”

“Mm, to the left… yes, yes, right there. D-don’t m-move it,” you instruct, eyes still closed.

It’s perfect now. You can feel the flames rapidly building with heat, threatening to scorch you from the inside out.

“Go faster,” you tell Joel through the darkness.

“Not until you open your eyes and look at me.”

You do with tremendous hesitance— one eye at first and eventually, you open the other. The moment your gaze catches his, he starts to fuck you harder.

An unfamiliar but somehow familiar stirring starts to develop in your gut— dull at first, almost like you’re imagining it, until there’s no mistaking it. It builds and builds to the point you think you’re going to burst.

“Jo-el, I— oh god,” you blurt out, “I think I’m c-close.”

“Yes baby, c’mon, give Daddy what he wants.”

It all happens in a blur. Nothing but pleasure exists for a brief moment, however this time, the moment extends— prolonged by Joel fucking you through it. It repeats over and over— your body seizing like you’ve been electrocuted, before sagging back against the mattress, completely fucked out. Yet you keep jolting intermittently as lingering waves pulse through you.

“Oh fuck, Princess,” Joel sounds amazed. “That good, huh?”

Your tongue feels too heavy to respond, but the barely discernible nod of your head and the lazy smile brushed across your lips seems to sate him enough to keep going.

Wet slaps accompany his throaty moans and praise, encouraging you to telling him what you want.

Again, you start off feeling ridiculous, but the more you instruct him to hold off or go harder, the more eager you become to spill everything that’s on your mind.

“You want me to, what?” Joel asks, mid thrust.

“F-fuck me from behind?” It’s not a question, but you pose it as such, internally rebuking yourself for your brashness.

He smirks down at you before placing another kiss to the inside of your knee. “Next time baby, just need to enjoy you like this.”

Your stomach flips at that. Next time? You’ve always been under the impression this is just a one off— but as Joel stares at you, eyes lust-dark and intense, you realise this is just the beginning.

***

4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @b3autyfuldisast3r-blog @cheesyclaire @chibijusstuff @callsignrambam @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @nik2write @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @wayward-dreamer @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

296 notes · View notes

emeritus-fuckers · 1 year

Text

“Black Wedding” ♡ Secondo x female Reader (yandere)

Dedicated to @tasty-ribz, based on the song Black Wedding by In This Moment (feat. Rob Halford).

CW: female aligned reader. reader and Secondo are hinted to have an age gap. reader is a virgin. yandere themes. mentions of blood. mentions of masturbation. brief description of sex and masturbation (mostly Secondo's fantasies, really). mentions and descriptions of rituals. religious themes. loss of virginity. ritualistic blood drinking. blood kink. corruption kink. slight cum kink. mentions of pregnancy. Secondo is kind of a perv here. kinda dom & sub themes. badly translated latin, translation in the end (google translate).

i. i would've loved you for a thousand years

i would've died for you

Secondo Emeritus was a man who sought out entertainment. Usually it was nothing too serious, a night with a Sibling of Sin or a fan... Sometimes even a Ghoul or Ghoulette, if he was really bored. He was a passionate man, one who would sometimes get bored so much that he would randomly choose a Sibling to seduce, purely for the sake of the small thrill he would get out of that. It was one of the few things he had in common with his father and younger brother.

This was a similar case. He held a black mass for his believers, scanning the crowd for someone to kill his boredom. And then his gaze fell on you. He's never seen you before. You were probably new, fresh blood.

And you were so beautiful, your body tightly wrapped by the habit you wore. It was probably you first sermon, considering how you'd quickly follow what everyone else was doing. When everyone else knelt, you'd quickly kneel too. If they stood, you'd stand up. If they sat down, you'd sit as well, your eyes switching between him and the Siblings around you. How adorable.

He observed you for weeks, watching you slowly get a grasp of when to do what and for whatever reason, he felt proud. As if he was the one to teach you.

He took some time discreetly pulling the right strings to find out information about you. And with every information he wanted you more. You were innocent in so many ways, in body and mind. And that alone was enough to make him hard as he read about you. His arousal was so strong it almost hurt. He had to wave the Ghouls that brought the information away, just so he could let his cock out to deal, with the impatient erection that wished it could be kept warm stuffed deep inside you.

As he used his hand to please himself, he wondered if you've ever masturbated or if you've seen someone do it. According to the intel he received, you got flustered at the very mention of anything sexual, so he doubted you've ever even seen a single porno. It made him chuckle to himself as he imagined you kneeling in front of him, looking at him with wide, slightly nervous eyes. Would you make a sound of he came all over your face? An adorable little squeak perhaps? Just how cute would that be? What if some of his seed got on your cute pink tongue? Would you cringe at the taste? You probably would, but just how endearing would you look?

He'd love to to stroke your cheek, soothing you as you mewled, too intimidated by the presence of a Papa to wipe your face. Your innocent look would be enough to quickly make him hard again, just to slowly make you open your mouth to give you a proper taste. He could almost see the tears running down your perfect, red cheeks as you choked on his cock.

It truly was a sight to die for.

ii. i would've sacrificed it all, my dear

i would've bled for you

Was it truly so selfish of him to wish you were his and his alone? If it was so bad, someone would've surely stopped him, would they not? If he was such a monster, he would be stopped. But he wasn't.

Nobody stopped him from speaking to you and charming you. Nobody stopped him from inserting himself into your life and slowly taking it over. Nobody stopped him. They had months to stop him, but they didn't.

And now there you were, your naked body on his bed, your eyes wide open and innocently looking up at him. You were nervous, he knew. But you were just so sweet as you pressed your cheek against his palm, seeking comfort. He couldn't help himself, he wanted to keep you nervous just a little longer.

He gave you the softest of smiles, leaning in closer until your lips were almost touching. He could feel your breath shaking, but he wanted to wait just for a few more seconds. He was curious if you'd be brave enough to kiss him. If you'd be brave enough to kiss him on your own, at least just once. But not yet.

He has kissed you many times before. He'd hold your chin, making you look up at him and give you sweet, gentle kisses. Ones that would comfort you, but also make you feel dominated. Whenever his lips were on yours, he'd have your complete attention, nothing else mattered. And he knew that. He knew that and he used that to his advantage.

He did so this time, too. Closing the distance between your lips and his as he stroked your cheek soothingly with his thumb, guiding you to close your pretty eyes and let him have full control over you. You kissed him back, of course. You would always follow his lead, like a good girl. Oh, such a good girl you were...

He loved how obedient he made you. How over just a few short months he got you to fall in love with him. To completely trust him, even now, when you were so scared of what he wanted to do.

He understood. You were young. You were innocent.

But now you were his. You were finally completely his, offering your innocence to him. And of course, he took it without hesitation. Slowly but surely, his cock made its way inside you. And he savored the feeling of your sweet cunt embracing him as you held onto him. You whimpered, clinging to him. A few tears fell as you quietly muttered over and over that it hurt.

And he comforted you. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, hushing you quietly and kissing your cheek. He was there for you, he was your support, your lover and right now, he was the most important person in your life. Just as he wished when he saw you at his sermon.

And now he got to take your virginity. To make you bleed for him. And he will forever cherish the sight of the few blood drops on his sheet.

iii. 'til death do us part

you were unholy right from the start

There was something endearing in the way you looked as you knelt there, right in front of him, completely naked. You were just as anxious you were before, on the night he took your innocence. And all the other nights he got to have you.

He made a choice a while ago. He knew just how much he wanted you. And he had you now, yes. He owned your heart, your mind and your body. And he proved his ownership over you time and time again as he made you cry out his name at night. He had proof of it all.

The bruises his fingers left on your thighs nearly tattooed on your skin.

The marks his teeth left on on your neck, as if a starved vampire bit all over it to feed.

The hickeys on your chest and stomach, the gentlest of his markings, decorating your skin in such a pretty pattern that only he understood.

Yes, you were his. He knew that well. He didn't doubt your loyalty to him, your eyes were always focused on him, and even if they wondered, all it took was a snap of his fingers, and your attention was back on him again. A few kisses was all it took for you to forget whatever distracted you. He trained you well.

And now here you were. Your head tilted back to look at him, even if he did not offer you a single glance, instead watching the chalice as it slowly became filled with the blood from the cut on his palm. When he decided there was enough, he moved his hand above your head, holding your chin with the other one to tilt it back even more.

He let his blood slowly drip on your forehead, observing you blinking fast as you hoped none of it would get in your eyes. He offered you the faintest of smiles, one so discreet noone else would see it. His fingers slowly went to stroke your cheek as he observed a bit of blood dripped from your face down to your chest, running down between your breasts.

"Hac nocte, sub luna pleni, animam tuam vendico. Nunc te meum tuli, et tu me tuum." he spoke quietly. He knew you had no idea what his words meant, he didn't even give you a clue before. All you got to know was that he wanted you. After all, you didn't need to know much else, there was no reason to worry your innocent self about it. No, it would corrupt your innocence, and he'd hate that. He wanted to be the only one to corrupt you, to make you cry tears of pleasure every night. He wanted all of your attention on him, at all times. He wanted you to be his. Just his. "Tu et ego nunc unum sumus. Animae nostrae coniunctae sunt, numquam separandae. Tu mei, sicut tui."

