#god i miss being physically near a girl i need to get back on that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

pairing: jack daniels x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 2.5k

summary: jack comes back home only to find you in a compromising position.

warnings: established relationship, female masturbation, getting caught, nipple play, pet names (darling, sweet/good girl, sweetheart), no y/n, bondage (i have dreams about that whip, i had to), edging, piv, come eating, some hurt/comfort vibes towards the end

additional warning: alright since I know not everyone can do this physically I'll just say it here just in case; reader does suck her own breast before jack catches her but there are no physical descriptions other than that, enjoy xx

a/n: this ended up being more filthier than I thought please don't look at me, my period is close

**divider by @firefly-graphics 💗

God, you missed him.

You missed the feel of his rough hands coursing down your skin. His soft plush lips going hungrily down your neck. His words laced with something dark and sweet whispered into your ears over and over again.

Jack has been gone for just a week and from what he’d told you, he might be gone for another week. You’ve been counting the days, waiting for the phone to call every night at 7 pm. He could hear the need in your voice, the ache. Jack had a sinful mouth. A mouth that could make the devil itself blush. Dolly enough you felt the tremors of hic vocal cord even more through the speakers, his hushed tone urging you to move your fingers faster, to bury them into the sweet pussy that he was missing around his cock.

You shiver at the thought of it.

You aren’t proud of your position right now. Your legs bare and spread, fingers drawing slow circles as you lift a breast to your mouth, ignoring the crick in your neck you suck. Your nipple hardens between the gentle bite of your teeth, a moan seeping into the flesh with the flick of your tongue. It shouldn’t feel this good. Despite being alone you feel embarrassed. How can you not? But in your defense, as you do it, you only think of him. His mouth, his tongue, his lips. You release the tight grip of your lips and flatten your tongue against the peak, your hot breath catches against the spit-slick skin, a whimper echoes from the back of your throat.

The familiar heat of your orgasm starts to build, it’s a slow climb, one that makes you raise your hips off the bed to meet the tantalizing brush of your fingers. Your eyes flutter closed and you drag your tongue around your nipple, gently biting into it.

“Jack,” you breathe out, unfiltered. “God, Jack, it feels so good.”

You don’t hear the door, you don’t hear the familiar steps nearing the bedroom.

You don’t hear him.

“What’re you doin’?”

You freeze. Your building orgasm dies between your legs, your fingers hovering helplessly above your throbbing clit. Your body screams, muscles grow taut and uncomfortable. Gently, you rock your hips forward and hope he doesn’t notice. Your eyes might be wide but you’re not looking at him. You can’t. His gaze is like hot iron pressed against your already burning skin. Your lungs shake.

You swallow, your answer comes out broken, “Nothing.”

“Really? Nothin’?” he steps closer, head cocked to the side. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, one that makes you squeamish. “Seems like to me you have a tit in your mouth darlin’. I wouldn’t exactly call that nothin’.”

“I—” You pull your hands away and draw your knees up to your chest. His eyes drop to your burning core, hunger dilating his pupils. “I missed you,” you mutter, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, I can see that.”

The bed dips under his weight, two fingers curl under your chin, and pull your gaze away from the spot on the wall. Your lips part when you meet his gaze, your body warming and melting like ice cream left under a summer shadow. His smile is crooked, his eyes growing soft the longer they stay on you.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he says. “That’s why I’m home early. But really, you should’ve just called me sweetheart, I would’ve loved to help you out. You know that.”

He removes his hat, exposing a messy mop of dark hair that curls right above his ears. A smile touches your lips. “I know that, it kinda happened spontaneously.”

Jack cups the underside of the breast that was still wet from your tongue. He slightly lifts it, weighing it under his palm.

“I liked you callin’ out to me. Definitely helps the ego.”

You don’t answer, only watch with a hungry gaze of your own. His eyes are fixed on the rise and fall of your chest, sliding his hand up, he swipes a thumb over the sensitive peak.

Heat drips down your spine, gathers at your tailbone, and warms you from the inside out. Your lips are pressed together when he pinches, your moan caught against your teeth. His grin is wicked, devilish.

“I wanna play with you, sweetheart,” his grin widens when your breath catches in your throat. He leans forward, lips only an inch away, breath hot across your skin. “Will you be good for me?”

Your sense of time and space has been completely destroyed by the man underneath you, his hips pressed snug against your own, lips latched on your collarbone. He sucks and bites, pulling you apart with nothing but his mouth. You want to touch him—Oh, how your body aches for it. To wrap your hands around his thick cock and pump him until strings of come drip down your knuckles.

But you can’t.

You fucking can’t.

The leather of the whip digs painfully into your wrists, your skin feeling raw and open. Every time he forces your hips into an agonizingly slow grind, the thick handle hits the soft curve of your ass with every move. And the most painful part, the part that makes you wetter than you’ve ever been—he’s not inside of you. His cock drags between your soaked folds, bulbous head catching your clit every time. A generous amount of precum is gathered at the soft swell of his stomach, trickling down to the sheets. He must be painfully hard at this point but he’s still going. He feasts upon your chest, tongue swirling and pressing hard against your nipple while his hand kneads the flesh from underneath.

It’s too much. Your head spins, a desperate sound twisting through you. His chuckle vibrates through your skin and he slides a hand up the back of your neck, fingers curling.

You’re shaking now. Trembling. Burning.

He kisses along your collarbone, wet lips leaving shiny streaks, his voice all gravel. “You know,” he purrs. “When I saw you like that, the desperation you had for me. . .” he cuts off, pressing his lips to yours and licking himself deep into your mouth before continuing. “I wanted to fuck you right that second, darlin’. Nearly lost all control. You drive me insane.”

“The feelings mutual,” you gasp, grinding down on him. His thighs tighten underneath you, a groan leaving his lips. “So why don’t you just fuck me. Please, Jack, I need you.”

“You need me, hm?” he smooths your hair, kisses your cheek. It’s incredibly tender compared to the tight grip his whip has on your wrists. Your back arches instinctively, pushing more of yourself into his hands. “I could keep you like this for hours. Just like this, writhing on my lap, beggin’ for me, achin’ for me. I’m very tempted you know? I did say I wanted to play.”

A whimper scratches your throat. Your head drops to his shoulder and you find solace in the crook of his neck. His scent fills your lungs, gunpowder, leather, and the earth itself. Safe. So safe. You kiss him, drag your lips across the tender skin, leaving goosebumps. His hands move to your arms that are tied behind, his nails skimming down until fingers curl around the knot of the whip.

“We can play,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I just want to make you happy.”

“You do,” he answers quickly. You can almost hear the frown in his voice. “Of course you do. You’re my sweet girl, you always make me happy.”

Jack’s fingers start working the knot, you quickly pull back, “Don’t remove it,” you blurt out. His brows raise with amusement, a toothy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Cheeks burning you look away, “I want you to fuck me like this,” you utter with a jutted bottom lip.

“God, I need to be inside you,” he drawls, accent thick, and everything in you grows taut. “Been jerking myself almost every night thinkin’ about this sweet pussy.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he smirks, helping you raise to your knees. “You’re not the only one with a vivid imagination.”

Jack positions his length against you, his fingers biting into your waist, watching the slow fall of your hips. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, biting painfully. You’re quick to move, dragging your nose down his, you lick at his mouth and urge him to release the abused flesh. He does so with a breathy moan, hips stuttering deeper into you as you suck it between your own lips, easing the pain of his bite.

He takes your neck in his hands, thumbs caressing over the sensitive skin of your throat. His touch grows more insistent as he continues to trace circles and feathery touches up your jaw and around your ear and back down again. You hear him groan, deep and low, sending thrills through your body.

Jack shifts his hips up into you, pushing himself closer to the entrance of your heat. He traces the curves of your body, pressing against you with every inviting motion. You can feel every inch of him pressing firmly inside of you. You groan at the stretch, you’ll never get sick of this. Never get sick of the feeling of being so full. He hooks a finger into one of the loops of the whip and pulls you down, hips flush against his. Your lungs convulse, breath hitching, pleasure burning you from the inside out. Your lips drop open and he shoves his tongue inside, ravaging your mouth and swallowing your cries.

He guides the jump of your hips, snapping his hips at the same time you drop yours. Tears blur your vision, overwhelmed. Jack’s gaze is fixed on where you two connect, watching his cock disappear into the tight fist of your cunt. His movements grow harder and more aggressive, pushing you to your limits. His breath tangles with yours, his hands alternately caressing and holding tight to your wrists while his hips rotate into you. The room is filled with the sounds of rugged breaths.

“Atta girl. That’s it, feels good don’t it?”

“So good,” you say hoarsely, rolling your hips. “Don’t stop.”

Jack fully laughs at that, it’s boisterous and loud, a small smile of your own makes its way to your lips. You would’ve laughed too if it wasn’t for his cock sliding in and out of you, a shudder rolls down your spine. He quiets down, eyes gazing deep into your own.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, voice dropping into something dangerous. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He moves inside you, pushing himself faster and deeper. His thrusts become more powerful, almost urgent as he works to take you to the brink of ecstasy. His hands reach for your wrists, tightening their embrace and pinning you down to him, hammering up into you. All your focus narrows on the feeling of him. Heat builds between your thighs, cock drilling into you without hesitation.

Finally, as the intensity builds to its peak, Jack's thrusts become almost frantic, and with each movement, waves of pleasure ripple through your body, leaving you gasping for breath. You’re both lost in each other.

Your moans become louder and higher pitched as he drives himself ever deeper into you. You feel his velvety hardness pulsing inside of you, his hands grasping tightly—and he breaks you.

Your entire body jerks, every fiber of your being coming to a sudden halt only to come back alive again. You think you cry out his name but your mouth is dry, your throat sore. He hisses at the way you squeeze him tight, your walls pulsing and gushing around him. You press your nails into your palms and a moment later Jack forces your hands open, the sharp ends finding purchase above his hands instead.

“That’s it,” he sings his praise. “I got you, sweetheart, you feel so good, so fuckin’ good.”

Jack withdraws slightly, still deeply embedded within you, before gently pushing you back down on the mattress. Your shoulders ache at the pressure yet you welcome it, pleasure still heavy in your veins.

“I wanna come over your tits, darlin’,” he nips at your chin. “Is that okay?”

With a moan, you nod. You manage to push yourself up, capturing his lips in a quick kiss before you fall back down again. He smiles down at you, eyes shining.

Your eyes grow wide at the sight of him, strong body straddling your stomach, his flushed cock in his fist. He strokes himself, thumb swiping the slit as he pushes the head against the swell. Jack groans at the added pressure, gently rocking his hips. Slick trickles down from your core, forcing a shudder up your spine. Jack’s breathing goes ragged, eyes finding yours as his chin drops with a moan rattling his chest.

He spills himself between your breasts, he grinds helplessly against them, cock twitching and throbbing as his come lands on your chest, throat, and chin. Your tongue slips from between your lips by instinct, sadly you can’t reach the traces of him.

“Fuck,” he rasps, deftly bending over. He leaves you short of breath as he cleans you up with his mouth, licking himself clean off your skin. “Come here,” he utters, holding you by the shoulders and pressing your mouths together. He slips his tongue between your lips along with the remnants of himself. You groan at the taste. Bittersweet. Filthy. You swallow him down, tongue searching for more. “Greedy little thing,” he mutters between breaths.

His kiss lingers for a moment until finally, he pulls away and smiles. Then, once again, your surroundings shift. You find yourself buried in his chest, your arms and legs angled awkwardly.

“Let me get you out of this,” he says, untying you. “And then let’s shower, put some ointment over these marks.”

You hear a hint of remorse at the end, brows furrowing, you cradle his face between your sweaty palms. With smushed cheeks, he gives you a confused look.

“I wanted this, Jack,” you say clearly. “Don’t feel bad.”

“I don’t,” he grunts. When you give him a look he relents. “I don’t, really,” he tenderly touches your wrists and gathers your hands between his own. “I enjoy it but I can’t help feelin’ a bit bad. It just happens.”

“Come’re.”

You pull him into a tight embrace, ignoring the soreness of limbs and burns. Jack buries his nose in your neck and inhales you, deep breaths raising goose bumps over your skin. Your fingers snake into his hair and you gently scratch his scalp, he hums, laying a kiss on your shoulder.

“You take plenty of care of me. Just know that, okay?” his arms tighten around you. “Feel what you’re feeling but just now that I’m happy and satisfied.”

“Okay,” he swallows, pulling away from you. “Now let’s get cleaned.”

By the time you both climb into the bath, you’re both smiling, giggling (more so you rather than Jack), and briefing each other about all the things that happened while Jack was away.

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #kingsmen golden circle #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

436 notes · View notes

getitoutofmymindwrites · 1 year ago

Text

I don't even know your name | joel miller x f!reader, 8.3k

Summary: Your life changes dramatically and you turn to your best friend, Trish, for help. Trish is Joel’s cousin and little did you know when you met him by chance in a bar, before Trish officially introduced you to one another. He’s emotionally unavailable -or so he thinks-, you have lost faith in people -or so you think. Basically, two idiots who fall in love and decide to torture themselves.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, angst, slow-burn, Joel is 45ish, reader is 35 with two baby girls, allusions to smut, dirty thoughts, swearing, no physical description of the reader (but she will have long hair for smut purposes later on, hehe), no use of y/n, I’m not good at warning people, tell me what am I missing!

A/N: This has taken me forever, my life is a f’ing mess, but I didn’t want to abandon it. I’m splitting the story to parts, otherwise you’d been reading it until The Second Coming. 😅😏🫣 Thank you to anyone who’s taking the time to read this, I love you and I hope you enjoy it!😘

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

| next

“Guys?” you drag out the word, “Do we really have to have the talk?” you try to avoid the conversation, knowing yourself and how you usually respond to these kind of questions, damn your spontaneity, shifting restlessly into the couch. Joel’s presence, sitting across the room on the comfy armchair, near the lit fireplace, isn’t helping in the slightest. He looks too invested in your point of view, but you already expected that. You try to avoid his gaze for as long as you can.

“Yes! Get the conversation going, babe, don’t be shy!” a female voice comes from a different part of the house. Joel doesn’t respond, looking quite nonchalant, in an effort to not seem.. eager. But you know better.

“It’s not a matter of shyness, on the contrary, you know I’m in the habit of not holding my tongue, and that can often get me in trouble..”, you sigh, shaking your head.

I have a few ideas involving that tongue of your- Stop it. Joel suppresses his thoughts audibly, by clearing his throat. “How come?” he finally joins in. You love the sound of that word on his mouth. Shaping into a different meaning inside your mind every time he uses it, pumping all of your blood to all the right places. Four months into knowing him and you quickly came to realize if you let your guard down, you would be done for. And now was not the time. You had a million loose ends to work out.

“Oh, you know, people tend to get the wrong idea, assuming things about me. I wish I could shut me up sometimes.” Oh, the ways I could shut that pretty little mouth, darlin’. Get it together. She’s not good for you. Or maybe you’re not good enough for her., he’s looking away, focusing on Trish, his cousin and your dear friend, who rushes out of her kitchen holding your -God knows what round of- drinks, almost stumbling on the carpet, while Joel’s trying to clear his head.

“What’s the rush Trish, anything to get off your chest?” you ask, squinting at her in a shut-the-fuck-up way. She bursts into laughter before she can even begin to talk, not taking the hint. Or pretending not to. Definitely pretending. Menace. “You remember that time, where were we?” She’s clicking her fingers together in an effort to jog her own memory. “With that dude? Who thought you wanted to talk your way into fucking him? Like he needed any convincing whatsoev-”

“We’ve met a lot of dudes together Trish; you being the main reason we’ve met them in the first place.” you interrupt, rolling your eyes at your friend. Joel is raising an eyebrow, looking back and forth between you and her. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific. Actually, don’t, you already embarrassed me enough!” you hold back a smile covering your face with one hand, as you pull your feet on the couch, bringing your knees to your chest in an effort to create a barrier between you and the space surrounding you, to feel some kind of protection around you.

Trish is looking so amused, she’s having a hard time concentrating. “I don’t remember nor the place or the dude, but you were defending, quite passionately I might add, womens’ equal right to one night stands and how we should have the same amount of pleasure as men without the guilt that comes with it; Joel you should see her, she almost raised the flag of revolution!” Where are you going with this Trish..?

“Did she, now..” Joel runs his eyes up and down, taking you all in, sipping his whiskey slowly, licking his bottom lip after he swallowed. Jesus, that neck.

You groan in frustration, “Here it comes. Another one who speculates. Ok, let me have it.”, you almost snap, observing the way he’s checking you out. But he knows better. There’s an intensity radiating out of him, you can almost feel the warmth of it on your skin and you let your mind wonder how he would feel like over you, under you or in any way he would choose to manhandle you. Manhandle? Where is this coming from?

“Hey, she’s the one who said ‘passionately’!” Joel raises his hands up in defense, his brows raised and knead together, clearly amused on the information he’s extracting so effortlessly. Trish takes her seat next to you to the couch, enjoying the moment more than she should, looking at the two of you.

“I’m not- I don’t- uuuuh, Trish why are you doing this to me?” you whine in exasperation, looking up to the ceiling, and rolling your eyes shut.

“Because maybe you should! Come on, live a little!”, she grumbles, grabbing your forearm, shaking you dramatically. Trish was actually living, more than a little, her life, full of experiences, lovers, you name it. Sometimes you wished you could live so carefree. She has been desperately trying to pour some of her carnal wisdom into you. For years. Now, given your emotional status, she believes it’s her best chance. So, she pushed.

“Should do what?” Joel interjects curiously.

Trish opens her mouth and spills it out before you can stop her, “Fuckarounds!” -her take on one night stands- “or at least something casual, since she insists that one flavor is better than a sea of delicacies.”, she winks dramatically in your direction.

“Yeah, no, that’s- that’s great, let’s bring Joel into this conversation” you sigh, rubbing your forehead and tilting your head down.

“Oh, I thought-” he looks genuinely confused at your reaction. At this point he’s confused about a lot of things.

“Yes! Exactly! Of course you thought! That’s what I meant before. Just because I can’t bring myself to do it, it doesn’t mean that it’s wrong, or that I’m judgmental of people that do it. Hell, sometimes I wish I was those people.. That’s what I was trying to explain to the dude-”

“You see?” she turns to Joel for backup, “quite the lawyer we have here! And the dude didn’t get the memo.”, she turns to you once more. You shake you head at her and you both laugh at the memory.

“She’s insufferable sometimes, but I’ll get her mind around, don’t you worry!”, she adds, taking her eyes from yours to Joel’s, smiling at the implication, almost like.. you’re spoken for?? What the fuck, Trish? Your face feels like it’s on fire and you’re pretty sure it’s showing, too. You can always blame it on the heat of the fireplace. Now it’s Joel’s turn to shift to his seat uncomfortably. He, thankfully, rises from his spot and let both of you know he’s heading to the kitchen for a refill.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, you hiss at her. “He’ll think I put you up to this.”

“Up to what?” Trish plays dumb, but failing monumentally.

“Dude, you can’t have your cousin think that I’m into him, it’s not right. I didn’t asked you to. Quit it.”, you whisper in despair.

“Love, seriously, you need to at least de-stress yourself.” Trish pressures on. “It’s been, what, six months since the divorce, four months in, leaving with me, I mean, that’s unacceptable.”

“Look, I’ll move, the first house I’ll find, I promise, I don’t want to overstay my welcome-”

“Hey, I’m talking about letting four perfectly good months fly away without getting any. Especially, when you have such a skilled babysitter. You're not taking advantage of me enough.” She moves her hands around her body, showing herself. “And I told you, you and the girls can stay here indefinitely. I fuckin’ mean it.”

“Well, less of the ‘f’ word in front of them, if you do!”, you tease. “Thank you, but I’ll find a place. I need to. I want to bring some kind of normalcy back into our lives. Their lives.”

“I know, baby. But seriously. You’re fucking 35. You act like your life is over. He’s not worth it.”

“We’ve been through that before Trish, it’s not about him, I just-” you exhale, shaking your head, “l don’t think there’s anyone out there for me, you know? I feel like I’m too old for any of this. Point me to the direction of one guy, just one, who would even consider to engage with a 35 year old divorced mother of two and I’ll take him, Scout’s honor.”

She opens her mouth to say something but reconsiders, trying to find the right words. She knows you have a point. “That’s why I insist for you to.. FUCK AROUND! No strings attached. How sweet of you to help me prove my point!!”, Trish exclaims triumphantly.

You pretend to be in deep thinking, finally concluding, “You know what, I’m done with men. Not worth the energy spent. Hey, maybe I’ll date you; we love each other, we practically live together, it’s a done deal!” You both laugh at the idea.

“Aaaaaw, I’m fluttered hot mama, but maybe you should give ‘em men a chance, before you flip the coin!”, she pushes on.

You really look at her now, trying to see her point of view. You were lonely, you were touch deprived, you longed for intimacy, but intimacy in your case meant sentiment. And sentiment comes form some kind of attachment. You wanted, you needed, hell, you craved to connect. “You know, you always insist on all that casual thing, but I’m in a place in life that.. what’s the point?”

“Um, the point of someone else giving you an orgasm?”, she deadpans.

“Oh God..”, you drug your hand down your face, feeling defeated. “Seriously? Because I’m pretty sure this coffee table here,” you point at it with your brows, “can find my bud easier than half the men out there.”, you blurt out in frustration. Joel coughs, choking on his whiskey. You both jolt from your seats on the couch at the sound, turning your heads, one in amusement and one in embarrassment, seeing Joel standing at the living room entrance, frozen in place. Neither of you heard him approaching. If you could hold your tongue for once, woman. Just once.

“So..” he drags the word out, “what about the other half?”, he shakes off the awkwardness of the moment and sly his way into the conversation. You both look at him with a dumbfounded expression on your faces.

“Joel, how long have you been standing there?” Trish wonders, raising one brow devilishly.

“Enough to know I was right to have been standing there as long as I have.” he smirks into his glass, swallowing another sip. You’re too mortified to register the question as non-rhetorical. You almost stop breathing, praying that would make you invisible, hoping he‘d somehow forget his question.

“So?”, Joel insists, looking at you through his lashes, crossing his legs and leaning against the doorframe that connects the living area with the kitchen.

“Excuse me?”, you manage to breathe out, feeling exposed.

