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manmuncher777 · 18 days ago

Text

SHADOW

Daemon x Hightower!reader

Description - You’re alicent’s sister, back in kingslanding after years away, fed up of being overshadowed by your sister. But Daemon sees you potential, what you can be… with his help of course

SMUT!! 18+

Porn with loads of plot, dark!Daemon, manipulation, preying, sex, oral f!recieving, mentions of kidnapping. Daemon Is just devious. I did not proof read lol

a/n - huge thanks to @calmingmelody96 for helping inspire me to write this request, its so long but I had so much fun making this charcater!!!

Your dress was tight, too tight. As if the green fabric adorning your waist was trying to kill you. For that, you thought, a small part of you might be thankful. You didn’t feel natural being in Kings Landing again after so long, after all these years. Childhood memories which carried much joy now feeling tainted as you glance to the looming towers of Kings landing. The air was thick with the mingled scents of the city, Salts from black water bay, the tang of smoke from coutless chimneys, and the unmistakable stench of the teeming masses that calle the capital home. For her, it was both familiar and alien, like an echo of a song half forgotten.

It all looked the same, yet so strikingly different. Your dresses green was mirrored by the banners that fluttered proudly on the walls, mixing with the stark red dragon of the targaryen’s.

The sight of it all set your heart twisting - a pang of longing that was tainted with the bitterness you have harboured all these years. This was Alicent’s domain now, Alicent’s world.

The air here was thicker than the skies of Oldtown. The sound of your boots tapping along the cobble stone as you made you way to the red keep, it felt strange that you knew the way all by yourself. Granted you did live here for years, but it still all felt very unnatural to you coming back again

You had left kinglanding not long Alicent’s marriage to the King. Despite being a few years younger than them both, you would join Alicent and Rhanerya as they caused troubled around the castle, listening intently as rhanerya would tell you of what a warrior she would be one day as she rode on dragon back, and giggling as alicent taught her how to become a proper lady of the court. That was the time when your father loved you equally.

But soon, things changed, the girls grew up and so did you. Rhanerya and Alicent got into a fierce fight - Alicent telling you about it later in her frustrations. Rhanerya had laid with Ser Criston Cole, putting her honour on the line. And then Alicent was to marry the king. You were made aware far later than you should have been, you father always dragging Alicent away, secretly talking with her about things he deemed you not worthy of understanding. That was when your relationship truly faultered, Alicent no longer had time to be your sister, only your Queen. Your father had no time for you, Only his other daughter

At first you had tried to stay, trying to find a role in court. You just wanted to be close to Alicent. But the bing you once shared withered, turning you into a shadow of a family obsessed with power and position.

The descion to leave was your own, no one even thought about trying to stop you. Alicent had kept you away from rhanerya, you only other friend. How you wished you could listen to her stories once more. But as you bind with your sister died, so did the one with you friend. when you passed her in the halls, you were once again a shadow, nothing there to acknowledge.

Deep down that childish part of you had hoped for a latter or a visit, anything on your night of leave. None came. And so you buried the hurt, and buried the little girl who had grown up here, convincing yourself you were far better on you own, out of the vile web of lies and twisted politics

Each step up the stairs you took bringing a tight feeling on your chest.

The doors of the red keeps grand hall swung open - and there she was. Alicent. Your sister stood on the far side of the room, bathed in the white light shining from the tall windows. Time had refined her beauty, her soft childish features now sharpened and regal. Clad in a deep green gown, her every movement measured, elegant and deliberate. She truly was the Queen your father had modded her into.

Seeing your sister again only brought back the flood of memories you share, for a moment you were certain you could hear her giggle, echoing in your mind. The faint scent of the lavender perfume you would brain into each others hair.

But those memories were gone almost as quick as they came, replaced by the sharp sting of reality.

Alicent’s Gaze met yours, and for the briefest moment something flickered there - recognition or perhaps even guilt. But then it was gone, replaced by her polished mask of queen.

“Sister,” Alicent begins, stepping towards you with open arms “It gladdens my heart to see you, it had been far too long.”

Your heart twisted at the sound of her voice. It wasnt fair - how could she act as if nothing had happened all these years., You wanted to shout, to demand answers. But all you could do was stand there, frozen.

“Indeed, it has been.. long” You manage a stiff nod.

“Far too long dear sister, I have missed you.” Alicent replied, her smile unwavering

‘dear sister” the words felt hollow, like a polished piece of fruit, rotting inside. Missed you? why had she never written never sent word. You only heard of her children due to word of mouth.

“How have you been?” Alicent asked, her tone so light, so casual, as though they had parted only yesterday. Her hands grasping your unwilling ones.

You pulled her hands back slowly, your jaw tightening. “I’ve been as well as one can be,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “It seems you’ve been… busy.”

If Alicent noticed the edge in your tone, she didn’t show it. “There is so much to catch up on,” she said, linking their arms as though nothing had changed. “Come, walk with me. You must tell me everything.”

As Alicent led you deeper into the keep, talking as though the years of silence had never existed, you felt your bitterness churn like a storm. you wanted to shake Alicent, to force her to acknowledge the hurt she had caused. But instead, you let herself be pulled along, your mind spinning.

It was clear Alicent wanted to erase the past, to pretend the years of abandonment didn’t matter. And maybe, for the sake of the queen’s peace, she expected you to do the same. But as they walked, one thing became certain—you wouldn’t make it so easy for your sister to forget.

The chamber was quieter than you had expected. Outside, the sounds of the bustling castle filtered through the walls—servants hurrying down corridors, the clang of preparations echoing from the kitchens, and the faint hum of voices carrying snippets of conversation. Yet here, within these four walls, it felt as though the air had stilled, wrapping around you like a suffocating shroud.

you sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting in your lap, fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve. Alicent’s words still echoed in your mind—a feast. A grand gathering to celebrate your return, Alicent had said, her voice warm and full of purpose. But beneath the surface, you knew there was more. There was always more with her sister now.

Your gaze flicked to the small mirror on the table, catching your own reflection. You barely recognized the woman staring back at you. The years had changed you—softened some features, hardened others—but it wasn’t just time. It was everything you had lost. Everything you had left behind

Your mind was now flowing with thoughts and worries. How would Rhanerya greet you? Would she be indifferent? Hostile - you knew her an Alicent’s relationship was over now. Or would she wear the same mask as alicent, pretending the past had never happened? you weren’t sure which would hurt more.

And then there were the others—the courtiers, the lords, the ladies, all of whom had watched you fade from the capital without a word, without a care. What would they think, seeing you now? A woman called back by her sister, thrust into the court she had abandoned, a pawn in games she no longer wished to play.

Perhaps tonight would be a reckoning. A chance to remind them all that you were not a woman to be forgotten or dismissed.The thought sent a flicker of fire through your veins, though it was quickly doused by the nerves coiling in your stomach. You stood and approached the window, looking out at the Red Keep bathed in the light of the setting sun. The feast would begin soon, and with it, the weight of a past you could no longer avoid.

With a deep breath, you turned back to the gown on the bed. If they wanted you to play the part tonight, you would. But it would be on her terms.

The dress you adorned that evening was not of your typical house style, your gown was crafted from a get black silk, small peaks of green lace poking through around the hem and bodice. You gave up all symbols of your house, not picking any of the gold jewellery you had. Instead a necklace. A silver one your mother had left you - you expressed your dislike for the family colours, this was something she left you an only you. Beautifully cast, shinning sharply in the light a small emerald in the middle, dangling on your chest. The necklace was tight, framing your neck and features. It fitted the low cut of the gown, you were no longer a child. Your gown sat delicately off your shoulders, the sleeves are embroider with the same green lace, yet a see through material. Silver chains frame the front of the bodice, you felt like a warrior, a knight maybe as they fit your snug and securely. No symbols of your house - other than the mild green adorned you that evening. You were a shadow, the black of your dress embracing that fact.

You step into the feast hall, deliberately late, and the moment the doors creak open, everything comes to a sudden, charged halt. The room falls into a heavy silence, like a breath held too long. You feel it—the weight of every single eye on you, the way their gazes burn into your skin. It isn’t unfamiliar, this attention. But tonight, it’s different. It’s not curiosity this time. It’s judgment, suspicion, and something colder, sharper. You feel the moment you’ve become the center of it all, and you savor it.

Your gown, the deep jet black of midnight, flows around you like a shadow, its silken fabric whispering against the floor as you move. It’s simple yet striking—elegant, with just a hint of rebellion woven into its very design. The silver chains draped across your bodice glint softly in the candlelight, the thin, intricate lines sharp and strong, like armor beneath the dark silk. The lace sleeves, almost ethereal, brush your arms like whispers of something long forgotten. The gown feels heavy in its defiance, the stark contrast to the rest of the court, and as you move through the room, you know it’s all they can see.

You catch his gaze—Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince. He sits there, as still as a shadow, his eyes never leaving you. There’s something in his stare, something unreadable and intense, that lingers a moment longer than it should. You feel it pull at you, as if his gaze could reach deep inside and expose what you refuse to show. You look away quickly, trying to push aside the strange fluttering in your chest. You’ve come here for yourself, for your own reasons, and not to be drawn in by anyone’s attention, not even his.

You remember the small moments, the ones that made your heart race, even though you knew they meant nothing. Daemon wasn’t cruel, not exactly. He would glance at you sometimes, when you were playing with Rhaenyra in the garden or lounging in the courtyard, his eyes flicking over you with a brief, almost imperceptible glance. It was nothing—a momentary flicker of attention that was gone before you could even process it. But it was enough to make your heart race, enough to send a jolt of excitement through you every time he acknowledged you, even if only for a split second.

He would never say anything to you directly, never linger long enough to make you believe there was any real interest. Instead, it was those little gestures—how he would ruffle your hair playfully, as though you were still just a child, but the touch lingered a moment longer than necessary. Or the way he would give you a smirk when you said something, as if amused by your words, as if you had somehow caught his attention, even for just a fleeting second. He never made it obvious, never let on that he cared about you more than anyone else, but that was what made it so intoxicating. It was always just enough to keep you wondering, enough to keep your heart tied up in knots.

When Rhaenyra would run off, lost in her own world, you would find yourself alone with him in the garden, and the silence between you would stretch out, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sometimes, when he caught your eye, his expression would soften ever so slightly, and your breath would catch in your throat. You’d feel the heat in your cheeks, but you’d never look away. Not then. Not when he was looking at you like that, even if it was just for a moment.

He would lean in just a fraction closer as he spoke, his voice low and teasing, making you feel as though the conversation was just between the two of you. The others were never around, not when he let himself be just a little more relaxed, a little less of the untouchable prince. You lived for those brief moments, those stolen seconds when Daemon’s attention was on you, however fleeting it might be.

It was never more than that—a flicker, a smile, a brush of his hand against your arm—but it kept your heart bound to him, kept that crush alive even as the years passed. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it wasn’t real, that he wasn’t interested in you the way you dreamed. But still, when he glanced your way, when his eyes lingered just a second longer, it made your world spin just a little faster.

You force yourself to keep walking, straight-backed and steady, as you approach your sister. The silence follows you, the gazes still locked onto your every movement. When you reach the high table, you see her—Alicent. She looks so much the same, yet so very different, and when you sit beside her, the space between you feels like an abyss. You can sense the tightness in her posture, the way her fingers clutch the edge of her goblet just a bit too tightly. The anger that simmers beneath her calm exterior isn’t something she’s even trying to hide now. It’s there, thick in the air, the silent wrath that she’s been holding back ever since you returned.

But you don’t flinch. You don’t look at her directly. Instead, you sit down with your back straight, your hands resting calmly on your lap as though nothing in this room could touch you. You can feel her tension, feel her eyes burning into you from the side, but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it. The game has changed. You are no longer the girl she could command with a glance.

The air between you two thickens, like a storm that’s already begun to break. You feel it, the undeniable shift, as Alicent’s anger seethes just beneath the surface. But you hold your ground, your mind focused on the present moment, on the power you now hold in the space you’ve carved for yourself.

The moment you sit down, your eyes inevitably find him—your father, Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King. He’s seated just a few places away, his posture as straight and composed as you remember, the weight of duty etched into every line of his face. He looks older, though. Perhaps it’s the years of maneuvering the chessboard that is court life, or perhaps it’s simply time catching up with him. But his eyes... they haven’t changed. They are still sharp, calculating, always looking for the next move.

For a moment, you’re struck by the sheer oddity of it—how he can seem so familiar and yet so distant all at once. You’d spent so many years trying to earn those eyes' approval, only for them to shift away from you and settle on Alicent the moment she married the King. You can still hear his voice echoing in your mind, dismissing you as if you were an afterthought: “You are no longer needed here.” The sting of those words hasn’t faded, even after all this time.

Now, though, his gaze has found you again, drawn there almost magnetically. But it isn’t approval you see. No, it’s something else entirely. His brow furrows ever so slightly, and you notice his eyes catch on the necklace resting just above the neckline of your gown. Your mother’s necklace—silver, not the greens or golds of your house. You haven’t worn it in years, not since the day he told you it didn’t “suit your station.” It had been easier, back then, to simply put it away, to avoid the argument, to not feel the heavy weight of his disapproval every time he looked at you. But tonight, it sits proudly against your skin, a subtle but deliberate act of rebellion. And you know he sees it. You see the flicker of recognition, the way his lips press into a thin line, the tightness in his jaw that betrays his otherwise stoic demeanor. He’s never been one for outbursts, not in public, but you know the signs of his displeasure as well as you know your own reflection.

Alicent notices too. Her eyes flick briefly to your necklace, her expression unreadable. She’s perfected that, hasn’t she? The calm mask that reveals nothing of the thoughts swirling beneath. But you see the slight shift in her posture, the way her hand stills on her goblet for just a moment too long. She recognizes it as well—your mother’s necklace, the one that had been left to you and only you. And though her face remains impassive, you can sense something stirring beneath the surface. Guilt, perhaps? Or simply discomfort? You can’t be sure, and you don’t particularly care.Your father, however, is a different story. You meet his gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to shrink under the weight of his disapproval. There’s a part of you that wonders if he’ll say something, if he’ll try to admonish you here, in front of the entire court. But he doesn’t. Instead, he simply looks at you, his expression unreadable save for the faint flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

And for the first time in years, you feel a strange sense of power. It’s not much, just a small spark, but it’s there—a quiet defiance that burns brighter with each passing second. Let him stew in his disapproval. Let him wonder if you wore the necklace for this very reason, to remind him of what he cast aside. Because in truth, maybe you did.

The feast continues, but for you, it’s like you’re in a different world—your heart beats steadily, and a quiet sense of satisfaction hums through you. You’ve made your choice. Tonight, you are no longer just a pawn. Tonight, you are the one who will shape the story.

And as Daemon’s gaze lingers on you once more, you smile to yourself, knowing that he—like everyone else in this room—will soon see that you are a force to be reckoned with.

The feast hall hums with life, the air thick with the clink of silverware, the rustle of rich fabrics, and the soft murmur of conversation. You sit in silence, the noise of the room all but fading into the background as you watch the scenes unfold before you. Lords and ladies cluster in small groups, their voices low but eager, whispers floating like smoke in the air. They glance at you now and then, no doubt wondering what’s behind the change in your appearance, the subtle defiance in your gown, in your presence. They can’t decide whether you are the same, or something new. You don’t mind. Let them wonder.The soft strains of music begin to fill the hall as the dancers step onto the floor, swirling in delicate steps as the violins and lutes carry the rhythm of the night. The bright, flowing colors of the dancers’ gowns blur in the air as they move, their laughter light and carefree. The court seems to forget its formalities for a brief moment, caught in the frivolity of the dance, the sound of soft feet tapping against the stone floors. You feel like an observer, watching them from your seat, your own heart at a steady, deliberate beat, disconnected from the joy that surrounds you. You don’t dance tonight. Tonight, you are simply here, marking your place.

The King, kind-hearted as he always was, leans toward you with a smile, his voice gentle as he speaks. “It’s good to see you back at the capital,” he says, his tone warm, almost fatherly. He’s never been anything but kind to you, his eyes always carrying that same genuine kindness that made it impossible to feel anything but at ease in his presence. You nod politely, your lips curling into a small smile, but you can’t help but feel the weight of the room shift around you. It’s not uncomfortable, not exactly. But it’s different now. There’s something in the air tonight that you can’t quite shake. You sense the tension in the corners of the hall, in the soft glances exchanged when they think no one is watching.

You see Alicent’s head snap to the king, you could tell she did not approve of his kindness, but she didn’t care say anything. After all, she needed this night to go incredibly well.

Before you can respond fully, Rhaenyra leans toward you, past her father, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. “I’m glad you’re back,” she says, her words a comfort, a reminder of the past. “I know I haven’t written... I should have. I’m sorry for that. Things have been... complicated.” Her smile is genuine, but her eyes—those familiar, warm eyes—hold something more, something unspoken, a shared understanding of how much has changed since the days when you were just children.

“Thank you rhanerya, its so lovely to see you again” a soft smile graces your features and youre glad that something positive has managed to from from this night. Alicent one more looking frustrated by the kindness of rhanerya’ a words, yet the princess paid her no mind.l

Rhanerya opens her mouth to carry on, when a new voice breaks in, cutting through the conversation like a blade. “A dance, my lady?”

Daemon Targaryen.

He stands at the edge of the table, a playful smirk on his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief as he surveys you. He’s always had that look about him—the kind that makes your stomach tighten, the kind that draws you in despite yourself. You feel the room’s attention shift again, as if everyone is waiting for you to respond, waiting to see what you’ll do. You know what they expect, what they want to see: a game, a flirtation, perhaps even a refusal that will keep the air buzzing with gossip for the rest of the night.

But you’re no fool. You know the rules here, and you know Daemon well enough to know that he’s never one to simply walk away. He stands there, waiting, his smirk deepening as he looks from you to the others at the table, all too aware of the eyes on him.

Rhaenyra’s expression falters just for a moment, but only for a brief second—something in her eyes, a flicker of recognition. You can’t tell if it’s jealousy or something else, but it’s gone before you can truly understand it. She shifts, her gaze quickly returning to Daemon, then back to you. You can almost hear her soft, unspoken question: What will you do now?

You know what the court expects. You know the rumors that swirl around Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince, the dashing yet dangerous man who can make any woman’s heart race. But tonight, you are not the girl you once were. You are no longer the one who swooned at his glances, who dreamt of him in secret. Tonight, you are your own woman, unafraid to carve your own path, even if that path leads into the whirlwind of trouble Daemon inevitably brings.

But still, when his eyes meet yours, you feel that familiar flutter, that rush of something old and dangerous stirring within you.

“A dance?” you repeat, a slight smile tugging at your lips. You hesitate, just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, before you rise, the tension in the air palpable. The music swells around you as you step forward, your gown trailing behind you like a shadow, as the hall watches you, the game already set in motion.

And for just a moment, you wonder if this night will change everything.

Daemon extends his hand, his grin sharp as a blade, his silver hair catching the glow of the hall’s countless candles. His confidence is infuriating and intoxicating all at once, and you can feel the room’s collective breath catch as you place your hand in his. The warmth of his palm against yours sends a ripple of something electric up your spine. He leads you to the center of the dance floor with the grace of a man who knows exactly what kind of chaos he inspires.

The music shifts as the two of you step into place, the tempo slow and seductive, perfectly suited to the swirl of your gown as he begins to guide you. His movements are precise yet effortless, and you find yourself matching his steps with an ease that surprises you. His smirk deepens as his eyes meet yours. “The Queen of Shadows,” he says, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “How fitting. A shadow is all they’ve ever let you be... but tonight, you’ve turned it into a crown.”

Your breath catches at the words, a mixture of disbelief and... something else. The way he says it, it’s not mockery. It’s a compliment—a rare, genuine acknowledgment of your defiance, your power. For years, you’ve been invisible, cast aside, an afterthought. And yet here you are, the center of attention, with the Rogue Prince himself spinning you around the room as though you are the only one who matters.

The corners of your lips twitch upward, and you meet his gaze head-on. “Careful, Prince Daemon,” you reply, your voice laced with a confidence you haven’t felt in years. “Someone might think you mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” he murmurs, twirling you effortlessly before pulling you back against him. His hand rests at the small of your back, firm yet not restricting. “You’ve always been wasted in the shadows. Tonight, you remind them all what a mistake that was.”

You can feel the heat of countless eyes on you, but none more so than Alicent’s. She sits rigid at the high table, her expression betraying a flicker of worry as she watches the two of you glide across the floor. You know exactly what she’s thinking. This isn’t part of the plan. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. She’s fretting over the arrangement she’s carefully orchestrated, the marriage she’s likely secured for you without your consent. But you don’t care. Not tonight.

