#fic: let the dark in

[senlinyu]

Hey girl! Is LTDI abandoned? I’m sorry to see it go but happy you shared it with us nonetheless. Can’t wait to read your new works with the publishing house 💜

No, it's not abandoned, I've just been really busy. Somehow my children require more of my time and attention now than they did when they were in preschool, and I just have .001 braincells left by the end of the day. LTDI is a really complicated story on subtextual/sociological level, and that's not something I want to mess up because I hurry to update it when I don't have the mental energy to get it right. I am still working on it, thinking about it, jotting down scenes, but the mental capacity I would want to devote to it is just not at my disposal atm.

BUT, I am moving this month, and hopefully maybe, eventually, once things settle again, not having everyone trapped in excruciating proximity at all times will make my day to day life a little less arduous and I can give full braincell to LTDI again.

It's my baby, I have it all plotted out and lot of scenes written, so it's never far from my mind even if it is publicly inactive looking.

[bucksangel]

run little bunny

pairing: softdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: Being John Walker’s assistant is hard; he’s mean, disrespectful, misogynistic, the whole nine yards. On top of that, he hardly pays you fairly. So, when you’re fired for a mistake you’re sure wasn’t your fault, you’re at risk of being kicked out by your rude roommates. Luckily for you, James Barnes, a wildly successful CEO, has found his way into your life. And he’s going to take such good care of you.

warnings: where do i even start, 18+, minors DNI and i fucking mean it, mild coercion, some of it could be interpreted as stalking, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, sir kink, oral (f receiving), housewife kink, breeding kink, pet names (bunny, darling), dirty talk, dom!bucky and sub!reader, choking, squirting, basically just absolute filth, a little hurt-comfort, reader’s roommates are awful and mean, not john walker friendly but when am i ever

a/n: so this was supposed to just be some quick smut but as always i went overboard, so please enjoy! likes and comments are appreciated, reblogs are even better!

tip jar | main masterlist | ao3 | run little bunny masterlist

Your hands are shaking slightly, your heartbeat races with anxiety, and your leg bounces rapidly. Today is an important day after all, and your boss has made it clear that if you mess up in any way then he’d have to rethink your employment. That sent dread flooding through your body, so you’ve been preparing yourself for the last week to make sure everything for the meeting is perfect.

And, on the technical side, everything is immaculate - mostly due to you staying up until almost midnight each night to polish the presentation. You thought everything was done properly, but when you’d walked into the building that morning your boss was holed up in his office finishing up his portion of the work, so you’d decided to simply email him to let him know that you had arrived.

Everything was perfect. But when you get into the meeting room, your boss’ eyes go wide, anger clouding them while he scowls. You quickly make your way to his side, only for him to bark out a command for you to grab water for his incoming guests. Placing your notebook on the table, you turn to scurry off to the side to grab the glasses, but you’re stopped when your boss grabs your arm harshly.

“Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Um… Um, I-“ Your boss raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you might throw up from the sudden anxiety. “No, sir.”

He scoffs, muttering under his breath something about looking “trashy,” before releasing you and allowing you to go to the minibar.

Your arm stings, no doubt sporting a red mark because of how harsh the grip was. You’re also confused because you thought the floral dress you’d chosen was pretty. Sure, it may not be high class, but your boss has never had a problem with it before, but you’re assuming that he’s on edge due to who he’s meeting with.

James Barnes; the most powerful and successful CEO in the entire country. You haven’t met him personally, but from what you hear you know that he’s not someone you want to upset. According to the hushed whispers around the office, he stands at a towering 6’6, tattoos cover his arms and hands, and if he frowns then you better move out of the way.

Would Mr. Barnes be upset with your attire?

You desperately hope not, because you need this job. While you can barely make your rent and utilities, you don’t have any other job lined up, and you’re way too scared to ask for a raise from a man who so clearly disrespects you. For right now, though, you’re stuck.

The oak doors open, and one of the office assistants steps off to the side while holding the door open for several men to walk in. You hear him before you see him. You’ve never heard his voice, but the commanding tone he uses when he addresses your boss lets you know that it must be him.

“Hello, Mr. Walker,” Mr. Barnes greets him, and you can hear your boss stand and greet him as well.

You’re trying your hardest to keep calm while you walk toward the table with a platter holding several glasses of water. You do your best to place them in front of the men without showing how nervous you are.

But when you get to Mr. Barnes, you nearly spill the drink all over the table once you get a whiff of his clearly expensive cologne. Oh, how you’d love to be surrounded by that scent, the woodsy smell almost intimidates you but you’re unsure as to why you don’t mind.

You’ve never done anything even remotely sexual with a man, you’re far too awkward and anxious in a way that isn’t too appealing to many, but for a very brief moment, you wonder what he looks like underneath the black three-piece suit — the prominent veins on his hands insinuates that the rest of his body is probably just as toned. But you’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts by your boss’ harsh voice calling your name.

“Aren’t you going to greet our guests?”

You breathe in sharply, heat flooding your face as you stumble your way through an apology and a polite “Hello, Mr. Barnes.”

You’re about to leave his side when he reaches out to grasp your hand — surprisingly gentle for such a powerful man. With a slight jump, you glance over to your boss who’s staring at you as though you’re becoming a nuisance and should quickly get back to your chair beside his. But you can’t, both because of Mr. Barnes’ hold and the fact that when you look back at the man in front of you his ocean-blue eyes pull you in, and you’re unable to break your gaze.

“And who might you be, darling?��� His eyes twinkle with mischief but you’re too blind to see it, you’re too flustered to really focus.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about her, she’s just –”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Mr. Barnes snaps, briefly glancing at your boss and not bothering to hide his smirk when he almost visibly cowers. “Now, darling,” he continues, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “What’s your name?”

You nearly squeak, having to force yourself to tell him your name before he gets upset with your lack of answer.

Mr. Barnes hums, then brings your hand up so he can place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You flounder for a moment, unsure as to what to make of the compliment. You don’t have much time to overthink it because this meeting has a time limit and you’re sure your boss would prefer to get this over with.

“Th-Thank you, sir.” You’re not sure why, but your voice is breathy because something about that word — sir — just feels right for him, though you’re not sure what it means.

“So polite,” He mumbles to himself, and his eyes seem to grow darker. Finally, he lets you go, shooting you a wink and smirking to himself when you scurry off to sit next to your boss.

The presentation went relatively smoothly — thank God. You don’t know what you would have done if anything went wrong. In fact, Mr. Barnes seemed extremely invested in what you had to say, catching your gaze several times and causing you to stumble over your words a few times, only for your boss to clear his throat and glare at you. Eventually, Mr. Barnes throws him his own glare, silently telling him to shut up, to which your boss finally does.

Once the meeting was declared to be over, you were quick to close your notebook and tuck your pen behind your ear, then you went around the table and started collecting the now-empty glasses. As you’re running around the room trying to clean up, you can feel a powerful gaze boring holes into your body, but you try not to pay it any mind. It’s probably just your boss anyway.

But when you turn away from the desk to finally leave, you bump into Mr. Barnes, your body nearly slamming into his very sturdy chest. His hands shoot to your hips almost immediately, helping to steady yourself.

The warmth of his body pulls you in, but that might also be because Mr. Barnes is literally bringing you closer to his chest by the hold he has on your hips. And that’s when you realize that your hands are clutching his shoulders, but you can’t find it in you to let go.

“What’s the rush?” He asks playfully, his upper lip quirking up in a smirk. “You’re running around like a little bunny.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes.” You’re not sure why you’re apologizing, you recognize that he’s just teasing, but something in you doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

“Mr. Barnes.” He hums, his eyes briefly glancing down to your lips. “I like it when you call me that.”

Now you’re really flustered, your face heats up and you have to do everything in your power not to faint — the way his voice deepens is doing something to you and you don’t know how to handle it.

“I’d like it a lot more if you called me James, though. Can you do that for me, bunny?�� 

“Ye-Yes, James.” You might have been embarrassed about how quick you were to answer him, but the way he closes his eyes and tightens the hold he has on your body you’re thinking it was the right decision.

Mr. Barnes — James — opens his mouth again, but is interrupted by the door being opened by one of the office assistants, whose eyes immediately go wide in shock. It seems to take a second for her to gather her bearings, but she recovers soon enough.

“Mr. Walker is requesting you,” She tells you, glancing over at James and giving him a nervous smile. “He says you have to file all of the paperwork for the meeting.”

You sigh, you’re tired of having to do everything for your boss only for him to take credit ninety percent of the time. But, it’s what you’re paid to do, so you suck it up. 

Looking back to James, you give him a shy smile, reluctantly removing your hands from his shoulders. 

“Um, I guess I should go, James.” You’re a little sad, and you don’t quite know why having to leave him and go back to your duties makes you so anxious. It could be because Mr. Walker is mean, or maybe because James makes you feel safe. In reality, it’s probably a mixture of both.

“I guess you should,” He murmurs, removing one of his large hands from your waist so he can cup the back of your neck and pull you closer, only for him to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

And absolutely no one can blame you for the quiet whimper that leaves your lips, even though you are surprised by your reaction. It doesn’t matter though, because he finally moves back, letting go of you and reaching into the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket so he can pull out what looks like a business card.

“Here,” James says, handing it to you. “In case you ever want to talk, you’re always free to call me.”

“What would we talk about?” Your confusion causes James to chuckle, and he seems amused by your naivety.

“Whatever you want, Bunny. Whether you just want to talk about nonsense or vent about your boss. Doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to hear your beautiful voice.”

With that, he gives you a wink, then turns to the door and leaves, though he does glance back at you. With one final smile, he leaves, and you’re left with a million racing thoughts while standing in the middle of the meeting room.

It took three days for you to finally reach out to James. As soon as you got home that night you ran to your bedroom and added his number to your phone, going so far as to put his business card in your bedside table drawer so you wouldn’t lose it. It just took a little time to gain the courage to actually contact him. After all, what if he was just being friendly? You’ve never met anyone quite like him, so it’s hard to read into his actions.

But today had gone horribly. The café you frequent before work was so busy that you didn’t have time to grab your coffee without being extremely late, the bistro you were demanded to pick up lunch from was closed — and while it wasn’t your fault, Mr. Walker certainly seemed to think it was. Your workload was piled high and by the end of the day, you were on the verge of crying due to the stress and mean comments thrown at you by your boss.

You need a shoulder to lean on and, unfortunately for you, you don’t have anyone else to go to. You’re pretty sure your roommates hate you and only let you live with them because they haven’t found a new roommate yet, you don’t have siblings and your parents are states away, and you have maybe a few friends, but even then the communication is scarce.

You need a shoulder to lean on, and James offered his, so you finally decided to pull up his contact and start a new message. It takes several minutes to figure out what to say, but you eventually settle on something simple.

Hi, James. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Mr. Walker’s assistant. You gave me your number in case I ever wanted to talk.

You hit send and stare down at your phone anxiously as you wait for a reply. A minute goes by, then two, suddenly five, and then you’re starting to regret texting him, what if he doesn’t remember you? What if he’s busy? What if – 

Your phone starts ringing, James’ name popping up on the screen and taunting you — almost commanding you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, bunny,” James says softly, and if you press your ear close enough to your phone you could pretend that he’s right next to you.

“Hi, James. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Your voice is soft and timid, you’d hate to disrupt anything he’s doing.

“Don’t be silly, bunny,” He says, his smile evident in his tone. “I always have time for you.”

“Oh, um. Thank you, sir.” It’s almost indescribable, but you can just make out the soft curse James lets out, followed by some shuffling.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

You’re a little apprehensive, but with James’ gentle encouragement, you’re able to get everything off your chest, complaining about your day and everything that went wrong. Each word spoken feels like weights lifting off of your shoulders, allowing you to breathe easier every time James hums. He doesn’t interrupt you, which you greatly appreciate, and by the time you’re done, you fall backward onto your bed, relieved.

“I’m sorry you had such a bad day, bunny,” James coos with his smooth-as-honey voice, filling your body with warmth and comfort. “A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.” That comment floods your face with heat and you shuffle up the bed to lean against the headboard.

“Oh, I - thank you, sir.” There it is again, sir. James exhales slowly as though he’s trying to control himself from doing something he shouldn’t, and part of you is momentarily worried that you’ve upset him somehow. You don’t want to disappoint him.

“What can I do to help?”

What can he do to help? You’re not quite sure, you’re not sad, and you’re not angry, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t need at least a hug right now. But, it would be too imposing to ask, right? There’s no way he would be willing to come over – that is, if your roommates would even allow him over. And he certainly wouldn’t invite a stranger into his house. So, you lie to him.

“Oh – Oh, no, James, I don’t – you don’t have to – it’s fine –”

“Bunny.”

Your mouth promptly closes, taking a deep breath through your nose and exhaling slowly.

“Sorry, James.”

“Don’t be sorry, bunny.” There’s some shuffling in the background as he talks and you can’t help but sigh at how sincere his voice is. “Now, what can I do to help?” And before you can even open your mouth he’s talking again, “Don’t say nothing, because I know there’s something you want.”

You’re silent for a moment, stewing over how to tell him. But, he’ll probably just be empathetic and say something along the lines of ‘I’d hug you if I were there right now’. So, you decide to just spit it out.

“I guess I just want… I just need a hug, I think,” You sigh, feeling a sudden sense of loneliness. It’s hard not having anyone to talk to, to be isolated even from the people you live with, to be put down time and time again, and not have anyone to support you.

“Where are you?” James asks, and you hear some more shuffling in the background, followed by the jingling of what sounds like keys.

“I’m at my apartment,” You say, confused. He couldn’t possibly be coming over, could he?

“Send me your address and I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go out for ice cream,” James says decisively, and you can tell he doesn’t want any protesting. “Bunny,” He says when you don’t say anything. “You need cheering up and I’m here to do just that. Please send me your address.” He speaks gently but once again, he doesn’t seem to want you to argue against it.

“O-Okay, I will.”

“Good, I’ll see you soon, bunny.” When you bid him goodbye, he hangs up, and you’re quick to send him your address, giving him instructions to text you when he arrives so you can meet him out front of the building.

During the next twenty or so minutes you’re practically running around your room trying to make yourself look presentable. You cried all of your makeup off so you opt to just wash the rest of it off, and then you pull your hair back and away from your face. It takes a bit to decide what to wear, after all this is just a friend taking another friend to get ice cream, but this is also James Barnes; he has more wealth than you could possibly imagine. You want to impress him and appear grateful for his friendliness, and looking at least half-decent would achieve that.

Finally, someone knocks on your door, yelling, “Someone’s here for you!”

With a rush of excitement, you grab your phone and wallet and slip on your shoes, then make your way out of your room to the front door where another roommate is standing in front of it, leaning against the frame and giggling at the person.

James.

He looks bored, almost like he’s trying to appear interested but can’t quite muster up the energy to do so. When you approach, he lifts his head, a wide smile crossing his face.

“There’s my little bunny,” He says confidently, completely ignoring your annoyed roommate. “Come on, let’s get you cheered up.”

With that you walk to him, timidly accepting his outstretched hand and letting him gently tug you into the hallway. When you turn around to tell your roommate that you’ll be back later you can’t even get a word out before you see her glaring at you and shutting the door — the click of the lock is audible through the empty hallway.

“Are they always like that?” James asks with a tone that conveys concern.

“Like what?” You know what he’s talking about, but you hate acknowledging it.

“Rude and disrespectful.” He is so blunt that it causes you to look down in embarrassment to avoid his intense gaze.

Yes, you want to say, they’re awful. You want to shout from the rooftops that your roommates are horrible to you, but you’re just too scared to do it.

“Oh – Oh, no, they’re just…” You trail off, peeking up at James to see the disbelief in his eyes. When you look down again, he brings up one of his hands to cup your cheek and guide your head up so you can look at him head-on.

“You don’t need to lie to me, bunny. I want you to trust me.” James sighs, leaning forward and placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Come on,” He squeezes your hand, smiling softly at you as he starts walking you out of the building and to his car.

It doesn’t take long to get to the ice cream shop, only a five-minute drive, and when you get there James keeps the car locked as he gets out so he can circle around to your side and open your door for you.

“Th-Thank you,” You say as you put your hand in James’ outstretched one, letting him guide you out of the car. He keeps his hold on your hand as you walk into the shop, going so far as to thread your fingers together while you wait in line.

The image of your hand encompassed by James’ large tattooed one has your tummy fluttering with butterflies. But, you must have been staring for a little too long because you’re broken out of your trance by James gently squeezing your hand.

“Is this okay, bunny?”

“Yes!” Heat floods your face as soon as you say it, feeling embarrassed by how quick you were to answer. “I, I mean. Um… Yes, it’s okay.”

James smirks at you, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. But, before you can stew in your shame, the man behind the counter says, “Next!”

You walk up to the counter, letting James order before giving yours. And when it’s time to pay, James doesn’t even drop your hand while he fishes his wallet out of his pocket and takes out his card. Your tummy flutters once again.

“Come, bunny.”

With your desserts now in hand, James leads you to a corner booth, only letting go of your hand so you can scoot in. He sits across from you, looking at you with what can only be described as thinly veiled hunger. It’s not off-putting, you just don’t know what it means.

“So, um…” You trail off looking down at your bowl of ice cream, fiddling with the spoon they gave you.

“You don’t need to be nervous, bunny,” James coos, reaching over and placing his hand palm up on the table, and you’re helpless but to take it, practically aching to feel his warmth again. “Now, other than everything that happened today, how have you been?”

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into a pleasant conversation with him, he asks questions and lets you finish talking before adding his own input, and he doesn’t break eye contact. It feels like he’s really listening to what you’re saying, and it’s almost freeing to have someone in your corner, someone you can trust and depend on.

What feels like far too soon, though has probably been several hours due to how dark it is outside, the man behind the counter comes to your table to tell you that they’re closing soon, and you can’t help but be sad. You’re enjoying James’ company far more than you probably should since you’ve only known him for a handful of days. It almost seems like you’ve known him your whole life.