Joel doesn’t miss the opportunity to remind you exactly what you pointed out, moments ago. “You said that half the men can’t find y-”, he pauses, inhaling sharply, imagining how good you would look, all naked and spread out under him, but hearing in his mind how intimate what he’s about to say sounds, he corrects himself. “Uh, a woman’s bud.” He moves his hands in the air in a generic motion. You feel so embarrassed, you think you might explode if your heart rate doesn’t drop down. “So, what about the other half of us?” his eyes are burning coals, piercing through you. You pick up the insinuation immediately. He knows his way around a woman’s body. Ok, thank you for the burning image of you eating me out, fingering me to death or rubbing me to completion, Joel. But where the fuck is he going with this? He knows by now that you’re candid like that and you’ll answer accordingly, so he presses all your buttons on purpose, he’s got to be. You devil, we had a fucking deal. You smile, accepting the challenge as you decide to answer him. Two can play that game.

“Oh, you mean the emotionally unavailable half?”

He certainly didn’t expect this response. His face drops suddenly, his jaw flexes; you are positive that a nerve has been touched. He looks embarrassed, like a child caught with his hand in the honey pot and you immediately feel sorry for him. You hate making people feel bad. Even if you’re right. Damn people pleaser.

Too forward? Too soon? Maybe both? You open your mouth to say something -anything- but your mind goes blank. He looks down at his half-empty glass and goes “Huh.”, before he empties the poison of his choice down his throat in one gulp. He calmly leaves the now empty glass on the coffee table, forming a one-sided kind of knowing smile on his face and he leaves the room quietly, leaving you feeling guilty.

You realize that you need to breathe at some point, so you take a sharp breath, after you hear the front door closing behind him.

“Well.. that went well.” Trish comments, looking at her nails.

You snap your head at her, feeling ready to explode. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“No, but it leaves you minus one penis.”, she deadpans.

“I’m not interes-“ her eyes move up to yours so quickly, staring at you in a don’t-bullshit-me way, that you don’t dare finish your sentence. “Even I would be interested if he wasn’t a relative.” she feels the need to exaggerate.

“He’s not what I’m looking for, Trish.”

“But he might be just what you need.” Damn, she’s on a roll tonight. “Is there something going on? I mean between the two of you.”

Panic rises fast inside of you like waves crushing on rocks. You think you can hear your heartbeat. “No, of course not.”

Trish gives you an investigative look, as if staring at you long enough would make you admit the truth she thinks she knows. “Are you sure?”

“Joel and I couldn’t be further apart, trust me.”

BEFORE

He observes you sitting on the bar stool for a long time, almost memorizing your every curve and line. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. He can’t even see your whole face, but something makes him stare. You stand out to him for some reason. Maybe it’s the intense antithesis against your surroundings. Still, while everyone moves. Sad, while everyone laughs. Quiet, while everyone yells into each others’ ears. Lonesome in a sea of people. Your gaze is soft and detached, like all the burden of the world is on your shoulders. Holding your beer for far too long, sipping slowly straight from the bottle, like you’re trying to prolong your stay at the bar, or maybe avoiding going back to where you came from. He’s standing up.

You’re sitting on the bar stool, looking absentmindedly at the bartender on the other side of the counter, moving around, serving drinks. And you’re just sitting there. Alone. Wondering how the hell did you come to this. You always thought it was kind of strange going out on your own. Never done it before. But here you are. Here you are.

It’s been a week since you left your whole life behind you, leaving everything you knew and hold dear, moving to your best friend’s house, temporarily. Until you figure out what you’re going to do. She insisted to babysit so you can go out and have fun. She was funny that way. Have fun. All you wanted was to just disconnect from the world. Not think of anything. Not worry about anyone. Not much of a choice when you are a parent though. Worrying is on top of your list when you have kids. Two little girls, two and a half years old and an almost six months old.

That’s what you did for the past couple of years. Giving birth and raising a baby girl. And then giving birth again to another one. Until your husband decided all of a sudden that he can’t do this anymore. You’ve become too cold, too distant, he felt under-appreciated, pushed away.

The fact that he was always gone, always working and not contributing the hours that he indeed was at home, the fact that you were practically all alone in this, was not taken into consideration.

Everything happened fairly quickly. In the course of four months you got separated, he didn’t even want to try to fix things. Not even for the sake of being able to say that you at least tried. And then other suspicions began to enter your mind-

“You really look like you need a drink.”, a deep voice distracts you from your thoughts. You would be almost thankful for the distraction, growing tired of thinking the same things over and over again, like a broken record, but your bad mood wins over this one. Without turning your head to look at the direction of the voice, you raise the hand holding your beer, motioning at it, in silence.

“Nuuuh, that’s practically water, darlin’.”, the man insists, leaning forward as he stands next to you, his body turned your way, his left foot crossing over his right, his elbow resting on the counter, holding his glass of whiskey. You still don’t turn to look at him and with all the patience that is left in you, you raise the bottle to your lips, taking a sip. “Nope, still beer.”, you answer and keep your gaze to the shelf with the drinks behind the bartender. God, you’re too old for this.

The stranger huffs a small laugh and pushes on. “At least lemme buy you a cold one. That one must taste like a piss by now.”

“Oh, you must have been watching me, then.”, you try to embarrass him in order to leave you alone.

“That, I have.” Oh, he’s got a pair.

“Well, don’t.” you snap and you finally turn to look at him.

Holy shit.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so beautiful. Someone, your kind of beautiful. Masculine and broad and dark but with a vibe of kindness and safety in his presence. He’s looking at you, patiently, with a hind of a smile on his lips, like he knew that you’d change your mind once you’d lay your eyes on him. You take a deep breath to compose yourself and start over. “Look, I’m sorry, you look like a decent guy, but I would just be a bad company.”

“You don’t have to apologize darlin’, you have every right to choose your company, or the lack of it for that matter. It’s ok.” he says and he’s starting to move away from you slowly like he’s going to leave you alone. And now he’s making you feel like an ass. Kill with kindness they say?

A thousand thoughts are crossing your mind, you haven’t done this for what it feels like ages, you’re out of your depth, you don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t even remember the woman behind the mother, he’s gorgeous, why the hell is he talking to you? Ok, you know what? You’re going to fucking enjoy yourself. Just make conversation, fool around, it’s not like you’re gonna see him ever again. What do you have to lose?

You exhale hard, rolling your eyes to yourself and you grab his wrist lightly to ask, “Beer offer still standing?” surprising your own self. Damn, he’s warm. Pleasantly warm. I-want-you-to-envelop-me-in-your-arms warm. He turns his head to you, his eyes drop to your hand holding his, then back to your lips and then to your eyes. He lingers for a second too long and then turns to the bartender to order. You reluctantly let go of his hand and smile coyly.

You stare at each other for a moment and you both smile, waiting for the other to initiate the conversation. “I swear I’m not trying to do small talk or throw a bunch of lines your way,” he begins playfully, “but, you don’t look like you’re from around here.”

You audibly laugh and you raise your brows in surprise. “That’s weird,” you reply scrunching your nose, “I thought that’s what people do when they’re talking to total strangers at bars.”

He snorts a laugh, fuck he’s handsome, nodding his head, “You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?” he asks amused, looking at you through his lashes.

“Well, it’s either that, or you really want to get to know me for my striking personality” you answer, gaining more confidence by his reaction. It’s not like you’re gonna see him again, right?

He nods his head in amusement, “You didn’t answer my question, though.” he reminds you. You roll your eyes playfully before you tease him, “You’re right, I’m not from around here and technically that was an observation, not a question.”, you raise your cold beer pointing it his way, nodding your head in a silent thank you and then you drink from it.

He stops with his glass midair, brows raising, smirking at you. “Ok, fine, you want a real question, I’ll give ya one. Why do you look so damn sad?”, his head tilting to the side, his ear almost touching the shoulder of the arm he rests on the counter. His eyes are piercing holes in yours, making you feel vulnerable. “Uh, I-, I-, shit; that bad, huh? And there I was, thinking I was holding my own.” you mutter.

“Darlin’, someone like you, sitting on your own, not looking around to notice the number of eyes ogling you, lost in your own thoughts, doesn’t take much to figure it out..”

“Someone like me.. you mean troubled?”, you try to clarify, troubled being the only translation your mind could manage.

“I mean beautiful.”, the man delivers. Oh. His voice and his gaze determined and serious as he speaks, making you weak on the knees.

You give him a shy smile and deflect the compliment. “Most men don’t observe half of what you just said.”, you deadpan and as he opens his mouth to answer you, you add “but you’re not most men, are you?”

He’s really looking at you now, it feels like he’s savoring your details and he just smiles. A beautiful, honest, kind of sheepish smile. It fades away quickly though, his face going serious again. He keeps his eyes on you, hitting you with his perceptiveness. “What did the fucker do?” you hear him ask you, suddenly.

“Wha- How did you- what makes you think-“, you are genuinely shocked, losing your train of thought.

“Humor me.”, is all he gives you, in a low voice.

His question felt so to the point, that there was no reason for you to deny it or avoid it, so you look back to your beer, fearing to see the denigration in his eyes.

You take a deep breath and simply state, “He left me, two months after I had our second daughter.” You exhale. It feels odd to hear your own voice, to feel your tongue move in your mouth, saying those words. You haven’t talked about it enough, actually -at all, if you’re being completely honest and it feels like you talk about someone else. It’s like you’re out of your body looking at you.

And now you wait. You wait for the pity, the uncomfortable silence, the unavoidable retreat. But none of those things come. You turn to look at him and he’s standing there, looking pissed. His body stiffens, his gaze darkens and you’re pretty sure that glass of whiskey in his hand, doesn’t have much life in it. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ..” it’s all he mutters as he closes his eyes in frustration, rubbing his free hand over his face.

“So much for small talk, huh?”, you continue laughing, trying to relieve his tension. It doesn’t take, though. Why did he took it so personally? He opens his eyes again, looking at you seriously with a deep frown on his face.

You begin to feel uncomfortable, so you do what you always do best. Try to make everyone else comfortable. You start talking to fill the silence. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’ve made mistakes, I wasn’t always the best wife, I was tired, I felt helpless at times, especially when raising two little girls with such a small age difference all on my own, not that that’s an excuse-“ you stop talking as he’s raising his hand in front of you to interrupt.

“Are you seriously blaming yourself right now?”, he sounds frustrated and confused, borderline offended.

“Well I’m not saying that what he did was ideal, I’m just trying to explain how hard it is to be practically all alone with two kids and how much it takes from you, how the balance is changing between the couple-”

“Ideal? That’s an interesting choice of word.”, he observes once again. Nice, you didn’t think he would catch that.

“You can’t keep anyone in your life by force. I won’t. I can’t control his feelings. It was the way he handled things that pained me the most.”, you explain.

He’s staring at you like you’re a fucking puzzle.

You sigh and continue, taking a deep breath, feeling defeated already. How you could possibly explain and how he could possibly understand? “I know most men don’t get it; you can’t understand how difficult it is to be responsible for two little people, making every decision, every second of every day, it’s exhausting, it drains you-“

“I know..” he whispers, looking at his glass, nodding his head in understanding.

“No, you don’t..” you mutter, mostly to yourself, shaking your head. He’s examining you for a second, considering if he wants to elaborate. He does.

“Sweetheart, I’m a single parent from the moment my daughter was born. Trust me when I say I know.”, he explains softly. “I get it.” His voice feels like honey to your ears.

You snap your head in his direction, shocked at his admission. He sees the cogs turning in your head, the sorrow starting to appear in your eyes and he adds with a bitter smile, “No, she didn’t die, she just left.”

Your eyes widen, unable to imagine what could have led a mother to that decision. But you immediately stop yourself. You don’t have the whole picture and it’s none of your business. You don’t get to judge. All you can say is “Fuck. That must have been hard for you.”

There’s a shift in the air, like some invisible little string connected you somehow, each of you with their own story, finding an understanding in each other.

As the conversation progresses he can’t help but wonder how did he get to that point. He was looking for a good time, maybe a blowjob or quickie in the bar’s bathroom and he ended up talking to you about his life. His daughter, his struggles. Voluntarily. And it felt good, easy, natural.

You laugh softly, out of context, shaking your head and he wants to know why. “I just-” you think again before you speak, “when you approached me I wasn’t even sure I could do that.”

“Do what?”, he asks in confusion.

“Talk to you.”, you admit.

“How do you mean?”, his brows furrow and his head tilt on one side, the edges of his mouth turning slightly upward. Stop doing that. It’s sexy.

“You know, me, sitting in a bar, talking to a stranger, it felt like I haven’t done this in forever.” It feels oddly liberating talking to him, almost like a confession.

“And how does it feel now?” he wants to know, his voice soft but commanding.

“It feels good.”, you give it to him. He makes you feel good and you want him to know.

“Good girl.”, he responds, his voice low, keeping his gaze on you, wondering how you’ll react. Oh, boy. Well, your panties are ruined. You bite your bottom lip and play along. See where it gets you. He sees that. The longing starts to become apparent on your face, in the way your lips part, your breath becomes shorter and your body subconsciously reacts to him, because you turn around in your seat, facing him fully. You clench your thighs in an effort to relieve some pressure between your legs. He sees it all.

“Although it’s a shame I didn’t get to witness you do your thing.”, you let him wonder.

His brows are raised in question, “My thing?”, he looks intrigued more than he’d like to admit. Gotcha.

“Yeah, I burdened you with my shit and I missed the chance of you flirting with me.” Someone feels ballsy. You don’t recognize yourself right now, but who cares, right?

“What makes you think I wanted to flirt with you?” he questions, almost genuinely. Almost. You freeze for a second, feeling like an idiot, but then you see him wink at you behind his raised glass.

“Right,” you drag the word, “so, you really wanted to get to know me for my striking personality”, you smile back to him.

He laughs. Genuinely. Beautifully. “Do you want me to flirt with you?” he pushes you, testing the waters. But not really. He knows he has your full attention.

“Sure, you seem like you can handle yourself.”, you answer before you overthink it and freak out.

He chuckles softly and he leans to you, right next to your flushed face, looking behind your shoulder and then down at you, his lips brushing your ear, his sparse beard tickling your cheek, one hand still on the bar and the other moving at the back of your seat, caging you. His scent invades your space, making you feel lightheaded. “Baby, you have no idea.” Your whole body is vibrating with want.

He doesn’t want to take you in the bathroom anymore.

He can see you; clearly than you can see yourself. He knows you now. He understands. He can see your path, the struggles, the challenges, the worries that lie ahead on your way. He walked that path. He bled that path. He navigates it with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back.

He doesn’t want to take you in the bathroom anymore.

He wants to take care of you. To breathe pleasure into you, to give you all that he abandoned for his daughter’s sake, to make you feel wanted and loved. He wants you to know that you matter to someone. That he’s gonna take his time with you, savor you, taste every inch of your body, spread you out on his bed and make you scream his name, while you tremble under his touch, his mouth, his cock.

You don’t feel like a bathroom quickie anymore. He wants more. Even if it is just for one night. Just one night. Suddenly the thought becomes unpleasant.

You turn your head to his side and search for his eyes. He responds to your plea by looking back at you. Your lips are inches apart, nearly touching. You stare at his brown, chocolaty orbs, then his plush lips, slightly open and can’t help but imagine your tongue entering his mouth, penetrating them.

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally. You want to feel him any way you can, right fucking now. You want his touch, his tongue, his cock but you’ll accept whatever he’s giving you.

Get up. Get up. Get up.

You want this. You got this. You slowly exhale through your nose and you nearly press your body against his chest to stand up. Your nose almost grazes his. You look at each other, both of you full of desire.

Full of promise.

He’s curious what you’re gonna do but he’s praying you won’t do what he expects you to. Not the bathroom, not the fuckin’ bathroom, he keeps chanting internally. Lemme take care of you. You put your palm on his chest lingering for a second, “Show me, then”, you whisper in his ear and you finally make it to the bathroom. That, took every ounce of courage you had in you. Goddamn.

As you enter inside, thankfully it’s empty, you look at yourself in the mirror. You try to comprehend who are you right now, what you’re about to do. You don’t even remember how it feels to have someone else giving you pleasure. To touch you. To make you-

You hear the door opening and closing, followed by the sound of the lock. He slowly walks to you, letting you study him, through his reflection on the mirror. Giving you time to change your mind. Please change your mind. He looks so good. So good that you have to turn around and face him.

His salt and pepper hair tousled but neat at the same time, his curls above his neck making you want to tug them. Hard.

His eyes are dark, full of hunger and desire. Your eyes fall at his parted lips and then to his chiseled jawline with his sparse hair for a beard. You wanna bite every inch of it. Hard.

His frame is imposing; tall, broad, his thick forearms bulging through his black shirt, his toned thighs strained by his dark jeans. And then you see his bulge. He looks big, considerably big.

“Like what you see?”, he smiles confidently, his low timbre making you realize that you’ve been staring.

You blush in embarrassment, looking down and biting your bottom lip. He enters your comfort zone now, his hand pinching your chin between his fingers, lifting your head upward to look at him. “No need to be shy, sweetheart; I like what I see, too.”, his thumb rests lightly on your bottom lip and presses down, to free it from under your teeth.

His other hand holds your waist drawing you close to his body, his erection touching your lower stomach. You let out a small sigh.

His scent is intoxicating. It’s a mix of his fainted cologne, the smoke of cigarettes lingering in the air, the alcohol on his breath and something unique. Something his entirely. His sweat absorbed by the fabric of his clothes. The more you inhale it the wetter you get. Saliva pools in your mouth, making you swallow hard.

You squirm in your place, squeezing your legs together. He notices. Of course he notices, like he did back at the bar. Reading between your words.

He caresses your ear with his lips, whispering, “It’s ok sweetheart, I'm gonna take good care of you.” He places one hand behind your head, gently bringing you closer to him. His other one rests on your back, slowly making his way down to your ass. You look at him, surrendered to his touch. Oddly, you feel safe.

“Fuck..” you breath out.

He smiles, a little full of himself, normally it would piss you off, but right now you don’t care. He ghosts his lips along yours and he softly kisses the edge of your mouth. He places kisses along your jawline and leaves an open-mouthed kiss between your ear and your jaw. Your body shakes with goosebumps, making your knees almost buckle, his hold on your ass tightens, keeping you in place.

You can’t think of anything right now and that’s exactly what you want. Not your soon-to-be ex-husband, not your messed up life, not even the poor attempt of an outfit you wore tonight out of boredom. Plain black jeans and a lingerie black shirt. Of course with a black lacy bra under it, you’re not that adventurous.

His mouth travels to the column of your neck licking it softly from top to bottom, biting gently where it meets with your shoulder. Your cunt clenches hard, pooling more of your arousal on your already-drenched underwear. His tongue is so warm and velvety, making your eyes roll in your head. Your hands- where are your hands? One on his toned shoulder and the other on his hair, tugging his curls.

You realize that he’s softer in his touch than you would imagine for a bathroom fuck. He moves so fluidly, expertly, you feel mesmerized and a tiny part of you inexperienced and self conscious.

“I- I haven’t done this before..” you feel the need to confess, worried that you’ll do something wrong.

“I thought you had two kids.” he raises his head, tilting it, while looking at you through his lashes and bites his cheek to hide his smirk.

You stare at him for a moment and then you both burst into laughter.

You shake your head in mocking disapproval and explain, “..not the deed, the- the one-time thing..” and you bite your lip in discomfort afraid of his reaction.

His eyes are searching yours and he finally asks, “Who says this is a one-time thing?”. Bold. Surely he’s messing with you. Your breath catches on your throat, that was the last reaction you would expect. You try to read his face but he gives you nothing. You can’t figure out if he meant that or was just teasing. He nudges your nose with his, relax, baby, he whispers and he resumes his kissing path down your neck and to your chest.

He’s taking his sweet time with you. He wants to get you out of this damn bathroom. He wants to fuckin’ wreck you and he can't do that here. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either by proposing a different setting, in case this is indeed how you want it, so he does what he knows. He’s driving you crazy. He’s gonna make you beg him to get out of here. To take you somewhere else, more comfortable. Anywhere but here. Unless someone interrupts you, making you take this elsewhere. Either way works.

You’re both panting from desire, his head moving back against yours, your foreheads touching together. He grabs the sides of your head with both his hands, while yours move around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. He’s going to finally kiss you, your lips almost touching each other’s, breathing one another’s exhale.

A loud knock on the door startles you and you jump in place. “Come on, man! Are you done yet?” The stranger smiles against your lips, pleased with his plan. He’s so ready to take you out of here, worship you like you deserve.

But the spell is broken. You come back to your senses. You’re in a dirty bathroom. With a total stranger. A handsome, funny, sexy stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. What are you doing? This is not you. This is not how you do things. You have two kids back home waiting for you. You try to shake the thought out of your mind. You are a woman, too. You have needs. Needs that this man can meet with ease. No, there are people outside, waiting to use the bathroom. How are you gonna get out of here? Everyone will know what you’ve done. What are you doing?

The man detects your stiffness, the change in your breathing. You’re starting to hyperventilate. “Hey, hey, are you ok?”.

Your brain is overwhelmed, you don’t know how to respond. The knocking on the door gets louder now, more insistent.

“Give me a goddamn minute!”, the man shouts behind his back. His attention returns to you, full of concern, talking to you like all the time in the world is yours, like nothing else matters. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You wanna get out of here?”, his hands are still on the sides of your head, his eyes full of worry now.

“I- I need-” your breathing is getting harder and harder. “I’m sorry, I need to get out of here, I-” you push his hands away from your face.

He lets you, raising his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok darlin’, my truck is parked just outside, let me-”

“NO- No,” you don’t let him finish his thought, “I’ll leave on my own, I’m sorry, I can’t-” you just want to disappear, you know how you must sound and look but it’s out of your control.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that darlin’, I just wanna make sure you’re safe-”. But you’re not listening to what he’s saying to you, not really.

He wants to touch you again, hold you, make you feel safe. Protected. He wants you- no, needs you to know that it’s ok.

But he’s a stranger to you, so he resists the urge.

You walk away from him, unlock the door, open it forcefully and burst out of the bathroom, looking down. You don’t want to meet the eyes of the intruder outside the door. Any eye contact would make you feel vulnerable right now, exposed. With your head down you reach for your bag and jacket left on the stool you were sitting on, -what were you thinking, you could have been mugged- and you run to the exit door.

The man is right behind you, searching for you in the packed bar. You grab the handle, you open the door and you stand still for a moment turning your head to look at him one last time.

His eyes catch the door movement and his gaze locks with yours. His expression is sad and worried, not an ounce of anger or disapproval.

I don’t even know your name, you think with sadness.

He’s making a move to come after you but then you let yourself out of the bar. The stranger doesn’t have time but to whisper “I don’t even know your name..”