He moved the chalice to your lips, tilting it so you'd drink his blood. He saw you cringe at the taste, but you would never disobey him, so you did your best to get all the red liquid down your throat, taking small sips.

As soon as you drank it all, he pulled you by the arm so you'd stand up. And you did, immediately moving to kiss him. He allowed you to, of course. He didn't care if the blood on your chin stained his facepaint red. He would never deny himself the taste of your lips.

iv. it's a nice night for a black wedding

He loved getting to feel you against him, even if your touch was limited by his robes and your wedding gown. You looked so beautiful, the moonlight shining on your skin and the dark fabric wrapped around your skin.

You didn't get a white dress, no. He didn't want you to have a white dress, and you agreed. You always agreed with him, trained so well to please him. He sometimes wondered if you realized just how much control he had over your mind, how he changed you so easily. How he made your world revolve around him.

But it didn't matter. You don't have to know such unimportant things. He was completely fine with you only paying attention to him. After all, you were his. Tonight he has claimed you completely.

Over months, he took your mind, slowly and subtly reshaping your worldview to depend on him completely. You had your own thoughts, of course. But you were conditioned to always come back to him, to always think about him. Your thoughts would always go back to the man holding you right now.

Then he took your virginity. He took your body, learned all about it. All your weaknesses. And he used them. He had experience in sex and used it all to please you. To make you yearn for him. After all, who else could take care of you like he did? Nobody. He knew everything about your body, he knew where to touch, where to kiss or bite. He knew exactly how hard and how fast to fuck you to make you cry and cling to him all night.

Next, he claimed your soul, connecting the two of you forever. He ensured your heart would always bring you back to him, even if your mind would somehow break free of his bonds. You'd always love him just as much as he loved you.

And now he got to claim you as his wife, holding you in his arms. It was a matter of days before your stomach would swell with his child. Yes, you were his completely.

And how delighted he was to have you...

Translations:

Hac nocte, sub luna pleni, animam tuam vendico. Nunc te meum tuli, et tu me tuum. - This night, under the full moon, I claim your soul. I have now taken you as mine, and you have taken me as yours.

Tu et ego nunc unum sumus. Animae nostrae coniunctae sunt, numquam separandae. Tu mei, sicut tui. - You and I are now one. Our souls have been combined, never to be separated. You belong to me as I belong to you.

Taglist: @sirlsplayland @firefirevampire @thatoddboy @ouijaboardemo (send an ask if you'd like to be added! read the pinned post before asking!)

#Spotify #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost x reader #yandere event #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo #secondo x reader

190 notes · View notes

imthefemalemonster · 2 years

Note

Hiii

Can u Yandere!Daemon Targaryen x reader

He kind of force her to marry him after he arrive in pentos (he didn’t marry leana) time pass and she just love him and they have lots os kids. They go to leana funeral but daemon don’t left her side, when people tried to talk to him alone he says that his wife stays. The one second that she left his side to attend one of their kids Rhaenyra came to his side and asks if he love reader and he barely look at her before saying that she’s his moon end stars (Khal Drogo vibes) ❤️❤️❤️

Hello beautiful! Of course I can, I loved the ideas and I tried to develop a bit more the start of the relationship, I hope you like it. ♡

***

⸻We'll Meet Again

Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader (Fluff/Mature themes)

⸻ Summary: Love grows mysterious way; you soon find out when Prince Daemon Targaryen seeks your hand and even the Gods themselves wouldn't dare refuse him.

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Dubcon, (at the beginning), Obsessed/Overprotective Daemon, Forced Marriage, Innocence Kink, Age Difference, (age not specified but reader is ~20), Fluff, Kisses, Hugs, Mention of Sex, No Use of Y/N, No beta feminism left my body when I wrote this

⸻Read on Ao3

Notes: Requested by anon, I hope you like it. ♡

There’s mention of some sex/virginity loss/first time but nothing too bad, not really smutty more fluffly with Daemon being obsessed ((manipulative)) and overprotective with you. ~

Warning for dubcon at the beginning.

Tumblr for ideas/requests: @imthefemalemonster

Smut & fluff prompts: here & here

⸻ Words: 4934

The afternoon sun hit your skin as you walked down the streets. Busy and noisy, you wandered with ease in the crowd, in the city you knew all too well. You had to meet friends at the port, the one Pentos was most known for. You had proposed to meet in the beautiful gardens close to your home, but the air of the sea suited your friends more. As you arrived near, you looked around, only finding goods, people and boats. The familiarity of the place reassured you, the smell of the water like a mother’s embrace. But as you walked down the gardens, into the city and to the port, for some time now, you had felt eyes on you, two orbits you saw too much to be a mere coincidence.

Daughter of a public figure of the city, your father made rich from the trades of spice, you were accustomed to interested men gravitating around you. But youthful as you were, or rather innocent and unbothered. You had never really thought about the next big steps in your life, you preferred living in the instant. What pleased you were long walks, books that told a hundred stories, and the little voices in the walls who recounted the tales of love and betrayal of the people of the city, of the lands, and past the sea. You listened with much care, learning about the things you would maybe never see. Seated next to your friends facing the sea, you heard songs and stories, your noses in books as you all laughed and speculated on how the other people outside the city must live. You had a few friends over there, girls you met times ago, their letters would crack under your curious fingers, drowning into the words of another world. As you listened to the story of your friend and flying lizards, which you longed to see one day, you noticed the presence back not far away from you. You couldn’t quite catch the sight for long, everytime your eyes met, the figure would disappear soon after. You had never paid much attention to it, you were used to being looked at. But something deep inside you knew that this was different. Turning your head back to your friends, you soon forgot the blonde locks and lilac stare, until the next time you meet.

It happened in the garden the second time you really paid attention to it, you won a tender smile. The third time a voice, a low, deep one who sounded both like a threat and honey, like a blade would tenderly brush your skin, each second menacing to pierce your body and see the blood flow out of it. The fourth time, you couldn’t remember, was it at the port again? Near your home? As the day passed, it felt like everyday. Everyday a shadow behind you, eyes on your figure. Hands that grazed your back, fingers brushing your neck, smiles exchanged. Curiosity got the better of you when you approached, naive as you were. The gardens were full of people, talking, laughing. Digits touched slightly as the words flowed in your ears, lips sweet against your skin. He had a name and a title you would not forget. Once again the orbs left you alone, your hands gripping the silk of your dress, lips parted as you wanted to call him back. Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Daemon had rarely held this much restraint. What he desired, he always got, whatever it cost. So when it came to you, he observed, he stalked, he learnt. You were much younger, walking around the city with an innocence to match his insolence. Your laugh was honey to his ears, your face as enchanting as the sun, your voice a bliss he could beg to hear singing, as you did once in your home’s garden as he was resting near. The first time he noticed you, you never left his mind. It was similar to poison, but one he would drink day after days after day even if it consummated him to the bones. Without your knowledge, he followed you in the city, he watched your fingers turn the pages of a book, the details of your joints engraved in his mind as they moved gracefully. He observed your lips moving as you talked, laughed, called to your friends or spoke words he drowned into. Daemon desired you all over his body, and desired him all over yours. At first it was soft, discreet caresses. When he got tired of just following you around, he craved to touch. He lost his hands behind your exposed back, digits tracing your spine. He observed you shiver at the touch, trying to meet the eyes of the culprit of these unwanted caresses. Daemon would smile at your visible distress mixed with curiosity, his arousal growing stronger with each touch. He grazed your neck, arms, hands. He wanted to possess you whole.

When he noticed people, especially men talking to you, he would fixate on them until they couldn’t hold his lilac stare anymore and they would leave. Rejoicing in the newfound power he had, as much as his reputation gave him, he observed you walking alone, shadowing you like he was your dark reflection caused by the sun. After you really interacted for the first time, to his delight, exchanging names and smiles, he was even more present at your sides. He never thought you really appreciated it, he never cared, in time you would, he would make you love it. So you walked together, talked all afternoons long, spend evenings together. He would randomly show up at your door, surprised but touched by the attention, you obliged him. When he walked all the way to you, he would grab your wrists, his figure broad and impressive, you felt small, a kitten held in gigantic arms. You couldn’t quite tell if you appreciated it, all the attention, all the time, but your life had become his. Everytime he met you eyes, Daemon used all his strength, everything he didn’t know the Gods could give him not to press you onto him and devour you whole like he dreamed for weeks now.

That night, Daemon had invited you to a sort of feast organized nearby. You weren’t sure what was celebrated, but you accepted as you loved to hang out. Maybe you could find your friends there, some you hadn’t seen for some time now since you spent most of your time with Daemon now. You felt some relief at the idea, the city was noisy with music and voices, busy with lights and fire at every corner, you rejoiced at the atmosphere. When you stepped out of your house, he was already here. The Rogue Prince, standing fiercely, eyes stripping you from your thin dress as he looked at you from toes to head.