Otto’s face is a mask of controlled tension, his fingers gripping the armrest of his chair just a fraction too tightly. He, too, is calculating, trying to figure out how to intervene without causing a scene. But Daemon doesn’t give them the chance. He spins you again, drawing you further into the crowd of dancers, further away from their reach.

“They’re furious, you know,” Daemon teases, his voice laced with amusement. “Your father, your sister... I’d wager half the room is scandalized.”

Good,” you reply, your voice firm. “Let them be.”

He chuckles at that, a low, rich sound that makes your stomach twist in ways you don’t fully understand. “That’s the spirit. Perhaps there’s more fire in you than they realize.”

The music swells, and Daemon guides you through the intricate steps with a practiced ease, his hand never faltering as he keeps you close. He leans in slightly, his lips near your ear. “But tell me,” he says, his tone quieter now, more intimate, “did you wear this gown for yourself... or for me?”

Your heart stutters for a moment, but you catch yourself before you falter. You tilt your head slightly, your own smirk forming. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His laughter is soft and wicked, and as the dance carries you both across the floor, you realize that, for the first time in years, you feel truly alive. Let them watch. Let them whisper. Tonight, you are no longer a shadow. Tonight, you are something more. And the Rogue Prince, with all his dangerous charm, seems to see it too

You were far to busy to notice you father and sister slipping away from the feast

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

The murmur of the feast hall echoes faintly down the corridor, but here, in the shadowed alcove behind a tapestry, Alicent stands with her father, their voices low. Her fingers nervously trace the edges of her green gown, her expression carefully measured.

“She’s drawing far too much attention,” Alicent murmurs, glancing toward the faint glow of the hall. “Daemon, of all people. If she continues like this, the lords will start talking, and that cannot happen.”

Otto, ever composed, clasps his hands behind his back. “She won’t have the chance. The arrangement has already been made. The match is strong, politically advantageous. Once it’s announced, her theatrics will be irrelevant.”

Alicent nods, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation, perhaps? “Does she truly need to be told tonight? This was meant to bring her back into the fold, not alienate her further.”

“She has no choice,” Otto says firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “The King has agreed. It is done.”

Alicent swallows, her throat tight as she lowers her gaze. “She’ll hate me for this,” she whispers.

Otto’s voice softens slightly, but it remains resolute. “Better that she hates us now than jeopardizes the stability of the realm. She’ll come to see the wisdom of it in time.”

The sound of laughter swells from the feast hall, and Alicent straightens, smoothing the fabric of her gown as she forces a calm expression onto her face. “Very well,” she says quietly, before stepping back toward the festivities

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

The feast blurs around you, the laughter and music fading into the background. The weight of Daemon’s gaze pulls at you, as if tethering you to him despite the chaos swirling in the hall. You’ve tried to ignore him, to keep your composure, but when he suddenly appears at your side, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, it’s impossible to pretend he’s not there.

“Are you bored yet, little shadow?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You glance at him, trying to mask your curiosity. “And why would that concern you?”

His smirk is wicked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Because I know how much you hate being their obedient little puppet. And because I have a much better idea for how to spend the evening.”

Your brow furrows, suspicion flickering in your chest. “What are you suggesting?”

He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. “Come with me. Let’s give them something to really talk about.”

Part of you worries the man is toying with you, you were no fool, you knew what he was like. But you cant help be drawn into his trap.

The air between you feels charged, dangerous. You know you shouldn’t. You know whatever he has planned will only make things worse. But the allure of defiance, of stepping out of the role they’ve forced you into, is too tempting to resist.

He was the wolf, guiding you to slaughter. Daemon knew what he wanted, and if toying with you was what he had to do, then so be it.

A dark streak in him loved to watch as you fell into his plan, just as he thought you might.

Before you can overthink it, you find yourself nodding.

The cool night air greets you as Daemon leads you through the darkened corridors of the castle. Your gown whispers against the stone floors, and the sound of the feast grows faint behind you. You should feel nervous, but instead, there’s a strange exhilaration coursing through your veins.

“Where are we going?” you whisper, your voice tinged with both curiosity and unease.

Daemon glances back at you, his smirk still firmly in place. “You’ll see.”

He leads you out onto a narrow balcony overlooking the courtyard below. The city of King’s Landing sprawls beyond, its lights twinkling like a sea of stars. Daemon leans against the railing, his posture relaxed, but his eyes are sharp as they study you.

“Do you know what they see when they look at you?” he asks suddenly, his tone softer now, almost contemplative.

You blink at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“They see a girl too afraid to claim what’s hers,” he continues, his gaze locking onto yours. “Too afraid to break the rules they’ve chained her with. You let them shape you, define you, when you could be so much more.”

His words sting because they’re true, and he knows it. But there’s something in his tone, something almost cruel in the way he peels back your defenses. The way he’s sculpting you into what he needs you to be.

“And what do you see?” you ask, your voice quiet, almost a challenge. You desperately wanted to know.

A flicker of something unreadable passes over his face before he steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush against the silver chain of your mother’s necklace. “I see someone who doesn’t belong in their world. Someone who could burn it all down if she dared.”

The words are intoxicating, and you hate how much they resonate. He steps even closer, his presence overwhelming, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“They think they can control you,” he says, his fingers lightly tracing the necklace. “Prove them wrong. Let them see what happens when you step out of their grasp.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at him, caught between the urge to pull away and the desire to stay. “How?”

Daemon’s smirk returns, sharper now. “By doing what they’d never expect. By doing exactly what they forbid.”

He gestures out toward the city, the suggestion hanging in the air between you. Sneaking out of the castle with him would be reckless, dangerous—everything they would hate. And he knows that.

“You want to unsettle them?” he says, his voice laced with dark amusement. “Then let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

There’s a challenge in his eyes, and you can feel the weight of the decision pressing down on you. You know he’s playing on your desire for freedom, on the resentment simmering in your chest. But the temptation to follow him, to throw caution to the wind, is impossible to ignore.

Temptation was all Daemon was, he thrived off it. Relishing in how you gave into it so easily.

As you stare back at him, you realize that Daemon isn’t just dangerous—he’s intoxicatingly so. And tonight, he’s offering you a taste of that danger, knowing full well it’s something you can’t resist

The air outside the castle walls is thick with the scent of the city—smoke, spice, and the faint tang of the sea. It’s noisy here, alive in a way the stifling halls of the Red Keep never are. Daemon moves through the labyrinth of streets as if he owns them, his steps confident, his silver hair catching the glow of lanterns as he glances back at you.

“Try to keep up, little shadow,” he calls over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You quicken your pace, trying not to let the unfamiliar surroundings overwhelm you. The streets are crowded, lined with vendors, performers, and people shouting over one another. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced, and you feel the weight of every curious glance thrown your way.

“Daemon,” you hiss, catching up to him. “Where are we going?

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer as a group of rowdy men stumble past. The touch is possessive, almost territorial, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re with me. No one will dare lay a hand on you.”

His words are meant to be reassuring, but there’s an edge to them, a reminder of his reputation. You don’t pull away, though, and he notices, his smirk deepening.

The tavern is dimly lit, filled with the smell of ale and sweat. The din of laughter and shouting washes over you as Daemon leads you inside. It’s a far cry from the elegant halls of the castle—crude and chaotic—but Daemon seems entirely at ease.

He tosses a coin to the barkeep without breaking stride, securing two goblets of wine before steering you toward a corner table. The wooden bench creaks as you sit, and you feel the weight of curious eyes on you.

“You’ve done this before,” you say, watching him over the rim of your goblet as you take a cautious sip.

“More times than I can count,” he replies easily, leaning back in his seat. “The city is far more entertaining than that gilded cage we left behind.”

You glance around, the noise and unfamiliarity pressing in on you. “I’m not sure I belong here.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans forward, his voice dropping. “That’s where you’re wrong. You belong wherever you choose to be. The problem is, you’ve spent your entire life letting others decide for you.”

His words sting, but there’s a truth to them that you can’t ignore. You look away, swirling the wine in your goblet, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re too used to being told who you are,” he says, his tone softening just enough to draw you back in. “But tonight, you get to decide. No one here knows your name, your bloodline. You could be anyone.”

You glance at him, searching for any sign of mockery, but his expression is unreadable. “And who are you when you’re not the rogue prince?”

His smirk returns, but there’s something darker beneath it. “Exactly who I choose to be.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

As the night wears on, Daemon’s attention never wavers from you. He teases, flirts, and challenges you at every turn, his words laced with a mix of charm and provocation.

When a musician begins to play, he stands and extends a hand to you. “Dance with me.”

“Here?” you ask, glancing around nervously.

“Why not?” he counters, his smirk daring you to refuse.

You hesitate, but the weight of his gaze and the pull of his confidence draw you to your feet. The floor is uneven, the space too crowded, but Daemon moves as if none of it matters. His hand finds your waist, his other clasping yours, and he guides you into a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

“I’m not used to this,” you admit.

His smirk softens into something almost resembling patience. “That’s the point, little shadow. You’ve spent too long hiding. Let them see you.”

His words sink deep, stirring something inside you. But even as you let him lead, you can’t ignore the way he looks at you—as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, as if every word and gesture is calculated.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask suddenly, searching his face for an answer.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate. “Because you deserve to know what it feels like to live.”

But there’s something else in his eyes, something he doesn’t say. And as he spins you across the uneven floor, you realize that with Daemon, the line between freedom and manipulation is razor-thin. He’s offering you a taste of something intoxicating, but at what cost?

The tavern hums with the chaotic noise of its patrons, but in this small corner, everything feels unbearably still. Daemon’s eyes are fixed on yours, the intensity of his gaze drawing you in like a magnet. The warmth of his hand rests lightly on your waist, the touch sending a strange shiver through your body. You can feel your heart racing, uncertainty curling in your stomach.

“Daemon...” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intend.

He leans in closer, the proximity making it impossible to breathe normally. The scent of wine and something darker—more dangerous—lingers around him, but it’s intoxicating, and you can’t seem to pull away.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Daemon whispers, his lips barely grazing your ear. “I won’t hurt you, little shadow. Not unless you want me to.”

Your breath hitches at the weight of his words. You know better than to be so close, to let him get under your skin like this, but something inside you trembles with curiosity, with an aching desire to know what he’s offering.

But there’s still hesitation, a voice in your mind warning you to be careful, to stop before things go too far. You glance around, but the world outside this little bubble of silence feels distant. There’s no escape.

“I... I’m not sure,” you whisper, your heart pounding.

Daemon’s fingers trace along the edge of your jaw, the touch soft but purposeful, sending a wave of heat rushing through you. He smiles, a slow, knowing thing that sends an uneasy thrill through your veins.

“I think you are,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours, the words laced with something darker, something you don’t fully understand yet. “You’ve always known, haven’t you? You just needed a little push.”

Before you can respond, he’s pulling you closer, the kiss coming so swiftly you don’t have time to think, to pull away. His lips are firm against yours, and the world fades. You can taste the wine on his breath, the heat of his body pressing into yours, and for a moment, you forget everything else.

But then, a flicker of awareness creeps back into your mind—his hands, too deliberate in their hold, the force behind the kiss, the way his tongue brushes against yours with an almost possessive edge. You want to pull away, but the pull of his touch keeps you rooted, his lips deepening the kiss, coaxing you further into the storm he’s created.

For a moment, you let it happen—because you want it, don’t you? There’s no mistaking the way your pulse quickens, the way your body reacts to him, to the dangerous thrill of what’s happening between you.

But then, a small voice inside you whispers that this isn’t what it seems. Daemon isn’t just taking what he wants; he’s testing you. He’s pushing you, knowing you won’t resist, and that thought should terrify you, but instead, it only deepens the knot in your stomach.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes watching you with a glimmer of something—triumph, perhaps, or perhaps it’s something more complex.

“You’re so innocent,” Daemon breathes, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. “So naive. But you’ll learn.

The words hang between you, heavy and loaded. And for the first time, you realize that the weight of his care is just as suffocating as his manipulation. He sees you as a puzzle, something to unravel, and in doing so, he’s slowly drawing you into his world—one where rules are bent, and where the only thing that matters is getting what you want.

You blink, your breath shaky, trying to regain your composure, but it’s hard with Daemon so close. You can’t tell if the heat in your chest is desire or something darker.

“What... what do you want from me?”

Daemon chuckles softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Everything, little shadow. Everything.”

The moon is a silver crescent, casting shadows across the streets of King’s Landing as you and Daemon slip through the dark alleys, hearts still racing from the night’s escapade. The thrill of defiance still buzzes in your veins, but something else gnaws at you—a feeling you can’t shake, a creeping sense that this is all too dangerous, that you’ve stepped too far into a world you can’t control.

Daemon walks beside you, his hand briefly brushing against yours. You can’t tell whether it’s for your comfort or his, but you don’t pull away. His grin is still mischievous, his eyes sparkling with the kind of dangerous energy that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I do enjoy watching them squirm,” Daemon murmurs, more to himself than to you, but you hear it clearly. “You, little shadow... you do have a knack for it.”

Your chest tightens with a mixture of exhilaration and guilt. This was reckless—this was too much. But just as quickly, your rebellious streak rises again, and you refuse to be the one to regret. Not yet.

However, as you near the castle gates, you realize too late that you’ve already lost the luxury of freedom. The looming figures of your family stand before you, gathered like statues carved from ice. Alicent’s face is pale with fury, her lips tight in an unforgiving line. Otto stands at her side, his expression unreadable but sharp as a blade. The King, normally so composed, stands with furrowed brows and clenched fists.

Rhaenyra’s presence only makes it worse—her eyes flick between you and Daemon, her gaze mixed with concern and a subtle understanding of the storm that’s about to break.

Before you can even take another step, Alicent’s voice slices through the air like a whip.

“There you are. Thought you could slip away unnoticed, did you?” She doesn’t wait for a response, her voice tightening. “You’ve ruined everything. Do you understand that? You’ve ruined your future. Your marriage to Lord Harroway... gone. All because of this.” She points an accusing finger at Daemon, her eyes filled with disdain.

Daemon, ever the provocateur, gives a lazy smile. “Ruined? Hardly. She’s free for once. Shouldn’t that be celebrated, dear sister?” His voice oozes mockery, and you can’t help but feel a spark of anger at his casual disregard for the consequences.

Your heart lurches as Alicent’s words sink in, the anger bubbling up inside you. “I didn’t know! You—you never told me! I didn’t even know about this... this arranged marriage!”

“You don’t have the luxury of ignorance,” Otto’s voice cuts in, cold as ice. “The plans were made. Your future was decided long ago. And now, thanks to your impulsive behavior, we have to start from scratch.”

“I have to start from scratch? What about you?” you snap, your temper flaring. “You’ve decided my life for me without even asking what I want, without ever giving me a choice!”

Alicent steps closer, her voice hissing through gritted teeth. “You have no choice now. You’ve made your bed, and you’ll lie in it. There’s no room for him in it. Not anymore.” She points at Daemon again, and you feel a pang in your chest. The venom in her words cuts deeper than you expected.

Daemon, undeterred, steps forward with that same cocky smile, his eyes glinting with something darker. “What’s the problem, sister? Afraid my presence will overshadow your perfect little plans? Your little puppet of a daughter?” His words are sharp and deliberately cruel.

Daemon’s voice becomes dangerously soft. "You think you can just control her, that you can marry her off like some prize? You should be grateful, Otto, that I didn’t choose to go even further."

Daemon leans in just a bit closer to Otto, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. "After all, I kissed her. Right under your nose. I took what you thought you could control." He lets the words hang in the air like a heavy, biting taunt, the cruelty of the statement drawing a sharp intake of breath from Otto and the others.

You see Alicent’s hands tighten at her sides, her jaw locking in fury, but it’s Otto who steps forward next, his voice low and dangerous.

“Enough. This ends now. I don’t care if you’re the King’s brother. You’ve risked her honor—my daughter’s honor—and I will not tolerate it.”

Daemon doesn’t back down, though. He looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and something deeper, more calculating. “You know you can’t cage me, Otto. She wanted this. She wanted the freedom.”

For a moment, Daemon leans into otto, right next to his ear muttering something only otto can hear “How about I fuck her next, then you’ll truly be ruined.”

You have no idea what Daemon said, but Otto pushed him away with such hatred in his eyes, you knew it was bad. “You bastard!” otto bellowed

Daemon chuckles darkly. "I’m not done yet. If you try to stop me again, Otto... you’ll regret it. I’ll take her whenever I want—no one, not even you, can stop me. I’ll just steal her away from you. And if you so much as look at me wrong, I’ll make sure your precious plans fall apart for good."

He grins, his expression both teasing and threatening, a dangerous mix of arrogance and cruelty. "The marriage is ruined, Otto. She’ll never be yours to control, not after this. You’ve lost."

Daemon then turns to look at you, eyes cold, calculating. "And don’t think I’m done with you either," he sneers, amusement flickering in his voice. "You were so willing to follow my lead tonight, to sneak away with me. And yet you stand there like you’re innocent. Do you really think I’ll let you just go back to your life?"

His words hit you harder than expected, and you can’t help but feel that the power Daemon wields over you is suffocating. You want to speak, to argue, but his presence is overpowering, his smirk twisting your insides into a knot.

Before you can react, the King steps forward, cutting off Daemon’s threat with a sharp command. "Daemon!" The King’s voice rings through the night like a hammer. "Enough of this insolence!"

Daemon’s gaze flickers briefly toward the King, his smirk returning. "Ah, the old man finally speaks. Are you afraid of losing control of everything, Your Grace?"

The King’s face hardens. "No one is taking her anywhere. You will not leave this castle with her. And if you try anything... there will be consequences."

Daemon’s smirk falters for just a moment, but then, in the blink of an eye, he gives a slight, mocking bow. "Of course, Your Grace. I understand." His voice is laced with sarcasm, and though he’s feigning submission, the air of threat still lingers in his every word.

Daemon turns back to you, his eyes still dark, but with a hint of something more—something that could be regret, or perhaps satisfaction at having rattled the cages. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he steps away, his presence still hanging heavily in the air.

Later, you find yourself in the cold, sterile confines of your chamber, the door slamming shut behind you with an echoing finality. The guards stand at attention outside, their presence a silent reminder that you’re not free to leave.

The anger inside you refuses to fade. How could they do this to you? How could they keep this marriage a secret, control every part of your life like this? Your hands tremble as you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the floor. This was your life. Your choice. But now...

“You will marry Lord Harroway.” Otto’s voice, gravelly and severe, breaks through your spiraling thoughts. You look up to find him standing in the doorway, his face set like stone.

“I will not,” you say, your voice low, but steady. “You can’t force me into this. I won’t be some prize to be handed over for a political alliance.”

Otto takes a step closer, his eyes cold with an authority that’s suffocating. “You have no choice in this. You’ve ruined everything. Daemon has ruined everything. You will do what’s expected of you.”

Your chest tightens, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill. “I don’t want him,” you whisper, the truth cutting through your anger like a knife. “I want me. I want my freedom. Why can’t you see that?”

Otto’s expression hardens further, his jaw clenched as if the mere thought of your independence disgusts him. “You don’t get to decide that. It was decided long before you were born. You will marry Lord Harroway. If you want to see Daemon again—if you want any part of your life back—you’ll accept the life we’ve planned for you. There are no more choices.”

The finality in his words hangs in the air like a death sentence. You stand abruptly, your legs shaky beneath you.

“I won’t... I won’t do it.”

“Then you’ll live with the consequences,” Otto replies, his voice colder than ever. He turns to leave, but then pauses. “You’ll stay here until your head is clear. And if I hear of Daemon again, if I even hear his name from your lips...”

The threat is left hanging, and you can’t help but shudder at the coldness in his tone. The door slams behind him, leaving you alone in the silence of your prison.

Anger burns hot in your chest, a tangled mess of fury at your family, at the life they’ve forced upon you, and yet, there's something darker festering within. You’re furious with Daemon too—furious that he pushed you into this, egging them on with his recklessness, his devil-may-care attitude. Did he ever stop to think about the consequences? About how you would bear the weight of his actions? Of course not. He took what he wanted, without a second thought, and now, you’re left to pick up the pieces. And the worst part? You still want him

The days drag on, suffocating you in your solitude. Your chamber has become a prison, and every second spent there is a constant reminder of how tightly your family has bound you—your father, your mother, Alicent, all of them shaping your life without a care for what you want. They’ve planned your marriage, decided your future, and left you with no choice but to accept it.

The anger you feel burns hot inside you, but it’s a quiet rage, simmering beneath the surface. And then, just when you think you might explode, you hear it—the sound of your door creaking open.

Daemon.