ONE WEEK LATER

You’re looking yourself in the mirror while you’re getting ready for dinner. Trish wants to introduce you to her cousins; although you and her are best friends, you never got to meet them. Maybe because you both lived out of Texas, before. She came back not so long ago, you followed to get your life back. Now that you’re living with her, she wants the four of you to hang out. She says they’re great guys. Joel and Tommy. Whatever.

You’re looking harder in the mirror now, searching for any sign to indicate what happened a few days ago at that god’s forsaken bar was real. A bruise, a bite, a redness, anything. But there’s nothing. Like he didn’t want to leave a trace. Like he was a figment of your imagination.

Half of you wants to forget about him, half of you is hanging on tight on every little detail you can recall of that night.

Of him.

His deep voice, the warmth of his eyes, his smart smile, the way he put your body on fire with minimum touch. You wish he would have fucked you hard and fast against the sink, before you had time to overthink, before you became a coward, to leave you with something more to remember him by.

You still feel the burn between your legs every time you think about him. And as many times as you tried to extinguish this fire inside you, with your fingers, or your pillow, or your vibrator, it just. Isn’t. Enough.

Just- get him out of your head, you force your mind. You don’t even know his name. You spilled your guts to him, almost fucked him and you don’t even got his name. Who does that?

Well, he didn’t get your name either, but obviously that was not the same. He looked like he knew what he was doing and if he does it that often, at the end of the day what does another name matter?

Joel is grabbing his wallet and cellphone off the console next to the door yelling to Tommy and Sarah, “Guys, you’re coming yet? We’re gonna be late, Trish is gonna be all over us, come on.”

Tommy and Sarah pause the movie they’re watching with an audible groan and emerge from the living room, putting their shoes on. “What is tonight about, again?” Tommy asks in boredom.

“Uh, not really sure, we’re gonna have dinner together and some lady friend of Trish is gonna be there, I think she’s letting her stay with her for a while.” Joel mutters.

“Oh, a lady friend,” Tommy insists, winking his eye to Sarah and she rolls her eyes to him. “Is she hot or what?”.

Joel glares at Tommy “Don’t know, don’t care Tommy, I think she’s got kids or something. Take the toolbox to the truck to fix the bathroom cabinet since we’re going.”

Tommy looks disappointed “Damn, not my cup of tea, then.”

“You and me both.” Joel sighs through his teeth. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

You hear the doorbell ring and you check on the girls before you make your way downstairs. They’re asleep on their beds. You can finally relax. You hear Trish calling you, “Hey, babe, they’re here!” As you go down the stairs you see a handsome man with dark curls entering the hallway along with a young woman in her twenties.

“Heeeey, you’re here!!” Trish sounds so exited. “Hey cousin, it’s been a while!” Tommy responds, hugging her with one arm around her waist. Sarah takes her turn hugging her aunt in silence and with a warm smile.

Then the three of them turn to the sound of your feet on the stairs. “And that’s my friend I was telling you about!” Trish introduces you by name and you approach Tommy and Sarah to handshake them.

When you look at Tommy’s face from a closer distance he seems familiar to you in a strange way, but you don’t give it any more thought. He looks like someone who likes what he sees, judging by the flirty smile he gives you. “Hi, darlin’, nice to meet you!”, is his first response to you. You smile politely “ You, too!”

You turn your attention to the young lady then, Tommy’s eyes still linger a little too long for your liking. Not because he’s not easy on the eyes, far from it. You’re simply not ready for that. And you proved that to yourself last week. You let the most handsome stranger you’ve ever met, slip through your fingers. You didn’t even got his name.

Idiot.

Jesus Christ, not now, let him go, focus. “Hello Sarah, I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to put a face to the stories!”.

Sarah laughs, glaring at Trish “I bet the stories are really funny! I only hope my aunt exposed herself, too, in the process!”

You give Sarah a one-sided smirk, looking at her conspiratorially, “Well, you know Trish, she’s never holding back!”, you all laugh vividly.

You already feel more relaxed, Tommy and Sarah seem so nice, easy going, it will be great to make new friends. Trish was right for wanting you to meet them so soon after you arrived here.

It brings an air of normalcy, it feels like, although slowly and fucking painfully, your life takes an actual.. shape. You’re here. You exist. You are being seen as a living human being. You are talked to, admired, cared for, building a circle of people in your life, each one with their own place and role in your heart. And that means you’re trying. You’re not giving up, you’re moving forward, for you, for your children most importantly. These thoughts create a warmth inside you, a sense of hope that everything’s going to be ok.

And then it happens.

His voice is the first thing you register as he makes his presence known. “Goddamnit Tommy, I asked you for one thing before we leave the house. One.”, he addresses his brother from a distance. “Of course I have to remember everything myself.”, he mutters to himself, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The hair on the back of your neck is rising. You could recognize his voice among thousands. But that couldn’t be right. It can’t be. There is no way the voice will match the face. So, you turn your head to the entrance.

First, you see his boots going up the stairs of the porch, next your eyes land on his lower and then upper body, fit thighs, covered in dark jeans, thin waist hugged by a black belt, broad torso clothed in a black t-shirt and a green flannel. You don’t consciously recognize what -or who- you see yet, but your heartbeat spikes and your breathing becomes quicker.

You look further up, his head is tilted down, he’s trying to put his car keys in his front jean pocket, the salt and pepper curls looking oddly familiar.

And then he raises his head.

It’s instant.

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catches on your throat, your mouth goes dry, you stomach clenches, your body feels on fire. Even your fingertips feel numb. Your mind floods you with memories of him.

His scent, his touch, the need he awakened inside you. His gaze locks with yours, like that night, stopping him in his tracks, right before the entrance of the house, both of you unable to look anywhere else. He keeps staring at your face, fearing that if he so much as roams his eyes to the rest of you, you’ll disappear.

You can’t quite read his expression, he looks- well he looks hot- but apart from that, he seems surprised, disturbed, almost.. pained?

Somewhere from behind you, you hear “Uuuuh, and this sunshine, is my brother, Joel.”

Joel.

| next

328 notes · View notes

dairy-farmer · 8 months ago

Note

I call this the Highlander Au! >:Dc There can Be Only One! (Unless he REALLY enjoys the process and the world stops going to shit for like... FIVE god damned minutes!) (The second is sadly unlikely)

Tim? Fully Cis gendered male. Not terribly ATTACHED to this, physically, but certainly identifies as Male and has a male body.

Maybe it's been all the near misses. The "all my friends fuckin DIED on my and I mentally spiraled like you wouldn't believe". Could be him finally reclaiming his life. Or yet another horrible mental spiral. Who knows!

But he's decided.

He wants to be a Dad. *sound of various Bats choking and/or dropping things*

Is even seeing anybody? Nope. How the FUCK is he gonna get a baby?! Oh, normal, Bat Paranoid fashion. Cloning tube. Same way Damian happened. He just needs to figure out the maternal DNA and he's golden. Figure out where to hide his tech to stop Villainous Baby Snatching Plots.

Because that's a very real concern.

No you can't talk him out of this. Timmy want himself a baby. Is already designing a nursery and studying child development books. Parenting manuals, getting those little animal onsies, lazer death grids to ward of Ra's ninjas. The works.

Bruce is off to the side, quietly having an aneurysm and choking to death on his own spit. Baby boy? Fatherhood? OFFSPRING!? Alone and not going to LET HIM HELP!? But why would he help!? Bad idea! But. But he needs to BE THERE to TAKE CARE of TIM and the future BABY! Aaaaaaaaa-!!!!!

It's a... "Fun" time. Dick is nearing a nervous breakdown. Bruce not far behind. Damians having Feelings(tm).

Then! At a Wayne Charity Event(tm)? Small glowing child. Looks alien. Is getting upset. People backing away IN A HURRY because they just watched this child WARP REALITY to turn the nearest table into candy.

Tim is there as the face of the family. A hero. Already feeling generally Paternal. Upset baby is Bad. So he goes in, dispite clear protests. Gets low and talks soothing.

But the alien Wants Her MOMMY!

And? Oh. Well there goes the protective amulets JLA Dark made for him. Now he's in an alien dress and? Very much no longer Cis. Guess he would have and DID inherent from his dad's side of the family, no boobs. Tiny. At least he got his mom's killer legs.

And the kiddo isn't scared any more. Since he "looks like mommy".

Except not even remotely, because she warps into being an HOUR later, looking for her daughter and is made of pure light. Thanks him. Doesn't FIX anything. And just leaves. Gee, thanks lady.

There were REPORTERS there. Tim Drake has tits now. Front page news. Great. Ra's is GOING to know and get WEIRD about it.

Tim shrugs. Off to Leslie we go, though. Check up time!

Yep. Full lady bits action. And, hey! Shiny new spleen! So that's nice.

It DOES change his plan though. He didn't, you know, collect any "samples" yet. But? Does... does he NEED too? He COULD concoct a story of "rich person hires mystic to get penis back" after going and getting magiced back.... OR?

He could have someone put a baby in him! *simultaneous Bat Choking Noises*

MUCH easier to defend. THEN he could be changed back, after the baby is weaned. The problem is who to trust? Ra's is ABSOLUTELY going to do everything in his power to get his seed inside Tim new puss. So a seed bank is out. And-

*hands slam on the table*

Obviously! We can't trust anyone outside this house! Villian plots and Ra's specifically! Bat paranoia! W-we will just have to make this sacrifice for you!

.....Weirdly intense, but okay.

Objection! Says Tim's newly no longer Dead team mates. Tim tried to CLONE Kon! OBVIOUSLY it should be Kon! And Bart! Bro Threesome! Let nature decide! (Then kid number 2 is the other Bro, is only FAIR)

ALSO a good point. He did have that promise, if one of them ever got turned into a girl. And a Kon baby WOULD be nice...

Shit! Grayson pulls "last of my legacy and I have so much to make up for" cards!

Is betrayed by his OWN FATHER (Bruce! How COULD YOU!?) Who plays "you saved me from the time steam and nearly died for me, let me help(emotional)" to devastating effect!

Cheating! Howls the Speedster! You're CHEATING!!!

And Tim stands there... kinda confused but finding he's actually Really In To This as people argue over how much THEY want to be the one to put a baby in him? He's never felt this badly WANTED. Desired.

He may not want to go through the whole "actually carrying a baby for 9 months then pushing one out" thing more then once.... but the fighting over him thing? This might be awaking something.

And, well, Kon already made a good point. Why try to control it? Let nature decide~

Everyone can help.

The argument stops dead. For all of the seconds before "who goes first?" Occurs to everyone.

Sadly for THEM, Bruce is a bastard willing to play dirty to get what he wants. And his house his rules. He goes first. After all, he no doubt smirks, none of THEM have the... experience, to handle a virgin properly.

He refuses to allow Tim hurt on his watch.

Got it? Good talk. Tim, with him.

Which is what leads to Tim clawing at the bed and begging like his life depends on it, soaked in sweat, hours later. As Bruce STILL gently, teasingly, RUTHLESSLY eats him out. Puddles worth of lube ruining the sheets and easing his way, as he works calloused fingers DEEP to find spots Tim didn't know he had yet. As they rub and tease and fuck against those spots so relentlessly it feels like Tim's coming apart.

He didn't even know he could MAKE half these noises.

His hole is so wet and sloppy, it's like it's given up. Like his body can do nothing but quiver and twitch under Bruce's hands. Given how big he is? Probably the point. Because he crawls up to loom over Tim like a giant. Presses kisses to his whimpering, sweaty face. And rocks into his exhausted body, filling every inch of him.

It doesn't even hurt. Something that big probably SHOULD for his first time, but Bruce isn't a legendary playboy for nothing. And it just fills and Fills and FILLS. Rubs against everything in a way that makes his toes curl. Makes him want to gasp and cling, even though he's so exhausted.

Bruce just shooshes him. Pulls him close. He won't have to do a thing. He can just cling to Bruce and feel good. Bruce is here. He's got you.

And it's the best thing Tim's ever felt. Forget masturbation, sex is AMAZING. Bruce rocking then thrusting then pounding into his body. Holding tight like something precious. Hammering his good spots still he sees stars. Til he's nearly sobbing, hiccuping, from how good it feels to have his insides all messed up.

Bruce fills him up. All gooey and warm. Picks him up and carries him to a clean bed to get wiped down and tucked in. Cleans up then joins him. Fills him back up and tucks him close. He feels boneless and precious. Sleeps like the dead.

Discovers sex with a puss is AWESOME.

Next morning, he's barely out of Bruce's room before Dick is scooping him up and dragging him into his room. Almost franticly bending him in half as he presses him to the bed, kissing the air out of him. Holding his face as he whispers filthy praise into his lips. Hips relentless as they slam home, pounding at just the right angle.

Like he's trying to make for YEARS of mistakes by pouring it all into pleasure NOW. Clinging tight and trying to fry Tim's brain with how good he can make him feel. Dick buries his faces against Tim's neck and rutts like he's making up for lost time. Fucking Tim through orgasms, spilling again and again, like he's determined to drain his balls dry and wring every last bit of pleasure he CAN out of Tim's exhausted body.

Tim has to threaten to hit him with an alarm clock to let him up. Tim wants LUNCH damn it. They missed breakfast. By a LOT.

But then work calls. Damn it. So he has to get dressed. Double damn it. And he does it, but refuses to be pleased about it. Resolves things. Even gets ahead on work. Only for DAMIAN to walk stiffly into his office. Sus.

The gremlin hands him a frankly VERY well put together report on why he, Damian AL Ghul... should be allowed to fuck a baby into Tim. He has brought along a slide show and genealogical report.

.......Explain.

Damian does. He REALIZED some things about himself. When Tim was discussing becoming a Father. Using the same method as he, himself, was created. Went through a whole "go to the Kent farm and have a life change adventure" character growth arc, as you do. And? Now realizing that he potentially COULD be DIRECTLY involved in the Hypothetical Child's life instead of as an uncle?

He wants in. They could be glorious, combined. AND he firmly believes Tim will be a magnificent Mother. Let him Father your child.

It's a bad idea. Tim knows this. He literally JUST slept with Bruce yesterday and nothing good comes from sleeping with AL Ghul's. They Obsess. But? Fuck it. Maybe THIS is the thing that finally stops the Tim-Gremlin cold war and bring peace to house Wayne once and for all. He unbuckles his belt. Walks over to his resting room.

And Tim KNOWS, even as he's being urgently fucked into the fold out bed, that this is an AWFUL idea. No way in HELL, from the desperate and sloppy thrusts, clinging, panting and whines, is this NOT Damian's first time. He's utterly undone.

Pounding load after load into Tim because it feels too good to stop. All enthusiasm and no skill. Half the pleasure Tim's even GETTING is his own hand, relentlessly teasing his own clit. But? Oh. The feeling of being wanted so BADLY. Of cum, gushing and gushing into him. Knowing it's HIS hole that's so good, it's driving Damian incoherent.

He feels... sexy. It DEFINITELY does something for him. He may not be able to go back. Could see himself enjoying being a milf.

But of course. Business hours end. And he PROMISED! Is swept up by Bart for their threesome. Which, after several rounds and untold loads of near-no-refractary-period speedster cum dumped inside him? Is kinda spotty, in his memory.

All he knows for certain is he wakes up to his sheepish best friends, "Sorry we fucked you unconscious repeatedly" bribes, no voice, and a warm bath. He's also plugged up and FULL full of that premium speedster/half-kryptonian blend cum, because apparently his friend intend to WIN and nothing says victory like overwhelming odds. He'd call them fuckers, but they ARE and hold no remorse. He can't move.

Carry him you bastards.

When he asks where Cassie is, he learns she's apparently trying to harrass the magic users into a making her a temporary "turn me into a dude" amulet. Both as a gift AND so she can join the race for Father Of Tim's Baby. Huh. Interesting new options.

Obviously, throughout ALL of this, ninjas. Because Ra's has never wanted to smash so hard in his LIFE.

Instead, Tim is out here, on Jason's shitty couch. Getting lifted up and slammed down onto his cock. Called baby girl. Princess. Jason's never been harder. Already planning their kids graduation dinner and baby number three.

Tim feeling precious and taken care of and DESIRED. Like the young adult with a first shitty apartment he never got to be. Something so close to normal. Put a baby in him. Fuck him like you love him, like they do this every Saturday night, then eat pizza and watch trash TV. Fill him up.

And if course~ it's a VICIOUS game of Fuck The Tim keep away, up until one day he starts to show. Then Everyone is loving and coddling and in a "No I Am The Father" cold war. The birth is a nightmare, because Tim is slender and more scar tissue then not. But?

Adorable quarter-Kryptonian! With the biggest blue eyes and Tim's porcelain doll face.

Tim is NOT doing that again. Ffffffuck giving birth. And being pregnant! Granted, the EARLY part? He loved. He glowed. Getting pregnant was AWESOME. But later stages? God awful. Clone tube babies from here on out.

Absolute Devastation in the Tom Fucking Community. Babe no! You can't MEAN IT!

Woah, hey! He never said he'd STOP. "Getting Pregnant" is very, VERY enjoyable. He's just refusing to carry SHIT. Birth control for HIM. Scooping that slurry of "leave it up to Nature" out and storing it. Now... Kon stop being smug and hold your son.

-🐼🐼🐼

😭😭😭 tim getting everyone to come to dinner and they all think it was alfred and are like 'this was a great idea alfred! we should all get together like this more often' only for tim to cough and say well actually i called you all here, i figured you all deserved a heads up since i'm going to be undergoing some serious life changes. everyone's confused and then tim says he's going to have a baby.

immediate panic and some disappointment from bruce because he thinks this is a teen pregnancy and he expected better from tim only for tim to have to yell to interrupt everyone and say there is no 'girl', not yet anyway. he's just announcing that he's GOING to have a baby. they're not yet conceived and now the family is dealing with whiplash of how of course TIM would do something like this now they're sitting their listening to him talk about the ideal gene pool given tim's family has a history of mental issues and he's going into some very detailed things like nurseries and everyone just wants him to slow down because tim is still a kid!!! dick is older than him and even HE doesn't feel ready. so everyone is trying to talk tim out of it while tim insists he's ready, he's been going to a therapist for 11 months trying to deal with his issues so he COULD be ready to be a parent.

which of course baffles them even more because???? dick has been trying to get them all into therapist for years and tim just???? went??? on his own????

bruce is of course the least welcoming of tim's ideas of teen parenthood. because what about highschool, college? at least ONE of his kids has to go to college!

tim however says no, says his GED is more than enough.

bruce tries finding other angles, asking what if he just sets tim up with babysitting gigs? make him see kids aren't that great and tim just huffs and said he already did a bunch of babysitting and volunteering at the children's centers in gotham as part of his adoption application!

which ???? just stressed bruce out even more?! because tim had tried to adopt a baby first? but apparently got rejected because of his age, lack of partner, and lack of job which tim loudly says is unfair because bruce was in his 20s when he took in dick and HE hadn't had a partner or a job!

so the family is protesting, despertly trying to get tim to change his mind,,, then tim gets a womb and suddenly the protests die down VERY quick.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

64 notes · View notes

starogeorgina · 2 years ago

Text

Violent delights

Warnings: blood, swearing

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x oc

Notes: Jacaerys is older in this fic than he is in the show/book

1.02

Sensing danger Viserion dips down, trying to get you to safety on Dragonstone quickly, but your uncle was relentless, and Vhagar was getting closer and closer to you. Please gods. You didn’t care about the blood dripping down your legs or the horrible cramping in your lower abdomen. All you cared about was getting your daughter somewhere safe. But it seems the gods were listening to your silent prayers; tears of relief slipped down your cheeks as a second shadow flew over you.

Caraxes.

With your stepfather looming over you both, Aemond orders Vhagar to turn back instead of confronting Daemon and his dragon head-on.

The next few moments pass in a blur as Viserion flies down to the beach below. By the time he lands on the damp sand, Daemon is already waiting for you. Most people would be too afraid to come so close to a dragon, but Viserion wasn’t different from the rest. The majority of Viserion's scales are light pink; his horns, wing bones, and spinal crest are silver. His coloring and placid nature gave him the nickname gentle giant.

Your legs give way as you climb down, but Daemon catches you before you fall to the ground. Once you are steady, he gives you a horrifying look as he notices the newborn strapped to your chest. “Please take her,” you beg. “Take her to my mother.”

He takes the baby from your chest and hands her to one of the guards, who held her as if she were glass. In one swift movement, Daemon lifted you up, wrapping one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees. Fury flickers behind his eyes as the prince keeps his tone neutral to not worry you further. “Dearest girl, We should never have let you marry that drunken—”

“Her name is Aemma.”

“Save your strength—”

Seeing the blood trail you left behind you, you interrupted him again, scared you were running out of time. “The greens will come for her. I disobeyed the queen, and they will want me to pay for that.”

—

The first thing you see when your eyes flutter open is your mother. Delicately, she brushes hair out of your face, “my sweet girl. You had us worried.”

Like a child, you cling to her side, “mother.”

You had been in and out of consciousness while your stepfather carried you inside. He called for the maesters immediately, and upon inspection they discovered you had a birthing tear, which required stitches. The maesters shared their concerns that you’d not been treated properly within the keep; they couldn’t understand why you didn’t receive medical care after giving birth, and they also pointed out how thin you were for someone who has just delivered twins.

Your mother comforts you as you finally let out all your built-up emotions. Thinking of Rhaegar made you miserable; you missed the son you never met to the point it caused you physical pain. When you finally stopped crying, you explained everything that had happened, and I could have sworn I saw flickers of red behind her eyes. “I can never thank Prince Daemon enough for coming when I needed him most. I can’t imagine what would have happened if Vhagar—”

“Lyarra, my love, please don’t think of such things; it will only cause you distress. Arrangements are being made so that the greens will have no excuses to step foot on Dragonstone.”

You nod, glad to hear that they won’t ever come near your daughter. You suddenly sit upright when you realize that your baby is nowhere in sight. “Aemma! Where is she?”

“Aemma is asleep,” your mother smiles at you. “I’m so proud of you, my darling. My perfect grandchild is currently asleep in the cot I have set up for your future sibling. I didn’t know what sleeping arrangements you would want to have.”

“I want her in here with me.”

You watch as your mother rubs her swollen stomach, the velvety fabric of her dress clinging to her bump. She always looked so elegant and beautiful while pregnant, unlike you, who looked a day away from death.