“You smell really nice.”, he whispered as he stalked toward you, hands resting on your waist as his head leaned into your neck.

The contacts had become so much more intimate the past few days. You only thought it was gentle and attentionate. Sometimes you couldn’t quite decipher the smirk on his lips as he looked at you. To you it was kindness, to him it was hunger. He reached for your hands, thumbs caressing the skin, his digits trapping your own as he guided you toward the exit, down the streets, into a grand and beautiful house decorated with magnificent mosaics. There he placed his arm around your waist, locking you against him. Inside, you walked like a couple you were not, to you, not to him.

Daemon had hoped you would stick with him, now that you had learned the lesson. Maybe he had not worked hard enough, or maybe you were really this naive. When you immediately left his arms, the heat of your body leaving with you, he groaned in discontentment. Stalking behind you as you wandered and talked to people you knew, he observed each of the faces, each he would remember so they never talked to you again. His digits found your neck, your arms, your back, but everytime you escaped his control. You went around laughing, sometimes turning back to smile at him and invite him near. He drowned in these moments you would look at him, and him only. That all of you were focused on him. He could grab you, lift you above the crowd and claim you as his. After hours of talking and laughing, music buzzing in your ears, your feet and body were exhausted. You were still in the middle of everyone, you sighed ready to leave as you felt a harsh grip on your waist. You recognized the touch immediately, Daemon’s chest pressing in your back, his lips brushing the overheated skin of your neck.

“Give me your attention.”

The words left his mouth so fast, cold as ice, it felt more like an order than an invitation.

“I’m sorry?”, you mumbled, eyes filled with confusion.

“I haven’t received any.”

You choked on the words. His voice wasn’t low and soft like it used to. It was guttural and scary, like it was coming from a part deep inside him you never wanted to meet with. You heard the stories, you would rather not finish impaled on a sword or fed to a dragon.

“All night.”, he continued, spinning you around with no care for your tired body, his eyes staring into yours, intimidating.

“All-”, you paused, uncertain of his intentions, “I’ve been with you all night.”

He scoffed at the words, a hand on your neck, squeezing it slightly. Smirk on his lips, more vile than kind. He pressed his broad body onto yours, you felt crushed, by him, and by all the people around you.

“You have not paid attention to me all night”, he repeated, the sentence like a blade ripping your throat open, “Apart from glancing at me and laughing with other… men.”

The last word was accentuated like an insult. You swallowed, his thumb pressing on your neck as he felt it. You felt both angry and sorry. Maybe you could indulge in more time with him, but you already did everyday. You sighed. One last time then.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes sparkled at the words, lips moving into a soft smile. You had found the right words, you thought. He nodded, a hand cupping your cheek. A gentle and reassuring move, to you. To him, he could mold you to every of his desires because you were so easy to frighten.

“It’s all fine.”

You smiled as he lowered his hand to your wrist, brushing it gently, digits closing around it as his body started to move back, taking you with him

“You can give me this attention now, I promise to use it well”, he murmured against your face, flushed at the hot air hitting your skin. “How about we finish the night elsewhere?”

Unsure what the words meant, you simply nodded, letting him guide you outside. You walked past people and houses, down the street to the port, where you loved to rest during the day. It was dark, deep in the night as you sat facing the sea. You felt reassured, it was just another gentle evening at his side, maybe he had gotten overwhelmed by the people, and you wanted to reassure him that your friendship was still intact. Legs slightly brushing one another, he fixed at you. His face had changed, you couldn’t quite decipher it. He was smiling, but it didn’t feel gentle. You wanted to ask a thousand questions.

Daemon was lost in his thoughts. He was so close to both his goal and climax. Your naive, flushed face turned toward him, he could have lost it in seconds. He dreamed of your scent and naked body, to have you scream his name on the very floor. But he doubted you had the same idea in mind even if he wished you did. Forcing the act was considered but he didn’t go with it, he would rather avoid a diplomatic incident. He was surprised by his own restraint. He would win this war with words and touches, like he did for weeks now. You would yield.

“I’ve never felt stronger than when you’re with me.”

Your eyes widened at the words, knowing him, it meant much. Blushing you lowered your head to your hands, shyly intertwining your fingers as they danced on your dress.

“How strong?”, you laughed. He focused on your hands, his eyes lost on the motions as he dreamed of having them all over his scared body.

“Give me your hand and I’ll show you.”

You obeyed, raising a hand toward him, unsure what he would do with it. He softly grabbed it with his own, he paused for a second, observing every detail on your beautiful skin, before softly kissing the top of it. You shivered at the touch, cheeks red and eyes escaping the intimate sight.

“Daemon-”, you chuckled. You had heard and read a thousand love stories. This is how they started and you smiled at the nice intention. You tried to withdraw your hand, ready to ask him to take you home, your tired body starting to hurt. But when you moved your arm, he only squeezed your hand harder, pulling it to him. You frowned your eyebrows, raising your head to look at him, confused. Everything sane had left him, his eyes were as dark as the night and as savage as the sea.

“You are my love.”

Waves crashed near you. You wished they would have swallowed you whole with the words just spoken. You had understood Daemon’s intentions a while ago, you weren't a stranger to the flattering of men. But you had never shown interest back, you thought. And if you ever did, you wished for it to take the time it needed, the one you needed. Maybe love wasn’t the word yet, you had sincere feelings for the man, gratitude to his kindness and attention.

“I don’t-”

You couldn’t speak. What could be said?

“You don’t love me?”

Eyes closed, your hand still trapped in his, you felt it tense, squeezing your harder. It felt like a warning, not like concern.

“I-”, you searched for the right words again, “That’s not what I mean no. I truly appreciate you…”

“Then what?”, his eyes pierced right through your heart, it bled like rain falling from the saddened skies.

“I’m not- I’m not ready Daemon”, you spoke, voice trembling.

“You don’t need to be”, he rasped, “You never truly are.”

You shook your head at the words, it didn’t make sense.

“I don’t want it.”

His digits dug in your palm, his breaths heavy. You wondered if it was going to be the sword or the dragon that would end you.

“You don’t”, he whispered, he had not moved a bit, like he was turned into a statue, his face similar to stone, “Then what of the touches? The smiles? The laughs? The time spent together?”

“Simple kindness!”. You let go of the words, wondering if you would regret them, “You were nice, and I appreciated it, so I was nice too. That’s it.”

“But that’s not love to you?”, he scoffed, “Oh you truly are that innocent.”

“I never said it wasn’t, I only said I didn’t know yet.”, you whined, “Maybe with more time.”

“I don’t want more time.”, Daemon grumbled, “I know what I want.”

You raised your eyes to meet his stare, as time had passed, you had both moved closer, you got lost in his eyes and him in yours.

"I want you.”

Your heart stopped beating, it felt like void, no noise was to be heard but the whispers of the sea. May she deliver you. Silence loomed for minutes.

“B-but my family”, it was merely an excuse, you didn’t really care. You only wanted to get out of here, out of his manipulative grasp.

“They didn’t deserve you.” His thumb brushed your hand softly, he almost had you. “I’ll treat you well. I’ll love you. I already do.”

Eyes tearing up you closed your eyes, focusing on your heart racing again. Your digits intertwined like real lovers.

“Love…”, he whispered. The words had you tensing. It felt good, yet menacing. Did you even have a choice? Accept and it was done, but refuse? It would probably be worse. You heard the stories, you knew the stories. You felt his presence lean closer to you, his nose brushing yours.

“F-fine.” You gave up. Maybe you only needed time. He drank your words like the best wine, his smile malicious, victorious.

Thoughts and prayers were taken away from you like air in your lungs when his hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your lips to his. The distance was closed in a wet contact, much more gentle and loving than you imagined. And to the first kiss followed the first night.

Your father was quick to accept. You never really thought about his opinion on it, but considering his status there was nothing more he could wish than having you bed a Prince. You felt a sort of abandon when they agreed so fast. To be tossed around wasn’t your greatest joy. You still had to process the last night and the gravity of Daemon words. Your father wasn’t necessarily overjoyed, everything was business to him. If the business was good, then he rolled with it. Within the day it was done. Now Daemon didn’t have any sort of restraint concerning you anymore. He stayed at your house and came when he wanted. At first it was a grand annoyance to you, you felt like liberties had been taken away. But as the days passed, the word ‘husband’ slinging on your tongue started to please you, as you were met with ‘wife’, even if you preferred ‘my love’. You couldn’t quite explain it, something felt right.

You sensed something different in Daemon, like his chains had been taken off. He was still terribly overprotective, especially after claiming before all as his wife and to his words, ‘his greatest love’. You experienced everything of a wife, and more to the fact that you were the Rogue Prince’s. Now Daemon was not shy to threaten anyone who would look down on you or wouldn’t treat you well enough to his taste. The men walked toward you eyes on the floor, the women envied you as you told the thousand kind attentions Daemon had toward you everyday. He wanted you both to experience everything of love and more.