“Well, bunny. I guess it’s time to go,” James says remorsefully, getting up out of the booth and reaching out his hand to help you out of the booth as well. He keeps holding your hand while you walk out of the door — making sure to throw away your trash on the way out.

James insists on opening the car door for you again — ever the gentleman. There’s a comfortable silence on the drive back to your apartment, your stomach swirling the entire time because James refuses to drop your hand. But when you get to your apartment building, a small amount of anxiety settles inside you, and you’re desperately hoping your roommates are asleep because you don’t feel like dealing with them after you’ve had such a good evening.

The silence is a little more tense while you ride the elevator up to your floor, but you’re grounded by James’ touch. It’s not until you get to your front door that you really look at him, staring into his twinkling eyes. And when he smiles, it settles your nerves.

“I guess this is the end of our night, bunny,” He says, squeezing your hand one last time before dropping it. Before you can mourn the loss of his touch he’s wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close to his chest, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hear the squeak you let out. You wrap your arms around his waist, letting James tuck your face into his neck while he holds you close.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” James murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“Me too,” You say softly, breathing in and inhaling his comforting scent. “Thank you for cheering me up.”

“Of course, bunny. I’m always here for you.” Then, James pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Always.”

You can’t help but smile. His gaze is hypnotizing, pulling you in and almost refusing to let you go.

“Thank you, James,” You breathe out, and one last time, James squeezes you and kisses your forehead, then steps back.

“I’ll talk to you soon, bunny?” James asks, smiling wide.

“Y–Yeah, I’ll text you. Or you can text me. Or call, that’s–that’s fine too.” Heat floods your face in embarrassment, but you don’t feel too bad about it because James only smiles wider, nodding once.

“I will.”

“Goodnight, James.” With that, you turn and unlock your door, turning around to look at James one last time as you shut the door.

“Goodnight bunny, I hope you have dreams as sweet as you are.” James winks, and you swear you can hear him chuckle when you squeak out an “o-okay,” and shut the door.

And maybe James is some kind of wizard because you have the best night of sleep you’ve had in a while.

For the next few weeks you and James text almost every day, and talk on the phone every couple of days. You’ve met up with him a few times as well, accepting his invitations to lunch or coffee. Each outing would last for several hours, too enraptured by his… everything to be the one to suggest the night should end. You’ve come to trust him, you know with a possibly concerning amount of certainty that James would do everything possible to keep you happy and safe.

Roughly a month and a half after meeting James, you’re sitting on your bed in the same position you were in when you first called him crying. Unlike last time, though, you don’t hesitate to call him. He’s told you time and time again that it doesn’t even matter if he’s in a meeting, he’ll always make time for you. You just hope that’s true.

He picks up almost immediately.

“Hello, bunny,” James says with the same soft tone he always uses when talking to you.

“H-hi, James,” You manage to say, before breaking out into sobs. You’re nearly hyperventilating, trying and failing to catch your breath between hiccups, and it takes a few minutes to calm down enough to hear rustling in the background on James’ end.

“Are you at home?” He asks with the utmost concern.

“Ye-Yes.”

“Stay there,” He says, using what you’ve deemed his CEO voice. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Ja–”

“Bunny.”

You sigh, knowing you can’t change his mind – not that you really want him to. You could really benefit from a hug right about now and James always provides the best ones.

“Can you at least stay on the phone with me?” Your voice is small, still sniffling every few words. You don’t think you could handle being alone with your own thoughts right now.

“Of course. You know I’ll do anything for you.”

It takes James twenty minutes to get to you, and he talks to you the whole time, just menial things to get your mind off of your sadness. When he lets you know that he’s at your apartment, you don’t even wait for him to tell you he’s coming up, you simply grab your jacket and slip on your shoes, then run to the front door without so much as a word to your roommates in the living room.

“James!” Upon seeing the man himself standing next to his car, you fling yourself into his arms, taking deep breaths to prevent yourself from crying in public. “Thank you for coming.”

“Bunny, how many times do I have to tell you that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep a smile on your pretty face?” James’ tone is teasing, but you know he’s serious if his stern and concerned gaze is anything to go by.

You nod, blinking back tears. It’s so nice to have a friend like James Barnes; kind, chivalrous, attentive. With the way he acts sometimes, you’d almost think he’s interested in more than friendship, but you always shake that thought off. He’s too handsome and wealthy to date some random personal assistant who’s barely able to make her rent.

“Come on, bunny,” James moves back but keeps an arm wrapped around your waist, leading you to his car and helping you in. Like always, he waits for you to sit so he can strap you in your seatbelt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before shutting the door then running around to the driver's seat.

This time, instead of taking a left at the light at the end of your block, he keeps going forward, taking turns until you’re not exactly sure where you are.

“Um, where are we going?”

“My house,” James says casually, briefly glancing at you so he can give you that ever-soft smile.

“But, isn’t your house only twenty minutes away?” You’re confused, and a little curious as to what he’s talking about.

“I only stay there when I have meetings in the city. I have a house a little further out where I live most of the time. It’s a little more lived-in, so I want to bring you there where you’ll feel a little more…” James pauses for a moment, glancing at you again. “At home.” His explanation makes sense in your brain, quickly squashing any nerves that you had. He’s rich, so of course he’d have multiple houses.

It’s almost an hour long drive to get to his house. Well, house feels like an inappropriate term for what it actually is. It’s more like a mansion, standing tall at three stories, a long driveway with trees lining either side of the road, and a luscious garden surrounding the property.

James helps you out of the car and guides you up the steps to the front door, where he unlocks it and lets you step inside. The moment you pass through the threshold your jaw nearly drops to the floor; a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling right when you step in and beautiful artwork adorns the walls. The open floor plan gives you a good view of the living room and kitchen from your vantage point, and you can’t wait to sink into the luxurious and almost comically large couch in front of the TV.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” James urges you further in, bringing you to the living room.

“Um, just water is fine.” You look up at him, smiling shyly and nearly tripping when he smiles back.

“I’ll be right back,” James says, watching as you sit and sink into the plush couch. “Make yourself at home.” The look in his eyes when he says it sparks something inside you, something warm and fuzzy. Thinking of James’ house as your home makes your tummy flutter, but you don’t understand why.

God, you need to get it together.

You’re left alone for a moment, and everything is quiet except for the fridge opening and the glasses clinking. James’ absence allows you a moment to breathe properly, being with him always leaves you flustered, though you can’t deny that some part of you likes it. You like his commanding nature, how deep his voice gets when he talks passionately about something, how warm his embrace is when he holds you for what might be a little too long, squeezing you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

“Here you go, bunny.” Suddenly, a glass of water appears in front of you, and you take it with a gracious smile and a small “thank you.”

“So,” He says, sitting next to you — really close — and throwing his arm over your shoulders, practically pulling you into his lap. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes, suddenly remembering how horrible today was. You force yourself to take a couple of sips of your glass but your hand starts shaking enough to where James takes your glass and sets it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Bunny—“

His soft voice causes you to start crying, throwing yourself into his chest and burying your face in his neck as you sob out your troubles. James’ hand is warm on your back, rubbing it soothingly and squeezing you close to him. This time, he actually pulls you in his lap, you’re grasping the front of his sweater while he maneuvers your body so you’re straddling his thighs, and you can’t help but scoot closer so you’re sitting on him properly with your body flush against his.

A few minutes of crying later and your tears have finally slowed, your sobs deforming into hiccups until you calm down enough to hear James cooing into your ear, whispering sweet nothings. When you finally catch your breath, you pull back, staring up at James with wide eyes and a pout.

“I-I… I was fired! Fired! And I don’t know what I’m going to do! Mr. Walker just tossed me to the side because a document went missing and he blamed me, and now I’m jobless and my roommates are definitely going to kick me out because I can barely make my rent as it is. What am I going to do?”

James sighs, rubbing one hand up and down your back and keeping his other on your waist, though they manage to sneak up your shirt a little without your notice.

“I’m sorry, bunny,” He starts, giving you a comforting smile. “It’s awful that happened to you, and it’s not your fault, so don’t go blaming yourself like I know you want to.”

Your face goes warm with embarrassment. How is he able to read you so easily?

“And as far as your living situation, you’ll move in with me.”

“James!” Your eyebrows furrow, your head automatically shaking. “No, no I can’t do that to you. I don’t have a job anymore and I definitely can’t afford to pay you rent, I-I can’t burden you like that.” Even though it hurts to say it, you want to be honest with him. Because how on Earth are you supposed to pay him back for this?

“You’re not a burden.” You’re surprised by his angry tone, and his eyes darken as though he’s challenging you to say otherwise. “You’ll never be a burden on me, bunny. I’m offering you this, I don’t want you to pay me.”

As though he can sense your hesitation, he gives you a playful smirk.

“But if you really want to help, how about you do the cooking and cleaning? I don’t always get a good home-cooked meal, and it’d be nice to come back from work to see you in a cute little apron.”

This makes you giggle, a weight lifting off your shoulders when you nod timidly. “I-I can do that. I’ll do anything.”

And while you had pure intentions with that statement, James takes it differently, his eyes darkening even further as he nibbles at his bottom lip.

“Anything?” He smirks wider when you nod eagerly because that’s what you are. Always eager to please — especially please James.

“Yes, anything!”

James hums, seemingly thinking something over, before sliding one of his hands up the back of your shirt.

“How about you give me a kiss? I haven’t had a good one in a while,” While he sounds like he’s teasing, his face shows he’s anything but.

He really wants you to kiss him. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to deny him, you’re too grateful for his generosity. Plus, you’d be insane to pass up such an opportunity, he’s handsome, kind, and makes you feel safe. So, with only a little hesitation, you lean down and press your lips against his in a simple peck, but before you can pull away James groans, placing one hand on the back of your head to keep you steady.

His lips practically attack yours, his tongue invading your mouth and taking what it wants – you. You don’t even know it but you’re whimpering almost immediately, opening your mouth and letting James consume you whole. He’s smiling against your lips, biting your bottom lip as he retreats for a moment so he can stare up into your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny,” James whispers reverently like he’s hypnotized. And he’s not the only one. Your brain is quickly going silent, your sole focus is on James and how good he’s making you feel.

“Really?”

“So beautiful, I’ve always thought so.” His confession makes you whine, he thinks you’re beautiful, this gorgeous man with the deepest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Suddenly, James curses softly, grabbing your waist under your shirt, and that’s when you realize you’ve started subconsciously moving your hips against his.

“S-Sorry,” You mumble, though you’re not too sorry considering you can’t stop rolling down onto his lap, it feels too good.

“Don’t be.” James hums thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Why don’t we go to my room? It’ll be more comfortable.”

You don’t even wait for him to finish before you start eagerly nodding your head, adjusting your legs as he stands so you can wrap them around his waist. He carries you to his room, smirking to himself the entire time because you can’t stop kissing and biting his neck in the hopes of leaving a mark, staking your claim. When you finally get there, James quickly shuts the door behind him and then drops you down onto the bed.

“Sir,” You whine when he doesn’t do anything, he’s only standing at the end of the bed, staring at you with eyes so dark with lust that you can’t see the blue of them.

“Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll take good care of you.” With that, he swiftly strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, then undoes the button on his pants, slowly dragging down the zipper with a wide smirk at the haze in your eyes. “Do you want to help me?”

It takes a few moments for you to understand what he’s asking of you, but once you do you push yourself up, shuffling over to him until you’re sitting with your legs underneath your butt. For a moment you’re not sure what to do, you reach out for his pants but freeze mid-air because you just now realize that you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. You’ve never been in this situation before, your sexual exploits consist of goodnight kisses on the few dates you’ve been on, and your vibrator in your nightstand that has been working overtime ever since you met James.

“I-I’m sorry,” You murmur, embarrassment flooding your features.

“Why are you sorry, bunny?” James’ voice is soft, soothing your worries.

“I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never… been with a man before.” Your hands fall to your lap at the same time you hang your head. What if you disappoint him? You don’t know what you’re doing and you’d hate to mess anything up.

“I know, bunny. It’s okay.” James lifts your chin with his fore and middle fingers, guiding you to look at him again. “I’ll teach you everything.” His voice dips lower, his bottom lip getting trapped between his teeth when you smile, relieved.

“Now, I’m going to take off my pants, but I want you to take off my boxers. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” You say quickly, eyes dropping to his crotch as he begins pulling the denim down, down, down until it pools on the floor. He steps out of them, then steps in front of you with his arms hanging by his side. When he raises his eyebrow, nodding to his underwear, you reach out for him again, this time with only a small amount of hesitation. Your nerves are nearly off the charts, but knowing that James is going to guide you makes you feel better.

Your hands are shaking slightly when you pull them down, and absolutely no one can fault you for the loud gasp you let out when he’s finally bare because holy shit. Despite being relatively anxious and naive surrounding sex, you’ve watched your fair share of porn, and while the men in them did usually have big dicks, they seem small compared to James’.

You’re almost frightened, how the hell is that going to fit inside you? James chuckles, and you realize you probably said that aloud.

“Don’t worry, bunny. I’ll make it fit,” James groans, reaching down to grab the bottom of your shirt. “I’m going to take this off now, okay?” He tugs it up and over your head once you give your consent, tossing it to the side and cursing when he sees the light pink bra barely covering your breasts. James is biting his lip so hard you’re worried he might draw blood, but you don’t pay it any mind because he’s soon urging you to lay on your back with your legs dangling over the edge.

“Gonna take these off too.”

Giving him a shy smile and a nod, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants, glancing up at you one final time to make sure you’re okay before he surprises you by pulling them off of your legs in one swift movement. You’re tugged down the bed a little, a shocked gasp leaving your lips.

“Fucking angelic,” James murmurs, dropping to his knees and placing his large, rough hands on your knees. He smirks when he sees your matching light pink panties, already soaking wet at the crotch. You have to bite your lip to keep from whimpering when he pushes your legs wide apart, but you can’t stop yourself from squirming when he doesn’t do anything else.

“James,” You whine, high-pitched and needy.

“Sir,” He reminds you with a raised eyebrow as though he’s daring you to say his real name again. And just for good measure, he surprises you by lifting up one of his hands and swinging it down onto your clothed pussy in a harsh swat, causing you to let out a loud moan.

“Sir! I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s okay, little bunny,” James coos as he runs his hands up the back of your thighs so he can push them up and out, letting him get a good look at where you need him most. “Are you going to let me eat your pretty pussy?”

Even though it’s phrased as a question, you know James isn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s not like you even want to tell him ‘no’, you’re too desperate for something, anything.

“Y-Yes, sir. Please.” Your begging makes him groan, and he quickly dips forward so he’s not even an inch away from your core, inhaling deeply and cursing again.

With a quick kiss to your covered clit, he twists his fingers into the band of your panties and rips them into pieces, and you know you’ll have marks from it. But you want them, you want evidence of this night, and you’ll gladly take anything he gives you. And no sooner than your panties off do James dive in, inhaling once more before his tongue sneaks out and licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

It’s at that point that you know you’re well and truly fucked, because there’s no way you’re not going to become addicted to the feeling of his tongue dipping into your quivering hole, the way he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it into his mouth, the way he groans into your pussy like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

And it doesn’t take long for your legs to start shaking, desperately trying to close around James’ head but not being able to due to his hands gripping your thighs and holding them still. The filthy groans he lets out are enough to make you cum alone, but then he attaches his lips to your clit again and gently bites down, forcing an obscene moan out of your mouth.

He lets you get used to the pleasure, switching between fucking his tongue deep inside you and flicking at your clit, and only when he decides you’re ready does he manage to slide his forefinger in your pussy all the way to the third knuckle.

“Sir!” You can’t help but yell. Yes, it stings, but it’s far outweighed by the pleasure of his tongue assaulting your pulsating nub.

He wastes no time in slowly sliding it in and out, wiggling it around until you whine loudly, letting him know he’s found that special spot. You’re too out of it to realize it but James is smiling, clearly smug at how he’s making you react. You wouldn’t care anyway, in fact, he deserves it. He’s making you feel too good, especially when he slips in his middle finger and spreads them.

“Oh god! Yes, fuck. Sir, yes,” You’re incoherent, blabbering nonsense because your brain is too foggy to form a coherent thought. James picks up the pace, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it as he thrusts his fingers directly at your g-spot.

“Sir! Sir, I-I’m…” As soon as he started, he stopped, pulling out his fingers and leaning back slightly with a wide grin. His chin is coated in your juices, and the gleam in his eyes shows you that you’re not going to be able to cum so easily.

“Not yet, bunny,” James says when you whine pathetically, trying to buck your hips up into his mouth but unable to do so because of his commanding grip now holding your waist. “I’m not letting you cum until I’m inside you.”

James then climbs onto the bed, guiding you upwards to lay your head against the plush pillows so he can lean over your body. With little preamble, he snakes his arms around your back to quickly unclasp your bra and allow your breasts to spill free.

“I can’t wait to watch these bounce,” James groans, palming one of them, twisting and pinching at your nipple. James just laughs when you hiss, because your soaked pussy is enough to tell him that you’re loving what he’s doing. 

“Bunny.” He says gruffly, and your eyes shoot up to meet his, though you can hardly see him because your vision is hazy, nothing matters except James. “Are you ready?”

You’re barely able to mumble ‘yes’, but you manage to do so, and James takes that as his cue to grasp the base of his cock and position it at your entrance. He places his other hand on your neck, lightly squeezing the sides to keep your eyes locked on his.

The pressure against your hole is immense, James telling you to breathe as he slowly pushes deeper. He stops about halfway through, giving you a moment for the pain to fade. He’s clearly having a hard time staying still but is cognizant enough to know you’re overwhelmed. It takes a few minutes of deep breathing before you finally nod, silently letting him know that he can move. And he does, pushing in all the way until his hips are flush with yours. Once again, he stills, leaning down to brush his lips over your cheeks and catch the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

“H-Hurts, sir,” You whimper out, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him. And while your core is burning, James looks so damn proud that you’re taking him that it pushes away any discomfort.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Even though you’re in mild pain you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he pulls out, you need everything he can give you. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, bunny,” James coos, then tightens his grip around your neck ever so slightly. “I’ll give you what you need.” And as though a switch was flipped, James pulls back, pausing for half a second before thrusting forward.