“I will have that organized," she squeezes your hand. “Joffrey is desperate to see you; he’s missed you deeply. Jace and Luke are out dragon riding; when they return, I will let them know you are back and tell them what has happened. For now, I need you to rest; I will watch over Aemma until the morrow.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me; you are my child.”

Your mother stays with you until you fall into a deep slumber. You were truly thankful that she was kind hearted, and you hoped to be as good a mother as she is.

—

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against the back of the tub. For the first time in many moons, you felt a slither of your old self coming back. When you woke up in the morning, your new handmaiden Clara had prepared a bath for you, brought you fresh clothes, a mixture of fruits, and jugs of water.

Due to your tenderness, Clara helped you into the bath, and once she did, you dismissed her. insisting that you’d be fine on your own.

Just as you feel the built-up tension in your body realizing this, the smell of lavender oil reaches your nose and the doors to your chambers are swung open.

“Lyarra!”

“Sister!”

Your body flushes with embarrassment as your three brothers sprint into the room, eager to see you. “Gods!” You struggle to cover your bare chest, wrapping one arm around your top half and the other below. “This is why people knock!”

Lucerys quickly covers his and Joffrey’s eyes while turning to face the other way. Jacaerys averts his eyes while handing you a towel to cover yourself with. You let out a grumbled thank you. If you weren’t mortified, it would have been comical to see them all blush with embarrassment.

“Mother told us we had to wait until morning to see you,” Luke huffs.

“I’m very glad to see you all, but get out so I can get changed.”

When your brothers were completely out of sight, you stood, letting out a loud whine as you did. Hearing footsteps, you grab the towel, which is now soaking from being dropped in the water, to cover yourself. “Jace, what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer you. Jace’s eyes were glued to the ground as he grabbed a blanket from your bed and walked over to you. Without giving you a chance to protest, he wraps the blanket around you to keep you dignified before lifting you out of the bath. Despite how humiliating it was to need assistance from your brother, you felt so safe in his arms; they were so comforting. “You shouldn’t have dismissed your handmaiden. You would have been stuck in the bath until the water turned freezing cold.”

You roll your eyes. Jacaerys, being your only older brother, was often protective of you. “How did you know I dismissed her?”

“Lucky guess. I have sent Luke to ask her to come back.”

“I would have asked for help if I needed it, just not from my brother,” you pout.

When your feet touch the cold floor, you look up at Jace, who is trying to stop himself from smiling. “Forgive me, it is not funny... I've just missed your moodiness,” he teases. “I’m glad you decided to come back home.”

“I’m glad to be back.”

—

After having your hair braided and changing into a light purple gown, you immediately went to see Aemma.

“My precious girl,” you hum before kissing her on the cheek. Smiling, you walk through the hallways towards your mother's chambers. “You will love growing up here; I know I did.”

You look over your shoulder to see Jacaerys exiting his own room; his face lights up when he claps eyes on Aemma for the first time. He opens his door again, saying, “Come, I have something I want to show you.”

Curious, you follow, “What is it you’d like to show us?”

He leads you to the fireplace and points at the red and gold dragon egg sitting on top of it. Unlike your brothers, your egg never hatched in the cradle, and you spent many years heartbroken until you bonded with Viserion. Gently you run your fingers along its hardened scales, “I can’t believe you kept it.”

“You used to take it with you everywhere,” he smiles. “After you left for King's Landing, I snuck into the dragon pit and retrieved it. I know Luke chose eggs for you, but since you couldn’t bring them, I thought Aemma could have that one.”

Since there is no time frame on a dragon hatching, it was possible the dragon inside could bond with your daughter. “Thank you,” you kiss Jace on the cheek. “I will put it in the cradle with her tonight.”

He strokes the top of Aemma’s head, but hesitation fills up behind his eyes. “Did mother send for you?”

“She did, and I’m guessing it’s something important.”

“We should…” he trails off, watching as Aemma’s eyes slowly close.

“Do you want to hold her?”

Jace looks petrified as you place the newborn in his arms. After shifting positions a few times, he relaxes a little and says, “We should go before Mother sends a search party.”

—

Once you were seated around a small table, you noticed how worried your mother looked. Your attention was drawn from her when Daemon tossed a letter into the fireplace. He chuckles, “Lyarra, did you say, ‘next time you attempt to put your fucking hands on me, I’ll feed you to Viserion’ to Ser Criston?”

“Yes.”

Daemon laughs as your mother rubs her forehead and says, “This isn’t a joking matter. What did he do to you?”

“He tried to grab my shoulder to stop me from leaving and told me I’d need to ask for the queen's forgiveness when I returned.”

The laughter abruptly stops, with Daemon’s tone becoming a lot more serious than before. “One of the knights who is under my command witnessed you leaving and Aemond leaving mere moments later on Vhagar. They don’t believe he was advised to do it.”

Jace clenches his jaw, and holding Aemma seems to be the only thing keeping him calm.

You frowned; this meant Aemond had taken it upon himself to chase you through the sky. “Is that what the letter you burned said?”

“No, that was from that cunt Otto Hightower,” he hisses. “The queen requests your return so you can discuss the terms of your annulment.”

“Annulment?” When your mother said arrangements were being made, you never imagined the faith or the Queen would allow your marriage to Aegon to end. You push back the lump forming in your throat and ask, “When do I need to go?”

Your mother caresses the back of your hand and says, “Alicent has requested you meet with her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow! Do I need to go?”

“I’m afraid so, sweet girl, but you won’t be alone. Daemon is going with you.”

Seeing the pained expression on your mother's face, there was no getting around this: you need to meet with Alicent one last time before she hopefully agrees to end your torment. Your mind goes to your poor dragon, whose straps and saddle you have yet to have removed or checked for any new damage since leaving in such a rush.

“Okay, I will make sure Viserion is ready to fly by morning.”

Daemon looks deep in thought as he clicks his tongue. “Given what happened, it would be much safer for Jacaerys to fly you on Vermax.”

Your mother lets out a deep sigh; she didn’t seem impressed by the idea but said nothing. You were sure the presence of Caraxes would allow you to fly safely on your own, but Daemon always has his own reasons for doing things; you just hoped Jacaerys wouldn’t mind.

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon/you #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #violent delights #Jacaerys Velaryon #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #Jacaerys Velaryon x oc #Jacaerys Velaryon x fem oc #Jacaerys Velaryon/oc #jace velaryon fanfic #Jace Velaryon x oc #jace velaryon fanfiction

335 notes · View notes

thetorturedbuckydepartment · 4 months ago

Text

bonus - chapter eleven: he better lock it down*

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER TEN: I DON'T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND

warnings: smut(18+ PLEASE: thigh riding, one orgasm, dry humping, softdom!Bucky, praise(good girl), just soft smut tbh), feelings

word count: 3.5k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella @lalalalokii

A/N: my first time publishing smut I wrote lol...hope it's not too bad?? idk I've never had an orgasm bc im sexually dysfunctional (yay hormones!) so im sorry if its wrong? my source is literally other smut fics! hope u enjoy the bonus chapter!! so excited for you guys to read

“Buck, I’m being serious, get closer.” You’re already shivering in bed, and Bucky just won’t budge the way you need him to. He’s helped you put on fuzzy socks, got out the extra thick duvet and has stuck to you like a second skin, and you’re still freezing.

“Doll, I can’t physically do that.” At this point, the sun’s begun to rise, the both of you still wide awake after catching approximately one hour of sleep, and you feel like you’re beginning to annoy Bucky. He kisses your hair lovingly, chuckling at how cold you are, even when you’re tightly pressed with your back to his chest. You just grumble, the past few days leaving you overly exhausted, and the subzero temperature truly isn’t helping. You’d think, having lived all your life in England you’d get used to it.

But you fear there’s no force on Earth that could’ve prepared you for the New York cold.

“I have one idea. Do you trust me, doll? I promise, I won’t do anything you don’t want.” You grab his forearm with your free hand, the other encased in his metal one, your head resting against its bicep. The near silent whirs are extremely calming, and you find yourself wishing and praying that all of your responsibilities disappear, just so you can lay here with him.

“Of course, Buck. Go ahead.”

“Can I touch you?” His voice is a near whisper, a brand new edge to it that you had been teased with a few hours ago, when his thumb has pressed against your teeth as he commanded you to moan for him.

“Yes.” After a moment’s pause, your voice comes out more breathy than expected, your heart already racing. He misinterprets it.

“Hey, don’t worry doll. It’s just me.” He rubs at your hip, kissing the shell of your ear.

“I know. I…please, Buck. Touch me. Make me feel warm.” You feel your eyes close at he gently traces his hand down your thigh and grabbing the inside of it, almost missing the way he groans at the touch of your soft skin. You’re wearing nothing but his oversized T-shirt he all but begged you to wear, along with your panties, and dear God he’s been trying his best to act like it’s not driving him crazy for the past couple of hours. His fingers are so warm, your entire body shivers at the change in temperature.

“Spread your legs for me, pretty baby. That’s it, good girl.” You can’t stop the whine that slips past your lips as you comply. You don’t know how you’ve gotten here, but in this state of mind you would do anything he asks, anything at all.

He slips his thigh between the both of your legs, pressing it against right where they meet, and you suppose that’s the benefit of being a super soldier. Bucky’s body is like a warm furnace that is now attached to more of you than ever before, and you let out a sigh of relief and let your body fully relax against the mattress.

“That feel better, pretty girl?” God, his voice is so sexy, you could listen to it for hours and hours on end.

“Uh huh. Much. Thanks, Buck. I’m so sorry I kept you up so late, I’m sure you must have so much work to do and I just wasted all of your precious sleeping time.” You pout, even though he can’t see you.

He kisses the back of your neck again. “Not a single moment with you is wasted, doll. Plus I have the day off. I have this really sexy nurse taking care of me, right now. And she’s advised me to take a break today because of all of my injuries.”

“Mm, I think she also has a holiday. The last few shifts have been…rough, to say the least.”

It’s quiet for a while, and so you let your eyes close, finally ready to give in to the temptress of sleep, whispering so sweetly against your eyelids to just give in.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is hard, unsteady. Heavy with the burden of guilt.

“Hey, what are you apologising for? It’s not your fault I was whisked away on a mission and then had to work a double shift the second I came back because Denise suddenly got food poisoning. Unless…you didn’t feed her that chicken did you?”

“Oh, God no. I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot barge pole with the way she’s treated you.”

The both of you giggle at that, eyes still closed. You shuffle, ever so slightly to try and get more comfy against your personal radiator, and subconsciously grind your hips down. The friction is just right, and it makes you gasp. “S—Sorry, I’m just trying to—.”

“Do it again.” His voice is dark in a way that has your mouth parting, and your hips comply for you, before you can even think of a single word to move past your lips. You turn to bury your face in his arm, to stifle any noise you might make as you give in. Eager to please, eager to be pleased.

He shudders, hand on your hip gripping tightly, almost making sure to leave a pretty bruise behind, a mark he was ever here, with you like this.

“Don’t hide your face baby. Let me hear you, let me hear all those pretty noises you make.” You’re already panting, eyes fluttering closed at his rough voice and sweet praise.

“S—Sorry, I’m just a little shy, I think.” You don’t really know why you’re acting like this, so shy like you’ve never been touched. With a man who desires you as thoroughly as Bucky, it might as well be the case. You didn’t know that kissing him earlier tonight could feel like that, like the man is starved for your very soul. You didn’t know that even the slightest friction against where your legs meet could feel so delicious, leave you wide and aching for more.

Even in such little touch and exploration, Bucky has made you feel a million times better that any previous partner ever could. At this point, you’re convinced he’s fucking magical, especially when he kisses the shell of your ear so sweetly, hand drifting to trace across your stomach. Fear temporarily seizes you, at the thought of what he might think as he touches you, and learns every nook and cranny of your body, the one that has been shunned and tolerated a million times over, so deeply ingrained that you almost can’t believe the next words to leave his lips.

“Don’t apologise for anything, beautiful. God, you feel so good under my hands, do you have any idea how long I’ve fucking waited to have you like this?” He ends the question with a rasp, the passion in his voice overtaking any rational thought he might want to have. His hands are practically shaking from holding back from you, knowing he wants to do nothing more than to turn you around and watch you as you make yourself cum all over his sweatpants, and finally find out which fantasies of his are true.

“How long?” He guides your hips over his thigh yet again, and this time, your ass brushes up against something hard, and you can’t conceal the moan that tumbles out of your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut at the proof. That he wants this, that what he’s saying is true.

“Since the very first moment I saw you, balancing for dear life on that damn ladder.” He’s trying his best to control his own breath, but the sounds your making are just so beautiful, that he can barely contain himself. He’s heard these sounds before, through a paper thin wall and with heightened senses like a downright pervert, but to know that you trust him enough to lay with him, like this, and make those sounds right in front of him? He’s definitely losing his mind. Maybe he died on that last mission, maybe the Hydromanias had gotten to him and he’s dead. And somehow, somewhere, someone has granted him passage to heaven. His bed, with you.

He can’t bear it, he needs to look into your pretty eyes, to see your pupils dilate as you notice the lovestruck look on his face, to taste your moans and your lips just seconds after you’ve cum all over him. “Really?” Leaves you in a breath, as he turns the both of you around in a flash, so you’re facing him with his leg still pressed up against you.

“Yes. Why do you think I cooked you an entire meal to make sure you’d like me? If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t give a single shit.” Your hand reaches out, caressing his cheek as you stare into his eyes and wondering if another colour even exists aside from lust-hazed, love-tinged cobalt. There is no hesitation to his words, and you can’t help yourself. You shuffle in closer, your entire upper body pressed against his, and you kiss him. Softly, sweetly, like one would enjoy ice-cream on a scorching summer’s day.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve had a crush on you the second you didn’t let me fall off of it and break my arm.” You whisper against his lips and he closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of you.

“It does. You have no idea.” He kisses you again, this time it’s more passionate. You wind your fingers into his hair, softly scratching the nape of it as he moans shamelessly into your mouth, spurring you on. Maybe you don’t have to be shy.

“Take what you want from me. Please doll, I can’t take it any more. Fuck, please.” He moans against your lips and your lower body moves again, grinding against his thigh. How can you deny him when he begs so prettily? When he’s so clearly desperate for a taste, a touch of you? He pulls you in closer, cementing your chests together as he helps guide you.

It doesn’t take more than a minute for you to struggle to kiss him back, mouth hanging open as you let out a litany of sounds he wants nothing more than to absorb, for it to be the only song he ever hears for the rest of your life.

“Bucky…” When his name slips past your lips, he groans.

“Look at me, gorgeous.” He asks you to open your eyes, and you comply, grinding your hips faster and faster as the pressure builds so perfectly against your clit.

Luckily, you and Bucky are the only two people to inhabit your floor, and so you forget to be quiet, using your voice so that he knows who it’s all for, who’s making you feel like this.

But it isn’t enough. As the hot pressure builds in your stomach and you feel yourself so close to the edge you want to cry, you just can’t do it. He mutters praises and kisses every part of you he can reach as you continue your salacious ministrations against his adored sweatpants. But still, you can’t cum, something keeps pulling you back the very second you find yourself on the precipice.

“Bucky…please help. Please make me cum, I can’t do it by myself. Please…” Your moans get louder and louder as he smirks, abandoning the bruises he was planning to leave on your neck.

“Yeah, pretty girl? Does my pretty baby need help to make her cum?” His grin has your eyes rolling in the back of your head, being tipped back at his very words. You nod, trying your best to speed up.

“My poor baby, so worked up…so needy…” He snakes a hand between the both of you, gently tracing your clit over your underwear. And you are so worked up in a frenzy, you’d do anything to feel his bare skin on yours, giving and taking whatever the fuck he needs. Whatever the fuck he wants.

“Yes, yeah, all for you Buck—Only for you.” He takes you in for a brief moment, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to your forehead, yet eyes feral with a lust for only him, in a way that makes him feel like the most perfect man in the entire world. And he doesn’t even know that’s exactly what he is to you, because you can’t push it past your bruised throat from his hungry teeth or swollen lips from the way he desires you.

And then he acts, pushing your panties to the side and finally giving you what you need, and you let out the loudest moan you’ve probably ever mustered in your entire life, as your back arches, pressing those perfect tits he’s dreamed about against his chest, his dog tags. His vibranium hand is so cold as he touches your frenzied heat, but you can’t ask him to switch, not when it feels so good. You begin to rut against his hand instead, coating it thoroughly with your arousal as he draws the most perfect circles on your clit. Your eyes gaze downward, eager to watch him as he gives you everything you’ve ever needed, eager to watch the way your thigh nudges against his erection.

“You want me to keep going, baby?”

“Yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop, it feels so good, James, please.” You’re too focused on the glimmering gold and black dancing between your legs in the moonlight to register what you’ve just called him.

“Fuck, say my name again, and look me in the eye this time, pretty girl.” You immediately obey, eyes flitting up to his as he rests his forehead against yours. “Your hand feels so fucking good, James. Much better than anything I’ve ever—oh.” He rubs even harder and faster, eliciting the most filthy sounds you’ve ever heard from your cunt, a wet squelching that brings heat to your cheeks. God, how does he do it?

You watch his pupils dilate, his breath quicken as he never slows, watching you give in to your desires, ones you’ve denied yourself of for the longest time, as he too can’t hold himself back from grinding against your thigh in turn, content with just the look on your face as you’re mere seconds away from coming undone. “That’s it, pretty baby. You look so beautiful riding my hand like this.” And that’s all it takes to send your hurtling over the edge, clamping down on his wrist and still never looking away from him as your orgasm washes over you, bathing you in the most pleasure you’ve ever experienced and leaving your entire body trembling with the aftershocks.

Maybe it’s the intimacy of having him care, of having him look into your eyes, entranced by the sight, by the person staring back at him. He swears he’s never seen anything prettier, never seen anyone look as beautiful as you do in this moment. When you come back to, he’ll tell you. For now, he’ll enjoy the way you seek more of his touch and squirm away from it at the same time as everything becomes too sensitive, but never breaking eye contact once.

That’s all it takes for him to cum as well, repeating your name over and over again like it’s his favourite prayer, his flesh hand coming up to caress your cheek gently, as it’s now your turn to watch him lose himself, staring at you like you’re the reason he can’t help but cum in his pants like a goddamn teenager. Your opal eyes are all he can think of, joining you to him in the most intimate way. He’s dreamed about this for so long, it almost doesn’t feel real.

When a dopey grin overtakes his features and his head slumps back against the pillow, you kiss him. Gently, sweetly, like you have all the time in the world.

“I liked that.” You don’t know what else to say, burying your face in his neck. He chuckles, tugging at your hair ever so gently, an attempt to get you to look at him.

Your eyes take him in, from his sweat-mussed hair to his parted and swollen lips. He looks ethereal. How is he not a figment of your imagination? You run your hand along the curve of his jaw, as he turns to press breathless kisses to your palm.

You must be dreaming.

“I liked it too, pretty girl. More than you know.” You’re staring at his mouth, unable to stop the question from flying past your lips as you swipe your thumb over his.

“What are we, now?” His eyes widen, unsure how you’ve managed to miss that you’re his everything and that he’d die for you. He’d kill for you.

“Whatever you want us to be, doll.” Your eyes drift back up to their familiar resting place and you offer him a gentle smile. His heart stops at the look in them, cumdrunk and lovestruck. It’s all he wants to see for the rest of his days, until they lower him into the ground.

Bucky suddenly finds himself wishing he were an artist, just so he could paint you exactly the way you look in the darkest before dawn, with hot cheeks and a beautiful smile, and the promise of light coming to illuminate your figure at any moment. He would paint you a million times over, from memory, in every single medium that exists as a way of wordlessly expressing his love for you. And then, he would scribble I LOVE YOU in large red letters on every blank inch of canvas, to really drive the point home. But alas, he can barely remember how to hold something that isn’t a weapon. But he knows how to hold you, soft and warm underneath his callous hands, and that’s a start.

“I must admit…I’m quite a traditional woman, James. I like being taken out on dates and being publicly acknowledged, and respected and desired. If I feel something for you, I want you to be my boyfriend. I want to be your girlfriend, even if it might sound silly to say at our big age. But I want exclusive and absolute. If…If you want something casual, it’s best that we nip this whole thing in the bud. I can’t deal with the emotional fallout of that again, you—.”

His mouth claims yours, and you relax into him, forgoing the muscles that temporarily tightened at the thought of him not feeling the same. Oh, how quickly he quells the torrid fears that wrench your soul apart.

“I want that too. Absolutes, exclusivity, you. I want you, above all else. I’d die to have you, I’d kill to have you. I want you either way, even if tomorrow you wake up and tell me you’d rather spit on my grave than spend another single second in my presence. I want you, doll. Only you. I want to be your boyfriend, I want to take you on the most cliche dates, and I want to kiss you in the rain. I want to make you laugh at all of my lame jokes all night, and most of all, I want you to know that through it all, I am absolutely enamoured by you. I wouldn’t have it, have you any other way.”

You kiss him again. And again and again, and you just can’t stop because his lips are so soft and his words are so sweet and his desires are so tangible, laid before you raw and awaiting. You hands find his wondrous hair again, pulling him closer to you, pulling him on top.

Not in a sexual way, but you need his weight on you. You need to feel him close, skin to skin, no barriers, in a way that transcends sex and spirituality and religion, praying to the ideation of his affections and worshipping at the altar of his lips. Finding the sacred temple in the small dips in his back, reciting the familiar hymns of love and lust and everything in between. The sun is rising, yes, but you are so entirely lost in the devotion of him, of his mouth and soul, that when the light hits, you don’t even break apart.

And the best part? He is searching right back, for the Holy Water laced in your fingers, washing him over in colours of purity and affection. You don’t know it, but he swears you’re God when you wrap your legs around his waist, an angel when you touch him and all of his scars without hesitancy or remorse. You are pulling him apart and stitching him back together, moulding him on top of you like you are Prometheus. He swears that you are ordained, sent to save him, to fill all of his cracks with molten gold and kiss it all better if it should ever burn.

He is passion, you are devotion.

He is on fire and you are the flames.

Nobody gets him like you.

Nobody gets you like him.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

BONUS PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #x plus size reader #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #k's writing corner

46 notes · View notes

best-enemies · 5 months ago

Text

Just watched S09E11 of CSI, 'The Grave Shift', after last night's 'One to Go'. I don't think I'll ever recover from Grissom, my favorite character, leaving the show, but his exit was still beautiful and so, so Grissom. Him just telling the team "Yeah so, I'm leaving" and having little moments with each of them, warmed my heart (the character that represented me the most was David, who had to bolt out of the room after Grissom said, "I'll miss you, though", barely managing to hold back the tears before leaving).