The first time was… strange. You remember his own excitement and your confusion. You had… read things. But you still rested there on the bed, inexperienced and exposed to his expert hands. Freezing and tense, your heart beat to a never ending race. When he crawled above you, you braced yourself for the pain you have been told about. But to your great surprise, you were drowned in praises and kisses, exchanging smiles and laughs. You remember the feeling, it was painful, but it was accompanied by your loving husband's willing hands and mouth. For the few seconds of pain you had, he granted you hours of pleasure. And it never ended, each night back at it. You kissed and kissed, whispering words, your bodies enlaced, full of him as he melted into your tender embrace, worshiping your body like the Gods.

The first kick happened at night. You couldn’t sleep well as the month went by and your belly grew larger. When you felt it move your eyes widened. It didn’t hurt, it just felt weird to feel the little babe growing inside you manifesting itself. Smiling, you brushed your skin hoping it felt it too. You leaned closer to Daemon, fingers tapping his chest. Sleeping was much easier for him as he was glued to your body, legs intertwined, arm under your head and breath heavy against your sensitive skin. He emerged when you kept pinching his cheek, trying to get his attention. He turned to you, face half awake, worry in his eyes. Since the start of your pregnancy he had been more than overprotective. You struggled to thought it was possible. But he followed you everywhere, never leaving you alone. He ensured you always had maidens around in case anything happened. You took naps together, bathed together. He spend hours head resting next to your growing belly, peppering kisses all over it. He whispered soft and loving words to the babe. You watched him, brushing his hair while he felt asleep on your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?”, he spoke, sitting up, his hand brushing your shoulders, thumb circling the skin in a reassuring manner.

You smiled at him, gently guiding his hand toward your baby bump.

“It keeps moving”, you mumbled, falsely vexed as you closed your eyes to melt into his touch. His digits grazing the skin, slowly tracing your rounded belly. He laid back on the bed, face next to yours as you exchanged loving kisses, the baby’s kicks reminding you of its presence. “They are going to love you.”

“They?”

“I want many of them.”, you smiled against his lips. He laughed into your mouth as he planted kisses on it.

Entering into labor was probably the scariest thing that happened to you. You had heard much about giving birth, but all the words Daemon would whisper in your ears couldn’t calm you down when the first contractions happened. It felt like tearing your body apart. You groaned and used words nobody thought could come out of your mouth. You ripped the fabric open in your hand, cried to whoever would hear you. As always, Daemon was at your side. You screamed and begged him to never leave you. He promised it and he never left you. The only time you allowed him to was when he stood up fiercely, your son in his arms as he cradled it, walking back to you. Dropping the little whining babe in your arms, he sat next to you, brushing the sweat off your face. He laid next to you, arms over your body and the little one. I love you. The sun set and the moon rose, the years passed and he was here for your second son, and still here for your little girl.

“I’m not leaving your side.”

Daemon looked after your two little boys like the most precious things he had. They looked very much like him. Fearless, brave, insolent. They ran around the house, escaping your sermons when Daemon laughed them off. They looked up to him with such admiration, he walked them to the port, trained them with the sword, and rode Caraxes with them. He had all eyes on your two little Princes. He praised them, kissed them, hugged them, loved them more than you could ever hope. You watched them grow in his arms. After their birth, waiting for your third child who happened to be a girl you wondered if he would treat her any different. Worries bubbled in your belly as she grew. She was very much like him too, which Daemon adored. He cherished her with everything he had, he taught your boys to love her as much. Barely walking, held between her older brothers, she walked with them to the port, into the gardens, her eyes sparkling like her father, fire into her veins. The girl was very talkative, even if her babbling didn’t make sense to others, Daemon listened to it for hours as she sat on the bed with her small hand moving in the air. He was so attentive, so focused, he answered back and their connection grew stronger each day.

“You were right here all along.”, you whispered.

Daemon raised an eyebrow at the words, unsure of what they meant. You were both laying in the grass, the afternoon sun cradling you both as your children were running around amongst the flowers in the garden. You heard their little yells and laughs as they were chasing butterflies under Daemon’s attentive gaze.

“You do love me.”

“You thought I lied?”, he murmured. There was no anger in his voice, but you could decipher a hint of sadness.

“No”, you reassured, cupping his cheek gently as you smiled at him, “But I like that it showed through the years.”, you paused, “By other means than grabbing my hand and kissing it.”

A shy laugh left him as he kissed your temple. You felt a small presence at your side as you turned, meeting with your lovely daughter, still struggling to hold onto her feet.

“Love you”, she babbled, resting her chin on your shoulders. You pinched her round cheeks and she laughed, head wiggling to escape your teasing touches.

“And me?”, pouted Daemon, falsely looking annoyed. The little girl raised her eyes to meet his, their lilac orbits clashing. There was as much insolence in her as there was in him, he loved and encouraged it each day.

“Love you too.”, she finally spoke, tongue escaping her tiny lips in defiance. A smile tore through Daemon’s face as he scoffed, twiddling the mess of her hair.

Leaving Pentos for the first time in your life was a huge step forward for you, you only wished it wasn’t because a close friend passed away. For years you exchanged letters with Laena, she was sweet and caring, strong and loved. Daemon was obviously saddened at the news, he apprehended going back there with you and the children. Having you around all the people, some he hated, made him only grow more annoyed and anxious as you embarked for the Driftmark. He hid it but after years together you knew how to interpret each of his moods.

“Never, ever, leave my side”, he ordered before you arrived.

“Didn’t we promise that to each other?”

He smirked at your answer, you had learnt your lesson well years ago. None of you was leaving each other's sides. Never.

As you met with more and more people, family and distant friends, you were asked everywhere. Faces unknown to you, gripping at your children as you held them onto you. You smiled and pretended, but Daemon wasn’t. Apart from his close family, which were his brother, sister and niece, and a few selected friends, he was cold to everyone else, especially those who looked down upon you. You were a woman of a distant land, some treated you like an exotic good to be handled and looked at. You greeted people with politeness, speaking a few words of your land. You felt your husband's grip tighten around your waist. Digits intertwined with his, you tried to reassure him, soft smile on your lips.

During the day, Daemon was asked more than once. Everytime the men looked at you with nonchalance as you accompanied him. He walked fiercely at your side, holding you like his most loved and precious prize. But you were much more to him than that. Anyone who dared to ask you to leave you meet with the famous Dark Sister, and probably regret it.

“She stays with me.”, he husked everytime the men wanted you to leave him. Nobody dared to contest the Rogue Prince’s decision.

Gentle smile on your face, you would rather avoid a slaughter. Each time Daemon started to threaten the people that treated you too badly to his taste, you would brush his face, his shoulders, desperately trying to soothe him before he lost it. Still you were reassured he never wanted you to leave his side, this new land was making you so anxious, looking after your kids as they ran away with others, scared to lose everything you had built for years.

Later that day, your little girl couldn’t stop pulling on your dress, whining that she wanted to go and see the pets, as she called the dragons. You had seen them too, beautiful, impressive, you wanted to take her closer to them, but Daemon was lost in an important conversation. Softly you whispered to him, his eyes traveled to you and his daughter as you pointed to them. For a second he hesitated, squeezing your hand harder, but he couldn’t refuse anything his children asked. He nodded, worry in his eyes as he watched you both walk away from him, already missing your presence. His eyes never left you, smirk on his lips as his boys jumped, hands in the air to get the wyrms’ attention. He heard their laughs and yells when the impressive dragons moved around, observing your figure, bent over to hold your little girl.

“They are beautiful, Uncle.”

Daemon recognized the voice, nodding at the words. Rhaenyra moved to his side, her magnificent eyes staring in your direction.

“They are”, he murmured, eyes still fixated on you and your children, a hand on the hilt of his blade, the other empty, missing your loving warmth.

“You love her do you?”, she questioned, asking like she knew the answer.

“I love them”, Daemon corrected, smirking, “Our relationship is the most important thing in my life.”

He paused for a second, eyes closed. He hoped the wind could carry his words across the lands and seas.

“I am but a starless sky without her. Empty. Lost. Each time they shine it reminds me of her laugh, her smile, her warmth. She'll always be the spark to my void.”

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #fics #dubcon #**mine #What did I just wrote

359 notes · View notes

kradogsrats · 9 months

Text

A Song of Love and Loyalty (and Loss): General Miyana

So thanks to @raayllum I have been thinking about Miyana. Miyana is a very interesting figure in the cast of a story where the central conflict is shaped around what an individual will do for the sake of love, whether to themselves, to others, or to the world—because Miyana, in her initial arc, is characterized by what she won't do for love. She's very much a facet of the same theme, but in a way that people are liable to find unsympathetic: she doesn't support Karim when he's relatively harmless, to the point that could be considered a betrayal of him, but then she does when doing so means doing serious harm in a definite betrayal of "the good guys."

But I love a complicated woman, so why not do a deep dive on the motivations, story arcs, and thematic future of a character most of the fanbase probably can't name and most of the rest likely hate?