“Ahhh!” Your mouth drops open as you scream, your arms coming up to claw at James’ shoulders and back as he gives you all he has.

And he has a lot to give. He puts his back into fucking you, keeping one hand around your neck and using his other arm to pull your left leg over his shoulder. Sweat beads at your hairline, your eyes stinging with tears, your whole body lit on fire. At this moment, nothing matters except the delicious burn between your legs, the way your body is shoved further up the bed with each of James’ powerful thrusts until it gets to the point where he has to place the hand around your leg on the headboard to steady you.

“Fuck, bunny, you feel so good. You’re so good for me.” James can’t stop mumbling praises, and even though you can’t really hear them, you feel them. Your eyes don’t move from his, even as he glances down to where your bodies are joined. “Fuck, little bunny. Your pussy looks so good stuffed full of my cock, knew you’d take me so well.”

“S-Sir,” You whimper, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts and digging your nails into his skin. But James doesn’t seem to mind if the way his whole body shudders and his hips slightly lose their rhythm is anything to go by.

“Are you gonna be a good little bunny and cum for me?” James moves his gaze back up to your face, chuckling when he sees how fucked-out you already are. Despite his hand still around your neck you manage to nod, little cries and whines escaping into the air every time James’ cock gets shoved against your cervix.

“Yeah, you are,” James continues, leaning over your body even more and shifting so the tip of his dick hits your spot with every thrust. “You’re going to squirt all over my cock so I can cum deep in your cunt. Gonna cum in you every day, keep you full of me, maybe even plug you up to make sure it sticks.”

You’re right there, your pleasure climbing higher and higher until you’re ready to fall off the edge. James’s next sentence sends you there.

“Fuck, bunny. You’re going to be the perfect little mommy to all the children I’m gonna give you.”

When you wake up, James will tell you about how you came so hard that you blacked out, squirting and gushing around his cock while he continued telling you how even more beautiful you’ll be when you’re pregnant, taking care of him and his home, how he knew you were the one for him from the moment he first saw you. Your things will already be moved into his house. New clothes chosen specifically for you will be hung up in his closet and the bathroom will be adjusted to fit your products. The kitchen is going to be filled with all the food you like. And your cat will be curled up in a miniature hammock in her very own room.

When you wake up, you’ll see how much thought James put into redecorating his home just for you.

And you’ll be too grateful for his kindness to question where he put your birth control.

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @goldylions / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart / @buckysprettybaby / @sushiseoks / @heytheredelulu / @somnorvos / @ozwriterchick / @pxgeturner / @gentlelimerence

bucky taglist: @justsebstan / @myfavbuckyfics

[fisherrprince]

dark knight alisaie.png

[typicalityness]

Five senses again boys i'll never stop drawing them

[westanovencleaner]

"percy takes annabeth's last name—"

"annabeth takes percy's last name—"

"they combine last names—"

"they don't even get married because of hera—"

give me a crackfic where percy and annabeth kill zeus and hera and anyone who stands in their way just to get married, and, in killing zeus and hera, they become gods, eliminating the last name problem because they won't even HAVE last names as gods

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 4 - Runaway

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized reader, female reader, Poorly thought out action sequences, Guns, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though I might even tell y'all her name.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

You wake in the morning with your nose buried in a thick patch of chest hair, and strong arms around you. Your legs are hooked around one of his thick thighs, and something hard digs into your stomach. You start to inch away, but his arms tighten, and his hips cant against you, a thick, sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. It would be a nice way to wake up, if not for the circumstances. It’s been ages since you slept beside another person, let alone someone that feels as comfortable as John does.

“John,” you say softly. You don’t want to fully wake him up, just get him to let you go. “John, please let me go.”

He hums, one hand sliding to your waist, and then down to your hip, pulling you closer, grinding you against his thigh. You squeak in protest, becoming aware that you’re already wet, like you’ve been unconsciously humping his leg in your sleep for some time. You push your slightly freer top half away a little, so you can look at him. He’s still sleeping, a little frown on his face as he’s pulled unwillingly toward consciousness. He really is handsome, especially like this, all his defences down, grumbling like a hibernating bear.

“Don’t wake up,” you tell him, as if it’ll make any difference. “I just have to pee.”

One of his blue eyes cracks open, a little unfocused. “You comin’ back?” His voice is rough from sleep, rasping like sandpaper.

“Sure,” you say, even though you have no intention of doing so. Your body seems as eager as his is for something you’re sure is dangerous. Maybe he smells good, like tobacco, warm, boozy spices and something undeniably male, and maybe he feels warm and solid against you, but you don’t want to encourage this. You just want to enough space to clear your head. His admissions last night still have you spooked, John’s words not tempered by a night of surprisingly good sleep. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He loosens his hold on you enough that you can wiggle free, his eyes opening a little more so he can watch you slip out of bed. He rolls over onto his back, and starts snoring gently before you’ve even made it to the bedroom door. You take the opportunity to snag one of the bags stacked in front of the closet and your purse off the dresser and bring both to the bathroom with you. You’re not sure what’s in the bag, but you know the larger suitcase has things from your closet in it, so you’re hoping this one has more from your dresser.

You get dressed, glad that most of your underthings and a comfortable pair of jeans and a thick sweater are inside and pack your toothbrush and makeup bag into the larger one, and creep downstairs carefully. One of them is snoring gently on the couch, but otherwise, the house is silent. You carefully fish a set of keys off the hooks by the door and sneak outside. You don’t know where any of your shoes are except the red heels, so you just leave in your sock feet, and pile your things into the pick-up truck. You’ll drive it into town and leave it there, buy a ticket on a train or a bus, and get the hell back home.

It sucks to have to leave everything you own, beyond the clothes in the one bag and the contents of your purse, but maybe you can call the cops— Well. Probably not. Better to just start over anywhere else. You have digital copies of a few pictures of your parents, and that’s better than nothing, even if their wedding album is sitting on a shelf in John’s living room, along with all the family photos that your parents took of you and them while you were growing up. Your mother’s sketchbooks too, and her camera, and your dad’s guitar.

You bite your lip, holding back tears, and start the truck.

No sense mourning things. The memories are in your head and your heart, not trapped in the pages of books or twisted into the strings of the guitar. You don’t need them.

You haven’t driven in a long time, and the truck, unfortunately, is a manual, which you haven’t driven in even longer, but you manage to pull away from the house without revving the engine too hard, and pick up speed once you get to the road, only just remembering to hit the clutch with your left foot before you change gears. You’d feel pretty pathetic if you only made it to the road before stalling out the pickup.

You’re not sure which way town is, but you figure the road has to lead somewhere no matter which way you choose, so you navigate blindly, turning onto a bigger road a little ways down the gravel one that leads to John’s house. Bigger road means more people, although the hour is still so early that there’s no one around yet. The sun is barely up, and it’s still shadowy in the woods on either side of the road. The woods give way to fields suddenly, the sun making a too-bright debut, shining right into your eyes. You flip down the visor and adjust the rear-view mirror, wincing when you see a blue car a ways behind you, approaching fast.

You didn’t notice the car when you were leaving— It must have been parked behind the bigger van that they’d used to move all your things— but it looks sporty and fast, and judging by the way it closes the gap, there’s no question that it’s them. You push the truck harder, squinting against the light, heart hammering. The car’s engine roars, loud enough that you can hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, and pulls into the lane beside you. Gaz motions for you to pull over from the passenger seat.

You slow up enough that they pull ahead a little, and you yank your steering wheel to the side and stomp down on the gas and the clutch, shifting into third gear and nailing the side of the car, shattering a tail light and making it spin, stopping just shy of the ditch.

For a moment, you’re still close enough to see the shock on their faces, but you’re moving fast and leave them in the dust, at least momentarily. It won’t take them long to recover and catch up again, and if they hit you with the same maneuver, there’s no way you’ll be able to get the truck under control. There’s not enough weight in the bed of the truck to compensate, and you’ll wind up in the ditch for certain.

Funny, how it comes back to you. Learning to drive along mountain roads way outside Aberdeen, either in your dad’s little car or your mom’s old truck (usually the car, which was the easier one to drive. Your dad was the safer driver too, the better parent to learn from), and you can almost imagine your mother in the passenger seat, laughing her head off at the insane circumstances, encouraging you to throw caution to the wind, to get a feel for the road under the wheels and the way the old truck handled. She always laughed when she was under stress, but it’s comforting to think of. Your mum would never let a couple of thick-headed military assholes get the better of her.

The car is catching up again, so you floor it and smash through a fence gate into a muddy field, where the car won’t handle as well, and speed your way across the stubbly remains of wheat, already harvested. The car follows, and, predictably, struggles, the low frame too close to the muck, bumping unhappily over the soft, uneven ground.

Laughter bubbles up in your chest, relieving some of the built-up anxiety. You smash through a segment of the fence on the other side and yank the truck back onto the road, giggling when the truck fishtails a bit, mud slicking the tires on the pavement. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through your system that you feel like you might be sick the moment you let any of this catch up with you. So you keep driving, and pray that it doesn’t.

The car gets close again when you reach another wooded section of road. Through the rearview mirror you can see Gaz pop out of the window, gun drawn, but you don’t hear the crack when it fires, you only feel the impact when the bullet strikes one of the rear tires. You shriek, slamming on the breaks as the truck spins out of your control and off the road, slamming into a tree head on.

The lurch forward as the airbags deploy, your body hitting them hard, knocking all the air out of your lungs as you’re slapped back into he seat. The seat belt bites into your shoulder painfully. You unbuckle yourself quickly, ears ringing too loudly for you to hear the screeching tires of the pursuit car. You fall to the ground when you try to get out, head spinning.

You stumble into the trees, still blinking away double vision. If you can find a good spot to hide— Maybe you can double back and take the car while they chase you blindly through the trees. You cast about, feeling every rapidly forming bruise, wishing desperately that you had shoes, and dive into the underbrush, scooting forward on your belly, brambles catching in your hair as you curl up, out of sight.

“Please come out, doll,” you hear Gaz call out, boots crunching through the woods, closer than you would like. “It’s okay, we’re not mad. Just come out and we’ll take you home, yeah?”

Johnny is yelling further off, his voice incomprehensible but sing-song, mocking. Gaz moves further into the woods. You wait until his voice grows a little more distant before you drag yourself back out, sweater streaked with mud, leaves in your hair, and quickly sneak back to the road. The car is still running, the driver door left open. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“There you are, bird.”

You scream. A gloved hand drops over your mouth, cutting off the sound, and an arm loops around your waist, picking you right up off your feet.

Fuck.

"Look what you did, bird. Wrecked up Price's truck. 'E's not goin' to be 'appy about that." He turns so you can see the slightly smoking truck, the front half of it crumpled beyond repair.

You shake your head until he pulls his hand away from your mouth. "Its not my fault I crashed. Gaz shot the tire out. I wasn't even going to steal it, just leave it in town once I'd gotten to a bus stop."

He hums. You hear the slight crackle of a radio. "Got 'er, lads. Come back to the car."

"Rog."

"Aye."

Ghost shoves you into the back seat. "Stay put," he says sternly. "You're already banged up, don't want to 'ave to tackle you."

You sigh, all the fight leaving you. You feel awful, bruised and shaken up and trembling, and you do nothing but watch as Ghost gathers your things from the truck and puts them in the boot of the car. You slump back in the seat, inspecting the scratches on your hands idly. Your head hurts, and your shoulder aches, and you feel a bit like you've been stepped on, but nothing feels broken, just bruised and tender. You got lucky.

Well, not lucky. There's very little about any of this that counts as luck. Especially considering the look on Johnny's face when he jogs out of the trees. At first he looks stormy, but he grins when he sees you and opens the back door to crawl onto the seat and on top of you.

"Steamin Jesus, where'd ye learn ta drive like tha'?" He asks. "Didnae ken ye were a racer."

"Outside Aberdeen," you reply. Your ribs hurt. Soap’s weight makes every little ache more acute.

"Price isn't gonna be happy about his truck," Gaz says, tossing himself into the driver's seat. "What were you thinking, doll? You could've been hurt."

"You didn't have to shoot the tire." You try to push Soap off, but he wraps himself around you, a bit tight, but bearably so. You’re trembling, and he’s trying to help, in a thoroughly unhelpful way. "I was just trying to get home."

"That's the wrong way. Your home's with Price now." Ghost gets into the other front seat, and Gaz reverses back out onto the road.

You sigh, leaning your head against the window, watching the countryside flash by. It takes an embarrassingly short time to get back to John's house. You didn't get as far as you would have liked, hardly got anywhere at all. Your eyes prickle with tears, but you don't want to cry in front of them. You want to go back to bed, maybe back in time to the morning. You would have been wiser just to curl up next to John again.

Soap drags you from the car, hands a bit rough on your bruises, and pulls you back to the house. John rushes out, worry creasing his face, blue eyes sweeping over you and turning furious. "What happened?" he barks, not at you, but at his men.

"Bird was makin' a run for it," Ghost says.

"Wrecked your truck," Gaz adds.

"That's not my fault!" you protest. "You shot at me!" You glare at him, frustrated tears overflowing down your cheeks. It’s like they have no idea what kind of stress they’ve put you through.

"Woah, woah, c'mere, doll." John pulls you against his chest, wrapping strong arms around you, stilling some of the tremble in your limbs. "You broken?"

You shake your head, leaning into him, gripping his t-shirt tightly. You breathe in raggedly, trying to steady yourself.

"Lads. Why did you shoot at her?"

"Trying to stop the truck."

"She's a civilian you muppets. I take it that the truck's in no shape to drive, or you would've brought it back. You could have killed her." He pets a hand over your head, plucking out a few leaves. "You should’ve let her go."

"She stole your truck!" Soap protests.

"So what? It's wrecked now anyway, innit?" The silence behind you speaks volumes. "Alright, doll, why don't you go get cleaned up? " he murmurs against the top of your head. "I need to talk to the lads, and what I have to say is not fit for a lady's ears."

He gently ushers you into the house and closes the door firmly behind you. You trudge upstairs, feeling utterly pathetic, and lock yourself into the bathroom. Still sniffling, you comb sticks and leaves out of your hair with your fingers and put yourself into a hot shower, where you give yourself the freedom to cry your eyes out, hoping that the sound of water drowns your stifled sobs.

The house is quiet when you shut off the shower and dry yourself off. You wrap the shirt you'd slept in around you and poke your head out into the hallway. John is right there, holding out a bundle of clothes. "Here, sweetheart," he says softly, like he's worried a sharp word will set you off again. He must have heard everything. "I sent the boys to deal with the truck and that tail light, so it's just us. Just come on downstairs when you're ready."

You open the door wide enough to accept the clothes, and he turns to leave again, content to leave anything else to be said when you make it downstairs.

He'd obviously taken his cue from what you'd been wearing already, because he gives you a sweater and jeans again, comfortable worn in things. You go downstairs carefully, every joint and muscle in your body aching, even after the shower.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asks. "Or do you prefer tea?"

"Coffee, please. I can make it. I'd feel better if I did, honestly." You skirt around him to the cupboard where you'd seen Gaz take mugs out, recognizing your own nestled among John's mismatched ones. You put milk and sugar in your favourite mug, and pour in coffee, stirring it throroughly. The clink of the spoon is loud, and so is the pan he sets on the stove top.

"Eggs and toast okay?" He asks.

"Um, yeah. That would be nice. Over easy?"

"Yes ma'am." He looks at you over his shoulder while butter melts in the pan, blue eyes all worry. "Did I say something to you last night? Maybe the sort of thing that made you feel like you needed to steal a truck and run as fast as you could away from here?"

"Um. Yes." You hold onto the mug with both hands. "Some stuff about wanting to start a family. With me."

His ears turn pink. "I see."

"I suppose this is where you tell me it was just the whiskey talking, right?" you ask hopefully. You like him, even if it’s ill-advised, maybe even dangerous to do so.

"Wish I could."

Your stomach twists. “Oh.”

John turns around fully, guilt and sadness written all over his handsome face. He steps closer and touches your arm gently. “I’m so sorry about what my boys have put you through, sweetheart. None of this has been right.” He sighs, brushing a few tendrils of still-wet hair away from your face, studying you, those intense blue eyes focused on you intently. “But there’s something special about you, doll. I really do want to keep you forever. Not if you’re scared, and not if you feel forced— It’s just, the thought of you leavin' and never wanting to speak to me again is— I don’t want that.”

You swallow nervously. “This is just really overwhelming.”

“I know. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let this happen. Soap really could have just given you my number.” The smile he gives you is hopeful, and you can’t help but return it, just a little. “Now go sit down, doll. Let me take care of breakfast, hm?”

You nod and move to the table, sitting where you can watch him, and peek out the window too. The car is gone, but the van is still there for the moment, sitting idly to the side. You consider making another run for it, but your aching limbs protest even the thought. There’s not enough fight in you, and you’re not even sure you want to fight John, not the way you do the other three. His only crime has been wanting you to stay, and being a bit overzealous about it. You can’t be mad at him for that, can you? It isn’t really his fault.

Well, it might be his fault, in a roundabout way. He trained them, taught them how to ruthlessly pursue an objective. It’s just not his fault they can’t keep it from coming home with them. That’s a clear failure of whoever does their mental health assessments.

You sip your coffee and watch John crack eggs into a pan. He keeps glancing at you, and his smile flickers on a little longer each time that he catches you looking back, until he doesn’t stop smiling, and just looks happy, glad to have you there, even if you’re just keeping a silent vigil on the other side of the room.

It's not like you have anywhere to go. It'll take days at least to feel like you haven't just been in a car crash, and days more to locate everything to pack it back up. So long as you don't have to share a bed with John again, you think you could live with this, for at least a week. It can't be that terrible, so long as the others leave you alone. You rather hope they just leave. If you asked, would John send them away?

"John," you say as he sets a plate with buttered toast and a couple of eggs on it in front of you, and sets a couple tablets of paracetamol beside your plate. "If I stay… Will they be staying too?"