And oh my god. His reunion with Sara. They didn't even need words and it was absolutely perfect. Watching Grissom feel physical pain from his break up with Sara broke my heart -- you can see how much he loves her. I hate that they'll break up again; I don't remember how or why exactly, but it feels unnecessary, but I'm comforted by the fact that, ultimately, they'll end up together for the rest of their lives.

One of the things I love about this episode is how they all paid a little homage to Grissom and, near the end, Nick, who was offered Grissom's office, invited Greg and Riley to share it with him. Fits right in with Nick's sweet personality. I love how he says they need all the good energy from that place. He's really Grissom's n#1 pupil ♡

(Shout out to Hodges, one of my favorite characters from this rewatch, walking in and bringing the pig fetus saying it belongs there. I love how bitter he is after Grissom left and how he's not willing to get over it any time soon. Forget David, Hodges is the character that represented me the most, lol).

I need to say, my brain completely ignored the fact that, when Grissom offered Ray Langston a job as a CSI he said that it was an "entry-level job". Instead, I thought he'd get the job as the team leader and it was weird for me to see him being so inexperienced at a job. But all of that is because, one, I haven't rewatched CSI in ten years and forgot about like, 97% of the show and two, I have rewatched Hannibal way too many times and got used to Laurence Fishburne playing a boss, and a damn good one. I do like his character, though!

I'm not a fan of Riley though. I don't know why, she seems mostly competent at her job, fit right in, but at the same time it's not really like she fit in? I felt like maybe she could have had some adaptation into the team, after all she was replacing a long-time team member, Warrick (will talk about him later). Her introduction and adaptation into the team felt a bit sudden and "inorganic" and maybe that's why I don't love her sassy remarks and sort of 'cool girl' personality. Yeah I love Sara but I don't love Riley for the reasons listed above. That could change, though!

Warrick. Oh, man. For Gedda/For Warrick were the most painful episodes to watch and I stalled for months. Some of the team got to have a nice last moment with him, others didn't. It broke my heart how at peace he was in his last hours, hanging out with the work fam, feeling relieved for not losing his job, which was a huge part of his life. I do hate that it had to end like that for him. I get that his death represented the loss of innocence, and that that team wasn't going to last forever... but it's just really painful. To know that he didn't have anyone else, only his soon, which we don't know if he was able to see often...

Too many things happening at once, too many changes, and bumpy ones, but I hope we'll get into a smooth road once again.

#csi #as for my last paragraph: i know it doesn't really lol #warrick's death just didn't feel right for me you know. the whole treatment of warrick just made me feel uncomfortable #in other simple words he deserved better. yes he was a flawed character. but i wouldve liked to see him happy okay #i really didnt want grissom to leave like I KNOOOW he comes back but he's my comfort character #he's literally a teddy bear have you seen him. the beard. the grandpa outfits. his calming voice. his adorable fascination with insects #william petersen is in his 70s now which is good because i can ask him to adopt me as his grandchild #scratch that bad idea i have a crush on grissom it wouldnt work #btw i didnt mention it in the text but they got LAURENCE FISHBURNE. THE laurence fishburne. i'm excited to see more of his character #i don't see much of riley on tumblr is my dislike for her actually a popular opinion? i mean if im not wrong she'll remain for #about two more seasons #that's a whole regular character people cant have forgotten about her #wait i just looked her up on the wiki #if she's not a well-liked character or even liked.... i get why #lmao #team catherine is all i'm going to say #i guess that's it for now

8 notes · View notes

tabithatwo · 2 years ago

Note

Ella Purnell I'M IN YOUR WALLS..... I WANT THAT MOMENT WHERE SHAUNA GETS HER BACK TO BE IN THE FINALE PLEASE GOD. LET'S MANIFEST IT. YOU'RE SO RIGHT THEY ARE SETTING IT UP. THEY HAVE NOT JUST DROPPED THAT STORYLINE THANK FUCK I WAS SO WORRIED THERE FOR A SEC. JACKIE HAUNTING SHAUNA IS SO UNBELIEVABLY CRUCIAL IT CANNOT LITERALLY JUST DISAPPEAR IT WOULD MAKE NO NARRATIVE SENSE WHATSOEVER!!!! I need to calm down but I do think, even if I dislike the creative choice due to my Jackie Bias, that it does make sense for Shauna to temporarily lose the ability to hallucinate her after cannibalizing her and thus feeling the absence of her physical body. Jackie is inside her now but she can't see her so it's not as easy as projecting that false image of her being alive onto her corpse like she was before. Actually kind of excited to see what will allow Shauna to conjure her up again.... In my mind the Jackie we've seen thus far truly was a hallucination because she was so clearly vocalizing Shauna's subconscious desires BUT I desperately want them to actually communicate. I want Shauna to see Jackie and have a conversation with her and for it to genuinely feel like Jackie's ghost. Need Jackie to be tangible I miss my girl so bad. I know she's got shit to say LET HER SPEAK! I know you might not answer this ask but I'd love your thoughts !!!!

ELLA HAS BEEN TRYING SHE'S BEEN LIKE HEYYYYYYY YELLOWJACKETS LET ME OUT OF MY CAGE I WOULD LIKE TO PLAY JACKIE TAYLOR MORE which is why it is so frustrating to me like DAMN i am in the walls of the showtime execs who didn't wanna pay for her ass and/or showrunners who didn't wanna use her WHATEVER. my biggest fear is the lack of her presence (ella or not!) in 2021 HOWEVER i think that this show is very WILLING to do a thing i don't love but need to get on board with i guess, which is completely reshape the way the adults interact with things based on what we're seeing unfold in 96 (nobody come explain narrative storytelling to me PLEASE i beg you, i've learned to give so many disclaimers that i Understand Things now cause BOY do people want to educate you, i understand pulling focus to a theme i pinky promise!!! i just think that, partly because of all the other characters and storylines they crammed into 21, they shift to a degree that Lacks The Level Of Character Continuity That I Desire, okay it is a personal PREFERENCE, if you don't care about that i am SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!!!!!) sorry anon, for the obligatory pls know i understand things aside. NOW 96 jackie. yes yes yes agree!! meat shed jackie that we've had was hallucination, with near 100% certainty. i think that if they're planning on delivering on all the threads they start to unravel in this show (which doesn't always happen in any show so i am cautious in my optimism) they have got to do something with 1x10. the cabin guy presence in the dream realm is really a firm suggestion that there are ghosts happening. laura lee can be written off as a dream they would have, but he is NOT. now i DO think they're putting way too much effort into this dream realm to NOT have it be developed or mean something, and i think that the separation between everyone else in jackie's death dream and cabin guy and laura lee coming in and welcoming her is pretty concrete. there is...whatever the fuck the uncanny valley versions of the yellowjackets are (i think they're "it" playing tricksy games personally) and the Actual Dead (cabin guy, laura lee, jackie). SO ALL THIS TO SAY yeah. i think there is real potential for them to pick up that thread and establish ghost jackie. i think there is also potential for her and shauna to communicate. i think PERSONALLY (no one come to my asks to tell me this is stupid i literally cannot handle you today okay give a girl a break i beg) that there's a very good chance that by the end of the show shauna in the 21 timeline sees/communicates with/(joins?) ghost jackie, whether she gets to see her in 96 tl or not. these are my thoughts they have diverted maybe from your point and if so i am so sorry lol along those lines i have RAGING adhd, so when you say i might not answer i hope it isn't because i haven't responded to an ask you've sent me before but if it is i promise it isn't personal! this goes to anyone else too, like i really have 17 things happening at once at all times and i drop the ball sometimes lol but know that i love to hear people's thoughts <3 <3

#asks answered #jackie taylor #shauna shipman #jackie x shauna #yellowjackets

31 notes · View notes

librosamarillos · 2 years ago

Text

passed down like folk songs

chapter 8: goodbye

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

Visenya couldn’t remember when she last woke up so peacefully, let alone in her husband’s arms. It felt like such a foreign concept before, to wake up feeling this serene, with Aegon’s comforting warmth. It felt like a delicate dream, one she did not wish to wake up from, in fact, it scared her to think she’d wake up to find herself all alone in her cold bed again.

Part of her felt ashamed for how much she wanted this. In all their years of marriage, the few times he’d join her in her chambers, she’d always wake up alone. He always ran back to Rhaenys after completing his duty. She always burned with bitterness and jealousy at how he wouldn’t even try to hide it. Yet, she longed for his closeness so much, she pushed away the suspicions that he was imagining their sister, in order to perform his duty. She was no fool. Even now she was paranoid that it wasn’t her he was seeing, but again, that desperate part of her wanted to cling to the hope that he was finally seeing her as she was.

She glanced up at Aegon’s handsome face. They were both nearing fifty, but in her eyes, he was more handsome than ever like this, sleeping peacefully and holding her close, the way it always should’ve been. Just them alone. It was selfish and cruel and unfair to feel so grateful that their sister was gone and couldn’t take him from her again, at least not physically. Had she still been alive, Visenya would never know the feeling, gods, this feeling of waking up in his arms. How she envied Rhaenys for having this for all those years. It felt like heaven to have him to herself, at last.

After their screaming match that day, Aegon had become so attentive to her, almost warm and caring. He started dining with her in both the morning and the evening, seeking her company, not for council, just to be around her, and at nights, he’d join her, not only for sex, just to hold her in his arms and sleep. Was it guilt? Some sick part of her hoped it was eating him up alive, but another wished for him to simply want her. To miss her, to long for her, the way she did him ever since they were kids. She was so torn.

“I didn’t have you for such a sentimental person, Visenya. Or do I have something on my face?” Aegon asked without opening his eyes, his voice still deep and groggy from waking up.

“Maybe I’ve always been one, you were just too busy noticing my faults to see it.” she replied lightly, smiling softly.

Aegon opened his eyes, returning her soft smile. He brought his hand up to her face, rubbing circles on her cheek. Visenya relished in his touch.

“We should get ready soon.” she said, already wishing for them to return to bed even if they hadn’t left yet.

“All is prepared, the Hightowers are expected to arrive in the afternoon, it’s still very early, Visenya.” Aegon protested, pulling her closer.

“I know, I just wish to prepare Maegor.” she countered.

“Yes, he seems to be brooding.”

“I’ve warned you about this, Aegon.”

“Give him time. He’ll take great interest in his wife, I’m sure.” he said, trying to assure her. “I heard Lady Rowan will be joining her father back to Oldtown soon. Perhaps it’s for the best, for the time being.” he added.

Visenya sighed, her peaceful smile now replaced with a frown of guilt. Rowan had been avoiding everyone, and when she couldn’t, she’d pretend it was all fine. She needed to talk to her, to tell her how sorry she was.

“I know you are very fond of the girl, but things will settle. You’ll have her back soon, will you not?” he asked softly.

“I’m still mad at you for doing this behind my back, you know. And you saw how furious our son is.” she frowned.

“I know. But it’s his duty, and I have no doubt that our son will do his duty to our house.”

Duty. His duty. Maegor always did what she told him to, he was a dutiful son, absolutely. But she never wanted to ask him of this. He was angry, more angry than she’d ever seen him, terrorising any sparring opponent with Dark Sister in his hands, a constant scowl on his face, a distant look in his eyes. When she tried to talk to him, he just nodded, not fully there, not listening. She was worried for her son. She’d never seen him like this.

Maegor looked so much like her husband it was almost scary. While Aenys bore no resemblance to Aegon, taking completely after Rhaenys. Another reason Aegon would spoil him so much. She wondered if he ever felt regret in ignoring Maegor all these years. He clearly never showed any signs of it; did he perhaps think that it paid off in the end, since she raised him a fearsome warrior? There was so much to talk to him about, but so little time these days. All her hours were consumed by small council meetings, holding court and preparing for the wedding and the guests. Not to mention the unfinished Red Keep.

Dinner was… tense. Ceryse looked around awkwardly, wishing to be anywhere but here. Her father and the King were making pleasant conversation, the Queen and her brother joining in at times, but her betrothed was completely silent.

They barely had enough time to clean up from the long trip before they were summoned to dine with the royal family. The crown Prince Aenys was lovely, welcoming them to the capital, showing them around, introducing them to his wife and children. Ceryse could only hope that Maegor would have a sliver of his brother’s kindness.

At first glance, he scared her. He was a giant, a look of anger and mistrust etched into his face. He was very handsome, she’d give him that, but he looked terrifying. From what she heard from the servants, he found great pleasure in violence, leaving all his opponents heavily injured, and as rumour had it, it only amped up when he found out of their betrothal. If that were true, and by the scowl on his face, it probably was, how the hell would they even talk? She was entering this with an open mind, but he made no effort to even meet her eyes. It gave her a little bit of peace to know she was not the only one forced into this, at the very least.

Supper had flown by and she realised they had not spoken a word to each other, but the King insisted the two have a walk to get to know the other better. Was he truly the only one optimistic of this match? It would appear so.

And now they were walking around the unfinished gardens, guards following but allowing them some privacy. It was so awkward it was painful. He was a silent man, lost in his own thoughts all evening.

“You know, it was news to me. Our betrothal.” she tried to break the ice.

That caught his attention, as he turned to look at her briefly, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Your uncle was the one who suggested it.” he stated simply, almost accusing her.

“Yes, but he did not inform me, nor my father about it, not until it was final.” she explained. “So it was news to me.”

“You do not wish for us to wed?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

It caught Ceryse by surprise, how straight forward he was. But in truth, she did not wish for this. His family, albeit pleasant at first glance, still scared her. He scared her.

“I do not mean to sound ungrateful, my prince, it is a great honour to be your betrothed, it was just extremely unexpected. That’s all.” she said, offering him a small, polite smile.

Maegor nodded without a word. He seemed disappointed in her answer, almost like he wanted her to not want this. She thought for a moment. He was looking for an out. He didn’t want this either, clearly, but could not deny his father, just like she could not deny hers. If he thought just her refusal would be enough to end their betrothal, he was a fool. She’d seen women be dragged to the altar, crying and kicking, her word alone would not matter. As much as she wished it did, it could not save them. Her uncle drilled into her that their union would bring peace with the Targaryens and the faith, to prevent the disaster he foresaw coming. What could she say to that?

“I understand you do not want this, my prince.” she started, making Maegor almost stop in his tracks. “I understand, believe me, I do, but since it’s something we cannot escape, I would hope we could at least become friends one day.” she said, almost cursing her sudden surge of bravery.

The way he looked down at her made her want to run for the hills. He had a harsh stare, his eyes only betraying anger. Had she truly offended him this much by pointing out the obvious? He surprised her when he sighed and looked away.

“I can agree to that.” he said, continuing to walk.

Ceryse didn’t learn much about him from that talk, rather from his brother, who was delighted to chat with her when he got the chance. He told her that Maegor was a knight, that his bravery in combat put all others to shame. Aenys spent the entirety of their afternoon tea singing praises of his brother, who wasn’t even there. His wife, Lady Alyssa, was a bit put off by her husband’s very generous description of Prince Maegor. She guessed they weren’t the closest of friends. She didn’t doubt his skill in combat at all, by the looks of him, he could crush a man’s skull with his bare hands alone. She’d hate to be the one to displease him.

She was happy to see some familiar faces in court at the very least. Lana Tyrell was a close acquaintance, as was Rowan Evergreen. The three had always grouped together while their fathers chatted away about either business or the days of their youth. They were never truly close, but at least she wasn’t in a sea of complete strangers. Lana was more than happy to catch up and congratulate her on her upcoming nuptials, but Rowan was a bit difficult to find. Lana had told her she’d be leaving soon and was always like this when she had to leave, but she was still hoping to see her before she did.

She was glad that she had accepted her invitation to afternoon tea. Ceryse hated to admit it, but she felt nervous, sitting all alone in the gardens, so to see Rowan’s familiar smiling face was a relief. She got up and greeted her with an embrace, which the other woman returned.

“I’m happy to see you again! I must admit, I don’t recognise many people here.” she admitted while they had their tea.

“It can be jarring, I imagine. But you’ll get used to it. There are many friendly people in the capital, although nothing compares to Oldtown, you can grow to love it.” Rowan replied with a kind smile.

“Must you truly be away for half the year? I’d find great comfort in knowing you and Lana are close by.” she didn’t say it was because her husband’s family frightened her, but she knew Rowan got the hint. Her eyes had a way of making her feel seen without having to talk.

“I find that I miss home too much to stay. I only accompany my father here. But worry not, Lana will be here. From what I heard, she’s invited some cousins as well. You’ll have plenty of company here, but I’ve no fear. You’ll meet many more.”

Her words gave her comfort. Their houses had been closely tied for centuries. They had the same ideals, the same closeness to the faith and it kept them close. While the Tyrells were much more likely to go with the flow, she knew the Evergreens were much more like minded to her family. It was a good thing she could have someone that understood her, her repercussions, her worries about the Targaryens. She could see it in her eyes, Ceryse was sure of it.

Rowan was warm and welcoming, as she always remembered her to be, but something was weighing heavy on her mind. She wanted to ask, she wanted them to become closer friends, but it felt improper to do so. They simply didn’t know each other that well. And while Ceryse was comfortable enough to let things linger in the air that Rowan could understand the meaning of, the auburn haired woman in front of her seemed much more hesitant to reveal what was worrying her. Ceryse hoped in the future, she could help.

“I hope to see you again soon. I’ll be happy to see you when you return.” Ceryse offered a smile, which Rowan returned.

Rowan had found a great excuse in their upcoming journey back to Starfall to avoid everyone and hide in her chambers under the guise of packing. In truth, she spent her days picking at her hands until the pain was numb or trying to smile normally in the mirror, for she felt like she would fall apart at any given moment. She found she couldn’t even look at him these days. She was afraid someone would see it in her eyes, all that was secret between them, and everything would be ruined. Her father was her rock, making sure she ate, that she had someone to talk to, or even say nothing to. Even the maids that cleaned her chambers were getting worried at the change of her behaviour. She felt suffocated. The idea of home was the only thing that kept her from falling apart.

She had managed to do a bit of packing, seeing as they’d be leaving in two days, it was about time anyway. She recognised the knocking on her door, and for the first time in her life, it filled her with dread. It was the Queen and judging by her expression, she was not happy to see her go. She always told her she’d miss her terribly when it was time for her to leave, but this time would be different. They both knew it.

“Rowan, my girl…” she said right after closing the door behind her.

“Your grace.” she greeted her with a small voice.

“I’m so sorry.” she said plainly and wrapped her arms around her.

Rowan couldn’t help but hide her face in Visenya’s neck, finding her warmth the most comforting, as she sighed, almost in relief. She always had her when she needed her mother, in many ways she had raised her as well. For ten years, half her year would be spent with her, she was the one who comforted her when her first blood came, she was the one she turned to for questions, for answers, for everything. It hurt her to leave, but she could not stay.

“I tried to change his mind, but he would not budge. I do not wish to see you go, or to see you two grow apart.” she admitted. “But I understand.” she added, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“It could not be helped, your Grace, I understand. I will miss you terribly.” she said.

How ironic it was, that the King’s voice was above all, even his Queen’s? Even if Visenya had done most of the work? How terribly unfair things were. Rowan didn’t blame her. It was her husband and her son, their best interests would always take priority. And she simply wouldn’t offer much benefit as his current betrothed would.

But part of her still dreamed, still hoped that this was a bad dream and she’d simply wake in his arms and it would all be alright. How silly. She felt like a little kid, hiding in her mother’s arms, to hide from the pain, as if anything would make it go away.

“Will you return as normal? Shall I expect you with your father the next time he is called?” Visenya’s voice was almost afraid, afraid to lose her completely.

“In truth… I do not know.” Rowan admitted. And in truth, she didn’t know when she’d ever be ready to see him as a married man. She wasn’t even sure how she’d attend his wedding, let alone watch him from afar as she crumbled. “But I do hope so.” she added.

That seemed to assure Visenya enough to pull away from the hug, but still holding onto her. She’d never seen her this remorseful before. She found comfort that she and Maegor were not alone in their pain. She hated that they had to part like this.

“This time, I will see you soon, in Oldtown. I only wish the occasion would be different.”

“It’s no use to dwell on the what ifs, my Queen. I’m sure it shall pass with time.” she said, as if she wasn’t drowning since she’d heard the news.

Visenya was not convinced, but gave her a small smile anyway.

“I would’ve been overjoyed to call you my gooddaughter, I hope you know this.” she admitted, her eyes betraying such sadness.

Rowan felt tears reaching her own eyes as she nodded. It was an honour, truly, to have the Queen herself say this. It felt like something that would tie them together for eternity, the mother she found with the daughter she never had. She bit the inside of her lip, trying to prevent the tears from spilling, but to no avail. Visenya was quick to embrace her again, to rub her back while she cried, mourning in her own way.

He shouldn’t be doing this, it was dangerous and foolish, but she was leaving in the morrow and Maegor would be damned if he let her leave without seeing her again. He knew this was their last time seeing each other before his wedding- how he hated that word now. The next time they’d see each other, it would all be different, way too different.

She wasn’t surprised to see him, only a bit startled as he didn’t knock. They stood in heavy silence again, before he wrapped his arms around her small frame, holding her close. He never wanted to let her go, and it seemed she didn’t want him to. Rowan had packed all of her belongings this time. She’d always leave some things behind, for when she’d return, but this time, she left nothing. It shattered him, how final, how real it was becoming.

This was goodbye.

She had pulled back, and he took a good look around.

“You’re taking everything this time?” he forced himself to ask.

“Yes. I… I do not know when I will return. It may take longer.” she whispered.

“So this is it? We can never be as we were before?” he asked her, frowning deeply.

“You know we can not.”

“So I’m losing you forever, like this?” he already knew the answer.

“I know, I hate how things have turned out too. But Maegor, I still only wish for you to be happy, even if that’s not with me. I know it hurts, but I don’t want you to stop yourself from being happy with her.” she said, her voice trembling.

“You’re a fool. A complete fool, if you think I could ever be happy with anyone else but you.”

“It hurts Maegor, it hurts me more than anything, but we cannot do anything about this! So please, at least try.”

It filled him with fury, how powerless he felt. A sick part of him wanted them to be caught in a position so compromising, so his father would have no choice but to wed them, but he’d never defile her honour, never. Nevermind the political nightmare he’d cause.

“And you? Will you search for a husband now?” he asked, his voice dripping with jealousy that he did nothing to hide.

“No. Not until I have to.” she shook her head, almost offended he even had to ask.