He steps inside without hesitation, as if he’s done this a thousand times before, and his eyes sweep over you with an unsettling familiarity. The way he looks at you—it’s like he knows something you don’t.

For a second, your heart skips in your chest, and a twinge of excitement rushes through you. But then, the anger floods back, sharp and bitter. You feel it, and you want to lash out at him. He’s the reason everything has gone to hell. He’s the one who pushed your family to this point, his reckless actions leaving you to clean up the mess.

“just in your night gown my lady? How scandalous” he jokes, a sultry look in his eyes

“Daemon…” you hiss, not bothering to hide the fury in your voice. “What are you doing here? You’ve ruined everything! My life is no longer my own, and now you show up like it’s some kind of joke?”

He smiles, the kind of smile that promises trouble. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice is laced with amusement, as if the destruction of your life is just another game to him. “But let’s not pretend you didn’t enjoy it a little. You did, didn’t you?” His eyes gleam, dark and knowing. “I didn’t make you do anything. You chose to play, and now we both have to face the consequences.”

You flinch at his words. It’s true—you did enjoy the attention, the excitement, the flirtation. But you didn’t sign up for this. You didn’t expect him to abandon you, to let you suffer the consequences of his actions.

You cross your arms, trying to steady your breath. “How dare you speak to me like that the other night?” Your voice comes out harsher than you intended, but it doesn’t matter. You want him to know how deeply he’s hurt you, how careless he was with his words.

Daemon chuckles lowly, a sound that sends a shiver of unease down your spine. He stops just in front of you, his eyes glinting with something darker, something that makes your stomach tighten. “Oh, darling,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Did you think I didn’t mean it?”

You recoil slightly, the words stinging. “What’s wrong with you?” you snap, your voice wavering despite your efforts to remain composed.

He’s too close now, too overwhelming. His presence fills the room, making it feel smaller, suffocating. Daemon’s fingers brush against your arm as he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. “I know you’re angry,” he whispers. “I know you want to hate me. But you can’t. Not really. Not when you know how much I’ve ruined you...”

You swallow, the accusation hanging in the air. His words have a way of finding their mark, cutting deep into the places you thought were safe.

“I’ve ruined your little plans,” he continues, his voice mocking. “But you followed me, didn’t you? You followed me just as easily as you’ve followed everything else. And I know you can’t stop thinking about it. About me.” He pauses for a moment, eyes trailing over your face, reading every flicker of emotion. “You can’t stay angry at me, not when you know you want to be with me.”

His hand slowly reaches for your chin, tilting your face up toward him, forcing you to look him in the eye. His grip is tight, possessive, and for all your anger, you don’t push him away.

Daemon’s smirk widens, cruel and knowing. “You’ve always wanted to be a part of my world. Don’t pretend you didn’t. You couldn’t resist me then, and you won’t resist me now.”

His words are like a gentle caress to the skin, but they’re coated with venom, sharp and cruel beneath the surface. The accusation burns, and you want to deny it, want to push him away with everything in you. But something in the pit of your stomach churns—doubt, confusion, and a pull that you can’t seem to escape.

Daemon leans closer, his lips hovering just above your ear, his breath tickling your skin. “I can see it in your eyes. You hate that I’ve made you feel this way. But you know, deep down, that you’ll forgive me. Because, whether you like it or not, you belong to me now.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and Daemon watches you carefully, his gaze a mix of amusement and satisfaction, as if he knows exactly how deeply his words are cutting into you. He’s playing you like a stringed instrument, and you’re helpless to resist.

His lips brush against your ear, whispering softly, “You’ll forgive me, because you have no choice. You’ll forgive me because, no matter how much you deny it, you want me. And you know, darling, that’s the hardest truth you’ll ever have to face.”

You close your eyes, anger mixing with confusion, as Daemon straightens up, his fingers lingering on your chin a moment longer before he releases you. He steps back, seemingly content with himself, watching you, waiting for you to break, to give in.

“And don’t pretend you’re above it,” he adds, his voice low and cutting. “You’re not. You’ll forgive me. You always do.”

Daemon steps closer, the air between you thick with something charged. His presence is overpowering, and every part of you wants to pull away. But you can’t. You’re drawn to him in ways you don’t want to admit.

His voice softens, and he places a hand on your arm, his touch far too intimate, far too familiar. “Don’t be angry with me,” he murmurs, leaning in just a little closer. “I know you’re upset. But we both know you’re not some delicate flower. You’ll weather this storm better than anyone else.”

You can’t help but feel a flicker of doubt. The way he speaks, like he understands you, like he’s the only one who truly gets you—it makes your resolve start to crack. Your anger still lingers, but it’s harder to hold onto with him standing there, looking at you like he’s the only one who sees the real you.

“I’m not some pawn in your game,” you snap, even though part of you wonders if you already are. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you to come here and tell me everything will be fine, Daemon. Because it won’t be.”

He smiles again, but this time, there’s no humor in it. It’s predatory, like he’s toying with you, pushing you into a corner you didn’t even know existed. “You’re angry,” he says, his voice low, almost a purr. “I understand that. But don’t mistake my actions for cruelty. I did this because I knew you were strong enough to handle it. You’re not like the rest of them. You’re... different.”

You swallow hard, the words stirring something inside you. He’s right, in a way. You are different. You’ve always felt out of place, like the world around you was something you had to adapt to instead of shaping it for yourself. Daemon makes it sound so... tempting, as if he’s offering you a chance to be something more than just the dutiful daughter.

But then he steps closer, and the moment your skin touches his, something shifts. His presence is overwhelming, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s dangerous. You know this. He’s the reason your life is in chaos. But the way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel seen, it draws you in like a moth to the flame.

“You’re stronger than you know,” he says softly, his fingers tracing the line of your arm. “But you don’t have to face this alone. Not if you don’t want to.”

His words are so smooth, so convincing, and in that moment, you want to believe him. You want to believe that he’s telling the truth, that maybe, just maybe, he’s the one who will help you find a way out of this mess

“You can’t fix this, Daemon,” you say, though your voice cracks, betraying the doubt in your chest. “You’ve already made everything worse.”

“I’m not here to fix it,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, as if the words are meant for only the two of you. “I’m here to offer you an escape. An escape from them. An escape from the life they’ve planned for you.”

The weight of his words hits you hard. You’ve been trapped for so long, your fate sealed by others, and the thought of escaping it, of finally having control over your life, is a temptation you can’t ignore.

Daemon watches you closely, reading the turmoil in your eyes. “You don’t have to be their puppet anymore,” he says softly, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush your skin. “Come with me. Leave this place behind. I’ll make sure you’re free.”

Your heart races. Every part of you wants to run, to escape this suffocating existence. But you hesitate, because you know that following him means crossing a line you can never uncross. Yet, his gaze pulls you in, and for just a moment, the desire to be free, to be anything but the person they’ve molded you into, is stronger than anything else.

You look up at him, your breath shallow, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out. “What do I do now?”

Daemon’s smile is slow, almost too pleased with himself. “Come with me,” he says, his voice thick with promise. “I’ll show you.”

Before you can say another word, his hand is on yours again, and he pulls you toward the door. Every step you take feels like a leap into the unknown, but you follow him anyway, trusting him more than you should, believing in the words he’s whispered into your ear

Daemon’s chambers are dimly lit, the flickering flame of the candles casting shadows that stretch across the stone walls like ghosts. The air is thick with the quiet of the night, but the tension is palpable. You stand near the door, heart racing in your chest as your nightgown clings too tightly to your skin, an innocent, exposed fabric that makes you feel both vulnerable and strange in Daemon’s presence. It’s just the two of you in this room now, and every breath feels heavy, weighted with the electricity that hums between you.

Daemon leans casually against the stone wall, one arm draped lazily over his waist, his gaze fixated on you with a curiosity that’s both unsettling and magnetic. His eyes—those stormy, knowing eyes—never leave you, studying you like a puzzle he can’t quite figure out, yet is intent on solving.

“You’ve made quite a habit of defying your family,” he says, his voice low and smooth, with that mischievous edge you’ve come to know all too well. “It’s... interesting. They thought they could control you, tie you down with a simple marriage, a pretty little contract. But here you are, free as ever. It suits you.”

You shift uncomfortably, his gaze like a weight pressing against you. The room suddenly feels too small.

“I’m not free,” you murmur, trying to push back against the pull of his words. “I’m just... running from one cage into another.”

Daemon’s lips curl into a smile, but it’s not comforting. It’s dangerous, calculated. He pushes himself off the wall slowly, almost lazily, as if he’s savoring the moment, the game. He steps closer, and the space between you grows smaller, until he’s only a few feet away.

“No,” he says, his voice dropping, lowering the temperature of the room even further. “You’re not running. You’re... escaping. There’s a difference.” His eyes flash as he takes another step, and you can’t help but notice how his movements are predatory, yet effortless. He makes it look so natural. “You’ve never really had a choice, have you? Always being told what to do, who to marry, where to go. You’re always playing by someone else’s rules.”

Your throat tightens as his words sink in, and the breath you didn’t realize you were holding escapes shakily. You swallow, trying to ground yourself. But then he’s there—right in front of you—close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

Daemon’s hand brushes against yours, just barely, like a spark flickering in the dark. It’s light, teasing, but it sends a jolt through you. His touch is a reminder that he’s not just another man in the room. He’s Daemon Targaryen, and you’ve never been able to ignore the effect he has on you.

“You know,” he says softly, his voice like a velvet whisper against your ear, “they’re never going to give you the freedom you crave. They’ll always keep you in your place, a pawn for their schemes.”

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat, but you refuse to let him see the way his words are hitting you. You look away, trying to gain some semblance of control, but Daemon won’t let you. He steps closer again, his body brushing against yours just enough to make your pulse quicken. His fingers graze your wrist—just a light, fleeting touch—but it burns like fire.

His lips twitch upwards at the reaction he knows he’s getting from you. “You’re so... tense,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower, thick with promise. “You can let go, you know. No one is here to judge you. Not tonight.”

The words dance around your head, teasing, tempting. You try to step back, but Daemon is there again, his hand on your arm, pulling you gently but insistently toward him.

His touch is light, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of your nightgown, but it feels like more. He’s too close now, his breath mingling with yours, and the space between your bodies has evaporated entirely. The tension thickens, coiling tighter with every second that passes.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he says, his voice hushed, but with an edge of challenge. His fingers trace the edge of your collarbone, a soft caress that has your heart racing. “I’m not like the others. I won’t trap you. I’ll give you what you want... freedom.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words fail you. You feel like you’re drowning, suffocated by his presence and the way he’s watching you. You can’t escape from the intensity of it, the way he’s pulling you in without saying a word, drawing you closer, making you forget the consequences.

Daemon’s gaze darkens, and for the first time, you see something sharper, more dangerous. He leans in, so close now you can feel his breath on your skin. “You’re not a little girl anymore,” he says, his voice soft but full of intent. “You don’t need to play by anyone’s rules. Not mine, not your father’s... no one’s.”

His hand moves up to cup your cheek, and you close your eyes, caught in the heady warmth of the moment, the world narrowing down to just him, just the two of you.

“You can take control. You can have power, be free, just by making one choice.” His eyes flicker to your lips, and you feel the magnetic pull again, impossibly strong. “Let me take what no one else can have. Let me take your honour.”

The words hang in the air between you like a tangible thing. A weight that presses on your chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. You should step away. You should say no, because you know this would ruin everything. You know the consequences. But as Daemon watches you, waiting for your answer, a part of you—something deep, something far more primal than logic—feels the lure of his offer.

He’s not offering you love, not truly. He’s offering you freedom. A chance to slip from the chains that have held you your whole life.

“Daemon,” you whisper, your voice trembling, though you’re not sure whether it’s from fear or desire.

“Think about it,” he breathes, his lips brushing the edge of your ear. “I can make you untouchable. No one can force you into that marriage. You’ll be free, and no one will stand in our way.”

The temptation lingers, heavy and oppressive. You know it’s dangerous. You know you should walk away. But the thought of being free... of being his... tugs at something deep inside you.

Daemon’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as you hesitate, and you wonder—just for a moment—if you’ve already fallen too far to turn back.

The room is suffocating with heat, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that seem to grow and stretch as Daemon’s gaze never leaves you. The space between you feels charged, like the air itself is thick with something unsaid, something dangerous.

Daemon’s breath is steady, controlled, but you can see the flicker of something dark in his eyes—something that mirrors your own longing. His body is impossibly close, towering over you in a way that makes you feel small, vulnerable, but also alive, in a way you’ve never felt before.

You want him. That much is clear. His presence, his touch, everything about him makes your heart race, your pulse quicken, and your breath catch in your throat. But with that desire comes something darker, something you can’t quite put into words—fear, maybe. Or uncertainty. The price of giving in to this feels high, and you know it.

Daemon, however, knows this too. And that only makes him more determined, more insistent. He’s watching you intently, as if waiting for the very moment when he’ll break down the walls you’ve spent your life building. His hand is still lightly resting against your cheek, and his thumb brushes over your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He can sense the hesitation, the inner battle. You can see the smile tugging at his lips, but it’s not kind. It’s triumphant, as if he knows something you don’t. That, in this moment, you are his.

“You know what you want,” he says, his voice low, smooth, almost like velvet, but it carries an edge—a hunger you can almost taste. “You’ve been running, hiding behind your family’s expectations, but the truth is... you’re not like them. You’ve always been different. You want to be free, and I can give you that.”

His words hang in the air, thick and heavy, like a spell being woven around you. You know the consequences. You’ve heard them, felt them. And yet...

Daemon leans in just a fraction more, his lips brushing against your ear, and you can hear the quiet, dangerous satisfaction in his voice when he speaks again.

“You want to feel something different, don’t you? Something real, something you can’t get from your family or their precious plans. Let me show you what it feels like to have control, to finally feel alive.”

The moment stretches out, and all you can hear is the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. Your thoughts are swirling, spinning, but at the center of it all is him. Daemon Targaryen. The man who holds your future in his hands, a future that could break you, or free you.

You’ve never been so conflicted in your life, yet his words have found a way into your soul, pressing on every vulnerable part of you. You can feel the walls you’ve built around yourself beginning to crumble, and there’s a part of you—a deep, secret part—that wants to surrender to him, to let him take you and leave you with nothing but the promise of freedom.

And yet, you can’t quite breathe without wondering if you’re making a mistake. If you’re giving up something too precious. But when Daemon’s lips move closer to yours again, his breath hot against your skin, you know that it’s too late to turn back. The decision has already been made. The temptation is too strong.

You nod, just barely, but it’s enough.

Daemon doesn’t need more words. He sees the shift in you, the acceptance in your eyes, and a glimmer of satisfaction flickers across his face. It’s not just triumph. It’s something else—something darker. He’s won, but the game is far from over.

He moves, quick and decisive, pulling you into him as his lips crash against yours. The kiss is everything you’ve been afraid of and everything you’ve wanted, all at once. His hands move to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he’s afraid you might slip away. And for the first time, you stop thinking, stop questioning, and simply feel.

This is it. This is the point of no return.

This is unlike any other, this kiss was so different to the one that you shared in the tavern, it was hungrier. Filled with something more than just innocence and tension. It was full of passion, a feeling that had you mind going foggy despite Daemon having hardly touched you.

The feeling of his possesive grip on your neck had you whimpering lightly into the kiss, a sound that he moaned at. Relishing in your innocence, your taste, the smell of your flesh, the way you looked so angelic in you gown, in the candle light of his room.

He had backed you into a wall now, leaving no room for your escape. His lips dominating yours with each kiss.

“Are you sure of this my lady, once I start, I don’t think I can stop” he pulls away to mutter breathily in your ear, the both of you panting lightly. All you can do is will yourself to nod your head, a small smirk gracing his features at your wordlessness.

You weren’t sure what he was going to do, but the burning pit in your stomach told you to accept it greedily. You watched as the silver haired prince lowered himself between you legs. Lifting one onto his shoulder as his head dissapred beneath your night gown. You stood in silence for a moment as you back leant against the cold wall, until a sharp gasp but through the silent air.

You weren’t expecting anything like this, for him to kiss you down there. You had never even heard of such a thing. You didn’t have it in you to comparing however, moans ripping from your throat as Daemon slopping kissed your pussy, tongue gliding through your slick folds.

He sucked and licked to his hearts content, he could feel his pants tightening at your taste, it drove him wild, so sweet and innocent, he was so lucky to be the first to touch you he thought. He sucked gently on your clit, listening to the shrill moans you let out as he played with your virgin cunt. Your hips bucking involuntarily against his face as he licked fat stripes along you.

You didnt know what to do with yourself, eyes screwing shut with pleasure as you took whatever he gave you, whatever this was it felt amazing, unlike anything before

A feeling in your belly rose, a band tightening, a coil winding. You felt like you were going to snap, your breathing becoming more and more erratic as Daemon did nothing to slow his action. You were positively dripping, your slick smeared over his face.

“Daemon, oh gods- Daemon it feels-“ You didnt get a chance to finish that sentence before that band inside you snapped, your nerves on fire as Daemon didnt dare slow is assault

“That’s it little shadows, scream for me.:” he murmured into your cunt as it gushed on his face. You were screaming in pleasure as this point, trying to pull his off of you when it got too much, you had never been so sensitive before.

When he was finished he rose from his knees, wiping his face on the back of his sleeve, something that you shouldnt have enjoyed watching - an action so filthy - but you couldn’t help it.

Your head all dizzy and mushy from the after effects of your orgasm still flowing over you. You scared at each other for a moment, you hooded eyes glancing at the man with nothing but want written all over his features.

Not breaking eye contact for a moment, he rid himself of his shirt. Slowly stepping over to you, like you were some scared animal, hands reaching for your dress, slowly raising the garment over your head.

There you stood, naked in front of the man who’s eyes were running over you like you were fresh cut meat and he was starving.

Your arms instinctively rose to cover your bare chest, your nipple perk as the night air brushed against them, Daemon stops you, ringing your hand down to your sides so he can look at you, mutterly sweetly in you ear about how you mustn’t fear him and there’s no need to hide from him.

His hands meet your hips as he guides you to his bed, laying you down on it. He rids himself of his trousers as well and you cant help but watch, an admirable length stands tall between his thighs and you gulp. You knew that was meant to go inside you, but how would it fit.

He could read the nervousness on your face as he pressed his body on top of yours

“whats wrong my lady?” he asks in betweeen his kisses on your neck and chest, biting and licking the skin, making it harder for you to talk

“..Serving girls my lord, they mentioned how… bedding was painful, not enjoyable.” you can hardly make eyecontact with the man as his kisses stop as he looks at you.

“Trust me my lady, It might hurt at first, but what we are about to do will be very, very enjoyable I can assure you.” he pulls your chin to force you to look at him, you can feel him prodding at your wet entrance as you cant help but squirm at the feeling, all you know is you trust the prince, and you need more of whatever this is

Slowly, watching your face he pushes inside, inch by inch. One of his hands holding yours.

The stretch burns, and when he finally sheaths himself fully inside of you, You gasp out from the pain. It certainly did hurt, but you wanted to believe what Daemon said, that it was going to get better. you whine at the pain.

Daemons breathing heavily now as he is still inside you, what he wouldnt do to take your virgin cunt like a street whore, but he’s trying to be considerate, pausing and allowing you to adjust to his size first.

After a short while he finally began to move, building slow thrusts in and out of your weeping cunt, your wetness was dripping down onto the bedsheets beneath you. Daemon slipping into you with ease. Gods your cunt was so tight it was practically choking him, you virgin pussy sucking him back in with every thrust.

NOw you understood what Daemon meant, now he was moving inside you, it felt increadibly.

His mouth sucking lazily on your nipples as moans reverberated through his chest. His hand still gripping yours, dwarfing your smaller one as he kept it pinned to the bed.

Your chest heaving with every gasp, this feeling was so foreign to you, yet it had your legs turning to jelly, your mind fogging as your eyes glossing over.

“My prince- please” In truth you didnt know what you were begging him for, but you knew that you needed more.

He chuckles to himself, watching you fucked out state “oh whats this, You want more my lady?” His thrusts now picking up in both speed and strength, kicking the air out of your lungs as moan after incoherent moan left you.

“What would dear father think if he saw you like this, hm?” he teased, relishing in the blush along your face, and the innocent pout you gave him at his suggestion. He wouldnt mind if otto walked in right now and saw how he was defiling his daughter.

Daemon was fucking you with such hunger, yout tits bounced with each thrust, entrancing him to the supple skin. The vulgar squelching noises of you cunt could be hurt, you were truly embarrassed, but in that moment you didnt have the capacity to be bothered about it.