"I'm going to have them leave this afternoon. That alright with you? We can go for a walk to the neighbours while they pack up, if you're up for it. Maybe dr-- Well, not drive." He sets his own plate down and sits next to you, handing you a knife and a fork. “Have to get that sorted out. But the neighbours-- Rob and Melissa-- Their dog just had puppies a few weeks ago. Do you like dogs?”

You nod, breaking the yolks of one of the eggs with a corner of toast. "My parents had a dog when I was growing up. Some kind of German shepherd cross. Best boy. His name was Rob Roy, because he was a wee outlaw. Mam found him digging in the trash and--" you stop and give John a baleful look. "Sorry. That was more than you were asking."

"No, that's the most you've said at once this whole time. I'd listen to you talk all day, doll. Don't ever apologize."

"Sorry I-- Oh, shit, sorry--" you press your fingers to your mouth, cutting yourself off. "Force of habit."

"I'd like to see you lose that one. You have nothin' to apologize for. Not one damn thing, and especially not talking. I think you have the prettiest voice I've ever heard."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help smiling. "You're just saying that."

He touches your arm lightly. "You don't know me too well yet, doll, but I never just say anything."

Yet hangs in the air, heavy and deliberate. He wants you to know him, wants you to stay with him, wants you to like him. Even if it makes no sense, the offer is tempting. It's been a long time since you've let someone get close— You've had the occasional fling, and the odd reunion with an ex that you’d stayed friends with, but grief is like a canyon you can't bear to cross. What if you love someone and you lose them, the way you lost your parents? How could you live with that all over again?

Still, there's something that feels like warm sunlight in his smile, and you can't help but incline toward him, slowly but surely reaching for the light. No one can live in the shade forever. There’s no nobility in suffering.

So you let yourself talk, at least a little. And he listens, hanging on to your words like they're precious, gazing at you with something unfurling in his expression that you can't name. You're almost afraid to try.

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[kringle-c]

true loves first kiss

[post-it-notes7]

Please tell me this will be a happy ending

dearest anon, only time will tell

[cursedmoon-doll13]

If It Serves You.

(Headmaster!Severus Snape x Reader)

Cw: Non/Dubcon + Aftermath, Afab Reader, Dark-ish Snape, Unprotected Sex, Powerplay, Sex as Bargaining, Facefucking, Crying, Fingering, Creampie, Begging, Degradation (use of slut) and Praise, Reader calls Snape ‘Headmaster,’ Former Student Reader, Mentions of Torture/Child Abuse, Denial of Feelings.

READ WITH CAUTION

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: As a professor of Hogwarts, your past ambitions, your fragile hope and unrelenting diligence have all led to nothing. Now, you are powerless beneath the rising force of He Who Must Not Be Named and his army of Death Eaters. The only thing left you have to give is your pride; your weak and vulnerable body.

Or, you beg the new headmaster to show mercy to your students in exchange for sexual favours.

Dividers by @/saradika

Of course, there was no pressing need to check and recheck the potions’ storage. Certainly no need to catalogue it twice. You did almost it out of instinct, or force of habit. Yes, It’s healthy to maintain a routine, including routine inspections, just like- just like-

“Professor ___,” comes a gruff voice from behind. In your nervous state, you imagine it is a Carrow, and freeze in panic. “Why are you here?”

You whirl around. No. It’s Professor Slughorn.

“Oh,” you straighten your robes. “Horace. I was just taking inventory.”

“Were you? I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.” He says brusquely.

“Of course, of course you can.”

Your voice carries the same placid, appealing tone with which you’ve used to calm your pupils. You wince at the sound of it. Then, his expression loosens. Not immediately, but little by little, settling into the creases and wrinkles of stress and age. His walrus moustache droops into a familiar frown.

“I’m… I’m very sorry, ___,” he says. “Whenever I leave my storage unattended for too long, I take this terrible notion that some very bright and brilliant student is going to brew a polyjuice potion. Heh.”

His laughter rings rather hollow.

“Yes, those were my thoughts exactly,” you concede, heaving a sigh. “It would be so simple. Not for all of them, but some of our best could do it. And then they would make a reckless attempt at escaping, or even try to impersonate one of those Death…”

You stop yourself, and peer carefully into his face.

You’ve noticed how Horace has visibly deflated, how he has lost his colour over the past few months. How could you not? You would never accuse the Slug of being slovenly, but you’re well aware that beneath all the powder his eye-bags are as sunken as yours.

“It is unfortunate that one of my… One of our best…” It seems that he cannot finish his sentence. Nonetheless, you know who she is.

“It’s a very unfortunate thing,” Professor Slughorn mutters idly. “Very unfortunate…”

He’s fiddling with a ring on one liver-spotted finger. His lips purse periodically, as if a throb in his temple is threatening to burst.

“Horace, It’ll all be alright,” you try to reassure him, knowing you cannot guarantee this.

The only response you receive is a distant nod. He does not stop fussing over his ring. Then, he turns abruptly stony again:

“Well, then,” he says. “You’d best be on your way.”

He dismisses you as curtly as he would a student, but you don’t protest. You know that when you leave, he will pacify his anxiety with a sleeping draught.

As you exit the dungeon and traverse the silent halls, the early winter chill rattles straight through your bones. It seems that Hogwarts grows colder each passing day; colder and emptier. Even when teaching, your classroom is as quiet as death.

Alchemy has never been a popular elective, and now you are down to very few students. Some had also disappeared completely over the Summer, mostly those without Pureblood status or families to support them… You try not to ponder too deeply on it. For their sake - and perhaps also for your own - you keep it together.

Yes. You must stay stubborn and strong. Especially considering what you are about to do now.

You shiver in your thin robes outside of the Headmaster’s office. The griffin sentinel glares haughtily down at you, and for a second you fancy it alive, judging you guilty for some crime. Thinking this, You glance this way and that, wary of onlookers. 

But all of the students are asleep; or at least, they should be. Most of your coworkers have also retired for the evening. You here stand alone. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Sugar Quill.” Your voice echoes eerily. 

The griffin does not budge. The new headmaster has changed the password, of course. You suspected as much, but it was still worth attempting.  

“Amortentia,” you try next. No response. 

You shift, acutely aware of how ridiculous you must appear; a Hogwarts professor stumped by a statue. 

“Polyjuice. Veritaserum. Bezoar… Asphodel.” 

Nothing. 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you huff, already spiked with tight, uneasy tension. “It was so much easier when Dumbledore…”

A low, heavy rumble breaks your train of thought as the spiral staircase emerges. You quickly mount it and climb upwards, boots clattering on the rising stone. It gives way to a large study lined with bookshelves.

You’ve made it into Dumbledore’s office. 

Except it is no longer his. You must remind yourself of this fact often, and each time it stings, like a tiny pricking thorn ingrown into the heart. The study is far draughtier than you remember; devoid and bereft in the absence of Fawkes.

No, Albus is not here. Instead, what scowls over at you from behind the Headmaster’s desk is the unmistakable face of Severus Snape, and he does not appear pleased to see you.

“Kindly inform me why you are in my office.” His voice is slow and measured, but you can sense the venom lurking underneath. 

“I don’t remember ever giving you the password,” he continues, alighting from his chair. “Or have you picked up that nasty eavesdropping habit from one of our pupils?” 

He spat that last word as if it was a curse. 

“No, Severus,” you say quickly. “I guessed it.” 

Severus. Or Professor Snape. But now…

You think you catch him pale ever-so-slightly, or perhaps that is the dim lighting of the room, casting dark, creeping shadows across the floor. While there has never been a cordiality or warmth to your relationship, you recognise that you have been spared the worst of his barbed hostility.

Before now, that is; now, the distance between you is far too great. 

“Did you now?” He sneers.

In response, you draw up, mindful not to appear challenging as you tip your chin. 

“I’m here because I have a proposition for you,” you announce clearly. “I hoped you would be reasonable and hear me out.” 

Snape’s eyes narrow icily and suddenly you are in his Potions class again, overseen with strict authority. One wrong move, and the concoction will spoil and poison you. His black robes billow as he approaches, expanding like the hood of a cobra. 

“There is nothing you could possibly offer me,” he says, folding one shrouded arm over another. “And so there is nothing to discuss. Leave.” 

Your nerves are strung so tight, you can’t help but object: “The Carrows are far too cruel in their methods! Too brutal. The students-” 

“Are very fortunate to have been granted mercy by the Dark Lord,” Snape interrupts, and you swallow thickly. Of course, you could not have forgotten the festering dark mark that now itches underneath his robes, writhing and serpentine.

“But it isn’t enough,” you say, throat sandpaper dry. A rush of urgency floods your system. Now. It needs to be now, before you lose your courage. 

(A gash on the cheek, a row of dark-purplish bruises and welts, a swollen eye, whippings and burns, scars from chains, all so frightened, but brave still.)

“If you agree to grant my students your protection,” your voice falters. “I will give… Myself to you.”

The silence that follows is agonising. His expression is indecipherable; taut and stiff. You’re beginning to think that maybe you weren’t transparent enough. 

Your trembling hands drift towards your top buttons, and you start to undo them bit by bit. 

“Stop,” Snape orders. 

At this, you freeze. Your heart plummets starkly into your intestines. Oh. You hadn’t even considered that he would - or could - reject your offer. You fear you may have tipped the bubbling cauldron over and left it melting through the carpet. As you linger numbly, Snape’s tongue darts between his lips. Light flashes behind his stern black eyes. 

Perhaps he’s considering it, perhaps… 

“Come here,” he says sharply. You obey. 

Shuddering in the winter chill, you watch the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, the twitch of his lids as his gaze dips steadily downward… Snape’s forefinger comes to brush the fabric from your shoulder, his knuckle grazing your collarbone, and your pulse quickens anew. 

“I’ll do anything,” you plead. “Please, Severus.” 

“You will refer to me as ‘Headmaster,’” he corrects.

“Headmaster…” 

You suck in a shaky breath. Standing this close to him, you can make out the lilac rims of his sunken eyes and the worry lines on his forehead. 

He’s tired… The thought springs to mind, unbidden. 

The hand that tends to the rest of your buttons is not rough, but the coldness of his touch makes you flinch. Snape pulls down your outer robes in one swift motion, and you can’t help but gasp. Your nipples perk from the chill, skin prickled with goosebumps. Underwear was unnecessary, and though you knew that from the start, you are stripped so quickly it still leaves you cringing. He moves to fondle your breasts, and your breathing shallows. You stare desperately towards the floor, towards some old, faded tea stain.

“Fall on your knees, ___,” he tells you. 

You kneel quickly in front of him, and he moves to cup the nape of your neck. You don’t need to be instructed; you do your best to steady your hands and unfasten the button over his crotch. You nudge out his dick, and see that he’s already half-hard. 

Before he changes his mind, you spit into your palm and use it as lubricant as you get to work jerking him off. You can feel him watching you, silent and still. This situation is completely wrong, all wrong, but the awkwardness of it is almost juvenile. 

“___,” he calls above you. You stiffen. You know that cautionary tone. “If you have enough cheek to wag your tongue at me, you can also use it for this.” 

You nod faintly, licking your lips. Of course, you should have prepared for this, too, but you have barely even steeled your nerves. Hesitant, you lean forward and run your tongue along the shaft, tracing a vein. Your movements are practically mechanical; dispensing small, kitten licks over the tip, continuing to stroke him. This is now a kind of out-of-body experience for you, the sort of bizarre circumstance you can only encounter in a very strange dream. 

But then, Snape decides your next course of action for you, clutching your jaw and muffling your whimpers as he sinks into your mouth. 

A teardrop falls softly onto your chest, and it only occurs to you now that you’re crying. You gag out a sob as the tip of Snape’s cock hits the back of your throat, unable to prevent loose spit from dribbling down your chin. Above you, his breath hitches. 

“Open your eyes,” he demands. 

You didn’t know you had closed them; squeezed them tightly shut. You peek up at his pale face. 

His pupils are blown wide, almost entirely black. Snape forbids you to keep eye-contact with a firm grip over your head, and you gag again as he rocks his hips. You clutch his thighs for purchase while he fucks your face, tears streaming down your cheeks. For distraction, you try to focus on him, and his pleasure-stricken expression lulls you in like hypnosis; the tightness of his lips, his dark brows slightly furrowed, the minute twitches in his jaw. 

Snape’s thrusts begin to stutter, but he tightens his hold on you and forces you to take all of him. He drags in a sharp intake of breath, and warm, slightly bitter cum pools onto your tongue. 

“Swallow it. All of it.” 

You gasp for air, gulping it down hastily. 

“You'll be getting used to the taste of me. Stand.” 

Snape urges you up and steers you over to his table. Before you can blink, you’re whirled around and caged against his desk. The edge of it cuts harshly into your naked thighs, and you yelp. You can feel his long black hair sweep over your neck, a sensation that is almost ticklish. Snape yanks down your robes and they fall limply around your boots. Now, you are truly exposed, shivering and naked. The only source of warmth is his body heat pressed into your back, the starched, dark fabric of his clothing. 

His cool hand dips around and feels down your stomach, and your breath hitches as Snape unexpectedly plunges several fingers into your pussy. You shock yourself with how slick you are, mortified at the way he tsks behind you:

“Little slut. Is this what you’ve always wanted?” Snape hisses into your ear, spreading the pads of his fingertips over your labia, teasing your clit. 

“Yes!” You choke out. 

“Yes, Headmaster,” he pinches your clit warningly and it feels like an electric shock. 

“Yes, yes Headmast- ah…!” 

He starts to rub in rough, merciless circles, and you immediately try to stifle a cry against your wrist. Snape rips it impatiently from you. 

“Don’t even try to deny it. I can feel how wet you are.” 

It’s surely not the truth. Surely, you tell yourself... 

One long, deft forefinger slips into your slit and pumps steadily in and out. You let out a soft moan, unable to resist the quivering thrill that coils in your abdomen. You didn’t realise he would even try to prep you, and, against your will, you feel some of your fear dissipate. 

“You think I didn’t notice, did you?” He scoffs. “Always so desperate for my attention, always clamouring for a better grade.” 

Memories of your seventh year at Hogwarts resurface and spiral dizzily in your head. The newest, youngest professor, but strict and competent, and— 

Dark, sweeping cloak, black hair, black eyes… 

I even once wished I could brush away the strands…  

Then he retracts his fingers, slowly, torturously, You hate how you yearn for his touch in its absence, how you crave the buzz to smother your discomfort. 

Snape bends you cleanly over the polished table, your still damp breasts pressing into the hardwood. He traces a long, thin finger down your back, tracing languidly across your spine; you could almost believe his touch is tender. Almost. Instinctively, you try to turn your head to face him, but he denies you with a firm hand gripping the base of your neck. You whimper as he lathers cold precum on your thighs, positioning his straining dick over your entrance:

“…Or was it praise you were hoping for?” His voice is low and subdued. Snape’s breath fans over you, and for a moment you falter.

No, of course you don’t expect— 

No, not from Professor Snape. Only your best was acceptable. To elicit a nod of approval, or even a commending glance, you couldn’t possibly hope—

“Headmaster, I— I only ever wanted you to…” 

“Beg for it,” his tone sharpens again. 

Snape slips the tip of his cock inside your folds. But then, he stops, and does not move. You are trapped between his desk and him, left pitiful and squirming. 

“Headmaster,” you say weakly. “Please.” 

“Please what, ___?” 

You grit your teeth, still bristling at the indignity of it all. But you know that, whether he’s enjoying himself or not, Snape has the patience to wait this out. 

“Please, fuck me!” you plead.

You gasp as he grips your thighs and slides himself in further with a lewd, wet sound. Your walls stretch around him as you adjust to his length. He groans softly and rolls his hips, sinking deeper into your cunt, until you’re utterly full of him.

Despite it all, it feels sinfully good, but his movements are so sluggish that you can’t help but whine pathetically into the wooden table. 

“And what exactly is it that you’ve always wanted?” 

What I always wanted, when I was in Potions class… 

“For you to p-praise me, Headmaster.” 

In an instant, you realise this is true. Deep down, you have always hoped for his sole attention… And now he’s invading that dark, primordial world in between, spurring on those secret and forbidden desires you should never have conceived. 

Snape slowly pulls out, dragging every inch of his cock, and then snaps his hips back in, briefly hitting that sweet, sensitive spot that has you seeing stars. 

“Please!” You add, letting out a shrill moan. 

“And do you? Do you want this…?” 

He mutters so quietly, it almost sounds like he’s begging you. Snape’s pace is set now, rocking powerfully into you as you fill the air with loud, desperate whimpers. 

“I do!” You breathe, mind-numbingly uncertain. 

But it doesn’t matter anymore if you want it or not; the sensation is so overbearing and so ruthless, unforgiving and unfair, just like him. You’re barely cognizant of the arms that curl around your naked waist, almost embracing you, until they provide cushioning against the sharp desk. 

“You take me so well,” he murmurs, “So well.” 

Your head spins, threatening to give up on you completely. You could never have predicted such a drastic change in demeanour. The way he’s treating you now is so different from his earlier cruelty; his affectionate caresses might be almost loving. 

“So tight, so good for me…” He groans again, heavily, and the vibrations thrill up your spine as he spears you on his dick. “You’re doing perfectly.” 

He kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, sighing blissfully. You can feel the spiking thrum of Snape’s heartbeat, the soft touch of his lips on your neck, kissing reverently over your shoulder blade. You wish you could just see the expression on his face, if you could only see Severus for one moment…

“Headmaster,” you pant, craning your head. 

“Don’t,” he says hurriedly. “Don’t look at me.” 

Snape doesn’t relent, forcing you firmly in place with a hard squeeze on your shoulder. There’s something thick and vulnerable in his voice that you can’t place, but all you can respond with is a needy cry as he speeds up, angling his thrusts just right. You can feel the familiar shock of pleasure coiling up in your belly now, surging from how deep he reaches. 

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, aren’t I?” He snaps without warning, bursting with emotion again. You can only nod frantically in response.

“Yes, yes, Headmaster!” You sob, your eyes stinging with tears again.