All that existed in his mind was this hypothetical man, and all the ways he’d torture and kill him for even daring to look at her. For even daring to touch her. He’d fall into a complete rage at the mere thought, knowing that one day it would be too real. That he’d never call her his wife, he’d never have the chance to claim her, but some other would. Some lesser man, from a much lesser house, would get to call his Rowan his wife. He feared what he’d do that day. There was nothing in his mind stopping him from taking Dark Sister and cutting the man in half. The man that didn’t even exist yet. Gods, he was going mad already.

“I cannot bear the thought of anyone else having you-”

“And you think I can?” her voice was still soft, but held so much pain.

He knew he had no room to talk. He was the one getting married in a fortnight. He was the one being dragged down the altar, he was the one that would be claimed by another, not Rowan. Once again, he pulled her close, letting the smell of jasmine in her hair consume him entirely. She felt so delicate in his arms, so small. He wished to drown in her embrace, how in the seven hells was he to ever hold another?

Maegor pulled back enough to look at her face. Her cheeks were still stained with tears, he let his thumb wipe them away softly. Her eyes stared into his own as he held her. He couldn’t even think before leaning down to capture her lips into his own, but her hand pushed him away. He looked down at her, his eyes desperate and hungry.

“Please… kiss me one last time.” he whispered.

Rowan shook her head.

“Because if you kiss me, I’ll be stuck here forever. I’m sorry…” she frowned.

He could see that she wanted to, she wished nothing more than to kiss him, to hold him close, to have him. But she was always much better at being proper than he ever was. This was it. This was goodbye.

He shook his head and pulled her to his chest again.

To let her go felt like a sin.

But he had to.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

#maegor targaryen x oc #maegor targaryen #visenya targaryen x aegon targaryen

20 notes · View notes

aelfgiure · 5 months ago

Text

Dream Gift

This isn't from a writing prompt, even though I love those. This is a little bit of my weird - ass real life, and trying to make sense of how things work out for me.

All righty then. I'm a nerd, a biiig damn nerd, from back when that was almost a physical death sentence. It was a social death sentence for sure, and I'm not going to fill this up with the horror stories that came from being enamored of science fiction, fantasy, and other "nerd stuff" back in the dark ages. Anyhow, I saw Star Wars: A New Hope when it was in the movie theatres, first run, and that just .... holy shit, it changed me forever. It was like someone turned on the lights and I could see things for real instead of just groping around in the shadows, it was cool! and there was a girl who was THE BOSS OF THE BOYS AND THEY LISTENED TO HER! and there was this guy, with blue eyes and fluffy blond hair, and my veriest heart of hearts glommed onto that image and said oh my god he's the big brother you never knew you deserved/needed!!!!!

Yep. My first crush was Princess Leia because she was a badass. My first daydream was being Luke's little sister, because he was just so nice. I thought about that a lot. Whenever I was in trouble, (which was often because I Asked Too Many Questions) or sad, or lonely, I would imagine talking about it with my big brother and things would be okay. Yeah, yeah, coping mechanisms. I know.

I must have been about 10 or so when I had the dream that kinda stuck with me ever since, over 40 years now. I was somewhere else, and it was a summer twilight, near midsummer because that's the way the sky and air felt to me. There were lightning bugs everywhere, all doing the blinky thing, and this place had old trees, and fields of hay and it smelled like cut hay and sweetgrass. Off in the distance, over the hill, there was lightning, brilliant frequent lightning, but it was too far away for me to hear the thunder. I was singing and dancing to myself in a way that I never dared to do in real life, because if I'd been caught ooooooo would I have caught hell for it. But here? Here was safe, and I had flowers in my hair like I wanted, and I was wearing a 'fairy dress' like I wished I had, all gauze and organza and floaty silks to swoosh around as I danced and sang and played with the fireflies, and sang and watched the lightning while the wind blew the trees and the grasses so sweetly.

Then someone was there, standing at the edge of the clearing, just watching me dance and smiling at me, so I danced up to him, and looked up, all happy and laughing. He smiled and sat down, and said "hello, miss."

It was my dream, so I answered "hello mister!" and plopped myself into his lap. He hugged me and asked me how my life was going, and I told him everything, the bits of good and all the bad, and I asked him if he was going to stay. He touched my forehead firmly, gently, and told me he would be part of me always, and that he loved me because yes, I really was his little sister. So I hugged him and told him that he was the best big brother ever, and I was glad we were friends.

Waking up from that dream, where Luke Skywalker adopted my goofy dancy self as his little sister was horrible. I cried, and then had to lie and say it was because of a bad dream - I had already learned that my parents weren't to be trusted with anything important to me because they'd fuck it up somehow, or take it away, or let my brother have it and break it. This was worth keeping secret, all for just me, and this is the first time I've told anyone about this dream. It's been my safe place for years, that space with the clouds and lightning, and the wind and trees and fireflies, and just getting to sit and talk things over my big brother when it was all too much.

Which brings us to last night.

I'm a security guard. I'm assigned to a farm to keep the people and animals safe because humanity sucks at times, and this place is doing some amazing important work. It's also beautiful, and well kept. Walking around the grounds to check fences and gates is a joy, and even in winter it's not a total suck. So last night, I was just about done with one of my rounds, when I stopped and realised that I was seeing my dream, THAT dream, yes, for real, in real life!

The fireflies dancing in the wind, above the grass. The trees, the willows and the crab apples and the tall oaks and poplars hushing and singing and swaying, and over the hill, the thunderclouds, lightning flashing but no thunder, the lights brightening the clouds and illuminating the fantastic structures, and the scent of sweet grass, and hay. I froze. I honest couldn't have moved on my own for a hot minute, and then I looked around, laughing at myself because I was half-expecting to see my big brother show up and ask me how my life was going. Everything else was exactly like my dream, and oh my gods, Maker bless, it made my heart full with wonder and awe and some absolute beflusterment.

It was real. I was living it. Storm and fireflies, and the magick of it all. I don't know if it's supposed to mean anything, or if it's just one of those things, but it's part of my truth. Part of my DreamWorld manifest in my waking life, and I'll need to ponder on it for a long while.

All of you reading this, you've read my scribbles and stuff so I wanted to share this with you all, first. So, thank you. Now, I need to go do rounds again, and maybe chase a firefly or two.

#dreams to reality #luke skywalker is my brother?#fireflies

0 notes

lifewiththelulus · 1 year ago

Text

She's got that "I can't miss work" attitude with this boutique She probably finally fesses up that she has a second job and she *really * can't miss a single day as soon as someone mentions she looks too sick to be out and about

I'm thinking it's mostly due to stress Lack of sleep lack of decompression time and doing physical work she shouldn't be doing

She's experiencing hyper condensation She's hotter near the surface of her water so the cool water is trying to balance it out but it's not cooling her down quick enough so she's perpetually dripping while sick

Kinda like if you sweat and can't cool off and just keep sweating

oh geez! What is Reef knows she's sick but let's her get away with it because he's had to work on sick days too, but once he sees she putting the kids in danger of getting really sick, he has to tell her enough is enough.

That's probably when she cracks about the boutique and the job being so new she can't miss any She doesn't sob or anything, just tiredly, defeatedly tells him while cleaning the kitchen. She says something along the lines of "If this is gonna work I'm gonna have to tough through it, but it'll be worth it! It really will, this could change things for us. I can make it work, but I can't screw this up!"

Reef gets a call from the hospital Since she put him as a contact And when he gets there Fran is there and Atlantis is laying in the bed with an IV She lost too much fluid and Fran noticed something wasn't right so took her to the hospital.

Lol when Fran finally meets Reef she leans over to Atlantis and whispers "Nice" XD

Since the phone call was so sudden he couldn't get a babysitter right away, so he had to bring the kids. But he tells them to wait outside the door so they don't have to see her like this.

Atlantis: I .. I'm sorry.. I should have listened to you.. Fran:Well for starters she's severely dehydrated. And not coming back to the boutique until she's back at 100%. She fainted while she was placing mannequins.

Fran looks between the two and gets up to leave.

Fran: give me a call when you're better dear, I need you to be in tip top shape when you make designs!

Fran has her heart stolen as soon as she sees Atlantis has kids lol She steps out and sees the twins "And WHO are these little angels!?" She definitely stays with the kids to reassure them so her and Reef can talk

I can see the kids getting a little freaked out by her at first, but her energy is needed for them to be occupied and not try to sneak in.

Reef: …Well from what it sounds like, you haven't lost your job.

Atlantis: I guess not .. I don't know what got into me, why I wanted her approval so badly…

She sits up and reaches out her dripping hand for him to sit on the edge of the bed

Atlantis: I'm loving these hospital dates though

It was the first time in a while she cracked a joke at him

Reef Chuckles shortly before going right back to being serious.

Reef: Have they told you if the baby is all right?

Atlantis places her hand over her stomach, no visible bump yet

Atlantis: not yet… but honestly I am worried. I was already showing by now last time.. but then again, twins right?

She looked away and held fear in her eyes.

Atlantis: oh god what if I hurt them..?

Reef: (takes her hand) Hey, it’s gonna be alright, if the kid is anything like you, they'll be too stubborn to let a little sickness stop them. (He boops her forehead when she fake pouts)

She looks up at him and goes from being that scared little girl to herself again. Something about the way he looked at her, held her, it made her feel so calm

Just before she can say something though the doctor comes in. Doctor: Hey so we ran some tests just to be sure everything is ok. Looks like you've been having a tough time retaining your water. This is most likely induced by stress, just make sure you replenish regularly, meaning it would be best for you to refrain from physical activity right now and try to cool off at home so your temperature will regulate.

Atlantis looks at Reef then the doctor

Atlantis: what about the baby? Is the baby ok?

Doctor: Oh she's doing quite well, but she is rather small. Everything else is normal.

Atlantis let's out a breath she didn't know she was holding

Reef: (Waits for the Doctor to leave) What I tell ya? (he gives her a long kiss) Once you get back to the house I don't want to see you lifting a finger until you're 100% better, understand?

She blushes as he pulls away the pouts at his words

Atlantis: you better not be planning on doing everything yourself, you've been working hard enough as it is… but I promise I'll rest.

She squeezed his hand and layed back down, too tired to stay sitting up

Reef: Think you have enough energy left to tell the kids your alright?

Atlantis immediately perks up

Atlantis: The kids are here?

She already sounded much happier at the thought of holding the three of them again

Reef gets up to open the door, when he does they find the kids laughing and playing with Fran

Fran just looks up at the two While hugging them tight

Fran: why didn't you tell me about these darlings!? Oh nevermind- you little ones go see your mother.

She gently lets them go and Atlantis holds out her arms with a smile

Lotus and Mari run up immediately to hug their mom and Gulf walks up to the side of the bed with a smile. Lotus: Mommy, are you ok? Mari: Did you have to go to the hospital? Gulf: Did you die?!

She smiles and nuzzles Lotus Then gives Mari a kiss, and pulls Gulf in to hug him too

Atlantis: I'm fine sweetie I promise, mommy jus forgets to do important things and get sick. How's my girls? And my lil gulf-ball?

She ruffles his hair and smiles at the three. She was fairly good at hiding her pain in front of the kids

#bibbity bobbity boo 🧵#shy mud 🌸#emo bangs 🏄‍♂️#peppy mud 🌻#little pain in the ass 😝#bgc

0 notes

steadystudyparty · 2 years ago

Text

Wednesday 07.12.22

Mood of the day:

Did you know that there is a tunnel under Ocean Blvd ~ Lana del Rey

I wish my day ended the way it started. I had a class at 8am and my teacher gave us back our midterm’s grade. I got an A and I feel so proud and relieved, I just know that things will be okay next week for my finals. The teacher was so sweet and nice and she loved teaching us but certainly not as much as I loved being taught by her. She is not keeping us next semester and I had tears in my eyes when she told me so it broke my heart it felt like a breakup. I really need to stop falling for my teachers but god I love smart people. I just can’t help it.

I then went to Germany real quick and grabbed a macchiato on my way. It was a slow morning, I bought a birthday gift for one of my friends.

I was having lunch with her afterwards (yeah, last minute gift buying is kind of my thing). We cooked and ate together and it was so nice, I missed her a lot despite not always being on the same wavelength as her. (She doesn’t like some of my friends that I adore so it makes things complicated but I want to be a lawyer so I defend them with conviction all the time)

She lives right next to the library so I met with my group of friends there. We studied for a while, I made a lot of notes for the exam. Everything was well. We organized the secret Santa and I pulled my best friend (boy) but we noticed that someone would end up pulling their own name, so one of my friend exchange his paper for the one left, but I knew that his paper was my girl best friend and that the one friend left would have no clue what to buy her so I exchange my paper for this one (what a mess!) so now I have to find a gift for my girl best friend! Which I would have anyway 🫶🏻

Oh yeah then I fainted at the library. I feel so ashamed. I hate making a scene. They called the ambulance. This was so ridiculous of me. My friends all took care of me they were the sweetest I am so incredibly lucky to be surrounded by them.

The firefighters took care of me and made me a lot of medical examinations, my guy best friend waited for me in the cold and walked me back home after.

He then had diner with me to recover from the cold (he definitely was in hypothermia after waited for so long outside, I truly don’t deserve him). We watched the sixth episode of Wednesday. I am in love with Jenna Ortega, for obvious reasons. All in all, it was a great day that ended in a different manner than the one I was expecting. But it made me realize I was pushing too hard. My body had to physically stop me for me to get the memo. I need to care more about myself and to stop being so… manic. It’s insufferable that I just believed that I got the mania under control when really, I am not controlling shit and I am obsessive and destructive. Just because I am feeling like a god doesn’t mean that I am. I need to learn how to stop before it’s too late. Because all of my manic episodes end in disasters. At the ER. In an ambulance. Traumatized by a girl. No contact with my parents after a terrible, terrible fight. Nothing good has ever come out of my mania. It just feels like I am on top of the world but when I wake up I am nowhere near being on top of anything.

#Spotify #my diary

0 notes

lunaastoir · 4 years ago

Text

fluff/relationships w the liyue crew

characters included: xiao, childe, beidou, and zhongli

ik i forgot ningguang i promise i’ll include her in part 2, i just didn’t have time :(

all x a gn! reader

my liyue babies :,) ft. ningguang in spirit

an: i was listening to my soft playlist (more like listening to cupid’s chokehold on repeat, no i am not basic 🔪) and i thought some fluff headcanons would be cute w these sweet people

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

xiao

ok so no surprise that he hates liyue harbor

he hates anything w a lot of people in it so he prefers to stay at wangshu inn tyvm

but by contrast, you love liyue harbor sm (it’s gorgeous i mean c’mON)

you go there often to retrieve your commissions in order to stay closer to xiao (liyue harbor is closer than mondstadt he argues but you’re well aware that they’re both equally far away)

so if anyone asked, xiao would absolutely refuse to go to the harbor like i hate people??? why would you even ask???

but,,,he’s so sOFT for you

if you asked??? he would agree in a heartbeat

but since he’s >:( angsty boy, he makes you think that he won’t go even when he’s already decided that he’s coming w you

he puts up the “if you so require, then i guess i will assist you with your travels in liyue harbor” but in reality he would definitely have said yes even without the almond tofu

while he hates the harbor, he thinks that with you anything is bearable :,) simp

you take him to see xinyan to vibe w her music and you can tell he really enjoys it

even tho he’s like 🕴 the entire time, you see the softer look on his face and the very slight smile on his lips as he listens to the music and watches the crowd

so so so cute very soft for him

i do see him as a subtly touchy person in public like brushing the hair off your face, swiping his thumb across your cheek, or gently pulling your hair back when you have a plate of food in your hands

the type to link your pinkies together - he claims it’s so you don’t get lost but yk better

after the concert is done you take him to that one waypoint near mt. tianheng and the both of you just watch the city lights and the way they reflect beautifully on the water surrounding the harbor

personal headcanon that xiao absolutely loves stargazing since he believes the stars are the one true constant in his life especially since he’s experienced so much loss (basically they’ll never leave him god i hate myself why do i make everything SAD)

mini headcanon off of that - he doesn’t stargaze with people,,, like ever

it’s something he loves to do alone so the fact that he lets you stargaze w him and even allows you to shift your head onto his lap while you watch the sky is a huge deal

he loves it when you softly whisper abt how your day was or something you saw that made you laugh

he just loves hearing your voice, it automatically calms the voices in his head

you absolutely ADORE when he has flowers in his hair especially cecilias (cecillias? ceccillias? idfk) and you make a point whenever you go to mondstadt to pick a fresh batch of cecilias just for xiao while enlisting the help of your favorite bard

these soft moments on the mountain are usually when you’ll sweetly tuck in a flower or two in his hair while laughing

he’ll blush fiercely while looking away but will tuck the cecilias in securely as you’re unable to do so due to the position you’re in on his lap

all in all - this was not meant to come out as a date idea but we’re going w it

this is so cute xiao pls let me put flowers in your hair sweet boy <3

childe

god, loml, my favorite war criminal after eren yeager

there’s never a dull moment w this man - if you wanted peace and quiet, why the hell are you dating him bestie???

is the type of person to yell out “Y/N, i can’t believe i ran into you here!” if he sees you somewhere even tho you explicitly told him you were going to be here in the morning (ik you have a good memory ajax don’t lie to me 😐)

i don’t see him as being obnoxious w pda unlike someone else kaeya but he would definitely participate (think: handholding, cheek kisses, an arm around your shoulders)

loves it when he comes home and sees you in an apron cooking

domesticity just makes his heart melt so you can be sure that your face will be peppered w a lot of kisses afterwards <3

absolutely ADORES it when you trace his scars absentmindedly when you’re lying down or even when you’re having dinner in public

he’s been far from his family for so long that small acts of mindless affection like this really make his heart happy

you have him drunk on your love luv haha see what i did there

he will let you put makeup on him. no i do not take criticism ⛄️

he already has on lowkey thick eyeliner,,, don’t be shy put some more bestie

he will shamelessly go out in public w whatever you made him wear - doesn’t really give a shit even tho he has a reputation to maintain

speaking of reputation,,, yk his mask? yeah that one - the red hair accessory that he has on his head

well on the mask, he attached a little charm the both of you got together on your first date during lantern rite

it’s this adorable fox that we all shamelessly kill for meat and he placed it so it anchored to the side of his mask so when he fights it isn’t a nuisance or anything (does that make sense??? i hope it does)

his subordinates notice and while they’re stoic around childe, behind closed doors they do whisper abt the mysterious person who’s captured his heart

not so mysterious anymore when they literally see him cling onto you during his daily patrol around the harbor 💀

it’s ok tho he’s lucky he’s cute

bestie,,, pls give him a neck massage

i just KNOW he’s tense there idk something abt the way he carries himself just screams “my neck hurts so bad someone pls help me i would ask but my pride literally will not let me”

so give him a neck massage :) don’t worry tho he’ll definitely return the favor and then some

LOVES TICKLE FIGHTS

he’s obsessed w them,,, it’s just the faces you make??? he can’t get enough

he loves seeing the pure joy and the brief fear (he’s kind of a sadist) in your eyes before he attacks you w those damned hands

it reminds him a lot of simpler times w his siblings and he’s happy he brings you joy and makes you forget your worries - at least for a little while

all in all, he’s a good boy and no i will not tolerate childe slander 🔪 kaeya slander tho 😏

beidou

you pulled beidou??? wow everyone’s jealous (pulled as in literally from the banner and in this context but no i do not have beidou and no i definitely do not want to talk abt it)

god made beidou and zhongli just so all of us could have a sexuality crisis

anyways, being w her is hard i will not lie

not bc she isn’t a capable lover - no, quite the contrary

she’s an amazing partner but the problem here lies in the fact that she’s almost never on land

it’s hard working a long distance relationship but y’all love each other so it works out :,)

when she is physically present however, expect to never be bored

she’ll quietly fix the wrinkles on your shirt or fiddle with your fingers in her hands while she recounts her adventures out on sea

she sometimes gets worried she bores you, however the way your eyes light up every time she tells a tale always reassures her otherwise

definitely the type to let you use her claymore if you want to learn

she’ll provide useful tips as she tucks her hands into your sides gently, positioning you correctly so you don’t hurt yourself

miss girl is an AMAZING cook

i just know she cooks the best meals - i mean she’s friends w xiangling after all

whenever she comes home from a voyage she’ll always insist on making something for you even if she’s abt to pass out

pls tuck her into bed and promise her that she can make you something in the morning <3 the poor woman needs rest

brings you back trinkets but they’re actually very practical

she knows you won’t have much use for a simple charm (not that there’s anything wrong w that) but she believes you’ll like something practical more so she might get you a new engraved knife from the most recent place she’s been to

definitely the type to surprise you when she docks

i can imagine her anchoring her ship out a little ways from liyue harbor and rowing to the dock in order to make sure you aren’t alerted of her presence (i’m sorry the mental picture this made in my mind is SENDING ME INTO ORBIT but she means well i love you)

will take you to remote spots she’s found in her travels through liyue

for example - the little heart shaped island and the island quest (?) that you had to use kaeya the bridge maker for in order to get to im sorry i’ll stop w the kaeya slander

she’ll get you seashell bracelets or necklaces idk why but she gives me those vIBES

they’re super nice ones too, only the highest quality for you

yes she’s a bruh girl but i also see her as someone who would enjoy intimate moments like watching the sunset or something

“yo wanna catch the sunset, i heard it looks sick from the jade chamber” said before ahem it yk fell from the sky

kasdjksfashfjsahf yes ofc i would love to catch the sunset w you pls come home luv

anyways, she is a woman i would give the world for

zhongli

ok gimme a sec i need to get my gentleman mode on

this man,,, THIS MAN

everything w him is so soft like your entire eXISTENCE w him could go in a museum it’s that beautiful

in the morning when he visits you, he always brings you a cup of your favorite tea and a bouquet of glaze lilies he got from madame ping

holds the door for you, pushes the chair out for you, uses a napkin and brushes sauce off your lips when you’re eating - you name something sweet, he’s done it

secretly loves it when you fuss over him

he doesn’t like to fight but say he encountered a group of hillichurls he couldn’t avoid and promptly defeated them but ended up tearing a part of his tux(?) (is it a tux? i could not tell you)

not that big of a deal, i mean it’s a scratch, he’s a 6,000 year old god, he’s dealt w much worse

but seeing the worried crease in your brows as you usher him to sit at the table while quickly grabbing antiseptic to clean his wound

“it’s just a scratch, my dear. do not worry i’ve dealt with much worse.”

you quietly protest abt how “yes zhongli, i understand you’re an archon and have gotten worse injuries but i’m worried about infection just please let me take care of you ok? <3″

when you say that he feels weird emotions,,, wdym take care of him?

he’s always taken care of himself or been expected to take care of others as the former ruling deity of liyue so having someone else genuinely worry abt his wellbeing creates a warm feeling in his chest

he strikes me as the type to knit you something??? idk maybe it’s the grandpa vibes but i headcanon that he would knit you a scarf for the colder weather, it’s cute

in the privacy of your home, he really likes picking you up

he loves it when you wrap your legs around his middle while he gets up to go do the dishes or smthg

domesticity go brrrr

if you’re into making flower crowns, he would totally have you on his lap and wordlessly hand you a glaze lily whenever you expectantly hold your hand out while weaving the flowers together

he expects you to make the crown for yourself but when you place the crown on his head and it fits perfectly while simultaneously tucking a glaze lily behind your ear, he looks at you dumbstruck

his mouth parts open in awe and it’s quite literally the cutest thing

you’ve broken him

thinks it’s the sweetest thing - will keep it on his head for the whole day

he’ll even put it in water before he sleeps so it won’t wilt and he can wear it the next day <3

scenic picnics!! scenic picnics!!

the type to take you to the nicest spots in liyue to chat abt the history of the land w you over a cup of tea and your favorite food (whatever you like, he doesn’t mind)

recounts the people he’s met in his long life before finishing off by saying you’re by far the best person he’s met

zhongli strangles lovingly come home soon

thanks for reading! if you have any requests don’t hesitate to send them in <3

806 notes · View notes

bloodykora · 3 years ago

Text

Hygiene Problems

Don't worry this is not an inappropriate one shot, just 2 pals showering. Ya know, the normal.