So What is Miyana's Deal?

Miyana is one of the "Six Horns," the best and most respected of the Sunfire generals, named for the six horns of Sol Regem. The Six Horns, as at least part of their duties, form a tribunal that is is implied to be the highest level of Sunfire justice. Their role appears to be determining innocence or guilt, and the sentencing is left up to the monarch—however, they are also powerful enough to completely displace the monarch if they unite in intent to do so.

In their role as judges, the Six Horns adopt ceremonial regalia that hides their emotions and gives at least a symbolic curtain to their identities, creating a sense of impartiality... but it does not appear to be any kind of secret who they are. Miyana is still one of the Six Horns when out of "uniform," and she and her colleagues freely mingle and discuss things among themselves.

From her role, we can assume that Miyana is smart, politically astute, likely good at reading both people and situations, and has demonstrated loyalty to the Sunfire kingdom (... empire?). It's difficult to tell whether being a warrior is also part of her skillset, because she doesn't demonstrate any combat ability or inclination in her appearances—ex. she does not walk around armed. The "general" title would seem to imply some amount of combat experience, especially with our one other "general" example being Amaya, an extremely hands-on commander. However, given the intertwining of government and military there appears to be in Sunfire elf culture, the position is more strategic and advisory in nature than front-line combatant.

Miyana and Karim: a Secret vs. a Symbol

Miyana and Prince Karim are engaged in a romantic relationship that is secret... but also not particularly subtle, at least on his part.

When Karim bursts into Miyana's... office? Quarters? Whatever, she's the one who is disturbed and slams the door behind him. He doesn't really appear to give much of a shit.

This makes sense, because Miyana is the one with something to lose if their relationship gets out. She's meant to be an impartial judge, even against the monarch—an entanglement with the royal family significantly compromises her. Presumably, if she wanted to be with Karim openly, she could relinquish her position... but she does not, either because she doesn't want to, or because Karim doesn't want to make things official.

Speaking of...

Karim, somewhat hilariously, suggests to Janai that she keep Amaya as a permanent consort, rather than officially marry her and have that marriage be a "symbol" of what he perceives as the beginning of the end for Sunfire power and culture. This suggests that it could be Karim who insists on maintaining secrecy over his and Miyana's relationship, assuming he feels the same way about making sure his own eventual marriage is appropriately symbolic for his people.

Personally, given the way Karim behaves, I think it's Miyana who isn't willing to abandon being one of the Six Horns for him—whether because of the power and status it affords her, or because she values being in a position where her service to her people has a strong impact, or because it took her a fucking long time to climb the ladder. Who knows.

But basically, Karim? Not subtle:

Look at this guy, he might as well have literal heart eyes. He also doesn't avoid openly socializing with her:

Not to mention that they have matching earrings, for fuck's sake.

Anyway, he doesn't even respond to Miyana's concern about them being seen together when he barges into her space. He's not exactly behaving as if he's committed to the secrecy.

Season 4 Arc: Gently Convincing Your Royal Boyfriend that He's an Idiot

Miyana is introduced in the s4 Sunfire arc when it pivots toward Karim moving directly against Janai. Immediately after being dissatisfied by the result of Lucia's trial and Janai revealing the Sun Seed to him, Karim meets with Miyana and their relationship is revealed to the viewers. She does appear before that, with Karim (the three previous screenshots are from before that point), but this is where they are formally connected.

This scene, immediately before Karim tells her that he has seen "the truth" that Janai must be removed, is the last time we see Miyana smile until the end of s5. She spends the entire rest of the season going through various stages of concern and doubt about Karim's... frankly unhinged plans.

She questions him at basically every turn, but never goes so far as to say outright that what he's proposing is a bad idea. She acknowledges that the others of the Six Horns might be sympathetic to his take on Janai's direction, but more than once cautions him that she does not believe they will be willing to turn against her.

So how does she really feel? Karim certainly implies that he sees her as his "woman on the inside," secretly feeding him information on the Six Horns and influencing them in his favor, in turn. There's a cut segment that has been referenced in interviews in which Karim cautions Miyana that she must not be the first to vote in his favor, because that will possibly reveal their relationship—which, while he may be thinking about her preference for secrecy, would also kind of invalidate the entire vote.

Miyana, on the other hand, expresses a lot of concern for Karim. She's very worried that he's misjudged the situation and will fail—possibly because she knows she cannot rescue him if he's wrong. And she doesn't, even when he cries out to her, specifically:

I bet that was real fun for her to try to explain. It's possible she could have helped him more after the fact if he hadn't implicated her that way, but it's also entirely possible there's nothing she could do—the monarch, after all, is the one who sentences the guilty.

Even if Miyana is 100% behind Karim's vision for the future of the Sunfire people, at no point does she appear to agree with the way he's pursuing it, and in the end she refuses to go down with him. (Contrast with, say, Sarai... who firmly expresses her disapproval to Harrow about his approach, but then backs him 100% with action.)

Season 5 Arc: Can You Even Trust Yourself?

Miyana does not appear a single time in s5 until she reports Kim'dael's infiltration of the camp to Janai. At this point, Janai entrusts her with concealing and protecting the Sun Seed.

This is an interesting exchange, since on Janai's end it indicates that she and Miyana probably don't know each other well. Janai at least suspects what they are facing, based on the description of "a ghost"—if she suspects that it's Kim'dael specifically, she would be aware that the only person who could have sent her is Karim. It's not clear whether some of Miyana's involvement with Karim might have come out after s4, but even if it did, it was probably brushed off because she didn't stand with him in his ill-judged coup.

Also, like... what does Janai expect her to say? "No"? This isn't really a question—Janai has decided that, absent other immediate options, she can trust Miyana as a member of the Six Horns to safeguard the future of their people. She's indicating to Miyana that she is being given an incredibly important, secret responsibility.

And personally, I fully believe that Miyana thinks she is being 100% truthful in her answer. I don't think she's been sitting around waiting for the perfect moment to run off to Karim—she loved him, and still loves him, but she chose being able to continue having a role in shaping her people's future over throwing away everything for him. She has no idea where he is or what he's doing. He's gone. Exiled. No longer a factor.

So what changes? The ransom demand:

Karim sends Pharos with a message that says, simply:

He has Janai.

He wants the Sun Seed in exchange for her life.

He wants Miyana to come to him with it.

For Miyana herself, this potentially changes everything, because what she's hearing is:

Karim is alive.

He is still fighting for his vision, and has gathered allies powerful enough to overcome Janai.

He has some kind of plan requiring the Sun Seed, which likely plays to his actual strengths (he's a mage, the Sun Seed is a powerful magical artifact).

He wants her at his side.

Personally, if I was her, I'd be at least a little worried that he wants her as the delivery person so he can punish her for her betrayal of him... but he's also such an unbelievably soft boy that I can see why that might not cross her mind. Like, his reaction to seeing "Miyana" riding toward him is unrestrained joy and affirmation that his belief in her was correct—if anything, what he's expecting here is that Miyana will convince the others of the Six Horns to agree to his demands, thereby getting him the Sun Seed and reuniting them.

Miyana, for her part, is now in a position to significantly shift the balance of power. She still loves Karim, and she presumably still believes in his direction for the future. She can bring him the Sun Seed. She can bring him her segment of the Sunfire army. Both of those will significantly weaken Janai's position, while putting Karim much closer to success. Unlike Karim's s4 plan, this is a good bet. This is worth throwing away what she has, in favor of something she could gain.

Removing the Mask: Miyana's Final Turn (So Far)

Bear with me for a moment, because we're going to briefly circle back to s4 and Miyana's position as one of the Six Horns. Throughout s4, there is demonstrable tension between her role and her relationship with Karim, for both of them:

Each of them, in a private moment, contemplates the mask she wears as tribunal judge—a symbol of what keeps them apart. Both of them know that this is her central choice, between her love for him and the duty (loyalty?) to her people that she won't let go. Karim, poor fool that he is, thinks that those will never come in conflict. Miyana spends all of s4 knowing that they will. Maybe even knowing what her choice will be.

In Amaya's deception to rescue Janai, she puts on Miyana's clothing and mask, pretending to be her in order to get close to Karim. Karim completely falls for this, and thereby suffers a second emotional betrayal from the "General Miyana of the Six Horns" mask.

He's so happy that his faith in her wasn't misplaced, and then he gets literally hit in the face with it:

So that sucks for him. However, when Miyana ultimately returns to him, she has stripped all aspects of her Six Horns role, wearing neither her tribunal mask/robe nor her usual fancy tunic and adornments (what Janai was wearing):

She professes her loyalty to Karim having only the most basic layer of her personas: the bottom-layer red tunic and pants that go under both outfits. She has, it is implied, completely discarded the position that previously held her back from Karim.

She also claims that her loyalty has never wavered (debatable), and equates her loyalty to Karim with her love for him, also unwavering (probably true).