Snape’s movements only grow stronger, his breathing heavier and huskier. His fingernails are digging small, half-moon indents into your skin. You don’t try to stifle the wanton moans that spill from your lips anymore, clawing for purchase at the wood. 

“___… When you cum, you cum for me.” 

Uncontrollably, you arch into the table. Your leg is cramping up from the exertion, muscles pulled taut, and you’re going to, you’re going to—

Your orgasm drowns the rest of your thoughts in static, white, hot bliss that smothers you. Snape shudders and moans as he buries himself to the hilt, pumping you full of his seed. His black cloak sweeps over you as he pulls out, far too soon, leaving you quivering and dripping with his cum.

The last, mangled strands of lucidity swim hazily in your mind. It takes a moment for you to remember why you were here at all.

After a few seconds, he releases you from the confines of his desk without a word. You bend down and hoist the ring of fabric up past your hips again, though your skin is sticky and damp. After a deep, shaky breath, you dare to glance at Snape. 

There’s a thin sheet of sweat beading his forehead. Snape helps you pull your robes over your shoulders. He silently fastens your buttons back up again for you, and his touch is surprisingly gentle. You don’t rebuff him. Your hands are trembling enough as it is. 

“Promise me that you’ll…” You halt.

Your vision is still blurry, but you could swear he looks like the old Severus. Not the figurehead or the professor, but the man. The Severus you once knew. 

There’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t understand, and maybe you never will. 

You’re so dead tired you can barely drag your feet back to the staff’s living quarters. You wake Minerva— or, no, she is already occupied by her usual routine of restless pacing, tugging at her tartan dressing-gown. While she does interrogate you a bit crossly, you can tell she empathises with your ‘insomnia.’

After that you gulp down a contraceptive and stumble into bed, boneless and weary. You don’t cry at all, though you feel that you probably should.

In a way, you’re glad that Minerva doesn’t appear concerned or worried for you. That means she hasn’t found out. There was a persistent paranoia in the back of your mind that she had, that Minerva had seen or heard or sensed it somehow.

You wonder if she’d feel disgusted, or if she would simply pity you. Maybe that would be worse.

You flick your wand and flush out the light.

No. No one needs to know what you’ve done.

A month passes. The grip of winter releases its hold, and spring emerges in its wake, fresh and pure. It’s as if you can finally breathe again.

You hope that you do not imagine the way your student’s faces regain some semblance of warmth. You hope you do not imagine the unmarred bodies, mercifully free from wounds. You also hope that it is not their own schemes or plans that embolden them.

They should leave those matters to you.

Somehow, it feels like the nightmare is almost over. But not yet. Not yet. You still await your orders, and nurse lofty dreams of freedom in your heart.

When night falls, you strip off your underclothes and climb the spiral staircase once more. It is not excitement that tightens your chest, but it is also not dread. Perhaps something else you also do not understand, and cannot afford to think of now.

Headmaster Snape is standing by his desk. You realise he’s been waiting for you. He has that strange, mystifying look in his eyes again.

He offers you a hand.

“Come here,” he says.

[senlinyu]

so in the yule ball hermione wore the betrothal gown of regulus’ bride?

Good lord, can you imagine if that happened? Hermione wearing a traditional Black betrothal gown with all the family constellations on it?

Imagine that happening after Petr mocked Draco, saying that it looked like he and Hermione were handfasting when they made their Unbreakable Vows, and then he gets turned on when she threatens to maim him and so he’s trying to avoid her, and she proceeds to show up in public wearing a betrothal gown that has his constellation on it.

The poor boy would be overwrought and likely concealing a full-blown mental breakdown. That would be so funny.

[beardedjoel]

smother - part iii: compliance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: the deeper you fall into his trap, the further you start to lose a sense of what you really want. 10.4k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, coercion, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg (no infantilization of reader) daddy!dom joel is coming out to play this chapter, fingering, handjob, joel's corruption kink confirmed here, joel is both mean (hurts reader briefly) and sweet once again, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: oh we're SO back with some smut this chapter! this story has me pushing my own limits on creativity and stuff and that has really been rewarding so far, i love it and i love dark!joel. anyhoooo please enjoy my lovelies 🤍 reminder i have no taglist anymore! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs for when i post there!

It���s okay it’s okay it’s okay…

Joel’s words echo in your ear from where they were whispered moments ago as he pressed himself into you from behind, urging you up the stairs towards his bedroom. One hand gripped firmly on your upper arm, the other on the small of your back, fingers exploring along your bare skin. You turn back once more with worried, widened eyes as you reach the top of the steps and he presses against you again, nearly pushing you. 

“I got ya, sugar” he says quietly, stopping for a moment to nuzzle into your neck before pushing you along. The new pet name he’s trying out makes you blink a few times, half liking the sweet implication. His deep breath in and out tickles your skin and you suddenly feel itchy from his facial hair scratching there. Panic claws its way up from your stomach, suddenly unsure of everything, like you’re just snapping out of the stupor you were in from Joel’s lips. 

Joel had made you feel good downstairs just moments ago, giving you that first, unforgettable kiss. It was so much more hungry and wet and passionate than you’d ever envisioned a kiss being, and it made you feel even more anxious that you truly were out of your depth here. 

You’ve managed in your fog to pad your way to Joel’s bedroom with him close behind you, his heat seeping into your skin, his body close enough to morph right into yours. He spins you immediately to face him and starts to kiss you again the moment you’re inside his bedroom. After just a moment of surprise, you fall right back into it, his tongue dancing a perfect rhythm against yours and you whimper and moan quietly. You find your body wanting to be closer closer closer to him so you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grazing right against the curls at the base of his neck. 

Joel pulls back to smile down at you, a wicked thing as his eyes glint before he dives back in. He’s devouring you, hands all over your body as if he doesn’t know which spot to get enough of next. He’s suddenly lifting you up, large palms spread underneath your thighs as he hoists you up against him, carrying you so that you don’t have a chance to stop him from bringing you to his bed. 

That same bed you’d seen him just hours earlier, the moment that had started this fucked up chain of events you’d fallen into.

“There we go, jus’ relax,” Joel coos as he lays you down flat, your head right against the mattress. He climbs on top of you, trapping you completely before his lips smash into yours again. He’s taking now, giving you no room to push back or speak as his tongue laps into your mouth over and over, hearty groans escaping him. Sounds that a famished man makes eating his favorite meal. It makes you shudder, the way you’ve started to feel like his meal, like something he could just enjoy and toss away the scraps he leaves afterwards. 

“Christ, so fuckin’ innocent, sugar. I’ll teach you so many things to do w’that tongue,” he comments slyly after you hesitantly try to use your tongue in the same way as he was. Joel’s lips drag down your chin to your neck and start to suck on various spots, a little soft at first to test you but more hurried and rough the longer he goes. His body grinds against yours a bit and you lay back, feeling breathless. Your body burns and burns as he marks you and moves against you, your thighs aching all the way to the apex. 

You squirm a little bit, a foreign discomfort completely taking over, and Joel pulls back to look down at you. He strokes the side of your head from your forehead all the way back, looking at you with warmer eyes. 

“Gonna be okay, I’ll show ya how good you can feel…” he murmurs as his fingers start to trace along your bottom lip. “Now I’m gonna peek at a little more of ya,” he announces before sliding down your tense body, straddling your legs before hooking his fingers in your sweatpants. They’re down and shoved off your legs before you can even process it, leaving you in just a pair of plain white panties. His eyes roam up every inch of your body, white heat flickering low in your belly at the way Joel looks at you. 

“Now that’s a sight…” He smirks, sliding his hands up your thighs to rest on your hips, treating each spot he touches with a new reverence. You’ve started to tremble a little, the chilly air biting at you along with this vulnerable feeling, being so exposed. 

“Y-you like the way I look?” you ask tentatively, having to clear your throat from lack of use. Your sudden urge for validation from him strikes you hard and you silently curse yourself. 

Joel smiles at the unexpected question from you and gives you a singular nod. “‘Course I do. You’re real beautiful, sweetheart. ‘Specially like this.” His eyes land between your legs as he says the last words, licking his lips out of habit. He slinks up next to you, laying close to you and wrapping an arm around you, enveloping you in everything Joel.

“Now don’t ya feel safe here like this? Got me right here holdin’ you, gonna make it all okay.”

You just nod, swallowing the anxious lump in your throat. “I’m… just scared…” you admit, willing your cheeks to stop burning hot with all the emotions swirling around inside of you. Desire, embarrassment, discomfort, doubt - all mixing up to create a disastrous thundering of your heart inside of your chest. 

“Baby, nothin’ to be scared of…” Joel coos, kissing your shoulder and peppering them across the top of your chest as he leans over your body. 

“You’re not gonna hurt me?” you wonder aloud. You’d heard stories through the grapevine of other girls - fearful stories of pain or blood that had nearly revolted you at the time, made you almost glad there were no men paying that type of attention to you just yet. You’d always hoped they were just exaggerated tales, and you suppose you’re finally about to find out for yourself. 

“I’ll be honest, sweet girl. This might hurt a little bit. Just ‘cause it’s your first time.” His lips suckle at the swell of your breast and you squirm a little, back arching into it as your breath hitches. You try to focus back on his words as his lips move an inch and do the same motion, a gentle sucking so close to your nipple now that you nearly puff your chest in his direction, hoping his mouth will land there next. 

“But it’s such a special kind of love a man can show ya on your first time, darlin’. Get to have all of you…” he muses, his warped excitement becoming more palpable by the second, filling the room and stifling the air. “I’ll be gentle,” he adds on as he sees another spark of fear on your face. 

“You’ll be gentle…” you repeat quietly, squeezing your eyes shut in some type of silent prayer. You feel the needle-like prickle of tears behind your eyes again, begging yourself to do anything but cry right now. You dig your nails deep into your palms, squeezing your fists tight to keep the pain there instead of burning deep in your stomach where it’s settled. 

How can you be this close to all of it and still so unsure? Would you ever be sure? Or is this how everyone feels during their first time?

Joel finally pops one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking harder while his hand plays with your free nipple, rolling it between his fingers. You cry out at the unexpected sensation and wriggle your body, only to be held down a little harder by Joel. 

“Mm-mm,” he hums, “No squirmin’ away.” His mouth quickly finds a home on your breasts again as you try to still your body, not wanting to make him upset. You’d seen how he behaved when he was upset with you, and it was not something you found yourself wanting to repeat. 

”Pretty little nipples, sweetheart,” Joel says, talking at your chest while he flicks his tongue on the hard bud, unrelenting in his tasting of your sweet, supple skin. “Look at ‘em all day if I could. Half a mind to have you walk ‘round w’your tits out all the time.” He chuckles dryly before he sucks again, a little harder and you bite back the gasp that sticks in your throat at the jolt of pleasure it sends rocking through your body. “You’d do that f’me, wouldn’t you? Jus’ to get a little of ‘ol Joel’s attention?”

His words make you itchy, almost, in a strange, foreign way, one that’s hard to explain even to yourself. Like you want to crawl out of your skin, yet want to hear his words over and over, hear more of the things he sees in you, would want from you. You’d never found yourself to be someone with much to offer anyone, really, and hearing Joel already find so much to dote on is inflicting you with the most unexpected addiction you could have imagined.

You feel Joel’s fingers squeeze your chin suddenly, your eyes flicking open to glance down at him. “Answer me when I’m speakin’ to you,” Joel says softly despite the commanding tone of his words. 

“I - yes,” you answer, tripping over the single word as you push it out in a hurry. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs in response, leaning up to peck a kiss on the spot on your chin he’d been gripping. “Now you’re gonna let me make you feel good, ain’t ya? Let me treat you like a princess, show you what all the other men shoulda done but were too dumb. Chance with a pretty girl like you,” he rambles with a little scoff. “All meant f’me, anyways.” His conclusion seems to satisfy him as he grins, taking in your body with a hot gaze, lingering at the base of your stomach where his hands are itching to go. He doesn’t wait for your answer this time, sliding his hand right down, skillfully touching your soft skin the entire way.

Joel’s fingers start to trace the band of your panties, that satisfied grin still plastered on his face as he watches your reactions - your little sharp inhales and small twitches of your face as you feel him exploring your body. His eyes can’t help but drift down to watch your chest heave, pert tits on display and abused, hard nipples poking out into the air. He has a tempting thought to spend his entire night with his face buried right there, but he has more pressing matters to get to, he reminds himself as he feels his cock twitch inside his jeans. 

He suddenly sighs as he pads the outside of your underwear, his face nearly pained looking in his ecstasy. “You’re soaked f’me, sugar,” Joel says, breathless. You feel yourself flush hot, your cheeks burning, thinking this has to be something to be embarrassed about, something that shows your lack of experience and your fear.

“‘S not a bad thing,” Joel tells you quickly, seeming to read your mind yet again. He doesn’t stop, his fingers teasing the fabric that starts to seep onto his digits. “Means you like all this, means your body is tellin’ us you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you say flatly, feeling dumb for not having much better to say. “I- uh, are you going to do it now, then?”

Joel chuckles, a genuine sound ringing through the quiet room, like he’s amused. “Christ,” he breathes out, swirling his fingers along the fabric, making your hips jump as he brushes your bundle of nerves. “You’re too cute, so perfect f’me. I get to teach you everythin’.”

Your brain can barely register his words, too focused on that little spasm that had just rocked its way through your body when Joel’s fingers touched along that sensitive spot. You blink, biting your lip as his fingers tease everywhere but there, silently urging him to brush there again.

Joel huffs another laugh watching your contorted, concentrated face. “Already fucked out, can’t think about nothin’ but these fingers, huh?” he teases you, amusement lacing his voice. His fingers make a tight circle over your clothed clit and you inhale sharply through your teeth, stifling a little noise from deep in your chest. “That what you wanted? Jus’ desperate f’me to touch your clit, sugar?”

You shake your head, completely overwhelmed by the absurdity of this feeling. “I don’t - I don’t…” you murmur, trying to convince yourself for what feels like the final time that you don’t want any of this. That you don’t feel an amoral, wicked pull towards this man that you shouldn’t - this man who has treated you like prey, is far too old to be interested in you, who by all accounts should be sending you fighting and running. A man you know likely has debased plans for you that you can barely even conjure up in your own mind, but plans that you are slowly realizing you want to be a part of, are curious about. 

His care, his touch, his infatuation. They could all be yours, if you’d let him.

“Think you do… look at you, innocent little thing. Wrestlin’ w’yourself. Nothin’ wrong happening here, honey.”

You look to his dark eyes, seeking guidance, reassurance. “I-it’s not? I feel so…” You can’t put any of it into words for him, how intense the feeling is, how badly your body is craving something that you don’t know anything about yet. How dirty you feel for wanting it with him.

He shakes his head slowly to try and convince you. “Mm-mm. I feel it too, sugar. ‘S jus’ attraction, desire. Makes you burn all hot in here, don’t it?” he asks, cupping your aching, wet cunt through your panties. You gasp at the fullness of his hand against your throbbing folds while you nod fervently, taking in a deep breath to steady yourself as his fingers curl and then drag up your clothed slit. Your head arches back a little and you let out a tiny mewling sound through closed lips. Your mind muddles instantly, eyes rolling back as he repeats the motion, this time letting his fingers trail off to the edge of your panties, teasing the hem there.

“Thas’ it, let yourself enjoy it, princess. Let daddy take care of you.”

He’s barely controlling himself now, his breath heavy against your neck as he starts to move with more urgency, teeth scraping against your delicate skin. Your brow furrows quickly at the new reference to himself but his teeth sink into your flesh with a soft nip, pulling your mind back to the present. 

“You’re gonna like this,” he murmurs quietly into your skin as his fingers fiddle one final time at your waistband before wiggling under, diving deep and sliding his fingers right into your wet slit. 

“Oh… m-my, g-“ you whimper as quietly as you can when he slips them back and forth a few times, brushing your clit on each one, gathering up a lewd amount of slickness on his fingers. He spreads your wet folds delicately, feeling his way around almost respectfully, desperate breaths puffing out of his nose.

“Poor baby… soakin’ yourself this whole time… never even knowin’ how good you could feel, how much y’need a cock in here,” Joel says, sounding truly devastated for you. His brazen language makes your head spin and your cheeks flourish with warmth. And then it finally happens - his fingers swirl over your clit again. 

You cry out loud this time, unable to hold it back when his circling tightens and he puts more pressure down on the aching little bud. The heat from between your legs starts to spread to your lower belly, pulling taut and warm as it settles there.

“Oh…” you murmur, back arching when Joel adds a second finger to the motion. Your legs shake a little as they lay flat on the bed, knees starting to bend of their own volition to help your hips start to wriggle closer to his touch. You stutter out another moan when his fingers press harder, the feeling shooting what feels like sparks through your entire bloodstream, straight to your head. You’re foggy, thoughts clouded over as everything else starts to fade out. Your mind pinpoints on Joel’s touch, practically seeing just his fingers in your mind's eye and the sensation that’s quickly boiling in your core, tightening with each movement he makes. 

“Yeah, feelin’ so good ain’t you princess?” Joel coos with a grin, making his movements a little faster. “First one to touch this little clit, first one to see ya like this, writhin’ around like an animal in heat. God…” He marvels at your microexpressions, the contortions of your body, the way he can see you’re holding back, not wanting to seem too eager. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Be loud f’me. Be loud f’daddy,” Joel urges you, eyes practically bugging out of his head as he sees you start to sheen a little with sweat, your body hot and tingling next to him. He smirks as he slips a finger down, eliciting a desperate cry from you when it leaves your clit to tease your entrance. 

“D-daddy…” you start, meaning it as more of a question, wanting to understand what he’s getting at, but it trails off into a pathetic little cry when the tip of his index finger pushes into you unexpectedly.

Joel has died and gone to heaven, if his expression is any indication as he breathes out shakily, hardly in control of his actions at this point. “Thas’ right, thas’ right, princess. Call out f’me while I’m inside ya.”

“F-fuck,” you let slip out. “Y-you’re inside?” you ask him in slight disbelief that it’s really happening. You go completely breathless as he starts to play with your clit again, using his thumb to flick urgently there while he lets his finger settle inside of you. 