“Such a good lady, taking me so well” he muttered, out of breath as his silver hair now dangled handsomely in front of his face. He couldnt help but look down at where he was entering you, moaning at the sight or his cock pushing into your virgin walls.

“You like this don’t you? You like that im ruining you for any other stupid lord” You squealed at his suggestion as he punctuated it with a particularly harsh thrust. His fat tip was bu;;yung that gummy spot inside of you, the one that left you quivering and shivering.

“Yes!- yes my prince, I love it” Daemon chuckled darkly, he knew he would break you. Getting you to be completely his, completely ruined and improper. He had destroyed you an turned you into something else, something darker.

That band was building inside you once more, that feeling that you loved so much. ONly it was stronger now, as if the previous time had only made this one stronger. Daemon could tell you were close by how tightly you were gripping him, and the cute way your eyes screwed shut.

He was close also, your cunt milking him for everything hes got. “Come on my lady, fall apart for you prince. Fall apart on my cock.”

The words he was saying to you were so vulgar and crude, but you couldn’t help that they helped push you were that edge. You released over your prince with a cry of his name. It was the only thing you could think to do, sing his praises.

You were dripping around his cock, your release all over his thighs and abdomen. His hand squeezed yours tighter as he fucked his way to his orgasm.

Hips stuttering as he came, shooting his seed deep inside of you. A moan leaving his chest as he finally stilled, collapsing into of you whilst he was still inside. Giving you a final sloppy kiss of the night. In that moment you couldnt have been happier, falling asleep in freedom, in your princes arms

The first slivers of sunlight spill into the chamber, casting a golden glow over the bedchamber. You stir, caught between the haze of sleep and the memory of what you’ve done—what he has done to you, with you. It was a night unlike any other, one where you let your defenses crumble entirely, and Daemon made sure there was no going back.

He stirs beside you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as if he can read your thoughts. “Awake already, my Lady? Don’t tell me you’re regretting it,” he teases, his voice low and full of self-satisfaction.

You rise, unable to match his ease, your nerves already fraying. “You know what day it is,” you mutter, more to yourself than him.

Daemon stretches leisurely, as if the weight of the world isn’t about to come crashing down. “Your wedding day,” he replies, unbothered. “How fitting. A celebration, just not the one your father planned.” His smirk is infuriating and maddeningly attractive.

He insists you dress and follow him, his presence a steadying force even as your stomach twists. By the time you reach the hall where Otto, Alicent, and the King await, the adrenaline has numbed your nerves, leaving only a simmering defiance in its wake.

The three of them are gathered in quiet discussion, Otto pacing, Alicent biting her nails, the King seated with furrowed brows. All eyes snap to you and Daemon as you enter, arm in arm, his hand resting on yours with a casual possessiveness that sets the air ablaze.

“Good morning,” Daemon announces with his usual audacity, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “We have some rather exciting news to share.”

Otto’s expression darkens instantly, his calculating gaze narrowing on Daemon’s smirk. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, though his voice trembles slightly.

Daemon’s smirk deepens, and he gives your hand a squeeze, silently daring you to speak. You open your mouth, but he beats you to it.

“Lady Hightower will not be marrying that dull lord you’ve chosen for her,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery. “Not after last night.” He glances at you, his expression full of dark amusement, and then back to Otto. “Consider her... unavailable.”

Alicent gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes dart between you and Daemon, searching for denial that doesn’t come. The King slams his cane on the ground, his face a thundercloud of barely contained rage. “Daemon, explain yourself,” he barks.

Daemon steps forward slightly, still keeping you close. “She’s mine now, brother. Fully and irreversibly,” he says, his voice calm but layered with unyielding dominance. “So unless you wish to see this house embroiled in scandal beyond repair, I suggest you stop meddling in her affairs. Or mine.”

Otto’s face flushes with anger, his composure crumbling. “You’ve disgraced her! Disgraced this family!”

Daemon laughs darkly, as though he’s savoring every second of Otto’s fury. “Disgraced? I think I’ve done the opposite. She’s more than a pawn now, wouldn’t you agree?” His eyes flicker to you, softer but no less intense. “She made her choice.”

You glance at Alicent, who stares at you in shock and something akin to betrayal, and then at your father, whose fury burns hotter than the sun. For the first time, you meet their gazes without fear. Daemon is a menace, yes, but with him by your side, you feel untouchable.

“Daemon is right,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “I will not marry a man I don’t know, don’t want. You can’t make me.”

Otto’s mouth opens, but no words come out. The King lets out a sigh, his fury abating into tired frustration. “Daemon,” he says, “you have gone too far.”

“Perhaps,” Daemon replies with a shrug, “but far is the only place I’ve ever been comfortable.”

The tension in the room is suffocating, but you stand your ground, knowing there’s no turning back now. Daemon’s grip on your hand tightens, his smirk a silent promise that, come what may, he’s not letting you go

#daemon targeryen smut #daemon x you #hotd daemon #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen #hotd smut #hotd men #hotd fanfic

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grimm-writings · 8 months ago

Note

OH SHIT I BETTER SEND THIS IN QUICK uhhh can i get some dr. ratio or screwllum cuddling/general fluff? im very tired and i think that could fix me

- i think you know who this is 💜

warmth

…ft! dr. ratio, screwllum x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, lotsa snuggling!!!!, non sexual nudity (ratio)

…wc! 323; 412; = 735

…notes! MY FRIEND I KNOW YOU!!!! ❣️ty for the request here it is!!! small and cute <3 also!! give it up for the new character banners!!! lmk if you liiiike <3

Veritas Ratio

“Care to join me?”

Veritas’s voice reaches your ears. You glance up at him, his figure relaxed in his bathtub through the bathroom door. His head is thrown back to look back at you.

“Sorry?” You clarify, folding a book closed over your thumb.

“You’re exhausted, evidently, seeing as how you haven’t moved on from that page in a number of minutes.”

Your face flushes in embarrassment. Nothing can get past your lover’s keen observations.

No use in arguing, you rationalise that Veritas has a point (like always). You slip off your clothes and join him in the bathtub. His hands land on your shoulders and rub down reassuringly. He’s welcoming you to relax – surprisingly tender, gentle.

As he rubs in some body wash, Veritas’s voice sinks you further into relaxation; “care to explain why you’ve been neglecting your rest?”

“It’s not like I’ve been wanting to,” you reply.

“That doesn’t answer my query, love.”

You sigh as you feel Veritas kiss the top of your head. You explain everything – your stresses as of late, and the overwhelming urge to just sleep forever. You’re so tired.

He hums in thought, violet hair falling in front of coral eyes. Oddly unmanaged in such an intimate place. “We can figure out some ways to rectify that later. For now, allow me to take care of you. Is that alright?”

A small giggle slips from your lips – Veritas is always asking permission. If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t be so soothing. It’s nice to know that you were special in that way. A warmth teasing to consume you whole as Veritas washes and rinses you down.

Yes, and it shall continue to grow as you are entangled in sheets later, his strong arms wrapped around your body. Rest. What was once unfamiliar becomes so easy with Veritas helping you.

You are inclined to believe that you had the best sleep of your life that night.

Screwllum

“Would I really be all that comfortable?”

“Oh shush, you’re plenty comfortable.”

Screwllum sighs (or at least makes a similar sound to one) at your refusal to accept that he might not be the greatest snuggle partner in the world. It’s no secret that he’s a gentleman in every sense of the word, but something like cuddling…

You can’t say he doesn’t try, resting your head on your chest and a hand in your hair. He pets you softly as another arm is lazily resting over your back. This way you wouldn’t really feel any metal underneath the layers of clothes.

“I hope you realise that I can feel how tense you are,” you hum from buried into the ruffles of Screwllum’s shirt.

“A-Apologies, I’m trying my best—”

“Are you nervous?”

As soon as you bring up the question, Screwllum’s already blank face seems to somehow blank more. Even if he is inexpressive, the message speaks volumes.

Fans whir louder in the silence.

You can’t help but burst into giggles. “I can’t believe it! All ready to fluster me with hand kisses and whatnot, but you fall apart as soon as we lay together!”

Screwllum stutters, trying to find some way to acquire his dignity back. “I just wish to please you… I’m not exactly the most popular choice for a romantic partner…”

“But you’re my choice,” you shoot back, leaning up to place a kiss on Screwllum’s face plate, the one where a mouth normally would be. The fans only prove a traitor to Screwllum as they whir louder.

The genius can only silently accept his fate as you smother him with kisses all over his metal encasing. “Dare I ask—” he’s cut off by one of your many mwahs! “Why do you torture me so…?”

You lean back, resting your chin on Screwllum’s chest again with a satisfied grin.

“When you get all shy, you get toastier.” You snuggle closer into a hug. “This is why you’re the best cuddler – you warm me up!”

Screwllum doesn’t react at first save for the heat dispelling from his body. Then dignified yet comfortable laughter slips through. You feel something land on the top of your head. You look up to see that your lover has placed his hat on your head and is ruffling your hair through it.

“Whatever will I do with you…?” He asks aloud.

“Snuggle me, maybe.” You cheekily grin.

Screwllum hums. “Well, suppose I’ll just have to comply.”

#✮ grimm's fics!#honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #screwllum #screwllum x reader #screwllum imagines #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio imagines #veritas ratio #veritas ratio imagines #veritas ratio x reader

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keyaho · 3 months ago

Text

.summary: nami's punishment continues. terry divulges himself. he also exposes himself. and indulges again.

short warnings: sensory play, oral, fingering banner: by me (i'm working on making some better than this one lmao. first attempt I know it ain't cute)

Part One || Part Two || Part Three

Nami thought she would get tired of her hands being bound away from her. She thought she would snap and tell him she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, she pulled on them as her arms ached, so much that the burn became familiar; like brushing her teeth. She wanted them even if she wanted to touch Terry more. In the guest room, Nami flexed her feet, one of them was bound at the ankle to the end of the bed. The other was pushed up, opening her legs. She stared up at the ceiling in wait, Terry somewhere in the house doing who knows what before he came and did god knows what to her body.

“Your playtime has been cut in half, significantly,’ he says, still feeling miffed from her earlier attitude.

Nami noted that Terry wasn’t going to just let things go. He held her to her choices while standing on his own. The fact that he was still going to indulge her was surprising. After the chicken tenders and fries, she figured he would keep distance between them. Instead, he spent ten minutes kissing her while her hands tugged on her pretty yellow leather cuffs. Personalized with ‘Pretty Gyal’ in black thread, the cuffs were becoming bracelets. A cute accessory to the debauchery Terry inflicted upon her.

“But, I can indulge myself, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

She couldn’t see him from her positon on the bed. Head in the pillows, the room was a comfortable temperature, the cuffs weren’t too tight and she was at ease. Moments later, Terry came to the side of the bed, placing a bowl on the table next to it. He picked up her phone and turned it off.

“No distractions.” He had left his own to die in the kitchen.

The guest bedroom door was shut, enclosing them in their own little world. He knelt next to the bed, his finger tips running along her side.

“Tonight was supposed to end with my face buried in your pussy. I was supposed to be eating you like the last supper, watching you try not to cum. I was supposed to let you get one off, because I wanted to watch you break apart.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,’ she says, ‘really sorry.”

Terry’s face softened for a little, she noted the way the lines in his forehead disappeared before they snapped back and his eyes slanted away from her as he looked at her restraints.

“So you’ve told me.” He paused. “However, your punishment doesn’t end after being spanked.” He kissed his teeth and shook his head. “I want the lesson learned to stick so you remember not to do it again. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He looked behind him at the bowl before continuing. “You circled sensory play and over stimulation.”

“Yes, Sir,’ she replied, though her voice lifted at the end in question.

“I’m going to add edging and if you are a good girl for me, I might let you cum.”

The threat and reward lingered in the air between them. Her body tingled as he stood up with his fingers stroking her cheek, her bottom lip, and she parted her mouth. The bowl beside the bed disappeared as he placed it on the bed between her legs.

“I want you to talk to me, okay?” Terry vocalized. “This is for you and you need to tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good.” He gestured to the room. “In here, I’ll do my best to give you what you need. Maybe even what you want.”

Terry’s words hung between them as he stood up.

He didn’t like to improvise but the chilling item in the bowl would have to do. Cold, his fingers dipped into the ice, the circular pieces came from a mold meant to make it easier to add to water bottles. The cylinder shape looked phallic and the sadistic tendencies Terry had began to surface. That would not be happening tonight. He wanted to be the first thing to fuck her.

“Just feel,’ he instructed, ‘make the noises you want to.” He looked at her soft brown eyes.

Nami hissed as the ice that landed on her belly and it sat chilling on her skin. It slowly started to melt, the cold water running down the her sides and hips. As it sat there, Terry took another piece in his hands and ran it down her inner thigh. She was warmer here and the ice snapped in half in his hands.

“Hm..”

His hands dipped into the bowl again and she hissed when a piece of the ice circled her nipple and another slipped between her legs.

“Oh,’ she hummed, unsure which sensation she should focus on.

The one on her chest was cold, but it was tolerable and her nipples hardened as he circled it around. The ice slipping between her lower lips was harsher, colder, and uncomfortable.

“I…I don’t,’ she began, her eyes searching the ceiling as she tried to find the words.

“What’s wrong?” Terry asks, stopping his movements and that gives Nami the clarity she needed.

“I don’t think I like that as much,’ she admitted in a whisper. “Can I scratch that off the list?” She asked, the genuine question in her eyes made him smile.

“Yeah, we can take that off, babygirl.”

The initial touch of the ice was blissful, but the biting chill of it after wasn’t something she’d derive any pleasure from. Not even from the ice that he was pressing flush to her pussy, though the cold she liked.

“Tell me why you don’t like it.”

Nami licked her suddenly dry lips.

“What part of me playing with your pussy with ice turned you off.”

“The…the, um,’ she fumbled, his expression was one of pure elation as if he was enjoying talking to her this way. This wasn’t a Dom in front of her. Her free leg suddenly drew upwards as realization set in. He was too readable this way and she didn’t know if to feel happy or aroused.

“At first it feels good. But then it’s too cold and it hurts. It stings and numbs.”

“We can try it another way.”

He couldn’t push it off any longer. The ice had long since melted and his fingers were coated in her thick and sticky essence as he worked it from her body. He could feel her body shaking to stay still. Her hips stuttered and she gave into the pleasure, eyes drifting closed as she moaned.

“You like that,’ he teased, applying a little more pressure.

“Yes,”

“Shh, my pussy is talking,’ he grabbed another piece of ice and chilled his hands before adding them to her body.

He alternated between eating ice and rubbing it across her skin. The more he played with her pussy the hotter she began to feel and the ice became pleasurable.

“That’s it, pretty baby.” He cooed. “You want to cum for me don’t you.”

Nami was speechless, the multiple sensations her body was experiencing made her toes curl. A knot sat deep in her stomach, tight, and getting tighter. She fought against it but she knew moving would make it worse. Nami took deep breaths, loudly blowing them out as she tried to count herself down from a ten to a two. Her head cleared a little and she thought of something else, the shake in her limbs relaxing after a few minutes. Terry had pulled his hand away and watched as she fought the urge to cum. Her chest rose and fell slowly and she counted to herself.

“Good girl,’ Terry was amused, ‘yu really waah cum fi mi nuh you?’ he laughed. “Tell mi how it feel.”

Nami watched his eyes light up as he smiled. All fucking thirty-two teeth were bared and the shift in his speech sent the flood straight from her pussy to the bedsheets. She blinked in wonder as he kissed her wrists. Terry then leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, cheek, nose, and then her lips. His fingers began to poke around her hole, flirting with her wet folds as his tongue licked into her mouth. The squelching sounds had been minor before. She could hear them now and feel the way her slick stuck to his fingers.

“Talk to me, Nami,’ he whispered.

“It feels good.”

“I know that,’ he replied. “Talk to me.”

“You have me so wet,’ she admitted, his fingers stroking continuously in the same pattern, driving her thoughts wild with the repetition.

Her breath fanned against his face as she breathed, trying to control herself as his thumb began to strum her clit like a guitar. His fingers moved downward and she bucked her hips unexpectedly when his middle and ring finger pushed into her cunt and stroked in a ‘come hither’ motion. His thumb made light circles on her swollen clit. He scissored his fingers, stretching her left and right.

Terry kissed down her jaw and sucked on the skin of her neck. The words left her lips faster than she could form them in her head.

“Does it feel good, baby,” Terry asked.

“Yes, Daddy…”

“Who's making you feel good,’ he hissed. His stroke became faster.

“You, Daddy-please,’ Nami pleaded. His hand was doing demonic craft through his fingers. He was the spawn of a pleasure demon and she could feel her offering leaking from between her legs.

Nami felt her body arching into his fingers, seeking out more from him, and he pulled them away. The relief that washed over her as her body fell to the bed was magical. Clarity set in and she threw her leg over to close herself off, trying to rub away the intense feelings pulsating through her slit.

Terry reached over to the nightstand and turned on her phone. He slid it unlock and set a timer. He dropped the phone onto her stomach as he kissed down her body, his tongue drawing her left nipple into his mouth. He grinned as she pushed her chest upwards towards him, the touch caught her off guard. His tongue lapped there for a few seconds then left a trail towards her sex. Before that he tapped the outside of her leg to get her attention.

“Yes, Sir,’ she slurred, the sexual haze settling over her as she tried to keep her thoughts clear. She was overwhelmed and her body felt hot.

“You have two minutes left,’ he pressed a light kiss to her sex. The tip of his tongue flicked against her swollen clit and she whimpered. “You can hold it that long and Daddy will let you cum.”

“Please, I’ll be good!” She didn’t want to wait two minutes.

Amused, Terry looked up from his wet fixation. “You’ll be good huh?”

Nami whined. “I’ll be so good for you.”

He kissed her pussy again with a bit more firm pressure. Namis legs shaked.

”Two minutes.”

He started the timer and pushed her legs apart. Terry pressed his hand into the back of her knee and held it open as his tongue licked between her wet slit. She tried to count, but lost track when he licked from her weeping hole to her sensitive throbbing clit. Terry felt her trying to drag her body away from him. He let her, watching her twist away from him as he licked his lips. He followed her, pushing her legs back open. He finds the phone and drops it beside her head, his eyes threatening her to keep still.

“Be still.”

He grabbed her hips and lowered his mouth back to her pussy, slurping his tongue through it. His mouth was cold. The ice shocked her body with a sudden chill. Terry’s tongue quickly licked the chill away, warming her up and making her slicker. The sounds of him eating her out were loud and wet. He sucked her clit into his mouth roughly as his fingers rejoined in stroking her hole.

Nami was on the verge of tears, the knot in her belly was hard to keep away, and she couldn’t see the time to know what was left and she was sure she wasn’t going to make it.

“Hold out for me,’ Terry says.

His fingers were playing a symphony on her g-spot, how could she?

“Yuh naa go rush Daddy yuh?”

He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as she caught a glimpse of his face. His mouth and chin were soaked. The sight of him covered in her mess was too much. The deep baritone of his patois was just as mind numbing as the fingers that had been slipping in and out of her pussy. Nami’s legs drifted shut, her toes curling.

The alarm on the phone blared and she let go, whimpering as her orgasm soared through her. She didn’t even need him to touch her, just the sight of him between her legs tasting her and the feeling of his thick tongue pushed her over. The alarm was just the trigger. Terry watched her body shake, her hole leaked, creating a large wet spot on the sheets. He thumbed her over the sensitive clit and watched how that same leaking hole clenched around nothing. How her sweet little pink cunt needed to be filled as it welcomed his fingers again. He stroked her a few times, watching her face wince in overstimulation. As Terry watched her sum, he kept eating the ice.

When his cold tongue flattened against her pussy a second time, Nami tugged so hard on her restraint the latched holding them to the bed snapped. Her wrists were still bound as they came swinging forward from the sudden momentum. Terry heard the snap and looked up and his hand came out to grab her wrists before her hands could grab him. He had disclosed jujitsu as one of his hobbies but she was still surprised at his reflexes. Maybe it was the marine in him too. Either way he pinned them over head, but didn’t hold them. He looked at her in warning and she silently understood.

“Yes. Sir.”

He brought her body to the edge of the bed after unbinding them completely. He knelt between her legs as he watched her hands to make sure they were above her head. She had them face downwards and gripping the sheets. Once he parted her legs his mouth latched on to her clit. He assaulted it with his tongue, licked, sucked into his mouth, and devoted so much attention to it she was begging him to let up and slow down.

His tongue licked lower, his resolve gone as he licked his way into her hole, sucking the slick she hadn’t stopped leaking. It was all unbeatable this time and he gave into temptation. He pulled her legs over his shoulders so he could hold her still. Nami rocked her hips against his mouth, his wet and deadly mouth.