MBAV Masterlist

Summary: Reader is wounded by an old fight and can't take care of themselves properly cause of the pain. Rory offers to help.

I couldn’t raise my arms without huge pain. I had got hit during a battle with a creature therefore I had a huge cut on my back plus the bruising. I had been taking baths awkwardly and leaning over to change clothes. It took most of the little energy I had in the morning.

“Nice stain y/n.” Ethan says, pointing down to the hem of my shirt. I look down, a red brownish stain near my right side.

“Shit.” My hands drop to it.

“It’s from when Benny spilled ketchup on me!”

“Sorry, but a man’s appetite over rules everything.” Benny says, holding onto his bag.

“How did you not see it earlier?” E asks, I shake my head.

“I woke up late and just threw on whatever.” I lie, in reality I had already changed once and was too tired to notice the stain.

“You can borrow one of my shirts if you want.” Benny offers.

“Nah, I’ll sit with my consequence of staying up late.” I move my sweater to be tied around my waist, a yawn escaping my mouth. Oh yeah forgot to mention, can’t lay on my back so sleep has been difficult too. I slug off to English, body sluggish and mind blank.

One minute I was in my seat writing and the next Rory was poking me.

“Hey. Are you sleeping?” My head snaps up, looking over to him.

“I- I think I was.” I reply, embarrassed.

“Wow you must be really tired cause you have never done that before. One of the benefits of being a vampire, no sleep needed however you do miss it.”

“And the fast healing.” I mutter to myself.

“What?” He totally heard me.

“Oh. Nothing, just sleep rambles.” The rest of the day seemed like a blur, just phasing in and out. I had gotten home and began to unpack my bag. When I finished I sat down on my bed and went out like a light.

Knock at the door awakens me.

“Hey, your friend Rory is here.” My mom peers in, I nod.

“You weren’t answering your phone so I decided to come over-” He pauses mid sentence.

“Dude, you look awful and your room is like actually dirty.” I let out a sigh.

“I’ve been tired a lot.”

“Like depressed or?” Rory knew me very well.

“No, just physically tired.”

“Okay! You want a massage or something? My mom says I give the best ones!”

“Uhh, I’m okay. Yours are a little too rough for me.” I comment, remembering the soreness from last time he offered.

“Well I was thinking we could go-'' He begins as he walks up to me to pull me up from the bed.

“Ow!” I yell, a hiss following it. My body naturally hunching over from the pain.

“Oh my god. Are you okay? Did I take your arm out?” Rory quickly asks, fear of hurting me.

“No, I’m good, just my back.” I explain.

“Okay. You’ve been saying you’re fine and good all day yet you fell asleep in class, you keep groaning out of pain and your room is like Benny’s.” Rory questions, he had every right to. I was not normal but pain does that to you.

“Do you ever get tired of well, always fighting the supernatural? It seems like every time things have settled down the next thing pops up. Is it gonna be like this for the next 4 years? I love helping but the scars need to heal.” Rory looks down thinking about my words before answering.

“I mean yeah it’s a lot sometimes but we never really get hurt. I don’t know, I never really think about it. I guess being an immortal removes the thought of wasting time.”

“What if someone did get hurt though? You and Benny were hugely affected by that stupid girl scout demon.” I remind him and he just shrugs.

“We got over it.” I sigh, head hanging down.

“Is this why you haven’t been taking care of yourself?” Rory asks out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Erica, Sarah and me all noticed how drained you looked along with the smell of dry blood plus your hair hasn’t been as shiny.”

“You think my hair is shiny?” I ask, grabbing a strand and playing with it.

“Yeah! I know you spend a lot of time concerned about your hair, yet this past week it seemed like you were distracted.”

“I’m just-”

“Tired, I know.” He interrupts, giving a ‘you’re lying’ look.

“I am fine.”

“Prove it.” My mouth drops open.

“What?”

“I don’t believe you, so prove it.” His arms cross in front of his chest.

“You want me to? Fine.” I leave my room and speed walk to the bathroom, the blond following. I move the shower certain and turn on the water. I turn back to him.

“Well, I’m gonna shower so you gotta go.”

“Nope. I will turn around and wait as you shower. I’m not easily fooled.” Rory says, standing his ground. Head turned up, trying to prove his point.

“Really?” I ask, he nods.

“Fine.” I look him dead in the eye as I throw off my socks, pants and then I go for my shirt. My hands hesitate for a moment and then I start to lift it. My hands got to about my shoulders and then the pain started. I didn’t even have the strength to get it fully off my head. I could feel my arms trembling, a side effect of the shooting pain all over my torso. At some point my hands became too weak and the shirt dropped. My face coming back into view of Rory’s. His brows now furrowed in confusion and his arms at his side. I bring my hands down and shake them trying to get rid of the trembling my body was doing.

“Y/n.” Rory begins.

“No, I don’t need to prove that I’m fine.” I try to rush past him but he grabs my hand.

“What’s wrong?” I shake my head in response.

“Please.” His voice pleading to me.

“I got hurt.” A whisper of the sentence comes out.

“I told you all multiple times to be safe and I got hurt. I can’t raise my arms over my head.” I finally admit, the stress now slowly leaving. Rory nods his head.

“I can’t shower so I have to wash my hair in the tub.” I tell, Rory blinks before the look of an idea crosses his face.

“I could help you!” My eyes widen.

“Pardon?”

“Yeah! I could help you shower.” His head nodding fast, excitement like a puppy’s.

“I would be naked.” He ponders for a moment.

“I’ve seen you in swimsuits before.”

“Rory, you really don’t have to.”

“I want to! You’re always the one to fix and help me so please let me help you.” His puppy dog eyes working against me, he had no malice or ill intent in his head.

“Fine.” I mutter out, already feeling shy. He gets closer to me and rubs my hand for comfort.

“Don’t worry I’ve bathed cats before so this will be easy.” He reassures me with a smile, I nod at him.

“Ready?” He asks, I nod again, insecurities plaguing my mind, His hands slid under my top layers gently, leading my arms out and then over my head. My face heating up immediately, this wasn’t how I imagined getting naked with him would be like. He goes to the band of my underwear, guiding them down my legs.

“See, easy peesy!” He exclaims, starting to strip.

Rory! What are you doing?” I ask, averting my gaze.

“How am I supposed

to help wash you with my clothes on?” I nod trying to understand his logic. I mean I did get it but he was so nonchalant with the human body. He strips to his underwear and then stops.

“I can turn around.” I say, facing my back to him. I don’t hear any movement for a few seconds.

“Rory?” Then I feel a cool hand press against me, my muscles tense at the feeling. I whip back around.

“That’s big y/n.”

“I know, hence why it hurts.” He continues again, becoming fully naked. My cheeks now beet red, head taking interest in everything but Rory. He jumps in the shower before I could.

“Come on! This feels great.” I hear him say, I scoff a bit to myself. This kid was gonna be the death of me. He opens the curtain waving to me, I approach the tub. Grabbing his hand and slowly getting in. Face pointing towards the faucet, water beating down my chest. I let out a sigh of relief. I turn around letting the water wet my hair, a hiss coming out when the drops would touch my back.

I hear the sound of a bottle cracking open then a squeeze. I look up to see Rory putting shampoo on his hand. He lathers it in his hands before reaching up to my head, scrubbing my scalp. I observe him, face concentrated on his task at hand. He looks down to me and smiles. My eyes close, falling into a content state with the massage I was receiving. He leans my head back to wash it, guiding his hand through the strands. I could feel some drowsiness take over me. I wobble a bit, grabbing onto his arms.

"Woah, don’t go falling for me now.” He jokes, I giggle a little bit.

“Sorry, it’s hard when there's a vampire ninja in my shower.”

“You know anyone else would be paying a fairly high price but you got it for free.”

“I’m lucky like that.” He continues to clean me, the missed warmth of comfort settling in.

“I’m gonna do your back now.” He whispers to me. His hands delicate around the wound. We finish the shower and he helps me step out. Putting a towel around me before drying himself off.

“I don’t wanna wear that shirt to bed.” I whine as he picks up my clothes.

“Which one would you like then?” Helping me back into my attire.

“Green long sleeve, top drawer.” A second later he appears with it in his hand, putting it over my body. He then places my arm over his shoulder and lifts me, carrying us back to my room. He places me down on the bed, brushing my hair out of my face then lays beside me.

“Please don’t leave” I whisper.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#rory keaner x reader #rory keaner #my babysitter's a vampire imagine #my babysitter's a vampire

149 notes · View notes

itsnsfwalways · 4 years ago

Text

Edge Of My Seat

warnings: female reader, mean dom! mgg, degradation (like.... really intense humiliation and ownership talk), slight daddy kink, exhibitionism, overstimulation, choking, squirting, deep subspace, branding (oops), fluffy aftercare (quite a bit of tears oops again)...... i think that’s everything. good luck.

prompt from the lovely @slutforthegubes / @spencersbed (literally one of my favs): i was thinking maybe a fic where you and him are out with the cast but you keep teasing him. when he almost cums his pants is when he decides enough is enough. he makes up an excuse for y’all to leave. the whole car ride home he edges you. once y’all get him he takes you over his knee and spanks you. after he deems fit, he overstimulates you and makes you beg for him to fuck you. when he does finally fuck he absolutely rails you. afterwards he gives you aftercare. he puts lotion on any marks, cleans you up, cuddles you and makes sure you are okay.

A/N: the fact that this has taken me a month to write..... i’m so sorry bre LMAO. i hope you enjoy and that it hits all the right spots !

See, it wasn’t necessarily your fault that you were riled up. Matthew didn’t touch you once this morning, besides a few kisses and your morning cuddles, of course, but no funny business whatsoever! You knew that you were meeting the crew for lunch later today, and made it your mission today to show him what he’s missing.

“Come on, baby, right here,” he whispers to you, touching your waist as if you were a flower ready to break while he guides you into the table, sitting next to you and immediately putting a hand on your thigh, unable to go a few minutes without any physical contact.

A whimper almost escapes your throat at the touch, so worked up over, what, not getting off before noon? God, who have you turned into? Shaking your head from side to side to clear your thoughts, you turn your attention over to Matthew, who’s already ordering you two drinks, his left hand moving in the air as he speaks to the waitress while his right thumb continues to rub small circles into your thigh. Your eyes zero in on his gorgeous hands, because, wow. His long, skillful fingers didn’t even have to be near you and you turned into a sex-deprived slut around him, only wanting one thing.

You turn your body more towards Matthew, sliding your hand under his shirt to rub his back while your other sneaks around the front, softly tracing over his stomach. He hums, glancing over to you before squeezing your thigh, thinking you just wanted some affection right now, but his eyes harden when he feels you trace his happy trail, just barely touching the skin but it’s enough to make him inhale sharply, covering it up with a cough.

“What are you doing?” Matthew lowly asks, his nails beginning to dig into your thigh, sending goosebumps down your arms in excitement. You shrug, slowly bringing a finger down to trace across his hip, going across his inner thigh to ghost across his growing bulge. You do your best to cover up the smirk crawling on your face but you catch Adam’s eye when you look away, blushing when he says loudly, “Hey! What kinda funny business are you two doing?”

“You wish, Rodriguez,” you laugh, placing your hand on top of Matthew’s bulge and looking back to him, raising your eyebrows to see if he’s okay with it. And of course he is, but you were breaking the rules, and you knew he was going to make you pay for it when you got back. Perfect.

Palming him slowly, you watch as he stutters his way through ordering for the both of you, knowing you’ll be able to see the indents from his fingernails for at least a day with how hard he’s gripping you. You hand your menu over to him with a completely innocent look on your face, and can feel him twitch underneath you when he takes it with clenched teeth, handing it over to the waitress with a tight, “thanks.” Sweeping a hand through his hair, he moves his eyes over to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Better stop now, little girl. You’re already in for a punishment for being such a greedy mess while I’m trying to enjoy lunch, don’t want to make it worse by continuing it, hmm?” When he pulls back, you bite your lip to attempt to contain your smile as you shake your head slowly back and forth, beginning to unzip his pants extremely slowly, not breaking eye contact with him. His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth as he stares down at you, not being able to smack your inner thigh because he was literally right across from his friends, and more importantly, his coworkers.

He lets go of your leg finally, grabbing his glass and gripping it with more force than necessary, his blood boiling at the sheer disobedience you were showing him. Deciding the best option for him would be to ignore you, he begins talking to AJ about something random, you honestly could care less, but decide two can play at this game. Tracing him through his underwear, his cock very distinguishable, you turn your attention to Paget, noticing Matthew’s eyes flit to yours when you begin speaking.

“Thank you for those flowers you sent us the other day, I meant to have him tell you,” gesturing to Matthew, squeezing him harshly through the fabric at the same time, “They were gorgeous, have them as our kitchen centerpiece now.” Paget laughs with you, taking a sip from her glass.

“Of course! I’m glad you like them. It feels like forever since I’ve seen your pretty face, your man likes to hide you quite a bit you know,” she points, squinting her eyes at Matthew, who just shrugs, looking briefly over at you. “You need to bring her out to hang with us more, I’m getting bored of just you.”

You laugh out loud at this, but catch yourself before you can really start digging your own grave. You watch him roll his eyes, fake laughing which sends Paget into another fit of giggles, while you just continue to pet him through his clothes, not stopping as the food is dropped off in front of you, Matthew sending the waitress a tight lipped smile as he shoves a bite of food in his mouth, giving him an excuse to groan deeply, the sound going straight to your clit. He refuses to make eye contact with you as he mumbles out, “This food is so good,” not even acknowledging your hand on top of him. Alright, fine.

Your hand finally wraps around his cock, pulling him out of his underwear and watching with a small grin as his lips part and he takes a slow breath out while staring down at his food. Feeling him twitch in your hand, you take it as a sign to begin slowly pumping up and down, taking your time to swipe your thumb across his tip everytime you reach the top. One hand snaps down to meet your thigh under the tablecloth, squeezing hard enough that his fingertips go white from the pressure, while the other moves down his face to hide his mouth, eyes darting across the table.

“Hey, Matthew, did you ever get that script I sent over your way? What did you think of it?” Paget asks, both yours and Matthew’s heads snapping her direction. You turn back to look at him, eyes twinkling with mischief as you put a fake innocent look on your face.

“Oh? I never heard about a script, what’s it about, babe?” You ask sweetly, biting your tongue between your teeth to keep from laughing at his reaction when you squeeze the base of him and he jumps up. His eyes flash dangerously towards you and you feel his nails dig into your thigh before he clears his throat to answer.

“Yeah, I-I did look it over, the Horse Girl one, yeah?” Matthew stutters, turning his head back to Paget and running a hand through his hair. She nods and you make eye contact with her, winking before moving your attention back to Matthew, who, unsurprisingly, refused to look back at you.

“I think it might be a good... a good fit,” he pauses in between his words, eyes slipping shut for only a moment, which fed your ego nicely. “Should be easy to just be an idol of someone, plus my only ‘big’ scene would be having sex with her, so,” he shrugs, picking up his glass to take a swig as your hand stops its movements. Paget’s eyes meet yours and you can tell she’s just as confused as you are by his statement.

“Alright, player, not in front of your lady,” Shemar laughs, gesturing to you and sending Matthew a questioning look. You turn your head back to him and begin pumping him again, much faster this time.

“Ouch,” you say plainly, swiping your thumb over his tip to collect some of the precum gathered there. Slowly bringing it back to your lips, you nonchalantly suck it into your mouth, not breaking eye contact as Matthew’s hips buck up into the air. His lips part, eyebrows raising as he grows even harder, watching your wet thumb slide out of your mouth seductively. His jaw tightens, a vein popping out in his neck when he brings his arm around you, pulling you closer next to him and making it look as if he’s kissing your head to apologize. His tight voice sends shivers down your spine when he whispers,

“If you don’t stop right fucking now, Y/N, I swear to god, I’m going to bruise you purple.”

Pulling away, he watches through clenched teeth as you return your hand to his cock, leaning up to ‘kiss his jaw’, but really muttering, “That a promise or a threat, sir?”, squeezing hard around his base. Your other hand moves to go underneath his shirt, scratching your nails down his back.

Matthew let’s out a harsh cough at that, licking his lips before pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, and biting, his hand slipping to your waist to pinch the skin there. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth, you move your attention to your food as you begin to pump your hand faster, trying as hard as you can not to move your shoulder and give the two of you away.

Matthew grips onto your side harshly, squeezing the extra pudge on your body in his hands so roughly you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow. His spine was tingling, with pleasure, anger, frustration, and frankly, complete shock. He knew you were far from innocent, but exhibition was normally his thing.

Feeling him beginning to pulse in your hand, you start to speed up your hand once more before it’s completely ripped away from his lap, and you watch with a smirk as he stuffs himself back inside his pants, the veins in his shaking hands prominent from how tightly he’s had them in fists or grabbing you.

“Guys, I’m so sorry, there’s an emergency at home that Y/N and I have to go take care of, I hate to leave but we need to go, now,” Matthew stands up, taking your jacket off your seat and directing his last words towards you, nostrils flared in anger as he manages to keep a smile in his face. You try to suppress your grin as you stand up, waving goodbye to everyone quickly as Matthew grabs your wrist and pulls you away.

“Sorry guys, someone’s a little frustrated today,” you call out to them, your laugh being cut short by a sharp gasp when Matthew digs his nails into the inside of your wrist. He definitely shouldn’t be playing with you like this in public but, fuck, you always had to cross the line didn’t you. As soon as you’re out of everyone’s vision, he places a strong hand on the back of your neck, similarly to how you’d pick up a kitten by their scruff.

“You are so fucking lucky we are in public and with my goddamn friends right now or you would be bent over that table in two seconds. Who the fuck do you think you are, almost making me cum where you could be photographed and the whole world would know my girl is a fucking misbehaving cockslut. How embarrassing would that be for me?” You suck in a sharp breath of air at his words, barely registering you’ve made it to the car before he’s ushering you inside, shutting the door behind you and making his way to the drivers seat. Buckling your seatbelt slowly, you begin to rethink everything you did tonight, maybe you went a bit too far. Trying to gain any brownie points, you whisper out, “I’m sorry, sir,” but this just sets him off even more.

His fingers tighten against the wheel as he pulls out of the parking spot, refusing to make eye contact with you. The truth is, he was so fucking close and one move could have him cumming in his pants. But he decides to have a little fun with you instead, after all, you were still being a naughty little girl just asking to be punished. His hand reaches down to grip your inner thigh, fingers pressing into the skin harshly, light scratches coming from his nails digging into your skin. “I think you’re sorry you didn’t get to see me finish, but my good girl would never do something like that, you know who would though?” He pauses to smack your thigh once, quickly, before massaging the reddened area afterwards. You clear your throat before muttering out, a soft, “who?”

“A filthy whore would. But you’re not a filthy whore, are you? Are you, Y/N?” He pushes, smacking your inner thigh once more. You try to clench your legs together but Matthew pulls them apart quickly, gasping when his nimble fingers tug your thong down your legs, lifting your butt up to allow him to slide it off of you. He bunches the fabric up in his hands, and you can’t even start to answer his question before the lacy underwear is pushed into your mouth. He finally looks over at you, your wide eyes staring back at him while you force your hands to stay at your sides, feeling the way his fingers trace shapes along your thigh. “Since you don’t want to answer, I guess you are, which is such a shame. Here I was thinking I could let you cum, but if you’re just here for my pleasure,” he pauses to tut at your whine of protest, “I’ll just use you for me. Spread your legs.”

The harsh command parts your legs instantly, your pussy clenching around nothing but the cool breeze that hits it when your skirt shifts up your leg. You watch as Matthew slips his middle two fingers into his mouth, eyes focused on the road as he wets the digits. He pulls them out after a few seconds, leaving the trail of spit connecting his lips to his fingers as he leans forward to spit harshly onto them, bringing his dripping hand over the center console to land directly on your pussy. His fingers immediately move to collect your wetness before beginning to massage very slow circles around your clit, not allowing you to have him where you really want him.

“Listen closely, you fucking slut,” Matthew spits, glancing over for only a second to make sure you’re looking at him- as if you could be looking at anything else. “You’re not going to cum until I tell you to. I don’t want to feel you fluttering around me, no squeezing my digits, because that means that I would be pleasing you, correct?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with furrowed eyebrows, nodding slowly and attempting to say, “Y-yes, sir,” but your words come out garbled from the makeshift gag. Matthew’s middle finger trails down to trace your weeping hole, tapping lightly on the wetness surrounding his favorite place.

“I’m not here to please you, stupid girl. I’m not here for you to play with, I’m not here for you to toy with, and I’m definitely not here to give filthy whores what they want. Have I made myself clear, or does my dumb little cockslut need to learn her place?”

Chills run down your body at his words and you can’t help the whimper that comes out, having to tighten your hands in fists to stop yourself from clenching, knowing that he’d be able to feel it. Your head tilts to the side to look out the tinted window, hearing Matthew laugh at your reaction, before feeling his finger slip barely inside you, shallowly fucking you so it only just passes his first knuckle.