Joel wriggles his finger deeper, burying his index finger almost to the hilt as he nods, turning your head with his free hand to make sure you’re looking at him. 

“Naughty little thing, cursin’ cause daddy made you feel that good.” He smirks, letting you sweat it out for another moment before answering your question in a softer voice, almost sweet and caring. “‘M inside, sugar. Feels so fuckin’ good, too. Perfect, tight little hole all f’me.”

You’ve become a trembling mess, the fullness from Joel’s finger overwhelming you. The tingling warmth spreads to your belly from where he starts to move his finger, slowly at first.

“Yeah, there we go, takin’ me so well,” Joel mumbles as you relax around his finger, pressing in and out in sloppier motions. You gasp when his finger presses in to the hilt, then he repeats it over and over, filling you up. Your hips twitch and grind a little into him, into the feeling of his thumb flicking carefully at your clit.

“O-oh…” you whimper out, gushes of warmth coating Joel’s finger, running down onto his hand. He grunts an approving noise as he feels the way your body pours out slickness for him. This is pure heaven, he concludes to himself, nothing in the world could be sweeter than the feeling of taking this from you and getting so much in return.

“Christ, you are perfect,” he says near your ear. “This okay, princess?”

You just give him a nod, barely able to speak as your entire body starts to feel warmer and drawn tight, Joel’s finger on your clit moving at an achingly slow pace.

“Gonna feel somethin’ for just a second, mkay?” he says quietly, not bothering to clue you in any further before retreating his index finger and snuggling his middle finger right next to it, inserting them both into your weeping entrance.

Joel breathes a sigh, the air fanning across your bare chest. “Mmm, so tight, baby. Thas’ it, just focus right on me,” he says as your eyes open wide and look right into his. You feel the burn from his second finger, so thick and wide in comparison, your body adjusting to the new sensation.

“J-joel…” you whimper quietly when he starts to move them with more force, your brow furrowing with the strange mixture of pain and pleasure. 

“Y’need to relax, c’mon,” he urges, using his free hand to rub gentle circles on your shoulder. “Promise we’ll get you feelin’ real good, sweetheart. We gotta get you all stretched out to fit all ‘f me.” He rubs a soothing hand on your shoulder with his free one, shushing you when he sees the look of worry on your face. 

“Jus’ enjoy it.”

His words echo in your mind as you start to fully embrace all the sensations. You feel a burning heat in your core start to radiate, pulling tight, so tight it’s nearly maddening before your hips shift the tiniest bit and find your release, the tightness completely snapping from one moment to the next. 

“Oh my god… oh my god… oh…” you cry out, feeling yourself starting to shake, your entire body ravaged by oncoming waves and waves of pleasure. 

“Look at me when you come, princess,” Joel says sternly as he grasps your face, turning your head in his direction. You slowly creep your eyes open and see his dark pools full of a sense of smugness and wonder. “God, fuck, that’s good, keep comin’ f’me,” he breathes out, feeling your slick pouring out onto his hand as you come. 

You’ve never felt so amazing in your entire life, the only thought you can think is more more more as you moan loudly, any shame in doing so long gone when you feel this incredible. White heat envelops you, sending your vision speckled and your back arching off the bed completely, your hips spasming down to where Joel sloppily yet expertly fucks you with his fingers. You grip at the sheets with one hand, Joel’s shirt with the other, squeezing them both to try to hang on to reality. 

“Good girl, good little girl… god you’re pretty when you come,” Joel says, talking you through it. His fingers are merciless until the last second, when your hips drop to the bed with a sudden thud, your entire body limp, only your hips jumping with a need to get away from the overstimulation. 

“Oh, that was a big one, now, wasn’t it?” Joel asks softly, pulling his hand from between your legs and resting it on your thigh, his other still soothing on your cheek. Your eyes flutter and roll back as you catch your breath, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened. 

“Uh-huh…” you murmur dazedly, your hand still resting on Joel’s chest after letting go of his shirt. 

Joel peppers your face with soft, loving kisses, finally reaching your lips and kissing you deeper. You’re lost, somewhere in another dimension completely, kissing him back without any knowledge of doing so. The warmth of his lips starts to bring you back and you flutter your eyes open as he pulls back. 

“Y’did real good. How’d that feel, huh, sugar?” Joel inquires, looking down at you expectantly. 

“S-so… good… I can’t explain…”

“Mhm, I know what ya mean,” he replies sweetly, “Hard to explain, jus’ all that pleasure. Loved makin’ you feel that good, honey.” Joel leans in to kiss your cheek, using his hand to tilt you towards him and plants another kiss on your lips. You moan quietly, body overstimulated and exhausted, the now empty space between your legs aching and tingling for him.

You roll your head back onto the pillow, unable to respond. Joel places a hand over the one of yours that rests on his chest and rubs his thumb over the back. 

“Gonna make you feel like that all the time,” he says with an oddly devoted, sweet tone, leaning down and surprising you with another kiss. Your eyes open again and he’s looking at you with that look again. “So much more we could do,” he adds, shifting his smile into something more hungry again. 

“Wh-“ you start to ask, and Joel’s finger touches your lip gently. You can taste the remnants of yourself on it - such a strange, foreign flavor that makes you smack your lips a little. Joel’s amusement at your response shows quickly on his face as he traces his finger along your lips with a soft smile.

He starts to sit up and lean back on the bed, sending your hand dropping from his chest, a quick bounce on the mattress before it stills. His hands reach to his waist, fingers working at his belt. You stare, eyes transfixed on his every move as your heart starts to beat more quickly, anxiety flooding your system as you toil over what comes next. 

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweet girl,” he mumbles, belt now hanging loose and open while he palms himself outside of his jeans. Your mind races at the prospect of seeing what you saw from afar this morning just this much closer. Joel reads your deer in the headlights expression and smirks, head cocked as he looks down at you, sitting next to you on the bed, knees pushed into the mattress. 

You swallow hard, the apparent lump sliding down your throat and it makes your cheeks burn how openly nervous you are. Joel strokes a hand gently down the side of your head before pushing off the mattress and standing next to the edge of the bed. 

“Time f’you to see a real man, in all his glory,” Joel says, teasingly, like he knows something you don’t. And he does, you suppose, know a lot of things that you don’t in this regard.

He starts to peel off his jeans, letting them pool by his ankles, belt buckle clanging all the way down before he steps out of them. He has on a pair of dark boxer briefs, hard to tell if they’re black or navy in the fading evening light of his bedroom. All you can focus on is the apparent bulge there, knowing what’s underneath, that shockingly large part of him he’d stroked earlier because of you.

He wastes little time pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his hulking, muscular form, soft yet hard, toned and strong but fleshy and dusted with salt and pepper curls of hair, leading right down to the waistband of his briefs.

Your eyes flick from between his thighs to his face, searching his eyes for any kind of assurance, any kind of assistance in how to act, what to do next. He just remains as cocky as ever, hand grazing the outside of the tented fabric as he stares down at you with hooded eyes.

“You wanna see it, babygirl? Wanna touch daddy’s cock?” He rubs himself a little faster, a tiny growl suppressed in his chest while he awaits your answer. “Know you do, know you’re such a curious girl.”

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and nod, swallowing hard again. “Y-yes, I want to see,” you finally say, meek and shaky, shrinking in on yourself like you’re preparing for a bomb to go off, afraid of what you’re about to witness. In what feels like a flash, his briefs are down on the ground, Joel’s cock springing free almost violently as it slaps against him. You stare for a moment, taking in the way it juts out from his body - rock hard, shiny pink head dripping and veins running along the length of him. You feel speechless, unsure if there’s something you’re supposed to say when a man shows you his penis.

“C’mon a little closer, princess, you can look, s’okay,” Joel says, calm and quiet. “Crawl over here.”

You hesitate a moment and push yourself up on the bed to get on your hands and knees. While it’s not a far distance, just a few paces and you’re to the side of the bed where Joel stands, he revels in the sight of you doing it, his lip caught between his teeth as he gently plays with himself. 

“Pretty girl,” Joel murmurs when you reach him, putting his hand along the back of your head and stroking once before holding on to keep you in a position to stare directly at his cock. It’s threateningly large right in your face like this, and you feel yourself shudder a bit as you watch Joel’s free hand gently touching all along the length. 

“Now, I want y’to touch it, can you do that, sweetheart?”

You hand hovers, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek as you peer at his member with a lack of confidence. 

“C’mon now,” Joel says, grabbing your wrist, moving your stalled, floating hand to his cock, settling your fingers on the head. Your stomach turns with the strangeness of all of this - the way you had given in to him and now felt like it was impossible to go back. Joel is gently nudging your hand, trying to urge you to move, and it brings you back to the present moment where you blink hard and focus on him again. 

“Sh-should I do this…?” you ask quietly, letting your fingers graze the head in a swirling motion, unintentionally picking up the beads of precum leaking out and you nearly pull back. Joel chuckles at your brief reaction to the liquid, then nods. 

“That’s good, real nice,” he says softly. “Touch it all over now, no need to be shy with me, okay?”

You press your lips together, unable to even look him in the eye due to your strange combination of being flustered and mortified. You can only find yourself staying focused on what you’re doing with your hands, making sure it’s right for him.

“What did I say about answerin’ me when I’m speaking to you?” Joel says a moment later, tugging on your hair to lift your gaze up to his. You wince, wishing he’d be a little more gentle with your scalp, and he sees your expression and only tightens his grip.

“I-I’m s-sorry. Um…” you take a deep breath, trying to calm your quaking hands. “Like this?” you ask him, using your fingertips to glide down the length of his cock, all the way to the base where a patch of thick curls sits. That seems to please him, a kinder smile on his face now when he nods in approval.

“Lean forward and spit right on there f’me,” he says, looking down at you and gesturing between his thighs. “Need to get it nice and wet f’daddy to feel good, okay?”

Your mouth hangs open in a stunted silence, your body unable to move without his assistance right now as he drags your hand along his dry cock. He grunts in exasperation before tugging back on your haIr again, forcing your face into a contorted wince.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, you know that, right? Y’jus’ need a firm hand, baby, helpin’ you figure all this stuff out. So why don’t ya go on ahead and do as I say, sweetheart, hm? It’d make me real happy.” His words are silken, laced with his country accent and that hidden malice he carries within him, every step, every word showing it to you, drawing you in further.

You bow your head a little as he loosens his grip, letting you decide for yourself now. “I-I’m sorry, you’re right, I- uh, d-do need your help,” you whine obediently, feeling your scalp starting to throb a tiny bit. 

Joel scratches at your head for a moment, watching you lean down closer to his cock. “Good girl, there ya go.” You can hear him smirking as you tentatively spit on his cock, watching the saliva settled on the top before dripping around the side. “Don’t be afraid, want ya to drool on it, baby, don’t worry ‘bout gettin’ messy.” He nudges your head forward and you breathe out a shaky breath before trying to desperately gather up any amount of saliva your drying mouth will offer you. You open your mouth, letting your tongue hang down before forcing yourself to spit watching more dribble onto the center of his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel grits through his teeth, feeling the sudden warm wetness of your saliva on him. “Thas’ it - f-fuck, now wrap your hand ‘round it,” he commands urgently, immediately negating any need for the words by wrapping his own hand more firmly around yours, sending your fingers curling around his length. 

“Look at that, sugar, barely even fit that little hand around me,” he says with an arrogant grin, starting to move your hand in strokes, gathering up all the slickness you’d just provided. The sound starts to reverberate through the room, that same noise you’d heard outside his door earlier.

You’re starting to feel like merely a passenger as he jerks on himself quicker using your hand, sitting in front of him almost completely naked, the real version of what he was picturing this morning as he pleasured himself. Joel smiles even more at the fantasy coming to life right before his eyes, your little panties the only thing he has left to remove before he’s seen all of you. And by god, does he want to see all of you. See what he has no doubt looks just as perfect as it felt around his fingers while he buried them inside of you.

“Take ‘em off,” Joel says as the thought pops into his head, staring down between your legs, his eyes practically glimmering.

“D-do I have to…?” you stammer out, suddenly wishing you could put back on every piece of clothing that’s now scattered between here and the kitchen downstairs.

“Now c’mon darlin’,” Joel snips, frowning a little. His hand continues to jerk yours along a little more aggressively as his breathing picks up. “Jus’ want to see your pretty body, baby girl, thas’ all. It’ll help me feel extra good right here,” he says, squeezing your hand as it moves along his cock.

You reach down and start pulling on the waistband of your panties, a little awkwardly as Joel holds your other hand hostage. You shimmy them down and sit closer to the edge of the bed, where Joel suddenly wraps his arm around your back and pulls you to the edge, leaving your legs dangling off on either side of his knees.

Joel’s hand grips at the side of your face, cupping your cheek less than delicately as he pants out, your hand moving quicker and quicker along his cock. You feel a rush of heat in your body similar to when Joel had been touching you earlier. That arousal cropping up low and deep in your belly, that feeling you want to ignore when it comes to Joel. But looking at him - sheening with sweat, his enticingly soft yet muscular belly right in your face, his face turning a shade more red with effort as he puffs out his quick breaths has you nearly squirming where you sit. It’s intimate, it’s sexual, you realize, something he’s giving to you just as much as you are him. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, tugging your hand off his cock and pushing you down with a swift shove to your chest. You fall back to the bed, nearly emotionally wounded when you notice his eyes still raking all over your body. 

“Lemme jus’ look at ya, fuck, put your legs up, show me that pretty cunt,” he demands, his hand flying back to his cock to continue stroking it as you prop your legs up on the bed, giving him the view he’s asking for. He groans loudly, deep and guttural as his eyes are glued to your glistening sex, a new slickness dripping out from the way he’s looking at you. You’ve never felt sexy before, desired, and even though the circumstances are never what you’d envisioned, you’re completely enamored with the feeling of it. Already craving more of it.

“Can’t wait to sink my cock into that tight little pussy,” he murmurs to himself, but you feel your entire body tensing at his words, taken by surprise that it might be happening right now.

Joel’s mouth curls in that devious but handsome way to the side as he sees your change in demeanor. “Shh, shh, not yet, sweetheart. Wanna keep you pure jus’ a little bit longer f’me,” he breathes out with a wink in your direction. 

Less controlled smacks of his fist against his skin fill the air of the room. You’re practically holding your breath, watching everything unfold as his cock throbs and twitches in his hold. He just watches your innocent, fascinated expressions move over your face and continues smirking down at you. 

“One thing at a time for my princess. Take you piece by piece, won’t I?” He seems so pleased to be the decider here, to say what you get, and don’t get. How he controls how he uses your body. It makes his cock throb achingly in his hand, just the thought of it alone. His to use. His to show all the pleasure. His to keep. 

He watches your lips, waiting for them to move, to answer his question. “Y-yes…” you whisper meekly. Joel groans at your compliance and his eyes flutter for a moment. He’s so close now. You understand that same feeling that had come over you for the first time not very long ago. 

“Yeah, princess, daddy’s gonna come all over you now. Tell me, say it. Say you want daddy to come all over you.” He breathes heavily, little groaning whimpers as he goes harder, his cock angry and red from the way he’s tugging on it. “Say it,” Joel booms out, and you start at the intensity of his voice, curling in on yourself for a moment. 

“I- I want daddy to come o-on me… a-all over me,” you say, hoping it’s loud enough for him to hear, that you won’t have to repeat it again. The name slides awkwardly off your tongue, wishing to understand it, make sense of why it made your core tingle for just a moment when you said the words. 

“God, bet you do, yes, fuck, daddy’s gonna come now, paint that perfect body with it,” Joel punches out before his hips stutter forward, his hand giving a few jerks as he starts to come hard, the white stickiness splattering onto you - your stomach, your breasts, even where your legs lay open for him to look at as his own personal little show. He heaves as the final bits spill out and he leans his head back, sighing. 

“God damn, so good, baby girl. You did amazing,” he coos, climbing onto the bed next to you. He sits while you lay motionless, nearly stunned from what you’d witnessed, the constant reminder of it in the form of his warm liquid dripping along your body. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says more softly, picking up your discarded panties and carefully swiping his mess off of you with them, curling his body close to yours. 

“That’s better,” he announces, holding the white cotton up to inspect the way his cum stains them now with a wry smirk. He sets them aside on his nightstand before his hands slip underneath your back and your legs to cradle you, pulling you into his lap. He sits back on the bed, nestling the both of you against the headboard as he settles you across his thighs. “This okay?” he asks, stroking your back. 

“Mhm.” You nod quietly and thread an arm around his torso, intertwined under where his arm reaches up to meet you. The movement comes naturally, more than you’d care to admit, wanting to feel loved and cared for right now. You hate the tears that sting your eyes again, like you’re not strong enough to handle something like this, something that adults do. 

“S-sorry,” you say, swiping your eyes quickly and trying to avoid any tears falling. 

“Shh, don’t be sorry. Y’did such a good job, y’know that? Normal to get emotional if it’s your first time.”

You chew on your lip and then look up at Joel, his features already strangely comforting and familiar. The speckled, tan skin that you want to touch more of, his dark lashes that fall over his eyes when he looks down at you like this.

“B-but it wasn’t… my first time…”

“Sure it was. First time doin’ somethin’ like that. It’s a lot for a sweet girl like you. But you’ll feel good again, just like tonight, I promise ya that.”

You nod, slightly more encouraged by Joel’s words as you relax a little more into his embrace. “That… release… it’s an orgasm, right?” You nearly choke on the words, shame flooding you for even having to ask. 

Joel blows out a teasing breath through his nostrils. “God damn, nobody out there teachin’ you anythin’, were they?” He ruffles the back of your head playfully. “Yes, darlin’ that was an orgasm, what both of us experienced.”

You crack a small smile at his teasing and brush your fingers along where they’re resting along his back. “People acted like it was… bad to teach about. My parents, people that looked after me, all of them.” You pause, feeling your face warm with the embarrassment of sharing so much “S-sorry I’m so clueless…”

“No, honey, not clueless. You’re learnin’, and I wanna be the one to teach you everythin’. It…” he inhales deeply, and you see that hunger in his eyes when you glance his way. “It excites me.”