This, the moment when Karim receives her (after literally starting to cry), is the first time she smiles again. She continues to smile through the end of the sequence, revealing to him both the Sun Seed and the army she has brought. She appears to have zero conflict about this—she has shed it all with the shell of her identity as one of the Six Horns.

So What Does This Mean for the Future?

Miyana has explicitly equated her love for and her loyalty to Karim. And what is love, in this series, but something to be tested?

Even having stripped away all the aspects of her dedication to her people that are related to the Sunfire mainstream rather than Karim's rebellion, Miyana is still going to have to reckon with whether Karim's vision is the future she wants and whether she can support how far he may go for it. She has handed Karim, and by extension Pharavos, a great deal of both magical and martial power. When Karim's ambitions collide with Aaravos's, he will almost certainly double down—accepting what Aaravos offers and/or foolishly believing he can somehow come out on top.

Miyana is the only one of this trio who is potentially even a little clear-eyed, though she could absolutely be blinded by love. She may follow Karim to the bitter end and self-destruction. She may try to save him. She may try to save others from him. She may realize she can only save herself.

Of the characters with close relationships that carry this loyalty/love tension of loving someone but not necessarily being able to support their decisions and actions, we have:

Soren, who was unable to continue following Viren's downward spiral and instead chose loyalty to his king. His father may be a lost cause, but he still believes he can save his sister.

Terry, who has been left by Claudia with the aggressive guilt that she has robbed herself of his support because she believes he will eventually abandon her, and has several directions he could go: doubling down on his loyalty to Claudia and aggressively following her descent, prioritizing his love for Claudia and focusing on finding a way to save her, or he might cut his losses and fuck off completely (unlikely).

Lissa, whose precise situation we don't know the details of, but who left behind everything she loved and never looked back (or was never allowed to).

While I'm sure whatever resolution they write for Miyana will be fine (*grits teeth*), at this time I think the best one for her would be a Lissa-style ending. Janai's path may lead to the end of Sunfire history, as Karim put it, but his path will lead to the end of their future. Miyana will eventually recognize that, and that like in s4, she can't save him from himself. However, this time she has already irrevocably cast aside her former position—leaving Karim also means giving up her chance (or perception of her chance) to be someone who actively shapes and safeguards her people's future. If she returns to Janai, she faces exile at best. Might as well skip the painful part of that and just... go. But in having given up her complex loyalty to Janai, and finally separating her loyalty to Karim from her love for him, she's left with an opening where loyalty to herself and her own principles can blossom.

#the dragon prince #miyana #karim #janai #sunfire elves #did she seize my interest JUST because i suddenly thought 'oh she's like lissa?" SHUT UP DON'T LOOK AT ME #kradogsmeta

65 notes · View notes

nervous-alien · 3 months

Text

Let Me Save Him | At Least Once...

Also can be read on Ao3 and Wattpad!

!Check Introduction for description, disclaimers, warnings, chapter index, and other information!

Quick author's note: For this chapter, I will be using almost exact dialogue from the games during the trial. Sorry if it's a bit repetitive. This will be the only chapter like this. I'm not really sure how I feel about how this turned out. I thought it was a good idea doing most of the trial but I had second thoughts after I was done. Also, chapter two was supposed to be combined with this one but it felt better separate. That's why it is already out. This will most likely be the only time I post two chapters in one day. Enjoy! Please lmk what you think of it!

Ch 1. The End of Something New

Song of the Chapter: Trapdoor ~ Twenty One Pilots

“So what you’re saying is the killer was wearing the same blue tracksuit as him? My tracksuit is black!”

I felt my eyes widen.

It can’t be!

I could feel my heart skip a beat.

I looked around at my fellow classmates and prayed to whatever god was out there that none of them heard what Mondo had accidentally let slip from his lips, but to my misfortune, Makoto also heard those dreaded words. He glanced over at Kyoko, silently asking if she heard it too and she gave him a small nod.

As Hifumi was proclaiming his innocence, Makoto stopped him mid-sentence. “Hold on a second, Mondo! What did you just say?”

Mondo swiftly looked over to Makoto. I could see a faint glint of fear present in his eyes. I couldn’t tell if it had been there since the beginning or had just appeared, but it was there nonetheless. His brow began to slightly furrow, giving him a perplexed look.

“Huh?” Mondo huffed out, a bit aggressively. It was evident he was caught off-guard. “What’d I say?” His voice had a tinge of uneasiness. You could tell he was getting nervous. He always had a tendency to raise his voice when he felt under pressure.

My fingers rhythmically began tapping along to a nonexistent beat as I felt myself cringe at his statement. I couldn’t believe he could say such a thing without realizing it. My concern was rapidly growing.

How did he know that?

There must have been some kind of explanation. My mind began to race with possibilities, but they all led me to one tragic conclusion. My fingers moved faster. I brushed the thoughts away. I was becoming way too anxious.

I forced myself to continue listening. He must have some kind of valid excuse. I refused to believe that Mondo could have been the one who—I couldn’t even finish that thought.

I watched as my kyoudai waited for a response. His hand unconsciously moved to the back of his head, playing with the long strands of hair not included in his pompadour, a habit that I had noticed he only does when he is overwhelmed.

“When Celeste testified a few minutes ago, she never said anything about the jacket’s color. So why did you say Chihiro’s “blue” tracksuit?” Makoto leaned forward on his podium, glaring at Mondo with a look of determination.

Quiet gasps emitted from most of the class. A few of them shared shocked glances. I doubt Mondo was on any of their radars up until this point.

Mondo’s eyes widened. He had finally realized the crucial mistake he had made. “What are you—? You just—!” he yelled out. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on his face. He was at a loss for words.

His lavender eyes began darting around the room, noticing that everyone was staring at him. They stopped once they met my red ones. His expression faltered for just a second. I could almost see tears begin to form but he quickly blinked them away. As he did, he promptly altered his gaze.

“Hey, Celeste. What color was Chihiro’s tracksuit?” Byakuya butted into the conversation as it had piqued his interest. He had a small grin tugging at his lip. It was sickening. How could he enjoy anything revolving…this?

Celeste began to think back to the previous encounter. Without a thought, I crossed my fingers in the hope that it was a completely different color. “As a matter of fact, it was…blue.”

Dang it!

Byakuya made a grunt of approval and pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. His sickening smile grew wider.

“And before we began the trail,” Makoto began, “did you tell anyone that?”

I hoped she would say yes. Or at least if she said no, Mondo would reveal that he overheard her telling Makoto. That had to have been the answer.

“The only one I told about any of this was you,” she replied, confidently. And just like that, my hope was instantly crushed once more.

Please, Mondo! Please say you overheard them!

“Then,” I heard Sakura’s voice suddenly, “Mondo, how did you know what color Chihiro’s tracksuit was?”

Mondo’s knuckles were turning white. He gripped the podium as if trying to squeeze the life out of it.

“B-Because I—! I just—!” He couldn’t finish a single sentence. I assumed he was just under pressure. He just needed some help! I was sure of it.

“I-I’m sure he saw the clothes at some point in the investigation!” I quickly added to the conversation.

Mondo slammed his eyes shut, squeezing them tightly as the words left my mouth. His arms began to shake as he gripped the podium even tighter. He swallowed hard and was just about to say something when—

“No, that can’t be it.” Kyoko immediately stated. “The bag and clothes were surely disposed of by the time we began our investigation.” My mind began racing once more.

How did I already forget that? Why didn’t I say something else? Please don’t say I made this worse!

“Then the only reason he could have known what color the tracksuit was,” Genocide Jill began, yelling excitedly, “is if he saw Cherry with it before he died! That’s the only possibility!” As Hina quietly asked if ‘Cherry’ was referring to Chihiro, the serial killer continued her accusation. “So, how ‘bout it!? Did you see the tracksuit or didn’t you!?”

“J-Just by chance,” Mondo finally was able to begin defending himself, “ I just happened to see it last night. He walked past me, and he was carrying the tracksuit in his hands.”

See! I knew he was innocent. This just proves it!

“No, that can’t be it, either.”

Wait, what!?

“According to Celeste’s testimony, when she noticed it, Chihiro made a point of making sure the jacket was completely in the bag. If you just ran into him briefly, you couldn’t possibly have seen what color the tracksuit was.”

Why couldn’t Makoto look past this? Why did he have it out for Mondo?

Mondo let out grunts of frustration.

“It would appear you’ve dug your own grave.” Kyoko kept a straight face. I couldn’t fully tell what she was thinking but I sensed a bit of…pride?

I didn’t understand what made Mondo so suspicious. I mean, yeah he did know the color of Chihiro’s jacket but that doesn’t mean anything. Anyone could have guessed that! Heck, what if he actually did hear about it before but just misspoke about when? It was completely possible he heard Chihiro mention it to someone…maybe?

At least those thoughts helped me keep my faith in my kyoudai.

As I was lost in thought, Kyoko began telling the class how she suspected Mondo from the beginning. Something about him calling Chihiro ‘dude’ instead of ‘chick’. The group was surprised she picked up on such a small detail. Genocide Jill even called her a ‘frightful witch’.