“I knew this pussy was going to taste good,’ he breathed out, a light chuckle in his chest.

His eyes were blue, Nami’s mouth dropped open as Terry’s tongue flicked against her like a snake's tail.

With her legs pressed towards her chest, Terry’s tongue played around in her pussy. He was such a noisy eater, slurping and sucking until she was trying to wiggle away from him. His hips began to rock and he flattened his tongue against her pussy letting her ride his face. Her chest rose and fell as she sucked in air. She needed some relief and it was starting to expand in her lower belly. A fire so hot the ice on his tongue did little to soothe.

She felt like crying. The sensation of being licked and forcing herself not to cum was making her head split. She felt like she was being pulled in two different directions. Nami looked down at him again. His eyes, fuck, those eyes.

Were they?

Green? Now?

Chameleon ass…..

Fucking green eyed bast-

The shrill of the alarm scared Nami right into her orgasm. Her back arched off the bed and her toes curled from their position in the air. She sucked in a deep breath, feeling her pussy quiver as she wished to turn on her side and rub her thighs together, the friction needed.

When did he set another one?

Terry tore himself away from her cunt. Standing abruptly he wiped a hand over his mouth and chin, but his skin still shone with the aftermath of her orgasm.

Nami tried to sit up. Her body slumped back to the bed as she joined him in trying to catch their breath. Her voice was soft, sleepy sounding, but he heard it:

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Terry looked down at himself. He had worn briefs beneath his sweats, hoping to contain himself a bit better and resist the urge to jerk off as he tasted her. Nami wasn’t like previous submissives. Her naivety turned him on. Her wonder and interest renewed his lust for the community. He looked down at her, his heavy breathing silent as she laid there, legs spread, for his next instruction. She was waiting to know what he wanted her to do. He bit down on his lip, slightly upset he lost control just now. He shouldn’t have indulged in her the way he had. Not when punishment was the precursor. He should have edged her and then let her be. Yet, Terry had given in. He had let her cum. He had went against his own R.E.L.Ls to indulge when he had been waiting for the right moment. A tinge of anger settled into his bones and he looked away from her inviting body and slipped into the bathroom.

He had exposed a part of himself that he shouldn’t have and she caught it. Caught him. He couldn’t fault her for what she did not know was happening. As he busied himself with running her a bath, Terry opened the bathroom’s closet and pulled out a towel and placed it on the sink counter.

“Sir,’ came her soft voice.

She stood in the door, her hands bound in front of her, curly hair messy, and his shirt was wrinkled and damp. Nami was a mess of his doing and he bit back the urge to smile. Shit. He needed to reel himself in. The scene was over and he could feel the drop in energy.

“Yes?” He replied after swallowing.

“I was trying not to cum.” She whispered. She raised her hands and rubbed them over her flushed face. Her mascara had run, making dark streaks over her cheeks. “I really was trying.”

Terry’s eyes softened as he walked over to her. “I know.” He cupped her face and brought his head down to kiss her. “You made it to the end of the two minutes.” He pulled away and kissed her forehead. “Twice.”

“Am I still in trouble,’ she asked as she pursed her lips.

“Nah, you’re not in trouble.”

He let her go and she watched him prep her bath. He never stayed in the bathroom with her, so when he beckoned her in she didn’t hesitate.

“Grab the counter.”

She put her back to him and placed her hands on the counter. He stood behind her and she watched him in the large mirror. Shirtless, his chest pressed against her back and he unnecessarily leaned into her to remove the cuffs. His hands wrapped around her wrists as his fingers unlatched the leather. He kissed her neck, pulled down the shirt and pressed his lips to her shoulder all the while keeping eye contact with her in the mirror. She tried to look away but his eyes were hypnotic, drawing her in and keeping her hostage.

With the cuffs gone, Nami lifted her arms to rub her wrists. Beside her, Terry opened a drawer and pulled out a blue tin of salve. His hands then grabbed the back of the shirt and lifted upwards before tossing it into a hamper near the closet. Terry turned around and turned off the water, testing the temperature. She stayed still, watching him over her shoulder. The muscles in his back flexed as he stood up right.

“When you’re done, wrap in that towel and come see me in the living room.”

Spread over his lap, Nami’s eyes rolled upwards as he rubbed the thick salve into her ass and inner thighs. His thumbs pressed into her skin and she went limp, enjoying the care. She was in another one of his shirts, not caring it was hanging off her head as she let her arms dangle. His hand smoothed up her back, her shoulders slumping more into his thighs.

Choking. Spanking. Grabbing. Massaging.

Those hands could do whatever they wanted to.

“Do you need a nap?” He asked.

They had done a lot over the past few days and he wondered if he was moving too fast. She was just so willing.

“Not yet,’ she replied. If she did she wanted to take on with him.

“I want to talk about one of the kinks you have.” He says.

He pulls down her shirt and helps her sit up. She tucks her hands into her lap as she sits cross legged next to him on the couch. He closed the salve tin and dropped it on the infamous table.

“Yes, S-’

“Speak freely.” He says. “This one is serious.”

He had studied that paper like it was his orders for work.

“Do you understand the depth of control I have to have to allow you to participate in consensual non consent, even with me?”

Nami bit down on her bottom lip. It was one of the first kinks she circled and though she knew the extent of what it could be, Terry’s question had her second guessing.

“No.” She whispered. “Do you not want to do it? We can take it off.”

Terry’s hand came down on her knee, stopping her fidgeting. He leaned back and shook his head.

“That’s not why I am asking.” He looked at her and then to where his hand was on her thigh. “You are giving me consent before it ever happens. That’s different than in the moment. Yeah, you can safeword, but there is no other way to do the kink unless you go all the way. No safewording.” He could see the concern on her face. “I wouldn’t do anything you hadn’t agreed to prior, but we can’t plan this kink. It comes when I want it to.”

Nami had mentioned she wanted to give up control, as much as she could, because she liked being used in that way. For lack of better words if he wanted, Terry could use her as a toy. She derived so much pleasure from sexual intimacy. The kinks heightened the feelings, but being that close to a man was the main turn on. To be desired in that way.

“If I see you aren’t enjoying it then I will stop it. And we can try at a later time.” Terry continued. “I’m going to come to you when you don’t want it. When you’re tired or when you’re busy. Your safe word is the only trigger and if you use it, I will never do this kink again.” He paused. “If I have control then I have it. It’s not shared. It’s not traded back and forth. It’s mine the same way your body will be in that moment. At my discretion and for how long I desire to use it.”

She twisted the shirt in her hands while she looked down at the material.

“But it wouldn’t happen until after I fuck you so you have nothing to worry about for now. I just wanted you to know the severity of that particular kink.”

“How do we warm up to that?”

Terry laughed, not at her, but he understood the joke. “We don’t, however, exploring your kinks helps me create the scene for you. I’ll do what you like after I do what I want.”

Nami nodded, unsure of what to say. She needed to think about it.

“Can I ask you something,’ she inquired.

“Of course,’ he replied, his hand sliding up her thigh and beneath the shirt. “Anything you want.”

“You….earlier, there was a difference,’ she fumbled over her words, trying to string them together so they made sense. “I called you Daddy but you didn’t correct me. Or punish me for it.”

“In the heat of things I can forget to pace myself and I slip into a different head space.”

“Was it my fault?” She asked.

Terry’s eyes shot up to hers and he leaned forward, almost in her lap. She kept her hands tightly fisted in the shirt.

“No, you did everything right.” He sighed.

Nami waited for him to speak again, though she let out a sigh of content when he kissed her. His tongue swept over her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him taste her as if he hadn’t. Her hands twitched and she huffed. So badly she wanted to hold his face, his shoulders, scratch up his back, marvel at the way his toned stomach rippled beneath her fingers and feel the heaviness of his dick in her hands.

She was snatched from her thoughts as his hand pushed between her legs, the heat inviting his fingers back into her cove, just as wet as it had been before.

“What are you thinking about that made you so wet, Nami?” He teased, pushing her to lie back on the couch.

He unfolded her legs, pushed her arms up and settled between her thighs.

“I really want to touch you.” She says, eyes glossy as he played with her pussy. Their talk became more sensual as he pushed them into her cunt, stroking a fire that was warming her belly.

“I know.” He kissed her neck, tugging the skin between his teeth as she arched into his fingers. “I can’t keep my hands off you.” He admitted. “You taste so fucking good, baby.”

He crawled to the floor, kneeling beside her before pulling her legs to either side of his head. He brought her body down, resting her thighs on his shoulders as he held her still. He kissed her clit, looking up at her as she held onto the back of the couch.

“Mi nuh need yuh touchin mi rite now.”

Terry whispered patois to her pussy, his lips licking up her slick as she dug her nails into the back of the couch. There it was again, Nami thought, something gentle about how he spoke to her, the patois rolling across her ears as she moaned. She tried to keep still, to watch him devour her, but her body betrayed her and she rocked her hips back and forth against his mouth again.

She was still sensitive from earlier and the need to push his head away while pulling him closer at the same time was high. His tongue was flat as it pressed against her cunt and she could almost feel his damn tastebuds flaring up as they became soaked in her mess.

“Sweet little pussy,’ he hummed. “Mi a guh fuck yuh senseless.”

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#terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond x black!oc #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond smut

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fetishfairytales2 · 3 months ago

Text

Sissy School, Pt. 1 (Story)

"Aww, look at my wittle Brandi,” I cooed, grabbing her by the chin as she kneeled on the ground next to me, “all teary-eyed and whimpering. Don't be sad, my precious cupcake! Mommy has found the perfect place for you, thanks to all the amazing girlies in my online forum. They told me about this super special nursery, just for sissies like you! All their little girls go too! Daddy Conner's new promotion means I don't have to work anymore, but that doesn't mean I want you under my feet all day. So, Daddy and I decided it's time for you to go to Sissy School!"

I smiled, running my fingers across her cheek, and continued; "Today, we're going to tour your new school and you better show me your best behavior princess! You don’t want me to have to tell Daddy you were a bad girl, right?"

My poor little girl, she was trying so hard to nod and wipe away her tears while gagged with that cute pacifier. She's such a crybaby, always whimpering and sniveling. We pulled up to this seedy-looking abandoned strip mall, and almost missed it, with its tinted windows and black paint. It was right next to this wild knock off of Chip and Dales strip called 'Hunks’. I've had some wild nights there, let me tell ya! But this sissy kindergarten didn’t sound like it would be as fun for Brandi as the strip club was for me!

"Welcome to Hunks and Huggies!" I heard a bubbly voice exclaim as the door swung open. The college-aged girl smiling at us was hot. Her dark hair had the perfect beach waves, her skin was flawless, even her eyes sparkled! I just had to stare! God, some girls get it all, even her body was perfect! Her short black “Huggies and Hunks” crop top was so tight you could the outline of her nipples, and they're hard as rocks! The matching black short shorts were barely there. She was showing off her perfect ass and long, toned thighs. I might need to get this girl’s number later! If Brandi wasn’t gagged with her penis-paci I’m sure that little sissy’s tongue would be on the floor right now.

"I'm Ms. Becky!" She introduced herself with a smile, her perfect teeth flashing. "You must be Heather," she continued, giving me a quick hug, shit she even smelled amazing! "And this adorable munchkin," she leaned over and pinched Brandi's cheek, making my sissy squirm, "must be Little Miss Brandi! Why don’t you two come in, I’ll show you around!” She giggled, grabbing me by the arm and whisking us inside.

Stepping inside Hunks and Huggies was like walking into Brandi’s worst nightmare. The whole place was decked out in pastel pink and white, like a little girl’s nursery had exploded. Even the carpet was a somehow perfectly maintained pink! The walls were covered in pink and white stripes, and there was even a banner that spelled out “Welcome to Sissy School!” In building block letters! I had only seen the entrance so far and I just knew it was perfect! I could already see Brandi trembling in her diapers and sobbing behind her gag.

"This," Becky giggled, seeing my shocked expression, "is the main entrance. Our 'students' get to meet all four of us teachers here every morning!" There were more of her? Lucky Brandi! "That door over there," she pointed at a pink door with foam letters that read "Bad Girls Only," "is the detention room. Don't worry, I won't spoil the fun. Brandi will tell you all about it after her first visit!"

A terrified squeak came from my gagged little girl, who was definitely not into the whole 'detention room' situation. I giggled, loving how scared she was already. "Did you say Hunks and Huggies?" I asked, still taking in the over-the-top pink decor.

Before Becky could answer, we heard muffled cries from behind the 'Bad Girls Only' door. Brandi's trembling intensified, and I knew she was freaking out.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Becky said, her hand on Brandi's shoulder doing nothing to comfort her. "That sissy is being punished for very being naughty. But you're a good girl, right?" She looked at Brandi, who nodded frantically, too terrified to make a sound now.

Becky turned back to me with a mischievous grin. "Yes, Hunks and Huggies. The owner of Huggies Sissy School is an amazing businesswoman, she also owns the Hunks strip club next door! It provides some ahem unique benefits for us teachers." She leaned in close, her breath tickling my ear as she whispered, "And some not-so-fun benefits for the students, but we'll get to that later!"

"Let's continue the tour!” Becky giggled, taking my hand and leading me with excitement. Brandi was struggling to keep up, crawling pitifully on the fluffy carpet, her pigtails bouncing. "This is the playroom!" She announced with a bright smile. "I know you'll just adore it!"

As we stepped into the "playroom," I was in for a major surprise! No jungle gyms or swing sets here, but there were definitely some fun toys to play with. The room was so perfect! Of course it was painted in the same soft pink and white as the entrance hall, and had the same fuzzy pink carpet. But there were so many fun toys, it was going to make my little diapered cuck miserable! If my little Brandi didn't enjoy her nursery at home, she would absolutely hate playtime in this place.

"Our lucky little girls spend at least two hours a day in the playroom for recess," Becky giggled from the doorway, reading my mind. "As you can see...", she said nodding across the room.

In the corner of the playroom, there was this giant pink bouncer, the sort of thing every sissy nursery needs! And inside, struggling like a sad little bitch, was this naked sissy, covered in sweat and crying her eyes out. Her hair was a total matted mess, and her makeup was running down her face. The little bitch was such a hot mess! "Oh my god!" I laughed, "look at that cutie pie!" I pointed at the poor thing, all tied up and helpless. "She's just so adorable!" The bouncer bounced up and down, making her tiny chastity cage wobble back and forth. And she had the cutest clamps on her budding little sissy boobs that were little bells! They jingling with every bounce. So. Freaking. Cute!

"Aww, why the long face, sweetie?" I cooed to the sobbing, gagged sissy, not really expecting an answer. “I’ve seen that look before, does she have a little botty-friend in?" I winked at Becky, who just shrugged and giggled.

"Yup, this lil' sissy is gonna pop her cherry soon! Her mommy's new man is packing, so we're giving her the full prep treatment!" I glanced at Brandi, who was trying to disappear into the floor, probably thinking about the massive plug she had at home. Of course, this meant I would be buying her an even bigger one for school, but that could be a surprise for later!

Becky strutted across the room; “and this,” she said, flashing a cute smile, “is our toy box!” I watched excitedly as she lifted the lid of the most adorable toy box ever. It's pink and white, and even had a heart painted on the front! "Every princess needs her toys, don't ya think?" She asked, watching as Brandi's eyes nearly popped out of her head. “What do you think Brandi?”

Inside the box was a collection that would make any dom proud and sissy blush: so many different size paddles, some were leather, some were painted with girly designs, one even had “sissy” carved into it. I’m sure that would leave a mark! There were floggers and whips that promised a sting, and even the largest assortment of dildos I had even seen! “Don’t be jealous Princess Pampers,” I giggled at Brandi; “but I think they might have even more toys than you do!” I couldn’t help but hold some of the larger ones up just to show my sissy. There were a lot! There were so many colors, some were ribbed or had a point, others were realistic; they had veins! “I think you’ll have so much fun with these, Brandi!” I laughed, as she whimpered.

Becky flashed me a knowing smile before leaning over to speak to her future ‘student’. "Don't worry, Brandi,” she purred, “you'll be playing with these toys real soon." She points out a white rocking horse next to us, painted white with pink trim. It would have been perfectly innocent if not for the massive ribbed didlo in the saddle! "That one's gonna be a wild ride, girl!." She giggled, I could see Brandi's bottom lip quivering, the poor thing. "And check out that X-frame, it's just dyin' to have you." We all looked at the intimidating restraint, also pink of course!. "But first, let's go see my favorite part."

In the center of the room was an adorable yet cruel looking “crib”, if you could call it that. It was certainly a fucked up twist on a one anyway. It was painted pale pink and white to match the rest of the room, down to its pink sheets and blankets. But unlike any other crib I had ever seen, except the one Conner built for Brandi of course, it had a top on it like a cage! Inside, the crib were two, I had to assume, absolutely miserable sissies. Their faces were wrapped in diapers, and they were handcuffed on top of each other, struggling in a cute little 69..

"So, these brats were bugging Ms. Staci for diaper changes,” she explained with a smile. “We don't do changes here often, ya know? So, I guess Staci decided if they wanted out of their diapees so badly, they could wear them somewhere else instead! Of course, I'm not sure if it's their own messy diapees or someone else's, but it's fun, for us, either way!" She looked down sweetly as the trapped pair. "This crib is my favorite! Did ya know it can fit three sissies stacked on top of each other at once? It's way more fun when there's more crying and begging. You know, sharing is caring, right?"

“They’re wearing each other’s,” Another absolute bombshell, college aged girl said, standing in the doorway. She had the most striking features, long legs, and blonde hair. She was also dressed to kill in the same revealing outfit as Becky—short shorts that showcase her perfect ass, and a low-cut crop top with the "Huggies and Hunks" logo, leaving little to the imagination. I could see everything through the fabric of her shirt, which I’m certain Brandi would notice too! She added, absolutely full of disdain; "they're wearing each other's diapers. They'll keep 'em on until they clean 'em or fill their new ones. I’m Ms. Staci,” she smiled at me and then sneered at the sissy next to me; “who’s the new loser?

I introduce my pathetic ex, "This loser here is Brandi." Staci gave Brandi a once-over, clearly not impressed. I mean, who would be? Noticing their matching outfits, I ask, "do you girls always dress like this?"

Becky shrugs, "Most days, but on 'Fun Friday,' we break out the sexy lingerie. Gotta give the sissies something to drool over, especially when they've been denied for weeks." I can't help but smirk, imagining Brandi's misery knowing she’ll be tormented by these hotties. It’s been months since her last sissygasm and won’t be getting to make cummies anytime soon either!

Becky claps her hands together excitedly; "Staci and I can give you the rest of the tour together and fill you in on our very strict rules." As we leave the room, she snickers; "you’ll see our girls in their uniforms soon enough. Every student is required to wear one!" On our way across the entrance hall toward a room labeled “Moviez 4 Sissiez”, Becky begins to run through a list of school rules. “All girls must be in uniform at all times, obviously. Dententions for being out of uniform are very harsh, also obviously. The girls must come to school each day with their supplies, which may change depending on the lesson, uhh…oh!”

Becky turned to speak to Brandi directly, "Oh, and little one, you'll be on an exclusive 'cum-only' diet here!" The look on Brandi's face was priceless. I almost felt bad for her! She already eats a lot of cum at home, but at least I still gave her table scraps...for now. She winks at me, assuring; "we just ask mommies to save condoms from their real men. We've got plenty extra though, don't worry." Then, leaning in close to Brandi, she smiled; "you’ll never go hungry, princess. We'll keep you nice and full."

The theater room was honestly kind of gross. Staci confessed as we walked into the small room; "this used to be a viewing booth in an adult bookstore when this whole place was a strip mall. We kept it nasty as a fun little tribute." I spot shelves filled with gay porn and femdom DVDs with titles that I’m sure made Brandi squirm. "Sissy's BBC Training" and "Mommy's Strap-On Slave." Magazines like “Rockhard” were stacked on shelves, and in the center of the room was another surprise for both Brandi and I.

A sissy, tied up tight, laid diapered wearing a pink frilly dress with a matching diaper cover. Of course, she had the most adorable paci strapped in her mouth. Another young beauty, a dominant sounding babe with red hair, was standing behind her. This new teacher was holding the sissy’s head in front of the screen with one hand and holding a vibrating wand to her diapered crotch with the other. “Don’t you dare look away you fucking loser!” She was laughing each time her diapered prisoner tried to turn her head away or close her eyes. “Ooh!” The ginger bombshell giggled, quite literally prying the poor, helpless loser’s eyes open, forcing her attention back to the recording; “this is my favorite part!”