“It does?”

“It’s so sexy, takin’ care of you and lettin’ you learn w’me. You like bein’ sexy, don’t you?” Joel teases, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting it just slightly. Your lips look the most inviting they have as they curve into the most delicate smile, one finally full of lust and confidence. 

“I do…” you murmur in response, averting your eyes as you flush yet again. Your body feels warm, bare and pressed against Joel’s naked flesh, his words instantly having an effect on you. 

“An’ you should,” Joel says, leaning forward to press his lips to your neck, smattering kisses down the length of it. “Already got me wrapped around your little finger.”

His lips tickle you as his facial hair brushes along you in his fast movements, and you nearly giggle, holding back at the last moment, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing your laugh just yet. You sigh contentedly and lean back into him, fighting a sudden yawn.

“You all tired out?” Joel asks quietly, lips pressed close to your ear. You shiver at the vibrations of his rich timbre and inadvertently snuggle a little closer as goosebumps creep along your skin. Joel rubs your back in response, pulling you in tighter.

You nod, mumbling out a yes and Joel responds by gently rolling you over onto the bed, laying your head on the pillow. He’s curled up to you in an instant, arm thrown over your chest all the way to your arm on the other side, letting his fingers rub there.

“You get some rest, it’s been a big day, huh?”

“It has…” you mumble in reply, hesitantly resting your hand on his arm that covers your chest. It starts to feel like some semblance of normal, cuddling with Joel. You’d never experienced something like this, this closeness. 

“G’night,” he mumbles into your skin, kissing it one more time before you notice him going more slack, starting to settle into that dazed, half sleepy state. You look over at him, blinking slowly with a deep tiredness, just watching his face in this calm, non-threatening state. He looks handsome like this, a little vulnerable and sweet, someone you could pretend is holding you right now just so you feel taken care of and cared for. You wish you could read him, trace the weathered lines on his face and find out just who he really is, which version of the many different Joel’s he’s shown you he truly is.

You fall asleep trying to figure it out.

Your eyes flutter open, finding the room still dark. You imagine it has only been a few hours since you fell asleep, but you woke with your stomach aching, hunger tearing through you. You realize the only thing you’ve eaten is the bread and cheese Joel fed you, and it makes your stomach growl again.

Joel has mostly rolled off of you, just an errant hand laid across your upper arm as he sleeps, body sprawled out on the bed. You lay as still as can be for a few moments, checking just how deep he’s sleeping before you slip out of bed, on the prowl for a midnight snack. You don’t think Joel would mind, would he? He’d fed you earlier, promised that part of what he’d do to help you here is to share his provisions with you, keep you full. You spot a knit blanket on the back of a wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom and throw it around your shoulders, shivering as you snuggle your naked body underneath it and relish in the warmth.

It’s dark in the kitchen, but you don’t dare flick on the light, happy to scavenge by way of the small glow from the open refrigerator. You end up tearing off some more of the bread, careful to not take too much from Joel’s provisions. Your eyes drift around the room as you chew happily, taking it in now that you’re here alone, gaze free to roam without any questions from Joel. You stop when you land on your backpack, slumped near the door, and your boots, tucked right where you’d left them when you’d arrived. How was that only yesterday? It feels like an entire lifetime has passed since then. Like you’re a different person than when you’d first entered the threshold of that door, shaking and terrified, barely hanging on. Now… you still weren’t sure where you landed, but you were certainly changed.

Your threadbare coat hangs where Joel must have decided to leave it when you’d taken your shower. All of your things calling out to you, screaming red, like a test that he’d left for you. To test your loyalty, to see your obedience. Everything you’d need to disappear from this cabin, all in one little space. Your heart starts to race, your mouth dry as the bread seems to go sour on your tongue. 

You could leave right now, if you wanted. Take your chances. Let fate decide if you’d starve on your own or lead you to a new community - those people in Jackson - who might take care of you. You could learn. You were capable of survival, you knew you were. You could learn to hunt and fish and start fires on your own, to live off the land and not be scared of the hidden horrors of the world. Yes, you could leave right now, escape the uncertainty of Joel’s moods and promises, and learn.

You bite your lip anxiously, eyes in a trance as you stare at your backpack, with it holding the memories of those two weeks on your own where you fought and scraped by and nearly froze to death. You blink and turn your head back towards the fridge. Maybe you aren’t cut out for life on the road. Maybe you’re too soft for it. And maybe some more of that sheep’s cheese doesn’t sound so bad right now.

You open the fridge back up, peering inside to look for that little wrapped package you’d seen Joel pull from earlier. You nearly jump out of your skin when Joel’s voice cuts into the silent room - you’d been too absorbed in your own thoughts to even hear the creak of the old floorboards announcing his movements upstairs.

“The hell’re you doin?” his voice booms out in that controlled, stern tone that makes you want to listen. You whip your head around from where you’re crouched at the fridge, rummaging through it and see Joel stepping off the bottom of the staircase and into the main room. He hasn’t bothered to put anything on, like he was in a rush to see if you were down here, if you’d snuck off in the night. His naked body moves powerfully, muscles on display, and yet all you can focus on is what’s between his legs - his soft cock swinging almost tauntingly as he approaches you with such an angry aura. 

“I - I was hungry… starving. I thought I’d -“ you start, teeth clicking together in a fearful grimace as he cuts you off. 

“Yeah? Sure you’re not tryna run off again? Ransack my fridge and leave?” He’s already questioning you heatedly, reaching where you stand and slamming the fridge shut behind you and pressing you close to the door. 

You scramble in your mind to find the words to make him understand, shrinking in, afraid of what he’s capable of doing to you. “Wh - no, no I was… look at me, I have nothing on, I wouldn’t be running out like this, right?” You gesture down to your body, only draped in the small knit blanket. 

“Poor excuse, darlin’,” he sneers, looking down at you. The moonlight spilling in through the kitchen window casts menacing shadows across his rugged face. He narrows his eyes as he waits for you to further dig yourself out of this hole. 

“I - I swear it, I haven’t eaten much, remember? J-just that bread and cheese, and I woke up hungry.” You plead and see him soften just enough to want to let up a little bit, but his face hardens again at the last second. You realize he’s scared, the hint of it behind his wild eyes showing for just a moment. He’d really run down here thinking he’d find you gone for good and that had scared him, an emotion you wouldn’t have expected from Joel. He has weaknesses and fears after all. 

He steps a little closer and you can feel his cock, now half hard pressing between your legs. You fight the urge to wince, afraid he’s about to press it further.

“Hard to believe w’the way you were runnin’ off earlier. Not desperate to get away from me anymore now that I fucked that little pussy so good w’my fingers? Didn’t jus’ get what you want from me and wanna split?” You can tell he doesn’t even fully believe what he’s saying, he just wants to taunt you, remind you that he’s more powerful, that he holds all of the cards. He grips your cheeks, squishing them together and holding your head steady, inspecting you for another moment, as if he can get the truth out of you just by reading your face. His head leans forward and he holds you in place as he sucks on your neck, pulling your skin between his lips harder and harder. He lets go and keeps himself nuzzled tight to your neck as he speaks.

“Y’don’t do anythin’ like this again without wakin’ me up.” He squeezes your cheeks a little harder before releasing it, keeping his face buried against your neck. “‘S my job to take care of you, remember? Don’t wanna catch you like this again, yeah?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, breathing a sigh of relief. One that’s short lived when Joel pulls another patch of skin into his mouth, using his teeth this time - you feel the slight nibble as he scrapes his teeth on your soft skin and you whimper quietly when it starts to hurt. 

“J-joel…” you whine, shifting uncomfortably, the heat of his body so close making you squirm and break out in a sweat.

“No,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your arm and another around your waist, holding you in place. “If you’re here,” he says, stopping to flick his tongue along his recent mark, “You’re gonna refer to me as a few special names goin’ forward, okay? Teach you a little respect towards me.”

“I- I respect you,” you blurt out desperately, your eyes wide and searching the room for anything that might help you get out of this. Joel’s hold is absolute, as you’ve learned several times now. You’re suddenly unsure once again, his frightening behavior reminding you just who you’re living with now. You don’t dare to call him a monster, even in your thoughts, because that would be admitting what you’ve been desperately avoiding. You’re attracted to a monster, inexplicably fixated by him, lured in with his sweet offerings and chance at a new life. Worst of all, you’ve already given yourself over to him, let him drag you further into his clutches.

“You’ve been s-so kind and helpful, you fed me, everything…” you add on in a soft lilt, hoping he takes mercy on you.

He stays silent for a moment, his lips hovering above your skin, only his hot breath fanning across it. “Then show it,” he says in a deep rumble. “You’re gonna call me daddy, sweetheart. ‘Cause I’m here to take care of you. And a good girl always listens to her daddy, doesn’t she?”

He sucks again. Harder this time, the burn and sting shooting out from where he abuses your delicate skin. 

“She does…” you choke out.

“That’s right. I’m gonna be your everything, sweetheart. Your daddy, your sir, your master. And when you address me, you’ll address me as such, yeah? Show that you’re mine… show me respect.”

“M-mhm…” you whimper, swallowing with your lips pressed tightly together, the pain of him sucking on your neck after each little speech becoming more and more unbearable. It hurts, but something about the way he’s speaking, the concept of his domination over you, the way you can tell it comes from some completely twisted place of care, sends a warm skittering down your spine. Maybe you’re just as sick as he is if any part of you enjoys this, even the small, deeply hidden bit that seems to be growing with each encounter you have with Joel.

“And when I’m done w’you here tonight,” he murmurs, bringing up a hand to trace his fingers gently along your quickly bruising skin, “You won’t be able to see yourself in the mirror without knowin’ who you belong to. Show everyone who dares lay eyes on my girl that I’ve got you, that I’m the one keepin’ you safe and fed and fucked.”

“Yes… you are…” you whimper out complicitly into a soft cry when he bites your neck again, his hot mouth attaching like his life depends on it. 

“So you’re gonna be a good girl, yeah? Behave and listen to daddy’s rules?” He speaks breathlessly, his cock fully hard as he feels the power coursing through his veins, the evidence of it pressing firmly against your thighs. He feels you nod against where he rests his lips, but it’s not enough. 

“Say it, princess. Say ‘I’m a good girl, and I’ll behave and listen to daddy’s rules.’”

You gasp as his teeth sink into your flesh, as hard as they’ve gone yet, feeling nearly like they may have drawn blood. “I- I-“ you breathe out, clutching at his arm, digging your nails in. It only spurs him on, his lips dragging back just to suck the spot relentlessly. It brings tears to your eyes immediately, your mind only focused on the pain now. 

“Say. It.” Joel’s voice cuts through and your eyes flash open after a few tears roll down your cheeks. 

“I’m a good girl…” you whimper, voice cutting out into another cry as he assaults another spot on your neck.

“And?”

“I’m a good girl a-and I’ll behave and l-listen to daddy’s rules…” Your breath whooshes out as he stops, relief flooding your body when he places a light kiss on one of the sore, bruised spots. A few tears roll down your cheeks, spilling over from the plethora of them along your lower lids.

“Mmm, good girl,” he says more gently, pulling back to look over your face. He frowns, and it nearly startles you to see him have a look that isn’t that one of sick satisfaction that he’s worn so often. 

“When you’re daddy’s girl, you’re gonna be so well taken care of, I promise ya. I know you’re scared, and it ain’t easy when I’m bein’ so firm w’you. Just want you to understand…” he pauses, dragging a finger along your cheek, swiping a tear and glancing down at it glistening on his finger. His body is still close, pressed right against yours. 

“That I’m doin’ it for your own good. So you know I mean it all. I won’t hurt ya unless you disobey me, yeah? If you’re not a good girl, you’re gonna have some punishments. Do you understand?”

You nod hesitantly, your brows furrowed and trying to process all of the information he’s throwing at you. 

“Y’need some sleep, look at you,” he says with a shake of his head, taking in your disheveled state, swaying where you stand as a few more tears roll down your cheeks. He feels a pang spearing his heart at your weary, dejected stance, body trembling openly at his proximity. He knows he did this to you, made you this broken little bird he could grasp in his hands and crush with his words alone, but he did it for your own good. He tells himself this sentence for what feels like the millionth time, absolving his guilt in a single second. You need him, deserve the unrelenting care he’ll pour out once you fully give yourself over to him. Anytime now… with your cracks showing more and more, your desperation to please him not as well hidden as you might think.

 “You’ll feel better in the mornin’, hm?” Joel says when you don’t answer him.

You shrug slightly, keeping your shoulders rolled up, feeling defensive as Joel rests his fingers on your arm more gently now. “We’ll talk more then,” he says decidedly, making the decision for the both of you as he sidles up next to you and puts an arm around you, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You begin to walk nearly catatonically back towards the stairs with Joel’s guidance. His hands slide to your hips and squeeze as you move up the stairs in a daze, exhaustion overtaking you. You swear you’re tired down to your very cells, every piece of your being sapped and scraped thin right now. 

“Thank you,” you murmur in a whisper when Joel helps you shrug the blanket off of your shoulders, laying it tidily back on the chair where you’d found it. 

“You’re welcome,” he responds, kissing the top of your head. You’re moved to the bed, body soft and yielding for him to place you where he wishes, finding you a place wrapped right in his arms just as you were earlier.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispers, lips flitting against your hair and cheek when he senses your tension. “Jus’ be good, don’t do that again, okay? Don’t wanna have to chain you to the bed while we sleep, would we?”

Your mouth sags open, chest pulling tight at his threat, the way it had rolled off his tongue like it was nothing, no humor or jesting behind it. When he’d said the word punishment he’d meant it in the most serious sense. Things like chaining you up, biting your neck until it was bruised, bleeding, and throbbing, and the likely long list of things he had lined up that you couldn’t even envision if you tried.

“N-no, you’ll never need to do that, I w-won’t…” you reply after composing yourself for a brief moment.

“Never say never,” Joel whispers with a conceited smirk. “You may find yourself askin’ me to do it someday, princess. Beggin’ me…”

You let out a breathy scoff of a laugh, mostly out of discomfort, but Joel hardly notices, busy tucking you into the crook of his neck as he puts an arm behind your head.

“You’ll see someday, babygirl, you’ll see… now let’s get some sleep.”

You stare into the dark of the room, head rising and falling with the movements of Joel’s chest while he falls back asleep. You hate that he smells good right now, that the hair of his chest feels so gorgeous and manly under your fingertips. You hate that you feel comfortable right now, safe, despite everything he’s done to you. You hate everything about all of it, but you don’t hate… him. It makes you sick, your stomach turning as you fight the urge to cry yet again. 

You start to think back to your backpack and boots, waiting for you by the door. Their enticing siren call is louder than ever, beckoning you away from here. 

You could learn to survive out there. You know you could. 

You peek up at Joel’s face again, willing yourself to read him, the same thoughts swirling through your head from earlier tonight. You slowly reach your hand up and touch the lines on his face with your fingertips - around his eyes, his forehead, his cheeks. Ever so gently you move along his face, and Joel’s mouth twitches as he sleeps, morphing into a soft smile. 

There he is. That is Joel. That has to be him. That soft smile, a sweet man who wants to care about you. That wants a companion, someone to spend his life with, not someone to hurt. 

You sigh and close your eyes, dropping your hand and shifting your body to mold even closer to his, finding comfort in his large, imposing form rather than fear right now.

Yes, you think as your eyes flutter and you drift off, you could learn. Maybe it would just be an entirely different set of lessons.

[psyche-reads]

I know Elizabeth hates Will’s ass and that’s valid but I can’t stop thinking about the revelation that he saw her when they were young. Like, 7-year-old Will snuck into baby Elizabeth’s room to see his little sister. He probably REMEMBERED her. Katherine was sent away when he was a toddler, but he was old enough at the time to remember that Elizabeth existed. Did he spend the next decade thinking he had a little sister out there? Did he think it was his fault when she disappeared? So many of his memories are repressed because of their mother’s abuse, and I’m sure Eleanor was especially cruel when she found Will with Elizabeth, but I just can’t get it out of my head that maybe, just maybe, when little Will saw her he thought for a moment that he wouldn’t be alone anymore. And maybe that’s why he’s so protective of her in the books.

[nicestgirlonline]

Let Me Hear You Scream

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! language, threatening situations, DUB CON, horror elements

Word count: 3.8k

Summary: It’s the 90s so you actually answer the phone when you’re watching movies

a/n: Happy Halloween yall!!!! Still working on other projects but really wanted to get something out for Halloween! This was for @witchywithwhiskey’s Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon! the prompts I picked were Scream and “I’m your boyfriend now” Hope you all enjoy!!!! Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3

1993. A sleepy suburban town, where nothing exciting ever happens. Friday night.

Your friends were all going out to Wanda’s party, but you were stuck housesitting for your aunt. Your mom had promised you would house sit weeks ago, so you couldn’t get off the hook. It was a big empty house, more rooms than your aunt could ever need. Most were filled up with storage and dust bunnies.

You tried to make the best of the boring night-in. You rented some Meg Ryan movies with plans to completely veg out. You ordered an extra large pizza with all of your favorite toppings and raided your aunts pantry for snacks.

You glanced down at your shirt and saw red. Pizza sauce! Blooming red circle right in the center of your cream sweater. You let out a huff of frustration. Some Friday night.

You changed into comfy nightwear--a baby blue cotton gown that brushed the very top of your knees, along with a pair of fluffy bunny slippers for good measure. You settled back down in front of the TV.

RING. RING. RING.

You picked up the phone, squeezing it between your ear and shoulder as you carried your snacks over to the kitchen.

“Hello,” you used your best fake customer service voice. Your aunt had asked you to take down any messages. She must have a new boyfriend she was hoping would call. You wait for a response but all you can hear is low breaths through the receiver. “Hello?” You try again

“Is this Sidney?” The voice was weirdly distorted and hard to place. It was deep, clearly a man’s voice.

“Sorry, wrong number dude.” You hung up before he could let another word out. You set the phone down by the cradle and go back to making your snacks. You got out the big popcorn bowl.