She is a witch for assuming these horrible things about my kyoudai!

“No, I’m not the frightful one. Not nearly as frightful as someone capable of murdering a friend.”

Mondo involuntarily made a noise at Kyoko’s statement.

“Mondo, was it really you?” Makoto calmly asked. “Did you really kill Chihiro?”

I was starting to get sick of that word.

Kill.

How could anyone associate that word with Mondo?

“I…I…I-I-I…I didn’t kill anyone!” Mondo was almost screaming at this point. “You’ve been all over me, judging everything I say, putting words in my mouth. What gives you the right to treat me like a goddamn criminal!?”

“Y-Yeah! He would never do something like that! This is a false accusation!” I had to jump in and support him. He needed to know that I was there for him. Maybe that would help him calm down and then he wouldn’t say nonsense that could unjustly be used against him.

“It’s true, my reasoning on that is pretty shaky,” Kyoko let out, a bit dejectedly.

“Th-That was fast,” Makoto said, his shocked look mirroring mine. I couldn’t believe Kyoko would just give up that easily. Yes, I was ecstatic that she did, but it didn’t sit right with me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mondo relax. I couldn’t imagine how scared he was. How bad it must have felt to be accused of such a heinous act.

“Well, this does present us with a problem. It seems we are all out of leads,” Celeste sighed, slightly shaking her head.

Hifumi was now bringing up the broken e-Handbook he had found, but I was having a hard time paying attention. I was just too overjoyed.

They finally moved on from Mondo. They finally realized that he would never do such a thing. I wanted to run over to him and embrace him. I wanted to congratulate the fact that we would still have each other by our sides helping one another get through this game. But after this trial, I would have to give him a lecture to make sure he learns to think before he speaks. He almost framed himself without reason!

I shook myself out of my thoughts again when I heard the word sauna.

Apparently, Hifumi found the broken handbook on the floor in there.

Just the thought of the room reminded me of that night two days ago. The night Mondo and I became kyoudais. It was one of the best nights I had ever had. But as much as I would like to reminisce, I had to pay more attention to the case.

The group had just been discussing the handbook’s weakness. Monokuma confirmed their thoughts and now began ranting about saunas.

“The temperature in the sauna can reach over 200 degrees. Strange how you don’t get burnt, huh!? It’s because as your sweat evaporates, it creates a cooling layer of air around your skin! If the hot air of the sauna were somehow pushed directly onto your skin, you’d definitely get fried! That layer of air would get blown away. That’s why you may feel a burning when you move around. So when you’re in a sauna, make sure to keep nice and still!”

“Wow, interesting! I learned one new fact today!” I exclaimed. That was actually very useful information! Who would have thought you could learn something worthwhile from that bear?

I’ll have to keep that in mind next time Mondo and I hang out in the sauna!

I began getting lost in thought once more, planning to ask Mondo if he would like to spend time with me the next night. We could go to the sauna again! I thought about all the fun we could have since we wouldn’t have to worry about a competition. I thought about finally seeing him with only a towel, his large muscles as they began to gleam with sweat. I—

Wait a minute! What was that about!?

I noticed that my cheeks were growing warm. I quickly shook my thoughts away. I didn’t know why I would think such… inappropriate thoughts about my kyoudai. I forced myself to just ignore those…thoughts, and listen back in on the conversation.

“What if the killer took their own handbook into the sauna, not knowing its weakness, and it broke? They’d realize it was broken, of course, and it wouldn’t be hard to figure out why. And once they had Chihiro’s handbook, they knew they had an easy way to dispose of it,” Kyoko suggested.

“I won’t say it’s not possible, but,” Byakuya chimed in again, “who would have done something like that? I don’t know of anyone who took their handbook into the sauna.”

Surprisingly, Byakuya had a good point. Who in their right mind would take a handbook into the sauna? Unless they left it in their pocket or something. But then again, who would wear clothes in the sauna other than—

N-No. No, no, no, no, NO! Ignore that thought! You’re still caught up over them accusing him.

“I might know someone who did,” Makoto hesitantly said.

He had to have thought the same thing as me. But it couldn’t have been right. We were just thinking of the worst!

“I think the one who may have taken their handbook into the sauna was,” Makoto continued, but paused before he said the name. He slowly looked over to Mondo and proceeded to stare him down.

Tears began forming in my eyes, threatening to fall. I had let out a few grunts, trying but failing to hide my sobs.

“Mondo…your handbook got broken in the sauna, didn’t it?”

Mondo stiffened up like before after hearing his name. “Wh-Wh-What!?”

“Why!? Why do you keep accusing him!?” I continued to hold back my tears but you could tell they were close to falling by my wavering voice.

Mondo looked over at me and I could see the sadness in his eyes again. He looked guilty. He was trying to hide it as well, but he too looked as if he was about to cry.

“Mondo and Taka had an endurance contest in the sauna not too long ago, remember? And for the contest, Mondo just so happened to keep his school uniform on. But little did he realize, he’d also left his handbook in one of his uniform pockets. And when it was all over, Mondo discovered that taking your handbook into the sauna could easily destroy it.”

“No, wait, hold on!” I slammed my hands on my podium and stared daggers at Makoto. “You’ve got it all wrong! He would never kill—! I don’t accept this! Show me the proof! The actual, solid proof!”

“Let’s test Makoto’s assertion. If what he says is correct then Mondo,” Kyoko looked over to him, “ you broke your own handbook.”

“In other words, if Mondo’s handbook is actually broken, then that proves what Makoto said is right,” Celeste added.

“Well, my goddamn handbook works just fine!” Mondo yelled in his defense.

“S-See? Look! Makoto was wrong, after all! Mondo wouldn’t hurt a fly!” I was also yelling. I needed to make sure everyone knew that Makoto was wrong. I glanced over to Makoto and saw that he still had determination. He wasn’t giving up.

“Mondo, the handbook you have right now…Is it really yours?” I didn’t know what he was getting at but I could tell it was not good.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean!?” Mondo asked it as a question, but a distant part of me could tell that he knew exactly what Makoto meant.

“The broken handbook that was in the main hall…Isn’t that one actually yours?”

“What the heck are you talking about!?” I asked, finally voicing my confusion.

“What I mean is, I think Mondo swapped his handbook out for one that actually works. I think he took Leon’s handbook and replaced it with his own. After all, Monokuma said himself that Leon’s handbook never should have broken.”

I stopped listening as a few others added to the conversation, just spacing out, until I heard Makoto mention Mondo’s name again.

“Well, Mondo? If I’m wrong about this, you’re welcome to say so. I’m happy to admit I made a mistake, but—” Makoto began but was cut off by Mondo.

“S-Son of a bitch!” Mondo muttered those words but said nothing else.

Why wasn’t he defending himself?

“What’s wrong, kyoudai?” I asked him, hastily making my way over to his podium. He made no response.

I grabbed him by the shoulders, starting to shake him, begging for some kind of response. “Come on, tell him he’s wrong!” My tears returned once more and began streaming down my face. He was staring right into my eyes until he saw the tears. He then looked slightly to the side. Water began welling in his eyes but he still stayed strong and refused to let them fall.

I turned away from him, leaving one hand on his shoulder as I looked at the rest of the class. “You ARE wrong! You HAVE to be wrong! Everything you just said is wrong! You made it all up!” I sobbed.

“Okay, then why don’t we look back on this case one more time, from the beginning? That way, everything will become clear, and we’ll all see if I was right or wrong!”

Makoto began explaining the events, as I stared at him mortified. Unconsciously, I moved closer to Mondo and thought about pulling him into a hug but ultimately decided against it.

My head began spinning. I hated what I was hearing. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, what Makoto was saying made complete sense.

What are you thinking? They’re all just polluting your mind! There’s absolutely NO way Mondo is guilty! It just all coincidentally fits in place.

“And that’s how it all played out. Isn’t that right, Mondo Owada!?” Makoto finished the story and was now pointing an accusing finger toward my kyoudai.

Mondo started to breathe irregularly and began making strained noises. He just stared blankly at the ground, tears finally falling.

“W-Wait! No, this can’t be right! Where’s your evidence?” I was desperate to prove that this was false…Even if I wasn’t so sure anymore. I don’t think there was anything that could disprove it at this point but I had to at least try. “Y-Yeah, where’s your evidence!? You need evidence! You need proof! Without any proof, you can’t pin any of this on him!”

I felt like I was going mad. I just kept shouting “Show me some evidence! You’re wrong! I won’t listen! I refute you! False! You’re corrupt! I refuse to vote!” until Makoto broke me from my trance.

“If my thinking so far is right…Mondo must have replaced his broken handbook with Leon’s. In which case, we can just check each of our handbooks right now. Once we do that, we’ll—” Makoto was interrupted by something I dreaded hearing.

“We don’t gotta do that.”

“Huh?” Makoto’s eyes were wide. He was shocked by Mondo’s sudden submission.

“Yeah. Yeah…I did it…I killed him.” He started shaking.

I turned back towards him and placed my other hand back on his shoulder, facing him towards me again. He refused to look me in the eyes.