On the screen, is the most perfectly round ass I had ever seen. I was jealous and turned on! Oh gawd, It's tight and firm, totally spankable. It making my mouth water, I couldn’t imagine what it was doing to the poor thing having to watch, or even Brandi! "Hey there, sissy," a sexy voice cooed from the recording. "You always loved my ass, huh? When you were my big stwong husband, you used to love watching this ass bounce on your cock didn’t you? Now that you’re a wittle sissy, I guess you’ll just have to watch it bounce on someone else’s…” The owner of that incredible ass turned and winked at the camera; a 30-something with the deepest blue eyes and her blonde hair in a high ponytail. I think she was about to put on a show.

“Sometimes,” Staci whispered, clearly enjoying herself, “a mommy will send us their ‘home movies’ to share with the class or just to torment their cucks. This one's getting a private show." With a giggle, the woman on screen bent over, revealing a sexy, heart-shaped tattoo on her lower back, just above her perfectly toned butt. She crawls onto the bed, her long, toned legs on full display and beckons off camera with a playful finger and a moan. In the corner, I could just make out a very well-built black guy. Wow, the only thing bigger than his muscles was his dick! This girl was very lucky! He had his massive black cock in his hand and stroked it slowly. The blonde teased him, wiggling her ass. I could hear the gagged sissy in the center of the room whimpering and crying.

"You ready big boy?" she teased, looking back at the camera with a wicked smile while talking to the bull. "Come and get it, baby. You own this pretty white ass now..." This really got the waterworks going from the helpless cuck watching, the redhead doubled her efforts and held firm, forcing her charge to watch as the scene heated up. The hunk didn’t need any further instructions, stepping behind her and the whole room watched as the blonde’s eyes went wide and she moaned. “Ooooh, fuck! Ooh! Jesus baby, y…you’re big!”

“Let’s leave her to enjoy the show,” Becky smiled, closing the theater door, “and let’s go see the classroom. Hmm?” She asked, smiling down at Brandi. The poor thing turned pale and tried to protest, but I grabbed her pigtails, giving them a rough tug, pulling her behind me. She cried softly as we followed Ms. Becky's click-clack heels down the hall. "Almost there, loser," Staci giggled, stopping in front of the door to speak to Brandi. "This is, like, my favorite part! We show you all the awful shit we’re going to do to you and you can’t even stop it! You're gonna hate it, I promise!" I could see Brandi's knees shaking. Poor, dumb little thing.

Ms. Becky dramatically flung open the door with a smile and pushed Brandi inside. "Welcome to class, Brandi," she giggled. "You’re gonna have so much fun!" The room was the most fucked up thing I had seen so far, and I mean that in the best possible way. Everything, and I mean everything, was pink! The walls, the carpets, even the damn windows.

"Oh, Brandi, look at that! They really went all out with the color scheme," I mocked as she sobbed at my knees. "But just wait till you see the lessons they have planned for you, my little sissy baby." I giggled, noticing the pink chalkboards and the lessons written on them. "Cock Sucking 101, hmm?” I teased, reading the board off to her; “oh, I just know you’ll get an A+ in that! You’re a great little cocksucker! We all laughed watching Brandi crumble to the floor, sobbing like the pathetic little girl she is.

"Aww, does my wittle sissy need a time-out already?" I teased, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her up. "But we just got here! Oh my, look at these!” I could hear Brandi groan and whimper as I dragged her towards the center of the room; “aren’t these just the cutest little desks and chairs! How adorable!" I giggled, pointing at the ribbed dildos attached to each chair. “You’ll definitely be sitting pretty, won’tcha Princess Pampers?” Brandi’s eyes went wide, she turned pale, and of course she instantly crumbled back to the floor. I just let her be. After all, she had plenty of time to enjoy her new school! The cutest touch was the name tags on the desks. Pink of course, written out in girly handwriting, the “I’s” all dotted with little hearts, so precious! Of course, the names were my favorite; I could see “Sissy Slut,” “Jizz Breath,” and “Cumbucket”! I hope Brandi got such a cute nickname!

The walls were just as extra as the rest of the classroom. There were huge posters of hunky half naked men covered with lipstick marks, pictures of gorgeous women naked but pixelated of course, and a cute full length mirror with the phrase, "who's the queerest of them all?" written in hot pink lipstick in the corner, Becky stood to the side, clearly proud of her workplace! "This," she giggled, "is where the magic happens. Where we transform whiny boys into obedient baby bitches! As you can see…”

"Check out these two cuties!" I exclaimed in giggles, noticing what Becky was pointing to. I pulled Brandi up and pointed at the two sissies kneeling in the center of the room, surrounded by the pink desks. They were dressed to impress in the cutest little schoolgirl outfits. Their plaid skirts were way too short, showing off their pink Huggies pull-ups, their eyes were were covered with pink blindfolds, their hands trapped behind them with pink cuffs, and their pigtails were held by matching pink bows! And I absolutely loved their crop tops with "sissy slut" in glitter across their chests, of course.

"Oh, Brandi, honeybun, aren't they just adorable? I can't wait to see you all dressed up just like them!" I mocked, knowing how much he hated this. "Don't you just love their fashion sense? I bet you're dying to join their little sissy club, aren't you?" I teased, as Brandi's sobs turned into desperate whimpers.

Staci knelt next to Brandi and wiped away the sobbing little sissy’s tears. I think she was having almost as humiliating Brandi as I do! I knew I was going to like her! "These are your Sucky Exams, princess,” I could barely hear her whispering over Brandi’s sniffling; “you’ll take them every week! The goal is to be the first little girl to make your man cum. If you're a good girl and pass, you get a fresh diapee! But if you fail, well...let's just say you'll find out in the detention room!"

“Sucky exams…?” I asked, before the classroom door opened again. I was in awe as two tall, chiseled hunks, with arms the size of Brandi's thighs and cocky smiles walked in. Oh, they were hot! I think Brandi was so scared she may have pissed herself just seeing these two! “Oh,” I giggled, almost to myself, “sucky exams!” These two wasted no time, each one grabbing a sissy by her pigtails and pulling her towards their bulging package. Brandi's eyes widened watching as these two little sissy sluts were about to be used for their intended purpose.

The sissies, now reduced to a trembling mess, opened their mouths defeatedly and allowed their throats to be invaded. “Look at them go,” Staci giggled over Brandi’s shoulder, watching the helpless sissy being throatfucked deep and hard. I could barely hear her over sounds in the room. “Look at the eye contact,” Staci giggled wickedly, “and listen to all that moaning, they’re such good little sluts!”

“You lucky little girl, getting to watch,” Becky had leaned over Brandi’s other shoulder now; “look at them, even through all the tears, being the best little sissy pornstars they can be! Ya know, with Hunks right next door, there’s, like, an endless amount of dicks you’re going to suck, every day!” Even over sissies’ muffled moans and the wet, slurping noises, I’m sure Brandi could hear each word; “we hope you’re excited for your first day of school!”

#humili sissi

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roosterforme · 10 months ago

Text

Covering the Classics Part 5 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob was willing to try to be friends with Anna, but he knew his feelings wouldn't go away overnight. The more time he spent around her, the harder it seemed to make that happen. When Bradley and Jake make a suggestion about Bob's dating agenda, Anna doesn't seem crazy about it. And Bob ends up even more confused by her actions than her words.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, mentions of cheating, eventually 18+

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Being friends with Anna was one of the worst things Bob had ever had to do. But being around her while still keeping his distance was better than the alternative, so he had to do it. When she texted him, he responded immediately, and he couldn't stop thinking about how much he'd like to hold her hand.

She was all smiles when he saw her again a few days later. This time, she was the one who invited him out for a cup of coffee on Saturday morning, and he jumped at the chance to go. After cancelling his breakfast plans with Mickey with the promise that he'd be at the bar before Dungeons & Dragons, he hopped in his truck and drove off to meet Anna.

He was early, but she was already there. "Hey, Bob," she said, waving to him from a small table near the back as he approached. She already had two drinks in front of her, and Bob's brow creased in something like annoyance as he made his way to her.

"I was going to pay for your coffee," he said, meeting her brown eyes as he dropped slowly into the empty seat.

"You paid the other day," she replied, sliding the hot tea a little closer to him. "Plus, you bought me two books."

All Bob could think about as he looked at her tentative smile was the fact that he wanted nothing more than to buy Anna every book she wanted for the rest of her life. Massive anthologies and slim romance novels and poetry collections and autobiographies... he wanted to get her every single one that sparked her interest. He wanted to catch her attention in just the same way literature did. He wanted to be what she curled up in bed with after a long day.

Bob cleared his throat. "Thanks for the tea, but next time I'm paying."

"Deal," she said softly before blowing on her hot coffee with another smile.

"Great. In that case, we can go out for an expensive lobster dinner," he told her with a little grin. "You already agreed."

Anna looked at him as she took a sip. "Is an expensive lobster dinner something friends would enjoy together?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

Bob's heart started beating a little faster. "I think friends can do whatever they want."

She studied him for a moment before reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a book. "This is for you. It's from my own personal stash, so it's a little worn out, but I thought you might like to borrow it."

When he accepted the dog eared paperback copy of The Remains of the Day, her fingers brushed against his. "Thank you. I'll add it to my list of Dr. Webber recommendations."

She blushed slightly, and her hand went to her cheek as she said, "Dr. Webber. Sometimes I still can't believe I finished my doctorate after putting it on hold for so long."

Bob sipped his tea. "Why did you put it on hold? It's easy to see how much it means to you."

Anna chewed on her lip before she softly said, "I made some bad decisions, but I won't be doing that again. Do you want to split a croissant?"

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

"So," Jessica said, heaving a deep sigh at lunchtime on Monday. She looked like she had just received some devastating news, and when Anna glanced toward her other friend holding her tie dyed lunchbox, she found a similar expression on her face as well. "It's true? You and Bob are friends?"

"You don't have to say it like that," Anna replied, dropping down onto the bench between the two of them with the weird looking tree behind her. "You were the ones who encouraged me to make a new friend in the first place!"

"We thought you'd snap out of it after like ten minutes alone with him again," Advanced Calculus said as she bit into the pretty lunch that Bradley had clearly packed for her. "Poor Bob."

Anna scuffed the toe of her old, beat up shoe along the concrete in front of her as she sipped her can of ginger ale. "It's not like I'm some amazing option or something," she muttered, remembering how adorable he looked when she handed him her own book for him to borrow. "Bob could do better."

"Anna!" Jessica gasped. "Don't say that about yourself! It's simply not true! You're the best!"

Anna swallowed hard, embarrassment starting to fill her up as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She wasn't used to being around anyone who said kind words to or about her. The fact that she almost couldn't handle hearing them was making her feel vulnerable. "I just mean... I'm not really emotionally available, so it would be in his best interest to stop returning my crush on him." She was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to stop her own feelings at this point.

The other two women were quiet for a beat, and Anna started to get nervous, but then there was a fancy container of veggies and some sort of dip being held out in front of her. She helped herself to a carrot stick as her friend finally asked, "Are you ready to talk about Kevin?"

She crunched hard into the carrot before saying, "I don't like to talk about cheaters."

Jessica made a disgusted sound and said, "That's probably half of the male population. But... I think it's safe to talk about Bob." Anna groaned, and Jessica quickly added, "Okay, fine, I'll stop now!"

"Kevin cheated on you?" Advanced Calculus said, cutting right to the chase. "What a fucking dick."

"Yeah," Anna whispered, wondering why this lunch meetup was becoming so emotional. "It went on for years, as far as I can tell. I was just too busy working and trying to stay above water to notice at first. He's... still with her. I think." But Anna knew the truth; all Kevin really did was find an upgrade and stick with her. He found another medical doctor with a thriving career, just like himself.

"Men are disgusting," Jessica said ferociously. "I was going through a bit of a rough patch when I met Jake, so keep your head up, okay? There are some good ones out there."

Anna snorted. "I think the two of you found the only good ones left."

"Nah. But I do think they might all be in the Navy."

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

Bob was surprised on Friday night when he got to the Hard Deck a little later than usual and found Anna there. The deep copper of her hair was illuminated by the lights above the pool table as she stood next to Jake, sipping a glass of ginger ale. She looked like she belonged here now, even though it was just her second visit, and when Bob got closer, he could hear her asking Jake about him.

"So everyone has a call sign? In the entirety of the United States Navy?"

"No," Jake replied with a chuckle. "Not everyone."

"And your call sign is Hangman? And Bradley's is Rooster?"

"That's right."

"What's Bob's?"

Bob smiled softly, enjoying the fact that she was asking about him without realizing he was standing right there. "It's just Bob," he said, making her jump a bit in surprise as she looked up and found him immediately with her dark eyes.

She examined him with a soft smile on her lips. "Just Bob. I think I like that better. I'd probably want to be just Anna if I had a call sign. Do you want to play pool with me? We can lose to Jessica together."

It took Bob a second to put everything together in his mind. Anna wasn't making fun of his call sign where everyone else usually would have been. And now she was holding out a pool cue toward him with a hopeful look on her face that was slowly starting to fade away as he stood motionless. "Yes," he finally said, reaching out to take it from her. Just like at the coffee shop, their fingers met briefly, and Bob just wanted to hold her hand in the worst way. And maybe try to count her freckles. And maybe kiss her. He cleared his throat. "I'd love to play. Losing to Jessica is so much fun."

"It's everyone's favorite way to spend a Friday night!" Jessica replied, brandishing a Sam Adams in one hand and a blue chalk cube in the other.

"No way, Smart Girl. I like what comes later even better," Jake replied, wrapping his arm around her waist, and Bob had to look away as he kissed his girlfriend. Jake had been talking about engagement rings in the locker room the other day, and Bob was sworn to secrecy.

He promised not to say anything. He wouldn't. The two of them belonged together, and Bob could tell how happy they would be, but he still felt nauseatingly jealous of their love. Especially when Jessica kissed Jake and whispered, "Save the dirty talk for later."

Bob's eyes found Anna's as she got the table set up. He was going to work really hard at this friendship thing, but someday when he inevitably saw her with another guy's arms wrapped around her, hugging her, he was certain he was going to have to excuse himself from her presence. But for now, all he could do was look at her.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, touching her cheek after she set the eight ball in place.

"Just a cute smile," Bob replied, and then he had the distinct desire to disappear as said smile grew a little bigger before she pressed her lips together. Clearly he couldn't be trusted not to make things weird. "Let's play."

They were about five minutes into the game when Bradley and his wife walked over, and Bob was really enjoying the way Anna accidentally bumped into him. Twice. But then he was reminded of the other topic of conversation that had been brought up in the locker room at work.

"Hey Bob, you still thinking about downloading a dating app?" Bradley asked him casually. Anna fumbled and dropped the blue chalk that she was holding. Bob picked it up and handed it to her, but she didn't even meet his eyes when she took it.

"Uh, I might," he replied, watching Anna miss her shot at the nine ball by a mile. Bradley and Jake were the ones who mentioned the app to begin with, and when Bob showed the slightest bit of interest, they ran with the idea. "Still undecided."

"I can help you make a profile," Bradley said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll just have to let me know if you'd rather find your soulmate or be knee deep in as much pussy as you can handle."

Bob felt his cheeks warm up as Bradley's wife smacked him on the chest and told him to be quiet. When he chanced a glance at Anna, she was already looking at him with wide, brown eyes. Truthfully, Bob kind of wanted to find his soulmate and be getting a lot of pussy, but just from that one person.

"Can we talk about this later?" he muttered, sinking the nine ball for his team when it was finally his turn.

"Sure. We can download it later," Bradley said with a smirk that didn't quite sit well with Bob. That wasn't what he meant at all, and now Anna wasn't even looking at him. It took him bringing her another glass of ginger ale for her to even acknowledge he was still there.

"Thanks," she said softly as she took it from him. They'd been trounced by Jess and Jake, and now they were standing off to the side together. "You know," she added, "if you download a dating app, you'd probably get a lot more attention if you put up a photo of you in your uniform. Or one of those jumpsuit things."

Bob shook his head and looked at his feet. "You'd swipe right?" he asked before he could think better of it.

Anna laughed and said, "Honestly? I'd swipe right if you were wearing your Dungeons & Dragons shirt."

Once again, he didn't know what to say. She only wanted to be friends with him, but this was the second time she told him she found him attractive. "It's called a flight suit," he said, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she did, she looked confused. "Not a jumpsuit."

She smiled again at the clarification. "Well, whatever they are, I like them. And the call signs. Especially yours. You seem like you don't need a lot of fancy stuff. Just Bob."

"Just Bob," he whispered. He didn't need anything fancy, but right now he sure wanted Anna.

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

On Tuesday at lunchtime, Anna was the first one to the bench, and she had to sit there awkwardly and hope that her friends showed up. She could be back in her office, alone, thinking about what she wanted to do in her next Feminist Literature lecture. She was about to text them when she glanced up as Jessica's glasses reflected the bright sunlight, and both women were heading her way. Then she saw her beat up copy of The Remains of the Day held in the same hand that was holding the tie dye lunchbox.

"This is from Bob. He gave it to Bradley to give to me, and I had to promise to give it to you."

Anna took the book from her and whispered, "Thank you." Had Bob already finished reading another of her recommended books? Was he really this perfect? That's when she noticed there was a slip of paper peeking out between the pages, and she barely heard her two friends talking as she pulled it out.

Anna,

You really need a bookmark. All of the dog eared pages made me feel terrible for this poor book as I read it. I enjoyed the story immensely, but seriously, you need to stop folding the pages over to save your spot. Unless it was your intention to bring an element of horror into the tale? If so, well done. Also, now that I have your attention, do you feel like grabbing a drink on Thursday evening? We could go to Chippy's and eat some of the best peanuts in the world. Just text me and let me know.

Bob

She whimpered softly. Everything this man did delighted her. She wanted to recommend a dozen more books to him if it meant she could have one more little handwritten note to tuck away. Or to use as the bookmark that would keep him from stressing out about the pages.

"Earth to Anna," Jessica said, waving a hand in front of her face and making her finally look up.

"Bob asked me to go to Chippy's with him," she blurted out, holding the note tight in her hand.

"Oh!" Advanced Calculus gasped. "You should go!"

"No," Advanced Physics whined. "That was supposed to be a girls' night outing!"

"I want her to go. It's the only thing that will get Bob off the dating app. I can't believe Bradley brought that up in the first place. He doesn't know a damn thing about it."

"I want her to go with us for the first time!"

Anna looked back and forth between the two of them, that familiar whiplash feeling returning as they argued with her in the middle. But in the meantime, she got her phone out and texted Bob.

If we go to Chippy's without Jessica, I think she might have a fit.

Bob must have been on his lunch break as well, because he wrote back a minute later while the two of them were still arguing.

Bob Floyd: All the more reason to do it, really.

Anna laughed quietly as she told him about her office hours on Thursday, promising to meet him for some life changing peanuts at 7:15. Then she put her phone away and announced, "I'm going with Bob. The three of us can go to Chippy's on a different night."

Jessica looked mildly annoyed while her other friend looked smug and said, "Get him off the dating app. Those women will eat that sweet man alive."

But Anna knew she couldn't and shouldn't even try to do anything about that. Friends were supposed to be supportive of each other, and Bob was her friend. Just her friend. But when she thought about how much attention he was probably getting, it just made her so sad. She could have had that. She could have been the one with his beautiful eyes focused on her while she inhaled his delicious scent.

Maybe she'd just make one quick comment about the app when they were together. "I'll see what I can do."

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

Of course Bob would get dismissed early on Thursday when he had nothing better to do than wait around until it was time to go to Chippy's with Anna. He skipped the locker room shower, opting to head home to get ready instead, and it looked like Jake and Bradley were of a similar mind as they walked out to the parking lot at the same time as him.

"You said you'd share your lasagna recipe," Bradley said, annoyance laced in his voice. "Sugar really likes it."

"I said I would think about it," Jake replied smoothly. "It's not like you need help getting laid. It's not like you're Bob. No offense, Bob."

He just sighed and glared at the blonde. "I don't need help getting laid."

"Sure, pal," Jake replied as he approached his truck. "But I'll give you a free tip anyway. I'm going to go home and shower and pack up dinner. Then I'm going to stop and get some flowers for Jess, because girls like that shit. Then I'm going to her office hours where the combination of a homemade meal and pretty flowers will have her pulling her panties off as soon as I walk in."

"Please," Bob moaned. His stomach turned at the thought of Jessica, who made up a ridiculous voice for her D&D character, removing any article of her clothing. "Please stop. She's my friend."

"So is Anna," Bradley said with a smirk. "Did you download Tinder yet? Or are you going to stop and get some flowers and man up before you go to Chippy's?"