The phone rang out again. “Hello?” You answered. You really hadn’t expected to be fielding this many phone calls.

“Hey. Did I call you earlier?” It was the same strange voice. You blew some air through your lips, how annoying.

“Sidney’s not here. Have a good night--”

“Aw man. She must have given me a fake number. I don’t mean to bother you over and over tonight.” He sighed, sounding very apologetic.

“No worries. Have a good night.”

“Wait, wait. I like the sound of your voice.”

You paused. Was it totally weird to just chat with this guy? Yeah. But what harm could it be? You felt a bit of a flutter in your stomach. You never had talked to a stranger over the phone like this. It felt clandestine! You decided to go with it.

“Better than Sidney’s?” You asked, trying to make your voice sound as flirty as possible. You heard him hum approval.

“Much better than…let’s not talk about her. What are you doing tonight?” There was something very familiar about his voice. There was a crackle and static that made it so you couldn’t quite make it out. It must be a shitty connection.

“I was having a movie night. I’m making some snacks right now.” You started to curl the phone cord around your finger.

“What are you watching, Pumpkin? Something scary?”

“No way. I hate scary movies.”

“Especially not when you’re alone right?”

“Uh - um - I’m not alone. Actually.” You lied. How did he know you were alone? Was he just guessing?

“Scary movies are always scarier when you’re all alone, in a big empty house, that’s in the middle of nowhere,” he continued.

A shiver went down your spine. That was a bit too accurate. But there's no way he could possibly know where you were. It was a phone call!

“I just don’t like them. It's either some creepy slasher stabbing some big boobed blonde through her white t-shirt or a ghost that's a metaphor for trauma. No thank you,” you sighed.

“I think you’re being a little hard on them. Maybe if you watched them with a guy to cling to you’d like them more. Do you have a boyfriend?”

There it was. Obviously the alone comment was him trying to set the mood.

“Why do you want to know? Already over Sidney?” You teased him.

“Answer the question.” He was very serious. You didn’t like the tone he had.

“Yes, I do. Are you going to hang up?” You lied again, trying to call his bluff.

“You don’t have a boyfriend. What are you wearing? Something cute and virginal? What about your underwear?” You pulled the phone away from your ear in shock. You were officially too skeeved out. This wasn’t some poor guy who got slipped a fake number. He was a weirdo!

“Ok perv, I’m over this. Bye.”

“I wouldn’t hang up Y/N.” His voice was suddenly hostile. He spat each syllable out filled with hatred. Your blood ran cold. Your heart started to race. How would he possibly know your name?

“Is this a prank? Not very funny. Is this you Tony?” Your voice shook with fear.

“Who’s Tony? That your boyfriend?” He snarled.

“This is a really bad joke. Did someone put you up to this? Scott? Knock it off now!”

“Jesus you’ve got a lot of men in your life. Are you trying to make me jealous or something? I don’t like sharing.”

“I’m serious, this is a bad joke, so just give it up already.” You cried out, you looked around, making sure you were still totally alone.

“I don’t give up so easily. Do you, Pumpkin? Do you give it up to any guy who looks in your direction? I bet you do, you slut. That's why you're talking to a guy you don’t know while you’re all alone.”

“I’m hanging up, I already told you I’m not alone. My boyfriend is here! He’s big and he plays football. S-so don’t call back ok?” You tried to sound as forceful as possible but your lips wobbled and you tripped over your words.

“Pumpkin, you’re lying to me. You’re all alone in that big house in the middle of nowhere, wearing that skanky nightgown. I can see your nipples poking through this whole time. You’re so turned on by a psycho on the phone, huh?”

You let out a scream. You slammed the phone down, hanging it up. You started to spin a circle looking at all the windows, trying to see if you could see somebody watching you. You ran to the front door to make sure they were locked. You went window by window locking them and shutting the curtains. You took a chair from the kitchen and dragged it in front of the door, jamming it beneath the door knob.

RING RING RING RING

You looked around, trying to remember where all of the doors were in the house. You spun around running to the kitchen entrance. You double checked the lock and put the chain on the door. You slid down the door with your back pressing against it trying to catch your breath.

This wasn’t real. This had to be some fucked up prank. The guys were all too hyped up for Halloween and wanted to get a scare out of you. The ringing stopped and you heard the voicemail click, your aunt's outgoing message began to play.

“You screening your calls, skank? You’re gonna die, you little whore! I’m gonna see what your insides look like --” You picked up the phone just to end the message and slammed it back down. As you scampered away it fell down, swinging from the cord. You take off up the stairs, stumbling up the stairs.

You dash into the guest room you had been staying in. You quickly locked the door. Your hands were shaking still. How was this happening?

The window started to jiggle. You could hear the groaning old wood start to slide. With nothing better to arm yourself with you grabbed a pillow and started to wildly smack the intruder with all you could.

“Whoa whoa whoa, it’s me -- it’s me!” Bucky Barnes, your classmate, was gripping the window sill, flabbergasted from the pillow. You hadn’t even had time to register who it was before you attacked.

“Bucky? What the fuck are you doing here?” You demanded. This proved to you it had to be some kind of a prank. Why else would Bucky Barnes, the moody guy from your film class be climbing up to your room.

“Well, when you said you were busy tonight I thought I could just surprise you? Like a grand romantic gesture or something? Can you um, let me in? It's actually kind of cold.” He was shivering out there. He looked so earnest it tugged on your heart just a bit.

You motioned for him to come in. He heaved his body up, awkwardly crawling through the tight window then falling to the ground. He sprang back up quickly, smiling at you.

“Is this a prank? Are you in on this with the other guys or something?” You crossed your arms.

“Um, other guys? Are there other guys here? I thought I was being original.” He peered around you as if to look for them. You rolled your eyes.

“The phone calls Bucky. I’m not joking around.”

“What phone calls? I’ve been driving all night to get here from campus, then shimmying up some ivy. Haven’t exactly had any time to stop at a payphone. You know what. This was a bad idea, I can see that, I’ll just leave.” He sheepishly put his hands in his pockets as he crouched down to leave the way he came.

“No, no wait!” You grabbed him, keeping him from going outside. If it wasn’t Bucky then there was still a psycho out there! “I don’t know what's going on, but this weird guy kept calling me, and he was watching me! Like I think he was outside the house or something.”

“Calm down, calm down. I was just outside. There's nobody out there. It was probably just a prank call.”

He started to rub your back with slow soothing circles. It was intimate in a way you weren’t used to from Bucky. He was the quiet one, never really hung out unless Steve was around. His palm pressed into your lower back, holding you closer to him. His other hand cupped the back of your head, guiding you into the crook of his neck.

“You’re getting so worked up. Maybe you should just lie down.” He shushed you as you tried desperately to explain it wasn’t a prank call. He guided the two of you down to the bed. He laid down next to you.

“Bucky…why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you, I thought you knew…isn’t it obvious how I feel about you?”

Your head was spinning. Bucky liked you? He barely even talked to you! When he casually asked if you were going to Wanda’s party you assumed it was just small talk. He had grunted and left the second you told him you were busy.

“I think I should call the cops about this--”

“I’m here aren’t I? I’ll keep you safe.” His lips connected with yours silencing you from responding. His kiss was eager, but still so gentle. He slowly moved his lips against yours, basking in the taste of you. He took his time and slowly you could feel his tongue ghosts against your bottom lip, looking for entrance.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the shock, or maybe Bucky was just an extremely good kisser, but you quickly fell under the spell of the kiss. You let yourself get lost kissing him, trying to forget the phone call prankster that had been terrorizing you.

Fear was still racking through your body, but Bucky felt safe. You tangled your hands in his hair bringing him closer. His hand slowly traced up and down your leg. Both his hands grasped your legs, essentially pinning you down. You felt a cool air waft over your thighs as his fingers gently crept beneath your nightgown.

He cupped you over your underwear, grabbing the elastic and letting it snap back against your skin. You finally broke free of the kiss to gasp. He sat back on his ankles, his hand still toying with your panties.

“Bucky, I--”

“Shhh it's ok. I’m here to save the day. No one's gonna hurt you while I’m around.” He pushed aside your panties and started to slowly circle your clit. You whined as he circles you again and again, the pleasure rushing through you and pushing every thought of terror out of your brain.

He pressed his thumb against your clit and dipped his fingers inside of you. He curled his fingers, dragging more moans out of you. As he fucked you with his fingers, you tilted your hips up for more delicious friction.

“That's it my brave girl, Bucky’s here for you,” he murmured above you. He spoke with such hard conviction. His eyes were intensely boring into yours, nearly unblinking. He was no longer softly in the throws of passion. He was a man on a mission.

He kept pumping his fingers, he brought his other hand up from your leg to palm himself through his jeans. He groaned as he adjusted himself and went back to work on you. His other hand circling around your inner thigh, moving your leg up to his shoulder.

“Bucky, please, please,” you babbled as the pleasure began to mount and mount. It was nearly unbearable as you chased your release, grinding your hips up and down on his hand, riding his fingers towards that sweet relief.

“Yes, you’re doing so well, you’re perfect.” He brought his lips to your neck and began to suck at your sensitive spot. You let out a cry of pleasure as your climax flowed over you. You clamped your legs together, biting down on your lip as another cry came out.

You took a moment to catch your breath, Bucky was still nibbling on your neck. You grabbed his face and brought his lips back to yours. He eagerly responded, his lips enveloping yours.

You grabbed the underwear that you were still wearing and rolled it down your body to fling them off. You sat up and grabbed at Bucky until you found his belt. You fumbled, trying to unbuckle it. Bucky's hands quickly found yours and he brought them together, kissing both your palms. He unbuckled the belt on his own. Removing it without ceremony or flourish. He then yanked his jeans and underwear down.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“I want you so badly, Bucky,” you moaned.

He let out a strangled gasp that turned to laughter. You tilted your head at the reaction. He didn’t sound exactly happy, it was more sinister.

“I just have waited so long to hear you say that to me. I’m so happy right now,” he nearly giggled. He giddily took off his jacket, tossing it to the ground.

“Keep me distracted Bucky, ok?” You asked as you hitch your nightgown up to your waist.

“Oh yes, anything for you, Pumpkin.” He had a devilish smirk on his face as he pressed his lips to your navel, slowly kissing his way up. He grabbed your nightgown and finished taking it off. Tossed it to the side with the pile of his clothes.

He made his way up your abdomen before groping your chest with a satisfied hiss. He squeezed you roughly, making you squeak. He latched his lips onto your breast. You let out a gasp as he lightly bit down. He tended thoroughly to each breast, his wicked tongue teasing at your pebbled nipples until you were a moaning puddle.

He grasped his cock, stroking it a few times before guiding it to your folds. He brushed the head of his cock up and down your cunt, teasing it out. He pressed his forehead against yours.

“You really mean it, right? You want me?” he asked desperately.

“Yes --” Before another word could escape your lips, he entered you. His whole body shivered. He thrust the tip of his head in, easing in and out until he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned as the stretch burned in pleasure and pain.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he moaned, the pace he had set was blistering. You gripped his shoulders to keep yourself anchored as he hammered into you. “You’re so tight, so tight fuuuck me.”

He thrust over and over, using the heel of his hand to keep working at your clit. You scratched your hands down his back as his pumps kept hitting the perfect spot. It was torturous pleasure as he kept working up and down your clit, not giving you a moment of respite.

You came again, your body seizing up as you cried out and then falling limp, boneless back down to the bed. Bucky grabbed your hips, pulling your lower body off the bed as he raced for his own release. The slapping sounds of your bodies filled the room along with his deep, gutural breaths.

“Yes, yes, you’re mine, you’re mine, I finally have you, finally, finally…” he babbled as he slowed his pace as he fucked out his climax.

XXX

You curled next to Bucky in the big fluffy guest bed. Both of you were happily satisfied. All thoughts of strangers on the phone were gone from your head. Now it was filled with what just happened.

Hooking up with Bucky? You’d never considered it before. You weren’t sure why, he was so very cute, you thought as you gazed at his face. His eyes were dreamily staring back at you, that big smile had not left his face yet.

“So if you want to like, hang out, I have snacks and movies. We can go curl up on the couch and just completely let our brains rot.” You traced tiny circles on his chest, feeling pretty confident he’d want to stick around.

“I’d be down for a little romcom night, as long as you’re there.” He affectionately tapped your nose.

“Good because that's all I’ve got!”

The two of you got back into a semblance of your outfits, you pulled your nightgown back on, and Bucky pulled on his boxers and the white undershirt he was wearing. You snagged his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. He hummed his approval and kissed you on the cheek.

You grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along down the stairs.

“You can go grab the popcorn, I’ll put the tapes in.” You directed Bucky towards the kitchen as you made your way towards the living room.

You pass the chairs jammed in front of the doors, and you remember your panic.

You shuddered--what a mean prank to pull. What kind of psycho talks to people like that?

You slipped your arms into Bucky's jacket to wrap yourself in it. It smelled sharp and sweet from his body wash and cologne blending together. You stuck your hands in the pockets, only to feel something heavy and tube shaped. You pulled it out, curious, turning it over in your hands a few times to investigate.

It was a long cylindrical looking microphone. You assumed it was some sort of film equipment, but why would Bucky bring that along?

“Hello?” You spoke into the mic. But instead of your own voice, the same distorted, crackling voice from the phone came out.

You dropped it. It was like a hot iron in your hand.

You realized Bucky must have heard you too. Your head snapped towards the kitchen. He was walking slowly towards you, a huge chef’s knife from the kitchen was now in his hands.

“Bucky what the hell is this?” You asked, slowly backing away from him.

“I…can explain.” His grip on the knife tightened and he raised his hands in the air as if in surender, never slowing his pace towards you.

“No, I think you need to leave.” You covered your body with your arms, trying not to trip over the furniture.

“No, no, no you’re misunderstanding --” He was getting closer to you, he reached his arms out to try and grab you.

“Leave me alone!” You screamed out as you broke into a run. You made a mad dash to the front door. Bucky was close behind you.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” He cried out as you fumbled with all the locks. Your hands were shaking, you tried to remove the chain from the door but it wasn’t moving fast enough.

Bucky's arm wrapped around your waist and yanked your body into his. His hard bulge poked at your ass.

“No!!” you cried out as you started to thrash around. You quickly stilled as the sharp point of the knife began to dig into your throat.

“Let’s calm down ok. I think you’re getting too worked up again.”

“B-Bucky, just say that it’s a prank. This was all a big prank. I won’t tell anyone. Just put the knife down please.” You try desperately to reason with him. He lets out an unamused grunt.

He began to drag you away from the door. You strained your neck as far as you could to keep the pressure from the knife as minimal as possible.

“You weren’t supposed to find out. Now it’s all ruined. Fuck. Fuuuck!” He growled. Clearly enraged he started to grapple you down to the floor.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You whimpered, tears oozing from the corners of your eyes. Rolling down your cheeks in huge streaks.

“You don’t get it. You never noticed me. All I wanted was for you to notice me. I just had to grease the wheels a little bit, put on a show to make you see…that I’m the guy for you.” He looked crazed. He moved the knife from your neck to your cheek. He caressed it against your cheeks like a lover's hand.

“Bucky please…put down the knife.”

“You’re misunderstanding me, you’re trying to run away! That’s why I have the knife because you need to listen to me. You always listen to the guy with the biggest tool in the room huh? You thought I was Tony. Does he call you up at night a lot or something? Huh?!”

You were just whimpering as he ranted above you. The blunt side of the knife was pressed against your cheek, the shiny metal reflecting into your eyes.

“Well you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” The look in Bucky’s eyes was primal, like he was no longer a man. The charming smile from before was now warped and too large, his lips curling to show his teeth and gums.

“You’re scaring me. Please don’t hurt me!”

“Hurt you? I would never.” He said, not moving the knife from your face. “I’m your boyfriend now. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you again.”

He brought the knife down from your cheek slowly, the sharp tip dragging down your neck. He began to slice the top button off your nightgown.

“Now, you made such beautiful noises for me before. Let me hear you scream, Pumpkin.”

[escespace]

Merlin: The good thing about sleep is that it's almost like a mini death. For a moment there is nothing and you are nothing.

Merlin: The bad part is waking up

[bloody-cupcakes]

Is it okay to request for a platonic yandere?

If it's okay can you do a platonic yandere the tenth doctor with a teen reader who he went to get as a companion but then reader gets sick and tired and asked to be delivered home?

If your alright with it 🥲

Yes it absolutely is okay to request for a platonic yandere! Hope you like what I did with it, sorry for it being so short

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, the Doctor views the reader almost as his child and has possessive tendencies as a result of that

You loved traveling with the Doctor, constantly amazed by the different planets you visited and alien species you saw. However, there was something that was holding you back from enjoying yourself completely: you missed your home.

The Doctor barely noticed your lack of enthusiasm at first, chalking it up to having too many adventures back to back. Of course he never once thought that maybe you wanted to go back to earth, because why would you?

He considered you to be like his child, which basically meant you were family. There was no way you'd ever want to leave him, so imagine his shock and disbelief when you asked to be taken back home without so much as a single shred of sympathy for him.

"Why would you want to go back to earth? Aren't you having fun here with me?" Maybe he was coming across as a little desperate with his line of questioning, but he just had to know what earth offered that he didn't.

"Of course I am, but I'm tired from all the running around we've been doing." You stood slumped up against the side of the TARDIS controls, barely able to keep your eyes open. "I think I need a break. Besides, I miss my family."

It took everything in him not to scowl at the mention of your other family. He was your family, so why would you ever need them again? "But-"

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I'd really like to stay with you, but I just can't." Your words were meant to be apologetic, but to him they came across more as a taunt or an insult.

You might as well have taken an anvil and crushed both hearts in his chest. He watched in sorrow and disbelief as you left the control room, heading off to pack your things so you could get ready to go.

He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do, but one thing he knew for certain. There was absolutely no way he was going to let you just up and abandon him.

[sentinel-prime-after-dark]

This is a safe space.

Tell me what nasty things you’d do to him.