“Kyoudai? Kyoudai…what are you saying?” I wanted to shove my face into his shoulder and just hold him tight.

“I got no choice, man. After hearing all that, I gotta just…give up.” My mouth was slightly ajar. I couldn’t understand why he was giving in to their madness. “Go ahead, Monokuma. Get it over with. Ask for the god damned verdict.”

I felt the color drain from my face.

Th-That means he’s going to get—

“W-Wait, hold on—!” I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t bear to see my kyoudai get executed in front of me!

“No waiting! No holding on! Time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Grab your lever and give it a yank! Who will you elect as the blackened this time around? Will you make the right choice or the dreadfully wrong one? What’s it gonna be? What’s it gonna beeee!?”

I felt like punching that bear into tomorrow, but I knew better than that. Mostly because I didn’t feel like exploding or getting impaled like Junko. I was contemplating not voting but I didn’t know what would happen to me if I didn’t so I begrudgingly made my way back to my podium where the small levers were.

I looked at all of the names in front of me. I couldn’t bring myself to vote for…Mondo. I considered who else to vote for but I couldn’t with good conscience pick anyone. Then I looked at my name. Before I could think, I yanked my lever down and immediately sprinted back over to Mondo.

Once I made it back to him, I snuck a glance at his levers.

He v-voted for h-himself!

My hand instinctively reached for his and squeezed it tightly. As much as I hated any form of… P.D.A…especially in a school setting…I needed some form of comfort. He looked over at me for a second but quickly looked away.

The slot machine used to show the person with the most votes lit up, signifying that everyone had voted. I shut my eyes, not wanting to see the verdict.

I heard the sound of coins falling and celebratory music, showing that the class had voted for the guilty person. Even though I knew the answer, I opened my eyes and saw three tiny pictures of Mondo on the machine’s screen. Below it, the word ‘guilty' flashed in red.

I involuntarily let out a loud sob and looked over at Mondo. He was still staring at the ground like before.

“Uh-oh…This time it looks like…you got it right again! Yes, it is so. The blackened that killed Chihiro Fujisaki was…Mondo Owaaadaaaa!” Monokuma sang out cheerfully. “In case you’re wondering, the vote was NOT unanimous. Kiyotaka chose the wrooong answer! You’re treading very close to the danger zone, Mr. Ishimaru! You need to be more careful!”

I felt everyone’s eyes on us. Us. The murderer and the psycho who was too stupid to believe his kyoudai would commit such a crime.

My hand released its grip from Mondo’s. “I-I refuse to believe it. There’s no way…no way he would kill someone!”

“Sorry…”

Is that all he had to say!?

My sadness now had a newly found anger with it. I swiftly turned around and yanked Mondo forward by grabbing onto his beloved jacket. I put my face close to his and began yelling.

“Wh-Why are you apologizing!? Why!? Why why why why why!? WHYYY!? Wh…why? Why did you do it!?”

My words left him speechless.

“Well, it looks like Mondo’s taken a vow of silence, so allow me to explain on his behalf. The story of murder this time…is the sad story of two men...” Monokuma told the class a story about Chihiro’s past, explaining his secret. “And the person he went to…”

“It was me,” Mondo softly let out, almost as a whisper.

“Yup, it sure was! The biker gang fella had been painfully clear about how important his manly promises were. So Chihiro probably figured that even if he confided in Mondo, his honor would make him keep the secret.”

The group was now talking about how Mondo kept the promise he made to Chihiro, and how he tried to hide Chihiro’s real gender. I couldn’t comprehend any of this anymore. The whole thing didn’t make any sense.

“Then…Mondo did all that to keep the promise he’d made to Chihiro…who he’s also killed?” Makoto was also trying to wrap his head around this concept.

“Why…would he…do that? The more I hear you talk, the more I don’t understand!” I turned to Mondo. “I mean, you guys trusted each other, right!? So why? Why did you…?” I needed to hear the real reason come from his own mouth.

“Because…no matter what, I didn’t want anyone to know…” I felt myself physically lean back a bit.

He k-killed Chihiro over one little secret?

“So that’s what triggered it, after all. The possibility of having your embarrassing memories and secrets exposed,” Kyoko looked somewhat disappointed but at the same time…understanding?

“Th-That’s impossible! Nothing could have been that bad! Something he didn’t want anyone to know, even if it meant killing someone? It’s impossible!” My secret was pretty bad, but to kill someone over it? I couldn’t even dream of doing something like that.

“How many times must I repeat myself? To judge others by your own standard is the height of folly. Even if you can’t comprehend it, he obviously can. That’s all there is to it.” For some reason, Byakuya kept getting defensive over that but I just ignored it. I didn’t care what he thought, I was too busy worrying about…other things.

“Well, while we’re on the subject, why don’t I tell you? That embarrassing memory…That secret he didn’t want anyone to know. You know what Mondo did? He killed his own brother!”

Mondo’s eyes fill back up with tears. I reclasped my hand with his to try to give him comfort. He squeezed it until it felt like he was going to break it, as Monokuma now told Mondo’s story. The story about how Mondo accidentally caused his brother Daiya’s death…

“N-No matter what…I couldn’t let the other gang members find out. If that happened, everything would have been ruined…Everything me and my brother had worked to create…woulda been destroyed…His death…all the guilt I’d been carrying around…it all woulda been for nothing. So that’s why…That’s why I…I…!” I had never seen Mondo act this way before. It felt like someone was ripping my heart out. I hated seeing him like this more than anything.

“Mondo…” Makoto tried comforting him. I tried ignoring the tinge of jealousy I felt.

“After I saw what Monokuma had on me, my head filled up with a kind of fuzzy uneasiness, and just started swirlin’ around. I’d never felt anything like it before. I…I didn’t know what to do about it. I wasn’t sure what to think or say. But after a while, that fuzzy uneasiness…turned itself into a rock-hard lump of anxiety, way down in my stomach! And it was right around then that Chihiro asked me to start working out with him. And right there, I… He told me a secret. His words were like a knife in my gut. I felt like he was exposing the lie I’d been living myself. I was…jealous. I was jealous of Chihiro’s strength. He had the strength to face his own weakness, to try and overcome it! It was the kind of strength I’ve never had…So I was jealous of him. And that jealousy…broke me. I felt like I could hear something starting to…creak. Something…inside my head. I don’t remember anything after that. When I woke up again, he was laying at my feet…covered in blood. I had the dumbbell in my hand…and I was just staring at him…down on the ground…”

He was violently shaking now, sobbing the words out. “H-Hey…” I reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. He buried his face into my shoulder. I rubbed circles into his back trying to calm him down. I leaned my head against his and let my tears dampen his hair.

“I…killed him. I killed Chihiro. Even after all this time, I’m still just as weak as I’ve always been! And thanks to that, I did something I can never take back!”

Monokuma began laughing. “Look at him! You see? You’re all just like him! For a secret from the past, for a memory. For that, he killed another living human in cold blood! He couldn’t cut free of his regrets from the outside world. He doesn’t know what true strength is. Do you see hope anywhere in there!? Cuz I sure don’t!”

I felt myself lose control of my emotions. Hearing him say such hateful things about my kyoudai made me snap. I couldn’t stand that…that…STUPID FUCKING BEAR!

“You…bastard! Just shut up, you son of a bitch! Go ahead, say that again, I dare you!”

Everyone stared at me with shock. I had even shocked myself. I never swear. I didn’t know what came over me.

I felt Mondo pull away from me. He looked at me with heartbroken eyes.

“Okay! I’ll say it as many times as I want!...is what I want to say, but unfortunately, I can’t do that right now! Because the time for punishing is fast approaching!”

It felt like I had gotten punched in the gut.

“You mean…execution!?” I held onto Mondo for dear life. I couldn’t let that monster take him away from me.

“That’s what I promised you, right? The blackened that disturbs the peace will be punished.”

“H-Hold on!” I shuffled towards Monokuma’s chair.

“Now then, I’ve prepared a very special punishment for Mondo Owada, the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader!” The bear began dancing around, grabbing his gavel.

“N-No, wait! Wait! Don’t do this! Take me instead!” I was screaming like a madman.

“Let’s give it everything we’ve got! It’s…PUNISHMENT TIIIME!” Monokuma began slowly raising his miniature hammer, adding what he must have thought was dramatic ‘suspense’.

I lunged forward slamming my hands on the armrest of the chair. “I! Said! WAAAAAIIIITT!!!”

Through my screams, I could hear Mondo say his…final words. Words that I will never forget, no matter how long I live. Words that will forever haunt my dreams…

“Sorry, man. I couldn’t keep the promise we made…from one man to another…”

~~~~~~

Word Count: 4,776

~~~~~~

Introduction

Chapter 2>>>

#danganronpa #thh #danganronpa thh #trigger happy havoc #fanfic #danganronpa fanfiction #ishimondo #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo owada #time machine #time travel #canon divergence #lmshalo #Spotify #cheyy's fics

12 notes · View notes