He didn't know how to explain to them that the last thing he wanted to do was push her away, and he was almost certain that a romantic gesture like giving her flowers would do just that. He also wished he hadn't even told them that he and Anna were going to Chippy's together. It was another excuse to see her, sure, but he was convinced she'd really like the peanuts.

"I have it under control," Bob muttered, passing Bradley's Bronco and heading for his own truck. Anna told him she'd made some bad decisions in her life, and he wanted to know more. Maybe going out tonight would be a way for her to open up to him a little bit. He knew from real life as well as some of the books he read that love could be built on solid friendships, but he tried not to tell himself that something like that could work out for him. Friendship was enough.

"Robert!" Suzanne called from her open front door as he walked up the path. "You're home early."

"Hey, Suzanne. Yeah, got out early today."

"You know what you should do, Robert? You should spend this extra time getting on a dating app."

He paused with his key in the lock of his own front door and listened to the game show that she was watching as the sound filtered outside. "Thanks so much for that amazing idea, Suzanne. Have a great night."

It didn't take him too long to get ready, and while he definitely didn't want to show up at Chippy's with a bouquet of flowers, he came up with another idea. A better idea. And if he could manage to locate Anna's office in the English building, he would meet her there.

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

Anna had one student show up to her office hours, and even then, it was just so he could complain about how they were only reading 'books by girls' in English 522.

"It's Feminist Literature," she explained slowly. "The main themes and topics revolve around equality of the sexes and advocacy for women's rights. The female point of voice is what we are exploring this semester."

"But why is it all chicks? I don't really like these books."

She sighed and said, "Everything has been on the syllabus since the first lecture, and I haven't deviated from it. If you don't think you can handle it, then I suggest your drop the class."

When he finally left, she groaned and put her head down on her desk. Just a few more minutes, and she could go meet Bob. Bob Floyd. The man who read books by authors of every kind. The man who would probably enjoy sitting in one of her lectures. The man of her dreams.

"Fuck you, Kevin," she whispered before picking her head up and fixing her braid. When there was another knock on her door, she jumped in her seat. "Come in!"

And then there he was, pushing the door open and filling up her tiny office with his broad shoulders and handsome features. Bob smiled at her, and she immediately believed everything would be okay forever. "Hi," she whispered, standing up behind her desk, the large piece of furniture the only thing between them now. "Bob."

Then her eyes dipped down as he held out his hand. "These are for you." He was holding a six pack of ginger ale cans, and it was then that the smell of clean soap and hot tea invaded her senses. "An office warming gift."

"You're sweet," she said softly, and he smiled as she accepted the treat from him. "Thanks."

He just shrugged and looked around the room. "Nice place you got here."

Anna laughed. "You don't have to lie about it. You're tall enough that you could touch that wall with your hand and the opposite wall with your foot at the same time," she said, pointing from one side of the space to the other.

"It's still nice," he told her as he adjusted his glasses. "You must have two hundred books in here. And it smells like a library. And bread?"

She nodded and said, "That's because I'm near the cafeteria. You get used to it."

Bob's laughter and genuine smile had her whole body clenching. "Smells better than jet fuel. You ready to go to Chippy's?"

"Yeah." It came out like a whine. This felt like a date. She wanted it to be a date. She wanted to live in an alternate universe where she could feasibly date someone. As she set her ginger ale cans down and picked up her office key and tote bag, she started to make her way to the door. When she stopped, Bob bumped into her, his hands landing on her waist.

"Sorry," he muttered, and he put some space between their bodies immediately.

"It's okay," she replied, pulling the door closed and locking it. Anna couldn't control the thundering of her heart as they walked side by side down the hallway and stepped outside into the cool, evening air. What was she supposed to talk about with her friend Bob when she just kept thinking about his hands on her body? She cleared her throat as they walked quietly down the sidewalk toward the bar. "Did you wear your jumpsuit at work today?"

Bob's smirk made her giggle. "Flight suit, Anna. For someone who has a bunch of friends in the Navy, you could really use a tutorial. And yes, I did wear my flight suit."

She bit her lip and tried to picture him in it. "I liked your khaki uniform with all the pins on it."

His brow scrunched up as he looked at her, leading the way toward Chippy's. "When did you see my service khakis?"

Oh shit. She'd been staring at the selfie he sent from the bookstore so frequently, she just outed herself. "Um. You sent a picture to me. A while ago."

His features smoothed out as he held the bar door open for her to walk past him. "Right." His voice sounded a little deeper as she passed him. "Forgot about that."

She sure hadn't, and she never ever would. Scrambling for something to say as she walked across the sticky floor littered with peanut shells toward a group of students drinking beers, she blurted out, "I thought all Naval uniforms were navy blue."

When he pulled out a stool for her at a high top table, she took a seat. His voice was close to her ear as he said, "Your tutorial begins now. Can't have you embarrassing yourself like this next time you come to the Hard Deck. You want a beer?"

She wasn't much of a drinker, and the last thing she needed was something that would amplify the way her heart felt like it was beating erratically right now, but she simply nodded. Then Bob disappeared, leaving her really wondering what this tutorial might include. She tracked his movements back toward the bar where an older man with a deep scowl on his face started to reach for two pint glasses. Bob pulled his wallet out of his snug pocket, and Anna was too distracted to realize that he was paying for something for her. Again.

"Damn it," she groaned, realizing how quickly she was slipping tonight. She wanted Bob to explain in great detail everything about the United States Navy while she ate peanuts. She wanted to feed him some and let her fingertips brush his lips. "Stop it." He was returning to the table now, and she watched as two women at another table pointed at him subtly. He was so attractive, and the way he was carrying two full glasses cupped in one big palm left her dizzy.

"Here you go," he said, handing her one of the beers along with a big dish of peanuts. "Best peanuts in San Diego. I swear."

Anna took one and smashed it open as she said, "I'll be the judge of such things." Bob looked really sure of himself as he sat down opposite her, and as soon as she tasted it, she knew he was right. It was roasted to perfection with just the perfect amount of salt. "Oh, god."

"Told you," he replied, reaching into the dish for a few. "But don't tell Penny I said that. I don't want to break her heart."

And that was just thing about Bob. Anna would have believed him if he said he never wanted to break anyone's heart. His fingers brushed against her as they both reached for more peanuts at the same time, but he ended up scooting them a little closer to her.

"There are some that are navy blue," he said, his eyes bright behind his glasses. "Uniforms, that is."

"I knew it!"

"But we hardly ever wear them," he added with a soft smile. "We wear the white ones even less frequently."

"White ones?" Anna asked as she took a sip of her beer, eyes fixed on Bob's fingers as he worked a peanut out of the shell. She could write poetry about his hands, they were just that graceful and strong looking. He was talking, but she could barely keep up with the conversation, and when she set her beer down, it was half empty.

"But that's just when I fly with Phoenix," he was saying. "I've been getting tossed around from pilot to pilot recently, which I hate. But my flight suits are what I wear the most, followed by my khaki uniform."

"It looked nice on you," Anna whispered loudly, surprised that she said it out loud. Again.

"You said that before," Bob replied, his cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink. Would he feel warm to the touch? Why was it so hot inside Chippy's? Why did Anna agree to come here without the girls?

She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants, wishing she wasn't so awkward. "Why did you study aviation? You seem like you'd have been a spectacular English major."

Bob shrugged. "A free ride to the Naval Academy is prestigious enough that you just don't turn that down. Where did you get your PhD?"

Anna hated answering this question, but she'd be honest with Bob. "I started out at Princeton, but it was expensive, and I decided to use my money for... other things. I finished at a state school. A New Jersey state school."

"But you finished," he said with a smile as she gulped down the rest of her beer in one go. "You've got more letters after your name than I do."

Anna laughed, because he wasn't wrong. "But you've got more letters before your name than I do. Lieutenant Floyd."

"No, I don't," he said easily. "Dr. Webber."

"Shit," she croaked, really feeling the beer now. "You're right. That sounds so badass."

"It is badass," he promised as Anna's head swam with warmth and desire and contentment. He cracked open another peanut, slipping it between his parted lips. She leaned in a little closer, and his eyes went wide at what she said.

"Did you download a dating app? I don't think you should. The guys don't know what they're talking about, and you don't really need it. You could get anyone."

Bob studied her as she tried to keep her expression neutral, fingers spinning her empty glass around nervously in front of her. "No," he said slowly. "I didn't download an app. If I'm being honest, I think I'm still hung up on the idea of meeting someone and falling for them naturally. Like accidentally bumping into them in a bookstore." Her mouth went dry as he softly said, "That's kind of what I always wanted."

It was her. She was the one he bumped into before they even knew they had mutual friends. She was that girl from the bookstore. Why couldn't she have this? She wanted it, too! And now he thought she didn't.

"It's okay," he said before finishing off his beer. "We can be friends." He set the glass down, and Anna felt his gaze move from her lips up to her eyes. "You ready to go?"

"Yes," she whispered, slowly reaching for her things. "Thanks for the beer."

Bob shrugged as he helped her down from the stool. "Any excuse to come to Chippy's."

As they walked past the clusters of students on their way toward the door, Anna waved to the bartender. "Does he always look that cranky?"

"Ol' Chippy? Yes. Always."

She made a point to wave a little more vigorously as Bob's hand found her side and guided her outside while she laughed. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a lightweight, and now it's my goal to get him to laugh."

"I have a feeling you'll be working on that mission for a while," Bob said close to her ear. "Are you drunk?"

"No," she whispered. "Just silly."

Bob couldn't seem to help himself as he chuckled and led her along the sidewalk with one hand resting softly between her shoulder blades. "I don't really know what that means yet when it comes to you, Anna. Let me drive you home."

"Okay. It's not far," she replied, trying to imagine what it would be like if Bob ever saw the inside of her tiny apartment as she rattled off her street address. She climbed into his truck with a little bit of help, and then he reached for her seatbelt before pausing and placing it in her hand.

"Buckle up," he told her as she stared down into his face.

"I will," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "If you promise not to download that app."

His lips twitched into a smile. "You have my word."

Bob walked around the front of his truck before climbing in and starting up the engine. He played with the radio dials while he drove as Anna breathed in her surroundings. Everything smelled good in here where Bob's fresh soap scent seemed to blend with the tang of jet fuel. She had to press her thighs together as she imagined running her nose along the front of his flight suit before he got himself cleaned up after a shift at work.

"Oh no," she whispered as Bob pulled up to a red light a few streets from where she lived. Sky Writing's poetry swirled around in her mind, and she was afraid she might have whispered the words out loud when Bob turned and looked at her in surprise.

"What did you just say?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

She thought about the words she had memorized once again. Passion pulses through my veins like a wild river. Binding me to you in a dance of fire.

"Nothing," she told him as the car behind his truck honked, still sitting after the light turned green.

When he parked at the curb in front of her building, he turned toward her with curious eyes and whispered, "I thought you said-"

But Anna had reached her limit with Bob. She released her seatbelt and leaned toward him, feeling more and more sure of herself the closer she got to his mouth. Then she pressed her lips gently to his and whimpered as she kissed him. Bob reached out and ran his graceful fingers along her cheek, and Anna melted into him before he abruptly pulled away.

"Anna. I don't think this is something friends do," he croaked, voice raspy enough that she was forced to consider that she just kissed him.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, hauling herself back across the seat and throwing the door open. "I'm so sorry, Bob."

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

I can't decide if that was a mistake or not on Anna's part. But the longing got to be too much for her. She wants him badly. I hope she doesn't go into hiding. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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#bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x oc #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fic #robert floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

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temiizpalace · 5 months ago

Note

🎉Congrats on your milestone! 🎉Could I have idia and vil for prompt 4 pls?

☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (💀 vs. 👑)

SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.

CHARACTERS: idia shroud vs. vil schoenheit

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy

NOTES: vil and idia was such an interesting matchup i love it. tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

he should’ve just stayed in his room.

idia roamed the halls of night raven in search of you. he just had to show you his recently imported collection of pokemon merch (that somehow exists here…) and can’t wait to nerd out and explain to you why pikachu could be goku in a fight. it was exciting to find someone willing to listen besides ortho.

until..

there you were. with vil. a SUPERMODEL and SUPER ACTOR, chatting away and having a good time. suddenly any and all of idia’s confidence was blown to smithereens and now he wants to go back to his room and weep. okay, cringe over exaggeration but he wants to go back to his room. just as he thought he shuffled out of sight, you spotted him in that split second and called him over. “idia! hi!” you wave, making him flinch.

hesitantly, he outs himself from hiding and waved back. “h-hey..” he mumbles, watching as you walked over. “what’re you doing outside of your room? i was just about to visit you.” you tease, poking his shoulder. “you were?”

“yeah! me and vil wanted to ask about the new game you bought the other day. apparently he was hired as a voice actor and wanted to get into character, yknow?” you stated that calmly, too calmly. vil? voice acting a game that he plays? seriously? that’s gonna be really weird playing the game and all of a sudden hearing your classmate grunting in pain.

“indeed. any facts for this character, idia? i’ve never voice acted, so this is not in my forte.” vil asks, showing him a photo. “u-uhm.. they’re super cunning, i gues?” idia stutters, backing away slowly. normally he’d love to geek out about this topic, but today was different. he was looking for you, and wanted to geek out to you. not to vil.. “while that’s super cool and all, i think i might head out now.. [MC], see you for our gaming sesh. v-vil.. bye.” and before you could even speak, idia walked faster than he never has before.

embarrassing. so embarrassing. he could barely hold eye contact, how in the world will he ever confess? all hope is lost. the world can end here and it’ll be better than this. overreacting again, but whatever. he wants to lie in bed, cover himself in the sheets, and sulk for a little. such a baby.

☆˚∘

idia rotted away in bed the rest of the day, scrolling through magicam for any new codes he could redeem in his games. a banner pops up, the contact leading to you. hesitantly, he opens the message. stargazing later!! u should come too!11!!

he stared at the message, unable to respond. he wants to go, but also doesn’t.. aaaaaaaa why did he have to like you, it’s not fair. as much as he wants to decline, he knew you’d probably ping him a billion times til he agrees, so he’ll save himself the trouble. sure i have nothing to do later lol

and now he’s here. sitting on the hill with you and vil. gee, it’s like he’s seeing this guy everywhere. “idia, i had no idea you were joining us.” vil says, crossing his arms while looking idia up and down with a glare. intimidated. that was the word to describe idia at this moment. “[MC] invited me.. so..” he murmurs, curling up into a small ball. “cheer up idia! you’ll miss the stars if you hide like that.” you grin, keeping him from hiding his face.

you and idia’s banter couldn’t help but make vil scoff. so noisy.. it should’ve been just you and him. why’d you invite that shut-in too? he’s just going to complain the whole time, right? alas, it can’t be helped. but vil has natural charm, perhaps that’ll win you over.

the breeze begins to pick up, making you shiver. you should’ve brought a jacket, but you didn’t want to miss anything. your negligence has costed you. “cold?” vil asks, watching as you covered your arms with your hands. “a little, but i should be fine.” you reassure him, waving it off like it’s nothing.

“y-you can wear my jacket..” idia stammers, unable to look at you. “hm?” you raise your brow, looking to the boy on your right. his face was flushed red, the tips of his hair slightly pink from embarrassment. “here.” he offers you his jacket, the one that looks ever so comfortable and extremely warm. the one he never lets go of, in your hands. “you mean it?” you ask in disbelief, staring at him as he hid himself further.

“just take it..” just as you were about to put it on, a coat drapes over your shoulders, the warmth catching you off guard. “what kind of gentlemen would i be if i let my dear friend freeze?” vil smirks, looking at idia with a shit-eating grin. “i insist you take your jacket back idia, wouldn’t want to get sick now.”

idia frowns at vil’s pettiness, suddenly feeling very competitive. “woah woah, hang on, wouldn’t want superstar vil schoenheit to get sick because of me. you should take your coat back so you don’t get frostbite.” idia states, taking the coat off you and back into vil’s arms. “please, there are filming conditions in colder weather.” vil scoffs. “should see my room in the summer months.” idia retorts.

“uhm.. guys?” you cut in, breaking their focus. “i can just run back to ramshackle really quickly..! don’t worry about it, stay here.” you get up, rushing down the hill. the silence became deafening, not even the trees rustling broke their awkward tension. refusing to face one another, they stare up at the starry sky. shooting stars begin to fly by, one by one, a never ending stream.

gazing upon it, they shut their eyes and make a wish.

he’ll marry you, and cut that other guy completely out of the picture.

they wished as they glare at each other discreetly.

A/N: shorter than others because i ran out of ideas euheuheueh

date published: 9/2/24

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fluff #twst fluff #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #weakest one so far #ewwww #brother eugh #sorry #i am my biggest hater #disney twisted wonderland #fight for the prefects love

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emptyultimatum · 6 months ago

Text

GOOD GIRL

Avenger Loki x gender neutral!reader In which Loki changes things up a little

~ SMUT!! [ fingering, praise, light breast play, light oral, references to vaginal s3x ]

~ TW!! [ character injury but mild ]

I meant it as a joke, you thought to yourself, half ruefully, half gleefully. But as the quivering, spread legs before you revealed a dripping, fluttering cunt, you could hardly call your thoughts regret.

It all started with the mission. Twenty-four escaped convicts, an easy night out for the Avengers. Technically, it was below Avenger status (not exactly world-saving, after all), but Tony was trying to make a good impression on the U.S. government, so the superhuman heroes spent a lot of time running errands for the White House. You and Peter were on it, an easy fix. Honestly, either one of you could’ve done it alone.

You went left, Spider-Man went right. There were supposed to be an even split, but the numbers changed too quickly to communicate. You soared over the frigid treetops, angel wings beating the air, when a harpoon speared through your feathers. You crashed to the ground, keening with pain.

Six criminals got away. Peter handled the other eighteen, but the damage was done. They sent Vision after the last six and helicoptered the two of them back to Stark Towers.

Loki, as one can imagine, was distraught.

“What happened? Parker, who did this to her? She needs medical assistance—”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Curlicues?” Tony Stark gestured to the corner with his chin. “Go over there and sit like a good girl.”

An unfamiliarly dangerous spark lit Loki’s features. You cocked your head curiously through the pain, but Tony blew him a kiss. Loki hissed through his teeth, but backed off, letting Tony scan your gaping wound.

“You know, I always wondered if these things were illusions,” Tony mused, tapping on his holographic screens. “They appear out of nowhere, it doesn’t make sense, unless—”

“Pocket dimension,” you gritted, as Bruce Banner and Tony snapped their fingers in unison.

“That does make sense,” Bruce said brightly.

A red syringe-shaped arm popped out of the side of the medical bed. It blasted freezing nanoparticles over the gash in your wing, then retracted. Enhanced healing patches were placed over the bruises and road rash along your arm and thighs, and Tony gave you a jar of skin-repair salve for later. A few adrenaline injections to the arm later, and you were feeling much better.

“Can I see my boyfriend now? He might tear a hole through all nine realms if you don’t let him check on me,” you rolled your eyes, beckoning Loki over.

He pushed past Tony, elbowing him out of the way. “Darling, are you okay?”

“You’re welcome,” Stark said. “No problem. I’ll just go over here and lick my ass, I guess.”

“Yes, do that,” Loki muttered. Tony winked at him, deadpan.

“I’m much better,” you reassured him, flexing the wing and drawing his attention. “I heal quickly, remember? The worst was the pain, but it won’t linger.”

“Good. Then let’s get to your bed. You need rest.” Loki scooped you up. The world wavered in a flash of green, blinding and strong, and suddenly they were back in their old, cozy room. A sweater lay, forgotten, on a chair. A few snack wrappers and… other kinds of wrappers lay scattered about the floor.

“Oh it’s a mess,” you smacked your forehead. “Good thing they healed me in the med bay and not here.” “I’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” he assured you, his eyes sincere. “Just take it easy, dearest.”

“What’s got you all worried, Lo?” you laughed, cupping his cheek. “I’m fine. I’ve been hurt worse before.”

“Yes, but that was before we were together. Additionally, I fear I’m facing some… insecurity, as it were.” He glanced away, cheeks pinking.

“Insecurity? About what?”

“I- nothing. It’s no matter. We shall discuss later,” he brushed you off, standing. “Please, let me clean for you.”

You grinned up at him. “If you say so. Thanks for cleaning for me, Loki. You’re such a good girl.”

You put a growl on it, a low, sultry purr. The tone of voice you usually said good boy or beg for me in. You meant it as a joke, a demeaning one, a call back to Tony’s patronizing snub.

Instead, you saw something liquify in Loki’s eyes. That same look he got when his cock was in your hands, or your teeth were sinking into his skin.

And being yourself, you capitalized on it.

“Do you like that?” you cooed, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to be my pretty girl, Loki? My good little obedient princess?”

Oh, you had him cornered. His bottom lip trembled with thinly held control, his eyes darting back and forth, warring with himself.

You reached up, pulling him back down, so that he kneeled before you. You locked his gaze with your own.

“If you want to be my good girl,” you said gently, “You can.”

Loki shuddered, and slowly, his shoulders began to slough down and round off. His frame turned slighter, more slender, and his chest swelled. He was daintier, but still with the shoulder-length choppy hair and wild silver eyes. He was no he at all. She was Loki. A tall, wiry, masc Loki, with a dripping mess between her legs.

Loki whimpered as you laughed aloud, running your hands through that silky black hair. “Oh, you pretty girl, so many tricks up your sleeve! Why don’t you strip for me, so we can see what pretty trick you have up your pants.”

You had never seen Loki undress so quickly.

And so, here you were, Loki breathless and growling beneath you, your fingers sliding into Loki’s slippery, throbbing mess. You curled your fingers acutely, and Loki bucked up into your hand.

“Naughty,” you cooed. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. Stay still.”

“Please, love,” Loki begged, her cheeks flushed red. “Please let me cum.”

“Behave,” you scolded. “And maybe I’ll consider it.”

Loki let out the prettiest keening sound you’d ever heard. You giggled, leaning forward, wrapping your lips around Loki’s pulsating clit. You sucked, hard, and she moaned again, her legs clamping around your head.

“Is this the insecurity you were dealing with, pet?” you asked, stroking the pad of your thumb over Loki’s sensitive, aching clit. “Were you lost?”

She nodded, eyes screwed shut with pleasure and humiliation. “I wasn’t sure how you’d —fuck— react.”

You smiled, running your hand flat up her belly, cupping a tender breast, and squeezing. “Pretty girl. I’d never want you to be anything less than yourself.”

Her eyes opened, beautiful and silver as always. Loki smiled up at you, holding your hand over her breast. “Sweet love,” she murmured.

“Besides,” you gave her a sharklike smile. “Now I get to fuck you. Spread your legs.”

With a whimper, she complied.

#loki is an avenger #loki x reader #loki smut #loki is genderfluid #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki x y/n #loki #mcu loki #smut #dom reader #sub loki

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cherienymphe · 2 years ago

Text

Basic Training IX (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

You stood by the window, watching Peter in the yard as he talked to Clint and Tony. Of all the husbands here, you interacted with Clint the least. He didn’t strike you as mean or strict as Steve but then again, how were you to know? It didn’t matter how nice any of these men seemed, none of them were right in the head to be doing any of this. Laura seemed happy enough, but again… So did Margaret, and you knew firsthand how cruel Steve could be.

…and Tony was a whole other misogynistic can of worms. You thought Steve was bad, and still did, but somehow you hadn’t thought that any other husband could be almost as bad as him. It only served to remind you that not only did you know nothing about these men, but no matter how much better you might’ve thought any of them were than Steve, at the end of the day, they were right here with him doing the same things he was.

Peter seemed to get along well with all of the husbands here, and you found yourself briefly wondering how they all even knew each other. You’d had the passing wonder before, but never long enough to really consider the answer. He was so at ease with every single one, including Steve, and it once again forced you to consider the kind of man he was to do so.

After your unexpected blowup—or tantrum—Peter didn’t leave your side much these days, and you hated how much you didn’t want him to. You were self-aware enough to realize just how much you were starting to need Peter, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop needing him. You needed him to keep the nightmares at bay, to reassure you that you wouldn’t screw anything up in the kitchen, to give you the courage to answer any question Steve wanted to throw your way at dinner.

You realized what was happening, but you couldn’t stop it.

You were starting to feel helpless without him around, feeling lost and lonely. You couldn’t go outside, not yet anyway, and anytime Peter did, you’d forlornly stare after him, wondering when you’d be able to.

“When Steve feels you’re ready,” the brunette told you hours later.

Your feelings about that must’ve been displayed on your face because Peter neared you just as you started to turn away.

“He just wants to be sure that you won’t…”

He trailed off as he took your face into his hands, but the unspoken words were as clear as day. Why did it even matter if you’d try and run or not? One of them would catch you, anyway, and besides. The thought of getting caught and getting thrown back into the basement was enough to make you shudder.

“It’s not like I’d actually get away,” you mumbled, hating the truth in that statement.

Peter’s thumbs brushed over your skin as he drank you in, a slight frown between his brows.

“You might,” he murmured. “…and I’d hate that.”

You studied him with a frown of your own.

“You don’t understand how much I’ve grown to care about you,” he said. “If I lost you, I’d be devastated.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that statement, wanting to argue that you weren’t even his to care about. Peter would never have come to care about you in any form if he hadn’t kidnapped you. It was sick, really, but as he looked at you, you could only feel confusion filling you at his declaration. You couldn’t find the logic in that. All you did was scream and cry and walk around thus place like a frazzled chicken with her head cut off.

Why would Peter miss you?

“You would…?”

Peter blinked at you like you’d just said something crazy, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Of course, I would,” he breathed. “I don’t think I could even try to find someone else. I chose you, and I chose right.”

You looked down, gaze finding the floor as he sighed.

“You know what all the other women are expected to do. You’ve met Margaret’s daughter and Laura’s son,” he continued. “That’s important, not something to be taken lightly, and you’re who I chose. You’re who I want to have a family with. I would lose it if I lost you.”

Peter’s words were overwhelming you in more ways than one, and you took a step back from him, walking around him and sitting on the bed. The thought of what your future entailed made your breathing short, but was it insane to say that talking about this with just you and Peter made it…easier? You could feel him near you, and you swallowed when his hand met your shoulder.

“Don’t think of it so badly,” he softly told you. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

His other hand touched your chin, fingers gently pressing into your skin as he turned and tilted your head up, forcing you to look at him. His brown eyes were warm, almost pleading as he gave you a soft smile.

“I will make you so happy. You’ll be so happy with me.”

You turned your head away at that, blinking back tears as you thought of your friends. Your chest still ached painfully when you thought of them and everything surrounding their deaths. Never mind how disrespectful it felt to their memories to find some contentment in your situation, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of living in harmony with the same people who’d put them in their graves.

It was horrifying.

As if he’d read your mind, Peter spoke.

“Your friends didn’t hesitate to try and protect you,” he slowly said. “They died for you…so, don’t you think they’d hate to see you suffering…?”

Your stomach twisted at that, and you hurriedly stood. You walked away from Peter, but despite his lack of movement, his voice still followed you.

“They would want you to be happy…some kind of way.”

Peter didn’t know your friends, so it wasn’t his place to even say that. Even still, while he wasn’t wrong, they’d be horrified to see you succumb to this. It would break MJ’s heart to see you so beaten down that you’d take the same hand that might as well had put them in the ground. They wouldn’t want this for you, and yet, it seemed inevitable.

You heard Peter move closer, and you tensed when his hand met your arm. You wouldn’t look at him, but you could feel him leaning in, deeply inhaling the scent of you. His chest grazed your back, and when he leaned around to brush his lips over your cheek, you didn’t protest.

“I won’t rush you,” he quietly said. “It’s just something to think about.”

His nose grazed your neck, and he gently sighed.

“I want you to be happy here. That’s all I want…”

When Peter stepped away, you still kept your gaze on the floor, only blinking when he shut the door behind him on his way out.

It was days later when you were eating dinner with everyone else and couldn’t help but feel like something was…off. You weren’t one of the ones to help with dinner that night, and so from the moment you sat down, something just didn’t feel quite right. The atmosphere felt tense in a way you hadn’t felt before, and for once, Steve wasn’t the source.

In fact, the blond man seemed to be in a good mood. It wasn’t up to you to say if that was rare or not, but at least in your presence it seemed to be. Truthfully, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint why dinner felt weird. As far as you could tell, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Steve had complimented Pepper and Jane on the food, they’d thanked him in unison, and everyone had drifted into hushed conversation as they always did. Peter kept touching your arm here and there, something Steve certainly noticed if the way you’d accidentally catch his eye was anything to go by. It was only when you looked over, catching Natasha’s gaze, did you pause.

It was hard to pinpoint the look in her eyes to be honest. Her entire visage was unreadable, and the longer she held your gaze, the more you frowned. You had started to wonder if you’d done something to offend the redhead when her façade cracked…ever so slightly. If you hadn’t been studying her so hard, you would’ve missed it, but for half a second, no more than a moment, her entire face had crumbled.

If you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it, that’s how fast it had happened.

In a split second, her entire face had smoothed out to the unreadable perfection it had been before. You watched as she continued eating, finally breaking her stare, and you frowned. You glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, namely Steve, but you seemed to be the only one who had. It had confused you, something that lasted for days until Jane had been the one to finally tell you.

The pretty brunette looked unsure at first, deeply staring into the potted plant she was tending to. She’d stopped what she was doing, and you didn’t miss the way her hands trembled a little. She glanced over her shoulder, and you knew why, following her lead. Peter had taken it upon himself to be near you, knowing how much better it made you feel, and while he wasn’t just outside the door to the greenhouse, his close proximity made her nervous.

“If Peter hears…he won’t say anything…”

You didn’t know why you were taking up for him, but it was the truth. There were a million things you’d done and said that he could’ve—should have—told Steve and didn’t. Peter protected you from Steve’s ire more times than you could count. You trusted him, and you wanted Jane to know that she could too.

She softly sighed, struggling to meet your eye.

“Nat… You said something the other week that worried her. It…it made her a little concerned…”

You frowned, unable to follow as you wracked your brain.

“She asked Bucky about how you got here…and why we needed to be so understanding with you…?”

You blinked in realization, shoulders drooping as you felt your face fall. Oh. You didn’t know how to feel that you were right in your assumptions that Natasha hadn’t known. None of them did, it seemed, and when your eyes met Jane’s again, her own glistened with tears.

“You weren’t alone when they took you,” she slowly said, voice strained.

It came out more like a question, almost like she didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t move for a moment, pulling your lip between your teeth before finally shaking your head. Jane sharply inhaled at your confirmation, and she looked away. Your own gaze landed on the floor, and you hated how much your skin grew cold at the mention of your friends.

“We didn’t know,” she breathed. “…and you were there when they…?”

She trailed off, unable to say it, and you felt your own eyes burn.

You could feel her gaze on you, wanting confirmation for what she already knew. Only, you couldn’t give it to her, staring at the floor as your vision grew blurry. The plants and walls around you grew fainter and fainter, and slowly but surely, you weren’t in the greenhouse anymore. You felt your lips tremble, and you faintly heard Jane calling your name.

Your hands were no longer dirty with soil and grime but instead blood. All you could see was Wanda being shot with a swiftness and efficiency that shocked you. You could hear MJ screaming at you to run, her hand tight on yours, and you hadn’t realized that you’d started crying until you felt familiar hands on your arms.

“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have said anything…”

You thought she was talking to you, but Peter’s soft voice in your ear told you otherwise. He was rubbing his hands up and down your arms, soothing words leaving him as he tried to calm you down.

“You’re okay,” he cooed, helping you stand to your feet.

The plant in your hand had long fell, the plot cracking slightly as the sound of it meeting the ground reached your ears. Peter pulled you into him, arms tight around you as you pressed your face into his shoulder. Through the haze and overwhelming emotions that threatened to drown you at the memory of your friends’ murders, you could hear Peter’s voice.

Only, unlike with you, it was hard, tone cold and almost venomous in nature.

“You know better, Jane.”

Peter tightly held you as he guided upstairs, and you hated the thought of him talking to Jane like that just because you were a broken mess. The mere mention of your friends or the mere sight of blood shouldn’t send you spiraling. Deep in the back of your mind, you knew that your reaction was reasonable, understandable, but you couldn’t help but feel like a burden and inconvenience to everyone.

“You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t talk to Jane like that,” you sobbed once you were in your room.

You hated the thought of her getting trouble.

“She knows better,” Peter told you, kneeling in front of you as he sat you down on the bed. “They all know to be careful with what they say around you.”

You shook your head, pressing your hands to your face.

“…but none of them knew why! You didn’t tell them? You didn’t tell them what they did to my friends?”

You felt hysterical, and truthfully, you didn’t know what triggered it. Maybe it was the fact that now that everyone knew the full circumstances of how you’d been taken you now felt more comfortable to openly grieve? Maybe it was the way Jane had looked at you? The horror and concern on her face had never been on Peter’s or any of the others. Maybe it had something to do with someone other than you finally having an appropriate reaction to what had happened to your friends.

Or maybe it was just as simple as you were a nutcase.

“It wasn’t any of their business,” Peter told you, pushing your hands away and taking your face into his own. “…and this is exactly why because they shouldn’t be bringing this up with you.”

Peter almost sounded angry—almost looked angry—and you shook your head.

“It’s my fault,” you tearfully pleaded with him. “Jane didn’t do anything wrong.”

You had forgotten all about your almost slip up in the kitchen with Natasha that day. It was you who had wrongfully assumed that she knew, and it was only natural of her to be curious and concerned. After all, just because you felt distanced from the other wives, it didn’t mean they felt that way. They’d all built such close relationships with one another, and how could they not in this environment? They were all victims of their circumstances, and you were no different.

Of course, they would care about you just as much.

Peter stood with a sigh, hands on the back of your head as you cried into his stomach. He played with your hair, stroking you and speaking.

“My pretty girl…always worried about someone else,” he murmured.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around his waist. The feel of his hands soothed you, and you held him tighter, wishing that he could be your friends somehow, holding them and saving them from the horror that met them.

You sat on the stairs with your hands in your lap. A few times a week, Peter and the others would meet in the den and go over work-related things. Sometimes household stuff would come up in conversation too. At least, that was what Jane had relayed to you. It was usually during that weird period in the evening after supper and when the wives were looking after the children.

You’d been deemed too unstable to be around the children for prolonged periods of time. You supposed you didn’t fully disagree with that assessment, but you didn’t think you’d ever hurt a child. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hurt yourself no matter how much peace the decision would probably bring you in the long run.

This was a time where you’d find yourself in your room, skin damp and fresh after a bath. You’d already be in bed by the time Peter returned, but tonight seemed to be a night in which everything was taking longer than usual. You didn’t know if it was about work or something to do with the household, but you’d gotten tired of waiting for Peter. You were growing tired, and it was hard to sleep without him.

That’s how you found yourself sitting halfway down the stairs, head drooping and leaning against the wall. Their low voices carried from the den, but only faintly. It wasn’t like you could make anything out, and even if you could, it wouldn’t make any difference to you. It was becoming difficult to stay awake, head falling every now and then. Your body was protesting, telling you that you needed to go to sleep, but you knew that without Peter, you’d be restless and awake within ten minutes.

Somewhere along the way, you must’ve lost the fight because the sound of a light chuckle reached your ears. The voice was somewhat familiar, and you’d started peeling your eyes open just as they spoke.

“Peter, I think you’ve lost something…”

Thor’s voice was light and teasing, and you were relieved that he didn’t seem upset to find you nodding off here. You were blinking sleep away when Peter responded, something unintelligible, and Thor lightly laughed again, arms folded over his chest.

“No, I’m positive she belongs to you,” the blond told him.

You were straightening up just as Peter rounded the corner, and he blinked as his gaze met your tired one. The confusion disappeared from his eyes as he approached you, gaze softening.

“What are you still doing up?” he wondered, touching your face.

“I was waiting for you,” you told him. “You’re normally back by now.”

The brunette didn’t respond right away, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he told you. “Bucky’s being a pain in the ass, but I’ll be up in a little bit.”

You were about to protest when a familiar blond appeared behind Peter, and you felt yourself shrinking in on yourself. Unlike Thor, this blond didn’t look the happiest at the sight of you, and you swallowed.

“She’s not supposed to be here,” Steve said. “What if she overhears something she shouldn’t?”

Peter defended you before you could defend yourself.

“I doubt she heard anything, Steve,” Peter threw over his shoulder. “…and even if she did, what would she do?”

“Even still, she doesn’t have the same privileges the others do. She should be in bed.”

He was talking to Peter, but the blond was looking at you as he said this, blue eyes cold. Your heart sank at the reminder of the lack of faith he had in you, but despite the finality in his tone, you didn’t move. Instead, you looked at Peter, wondering what he wanted you to do, and the brunette took your hand, helping you stand. There was a gleam in his eye that you couldn’t place, and the corner of his mouth quirked up just a tad.

“Go on up,” he gently told you. “I’ll be there in just a little bit.”

You hesitated, gaze lingering on him as you were half turned. Peter smiled at you, the expression reassuring.

“I promise.”

With a small sigh, you did as he said, fighting to hold in a yawn. You could feel his gaze on you, and you glanced at him one more time, your gaze passing over Steve and Thor, before finally turning the corner. You were grateful that Peter was being truthful, the bedroom door opening not even seven minutes later.

You were on the verge of sleep when he joined you, taking your hand and kissing it as he slid into bed beside you. You drowsily blinked as he whispered something that sounded a lot like an apology. You didn’t really care though, finally relaxing, all of the tension leaving you. You were so weighed down with fatigue that you didn’t even care when Peter threaded his fingers through yours.

They were still like that in the morning, and you’d forgotten whatever you were going to say when Peter told you that he had a surprise for you. It was quite early, too early for any of the others to be up and started on breakfast. The excited gleam in his eye had you faltering, nervousness flowing through you before allowing Peter to coax you out of bed.

“Come on,” he urged, pulling you along down the stairs.

Your heart was in your stomach, unable to come up with what was in store for you. Peter’s hand was tight on yours when he made it to the backdoor, turning the knob and letting the nice fresh air in. You didn’t need a mirror to know that there was evident longing in your gaze. Aside from the greenhouse, you hadn’t felt true fresh air in months, and you didn’t really understand what was happening until Peter tugged on your hand.

“What…?” you quietly murmured, eyes wide and unsure as you looked at him.

Peter ran his eyes over you, a small unreadable smile on his lips as he lightly pulled on your arm.

“Come on…”

You looked between his eyes, lips parting before your gaze rested on the outside behind him.

“I…can…?”

You trailed off, and Peter nodded, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you took a step towards him. Slowly, but surely, Peter led you outside, and you almost cried when your bare feet touched the grass. Your eyes burned, and you blinked back tears as you looked around. Peter’s hand was still on yours as you took it all in, and your first thought was that the window didn’t do it justice.

The land that the house sat on was so much bigger than you had ever thought. Under different circumstances, you would’ve been able to admire it wholeheartedly. However, as it were, all you could think about was how the land just seemed to go on and on forever. Peter pulled you through the yard, and you looked around in awe.

You had never noticed that the house wasn’t far from an incline, and down at the bottom of it was a decent sized pond, and beyond it…nothing but trees. It had rained the night before, and your eyes took in the dew on the grass and the light fog that seemed to descend just at your ankles. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and you felt distracted by it.

You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed fresh air and the grass and just being outside until you’d gone months without it. You kept walking and drinking it all in. You almost hated how beautiful everything was, and you glanced over to your right at a clothesline near the house. Just on the other side of it, you could see the garden you were always hearing about. You noticed a toy or two in the yard, and you hated to think that if you stumbled upon this property randomly one day, you’d think it was a normal home just like any other.

“Can I come outside later too?”

Peter didn’t respond right away, but when he did, you were shocked at how far away he sounded.

“Of course.”

You looked over your shoulder, and you realized with a start that he was pretty far away. At least, further than you’d thought he was. So distracted by it all, you hadn’t even noticed him letting go of your hand. Or had you let go of his? Either way, he was much closer to the house than you were, and you blinked at him.

“After breakfast, we can come back out here. Maybe you can help out in the garden too…”

He lifted his hand towards you with a smile.

“Come on,” he softly urged you.

You looked at his outstretched hand, brows drawing together just a tad. You looked back towards the pond and the trees…you looked back towards freedom, and you felt your stomach twist. Peter was so far away…but you didn’t doubt that he’d catch you in no time. The thought of reverting back to square one was enough to make you shudder in fear, recalling that day you’d seen Steve punishing Margaret by that very tree just over there.

The next time Peter called after you, he said your name, and his tone had lost some of it’s gentleness. It was sterner now, voice dropping some, and when you looked at him, his smile had fallen just a tad. His brown eyes still held some of their warmth, but there was something in them, a warning that had you tensing.

“Come on, pretty girl…”

Your shoulders drooped, and with one last glance at the trees, you slowly returned to him. Peter’s hand grasped yours, and his smile returned to it’s full luster. Peter pulled you into his side before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your temple. You got the feeling that you’d just passed some kind of test, and you couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. There was a pep in his step unlike before, and despite the fact that you’d clearly done something very right…

…you couldn’t help but feel very wrong.

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