You sharply inhale through your nose when a second finger breeches you, the two fingers beginning to massage the inside of you, rubbing against that one spot that has your legs shaking. You hum loudly, letting Matthew know that you’re close, but he only speeds up his digits, moving his thumb to rub circles against your clit, the sudden pleasure causing you to clench tightly around him. You can’t even begin to think of what you did wrong before his fingers are out of you and inside his mouth, sucking them deep into his throat to clean them of you, ignoring the harsh exhale you let out. He finally turns to you, laughing at the redness in your cheeks before taking out the panties from your mouth, slipping them into his pocket before he yanks you towards him by your throat, releasing it to slide his still-damp fingers past your lips. You do your best to give his fingers the best treatment you could, sucking them deep into your mouth while tracing your tongue in between them, your stomach swirling with need.

He finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth and doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath before your back is pinned to your seat and his hand is between your legs once more, slipping inside you easily and only curling faster into your g-spot when you moan loudly, your back arching against the arm on your chest, whining when his thumb returns to your clit, so on edge from this morning. He starts off by making small circles directly on your sensitive bud, ignoring your whining, before pulling his hand back and smacking your dripping sex, a loud moan filling the car.

“Tell me what you’re not going to do,” he demands, two fingers returning inside of you and immediately going to work while you try and think. Your mouth opens and closes as Matthew brings you closer and closer to the edge, watching you stay silent while your legs begin to shake. You gasp out, “Not going to c-cum, not going to,” clenching your fists as you interrupt your words with a sharp whine, unable to keep yourself from pulsing around him.

You almost shout ‘no!’ when he pulls his fingers out of you, but you aren’t even able to catch your breath before he’s going back and forth on your clit, watching you with his lips between his teeth as your breath stutters and your eyes roll into the back of your head, a pathetic, “please,” falling from your mouth. Matthew chuckles, moving his fingers to pinch your clit harshly.

“Who does this pretty pussy belong to? Remind me, darling.”

His even tone sends shivers down your spine as you pant out, “You, sir. It’s yours.” He hums, beginning his slow, circular movements once more. “That’s right. It’s mine, which means what? That I’m the one who controls when, and if, you ever come. I’m the one who decides what you receive, what you deserve, and when you deserve it. Do I need to repeat myself or does my dumb puppy understand?”

Your body thrashes in your seat as you nod quickly, trying to hold back as best you can. “Yours, yours, yours, yours, yours,” you repeat over and over, catching Matthew’s attention when he turns his head over to look at you. Pulling his fingers away from you, he places them in your mouth once more, his eyes moving back and forth between the road and your pretty face, tears already glistening in your eyes.

Removing them finally, he pats the side of your face twice, wipes his hand on his pant leg, and returns it back to the wheel, completely ignoring the panting girl in his passenger seat. He sniffs, trying to hide his grin as he asks, “You green, little love?” You nod immediately and repeat the color back to him, shifting in your seat, but stopping as soon as a hand clamps down on your thigh, pulling them apart. “You keep those there and shut the fuck up til we get home. I’ll deal with you then.”

It feels like forever til the car pulls into the driveway with a harsh stop, causing the seatbelt to dig into your neck slightly. Matthew scoffs when he notices you swallow and take a deep breath, mumbling out, “God, you’re pathetic, even my driving turns you on.” He runs a hand through his hair quickly, turning to you when you haven’t moved, nerves fizzing all throughout your body. “Out. Run along inside, little girl.” His voice dropped to a low, sturdy tone and sent a chill down your back, his eyes scarily calm as he stares you down. With shaky hands, you exit the car, rushing up the stone steps quickly while you mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to experience. The click of the door unlocking barely even registers when you here the familiar sound of the car door shutting, sending a rush of adrenaline through you. Toeing your shoes off at the door, you rush up the steps into the bedroom, almost feeling as if you’re being chased by a scary monster. Which, in a way, you kind of were.

You were just finishing hanging up your coat when Matthew walked inside the bedroom, leather shoes still on which you can’t help but lick your lips at. He just looked too good in them, mixed with the pale pink button up he put on this morning, his appearance alone was enough to send shivers down your spine. The expression he gives you let’s you know how much trouble you’re in, nothing but a simple smirk on his face while he methodically rolls up his sleeves. He motions you over with two fingers when he takes a seat on the chest at the end of your bed, which, to guests, looked fairly normal. You had come to learn, however, it served one purpose and one purpose only: the perfect place for him to sit while he spanked the living shit out of you. Hesitant steps brings you to stand in front of him, almost eye level with him when he takes your hips in his hands to force your body in between his spread legs. The silence in the air cuts through your body like a knife while he slowly unzips your skirt, watching as the fabric drops to the floor before glancing up at you. “Such a shame you couldn’t be good enough to keep your pretty little thong on until we got home,” he tuts, pulling the lacy black fabric from his front pocket to twirl it around in the air. Your face burns from the movement and he grins, hair wild around him making him look almost feral. Unhinged.

The underwear suddenly flies off of his finger and lands somewhere in the room, forcing your vision back up to his eyes. He reaches up with one hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, using it as an excuse to grip the back of your head with his fingers and yank you closer to him. A gasp is pulled from your lungs when Matthew tilts your head back, forcing your eyes to the ceiling so he can start biting down your neck. His teeth follow the artery down the side of your throat, pinching it just hard enough to make your pulse spike and he’s able to feel it on his tongue, the throbbing sensation going straight to his cock. He pulls away just for a second to murmur delicately in your ear, “Do you know how badly you’re about to get it, you filthy, fucking brat? I’m about to destroy you.” His words fall from his lips like honey, swirling around your head and leaving you basking in the gentle, sing-song voice he uses with only you that you don’t even notice when he pulls away until he forces your chin down to look at him. Matthew smiles gently, very gently, at the way your eyes remained unfocused for a second, because he was going to enjoy this, enjoy you. Chills pop up on your skin when your brain finally realizes what he just said to you, mixed with how nice he was being right now. This was the calm before the storm.

Your eyes meet his finally and he purses his lips at you minutely, squinting his eyes as he studies your face. You have half a mind to try and apologize but when your lips part, no words can fall out because you know, you know there is no going back. It’s almost like he knows what you’re thinking when he asks you softly, “You’ll use your colors when you need them, yes?” And waits for you to nod and mumble out, “yes, sir,” while looking down at his lips. He leans in closer to you, stopping an inch away from your parted mouth to ask, “And what are they, sweet girl? Why don’t you remind me?” You have to shut your eyes to breathe for a second and Matthew allows you to have this time for yourself right now, knowing how rough he’s about to be. “G-green, yellow, red, sir. I know em, I’ll use em,” you sigh out, leaning your forehead against his to ground yourself.

“Mmm, that’s a good girl. Why don’t you lay yourself over my lap for me then? Think you can manage?” He hums, the vibration from his throat mixed with his breathy whisper makes it impossible for you to not obey his every command, obediently turning your body to lay across his lap, head resting on his thigh while your feet hold you lightly on the floor for now. You know that they will be limp by the end of this, but you can at least try to have some dignity in the beginning. Matthew stops your thoughts quickly by starting to massage your ass, starting with the left cheek before moving onto the right, alternating between harsh, pointed grips underneath his fingers and soft, slow circles with his palm. “Normally, I would make you tell me everything you did wrong here, ask how many you think you deserve, that sound about right?” He questions, nails digging in to scratch the skin around your hips. You whimper in the back of your throat and squeeze your eyes shut, breathing out, “yes, sir,” to appease him. Matthew hums, moving his hands down to scratch at the back of your thighs, the sensitive skin causing you to suck in a harsh breath of air. You press your forehead deeper into his thigh at his next words, choking on a gasp.

“See, Y/N, I just don’t think you deserve that. You wanted to be a nasty whore in front of all of my friends, so why should I give you that common courtesy when you’re just a little slut?” He punctuates the end of his question with a harsh slap, the pinky ring he put on today biting into the skin of your ass. You barely have time to apologize before he slaps you again, this time on the other side. His other arm reaches for your neck, holding the back of it similarly to a scolded child, tightening his grip when he shouts, “Answer me!” and spanks you once more. The pain bites through you like you fell on ice and Matthew revels in the high pitched whine that rings throughout the room. “You shouldn’t, sir, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, just punish me,” you cry out, pressing wet kisses to his thigh.

Fuck, Matthew liked hearing that and tilted his head back, biting his lip, the rush of power that ran through him at your words had his hands shaking. He feels you choke out a cough around his hand and releases your neck from the tight grip he had it in. He sniffs, running a finger lightly down your spine. “I’d apologize for that but I just don’t really care,” and you can sense the grin on his face when he spanks you once more and has you moaning against his leg.

The feeling is beyond words, the stinging sensation not even pain at this point but pleasure, it feels like every spank is bringing you closer and closer. Matthew’s pant leg has to be soaked by now from your drooling mouth but you don’t even notice, only letting out rough gasps or ‘thank you, sir’. Suddenly, you feel a smack on your upper thigh, and, without even thinking, reach a hand down to cover your skin.

Before you could even blink, Matthew had grabbed your waist, placed you sitting on the wooden chest, and was walking towards the closet, not speaking a word to you. Grateful for the break, you brace yourself with your hands on the chest and try and get yourself back to Earth, wiping the drool off your chin with a grimace. You can feel your sticky, shaking thighs and ass burn from the direct contact but your face burns even brighter when you feel the wood below you become damp from your dripping center. You couldn’t remember how many spanks you had gotten at this point, your head was starting to get hazy and your body was on fire, needing Matthew’s touch. Your head snaps up when the clicks of Matthew’s shoes grow louder and your stomach drops when you see the metal handcuffs in his hands, no change in the calm manner he’s presenting. A rush of heat goes through you when you see the damp circle on his thigh from your mouthing at him. He squats down in front of you to bring the handcuffs up, gliding the cool metal down your face while watching every small change your facial muscles make. A chuckle comes from the back of his throat suddenly and you look up to say a small prayer before looking back at him, watching as he taps the cuff to your bottom lip. “You’re real brave for trying that one, Y/N. I mean,” he pauses to shake his head from side to side, laughing harder when he sees your thighs clench. “You just can’t help yourself, you stupid, stupid girl,” and then your face burns and your core burns and Matthew grabs your face in his hands and forces your eyes onto his.

“Ask me again.” He sounds desperate for it, need filling his quick plea and your mouth drops in his grip, wide doe eyes looking at him. He shakes his head, drawing his lips into his mouth for a moment before tilting his chin up at you. “Ask me to hit your pretty little face again.” He whispers this last part onto your lips, just barely allowing his bottom lip to skim yours before he pulls back to watch the way your eyes slip close and a soft ‘please’ escapes you without hesitation.

The control he had over you was a funny thing, it wasn’t that he had you on a leash, metaphorically, it was you that had him chained and owned. You owned him and he was thrilled to be able to show you just how much he appreciated that. His hand leaves your face slowly and you open your eyes immediately to watch him stand, his prominent bulge now inches from your face. “You can do better than that. Beg for me. Now.” His voice grows dark and he grits his teeth together, unimpressed with your whine. You swallow, looking up at him incredulously before managing to spit out, “Please, I’m so sorry, sir, please hit me. I want you to slap me til I beg you to stop, please, sir.” Matthew watches as your eyes grow glossy with unshed tears and your lungs have you panting for air before you see his hand pull back a ways. You close your eyes in anticipation, lips turning into a sedated smile while you wait for the slap.

The rush of adrenaline never comes and your eyebrows crease in confusion before you open your eyes to see Matthew smirking at you, arms folded in front of him, metal cuffs swinging back and forth in his hand. “You didn’t think I was going to give you what you wanted, did you? Cute performance, though, seems I’ve taught you well. A good little actress you are,” he pauses to laugh at your pouting face before unlocking the handcuffs, not even acknowledging the shocked gasp you release at his words. When you’re still sitting in front of him seconds later, he rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers at you, “Up, now. God, Y/N, do you ever listen?” He sounds annoyed with you, your mind tells you, and your body scrambles to appease him, jumping up so fast you almost fall. His hands catch your shoulders easily, it was second nature at this point, before he spun you to face away from him, forcing your arms parallel behind your back to click the cuffs into place on your wrists. With each touch, his fingers leave behind trails of fire on your skin, and you revel in the hidden gentleness behind each rough touch he allows you to have. Matthew gives your top arm a tug and hums contently when you stumble backwards into his chest, moving your body like a ragdoll back onto his lap, being careful to make sure your neck doesn’t slam down on his thigh. Your fingers grip your arms as you test your mobility, which was, not much to say the least. Matthew’s left hand resumes massaging your ass, and your face snaps back to him when you feel it. How did you not notice it when he first walked out?

Adorned on his middle three fingers were three large silver rings with his initials on them, reading out ‘MGG’ in a bold font. They were something he didn’t wear too often, but when he did, God. He liked to wear them so the letters were facing his palm, and allowed for each spank to mark his initials into you, to claim you as his. Matthew meets your eyes and grins, moving your head to face the floor slowly by taking your chin in his hand and turning it slowly, not breaking eye contact until you’re physically unable to keep looking at him. His hand goes down to tug at the chain between your wrists, lifting them up just enough to put a strain on your shoulders before letting them fall harshly onto your lower back. “Too bad you’re all chained up. Can’t even say no to me branding you, can you? Cuz you like it, you filthy girl,” he teases, finally smacking your ass twice in a row, a light one to warm you up to the metal first before actually allowing himself to let go. You squeeze your eyes closed and let out an almost laugh at the sensation, the feeling completely different. This was painful, and Matthew knew it, which was why he forced your eyes down. He didn’t want you to know when it was coming, to give you time to prepare. You deserved to be punished and he had no problem dishing that out.

A particularly harsh smack rips a moan from your throat and your legs start shaking, you had to be absolutely dripping on him at this point. “Please, sir, oh my god, please,” you cry out, unable to catch your breath when the next one comes, another moan falling from you. Matthew pauses when he feels you choke on a breath, instead going to trace over the quickly forming marks on your backside while he lets you catch your breath. “What are you begging for this time, Y/N, hm? I know my dirty slut isn’t asking to cum, not after being so disobedient today.” The feeling of him writing his initials over and over into your skin mixed with knowing that they will bruise by tomorrow causes you to squeeze your legs together to push off your orgasm, wanting to be good for him.

“I-I’m trying, Sir,” you gasp out, wrists tugging at the restraints. You rest your forehead harshly on his thigh, trying to focus on your breathing when you hear the slap before feeling it. Matthew starts again, hitting you quickly three times in a row, moving his hand to slip his thumb into your open, panting mouth. You suck his finger deep into your mouth, grateful for it, but Matthew has other plans, deciding to hook your cheek and turn your head to lay on his leg, your face dripping mascara when you make eye contact with him. The curls around his face stick to him with sweat, his eyes blazing and lips a dark cherry color, likely to his obsessive biting. His eyebrows raise in a condescending manner, eyes flickering to the wet patch you’ve made on both of his legs now before examining the handiwork he made on your ass. He rests his hand to thumb over the indents, clicking his tongue when you hiss from his actions. “Color?” He simply says, spinning the M ring around with his thumb. You whimper out, “Green,” trying unsuccessfully to stop your hips from bucking up.

He looks unimpressed at your actions, eyebrows raised when he lifts you up so your wet core is pressed to him, you legs straddling his thigh. You try to lift yourself up for a second but Matthew holds you down harshly, ignoring the small, “Sir,” you whisper out from how close you are. He ignores you and begins to slide your hips back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness around onto him. Your eyes are wide when he flexes his leg to meet your clit perfectly, whimpers falling from your mouths like prayers. “G-Gonna cum,” you cry out, holding your elbows behind you as your stomach tightens and your legs begin to shake. Matthew shakes his head in front of you, tsking lightly before reminding you, “That’s not how we ask,” and continuing to grip your hips and have you grind on his thigh, leaning forward to bite at your neck and darken some of the marks he left there before. You whine deep in your throat and open your mouth, tongue falling out when Matthew pulls back to look at you. “Please, can I cum, sir?” You whimper, hair sticking to your forehead when you tilt your head back to try and hold it off. Immediately, a hand is wrapped around your bared throat and tugs you closer to him, pulling and pushing you by your throat rather than your hips as his other hand moves to grip your ass in his hand, smacking it once. “No. You can’t,” he commands, stopping his movements and holding your hips down so you’re unable to move on your own. Matthew watches with a mock sympathetic expression at your creased eyebrows and open mouth, a sad cry leaving it which he can’t help but roll his eyes at.

Tucking his thumb into your mouth, he pulls your mouth open and leans forward slightly, the feeling of him spitting onto your tongue from behind your closed eyes is enough to make you drop your head forward onto his shoulder. Matthew doesn’t allow this to happen of course, instead lifting you up onto his other thigh, his grip on your hips not releasing when he begins forcing you to start grinding on him again. You hiss at the stimulation so quickly after you were that close but say nothing, he can tell in your wide eyes that you not only know you deserve this, but you want it. “Got to make my thighs even, yeah? Can’t have a mess on one leg and not the other.” Your eyes move to the thigh you just rode, bottom lip finding itself between your teeth at the large wet patch left behind, glistening in the light. Moving your head back to make eye contact with him, you whimper from the nonstop pace he had set, getting closer to the edge than you thought was possible. “S-Sir, I can’t,” you stress, a clinking sound ringing behind you as you try and move your hands, groaning when they don’t budge.

“Someone’s a little frustrated it looks like, too bad your hands are tied, bet they’d be tugging on my hair like a proper whore,” he finishes this with a harsh tug on your own, pulling you backwards so he can see all of you. Your eyes slip closed and you curse at yourself for being so bold earlier, what the fuck were you thinking. A harsh ripping sound forces your eyes back open and you see your shirt fall off your body, mouth dropped open as you watch his hand immediately move to slap your left tit, moving to pinch your nipple harshly. He looks up at you, a smug expression on his face when he shrugs, gathering the pieces in his hand to toss aside. “It was in the way, I don’t know why you were still wearing it.”

It adds a new element, the fact that you were stark naked in front of him and he was fully clothed, wearing a button up and those tight black pants that squeeze his thighs so well. You buck your hips up in his hand when you start thinking deeper at the power that he just exuded effortlessly, how he didn’t even need to try and you gave yourself to him. “Sir,” you whine out, a tear slipping from your eye in frustration when you feel your toes curling. He gathers your face in one hand with a soft smile, wiping the tear with his thumb before slipping it into your mouth, knowing your body better than you do as the action calms you more than you thought was possible. He leans forward to ghost over your cheekbone lightly with his lips, murmuring, “I don’t really care that you want to cum, darling, it’s not about you, is it?” into your temple, before pulling back. You shake your head, mewling when he slips his thumb out of your mouth and smacks you harshly against the face, lifting your legs up at the exact moment that would have sent you over the edge.

“Fuck,” you cry out, gasping at the slap and trying to stop your hips from bucking up in his grasp. Pulling your lips back into a smile, you blow the hair out of your face before looking up at him. Alright, so you weren’t going to come for a while, if at all, tonight. That also means that he’s going to be spending a lot of attention bringing you to that edge. Good enough. You watch as Matthew tries to figure out what has you smiling, fingers gripping your hips harsher to make you bite your lip to suppress a whimper. Standing up slowly, he moves you to kneel in front of him, forcing your head down with his hand on the back of your neck. He pets your head for a second, running his fingers through your hair gently.

“What’s got you so smiley, puppy?” The nickname he spits out at you sends a rush to your core and you whine at the way it makes you feel, like you’re so small and he’s so big, and god, is this a lot. “T-thought about your attention on me, Sir. Like it,” you moan out, pulling on your restraints and huffing when they don’t move. Matthew’s fingers tighten in your hair, and you feel the cool leather of his shoe sliding up your thigh. Your lips part as you realize where this is going and you can’t lie at how much you want it.

“Yeah, I got a bit of an attention whore as a pet, didn’t I? A tragedy, really, could’ve had you coming three times by now, but, you wanted to be a brat, so my hands are tied,” he comments, talking about you as if you were just a plaything to him. Your core throbbed when you felt the toe of his boot run along it, sliding underneath you so you rested directly on top of it. Matthew’s hand in your hair kept your head facing the floor as he continued. “It’s like you’re just too dumb to do anything unless I tell you exactly how to, you’re just a needy little thing who wants to cum, that’s all you are.” His degrading words mixed with the thrill of riding his fucking shoe rips a sob from your chest, a mess of “please, sir” and “yes” coming from you. He lifts your head up to get a look at your eyes before continuing on. “I’ll make this real easy for you, okay? Yes? Use your words,” He slips his thumb into your mouth and mocks you when you try and speak while your lips wrap around him, laughing when you whine and buck against his boot. He tilts your head up as says slowly, “You’re going to stand up, let me undo the cuffs, and get onto the bed. Then, I’m going to join you and you aren’t going to touch me once, okay? Got to train you somehow.”

Your cheeks burn at his last statement, whispering out, ‘fuck’, before shakily standing up, with his help of course, and turn around silently to let him undo the restraints. You hear them clink before you’re released, Matthew’s hands massaging each wrist for a few seconds before returning them to your side. You roll your shoulders once before moving onto the bed without another word, staring up at the ceiling as Matthew disappears back into the closet. Finally resting your head back onto the pillows, you attempt to shake out the tremors in your legs, whimpering at the cool air on your wetness. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, matching the throbbing in your core and you can’t help but whine in desperation.

Matthew returns shortly after, wearing just his briefs and his button up, shoes and pants left behind. You feel him place something next to your feet on the bed but before your head can turn his fingers are on your chin, making it impossible for you to move. He meets your parted lips with a quick kiss, smiling when he pulls away to rub your cheek with his hand.

Pulling his hand back, he slaps you across the face once, relishing in the harsh gasp he rips from you as your head turns to the side. His fingers move back to squish your cheeks together, his lips pursed as he studies your frame. Your voice shakes when you whimper out a pathetic, “please,” but Matthew just scoffs.

“Please,” he mocks, your spine burning white hot from the humiliation. “Didn’t bring you up here to beg, especially that badly, Y/N, I’m disappointed.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes as he tuts quietly to himself, shaking his head from side to side. His index finger moves from its place on your cheek to slip slowly between your lips, a chill spreading through Matthew as he feels your breath shake on his hand. He pulls it out suddenly, not giving you time to process before he spits down your throat, your eyes rolling back into your head on instinct.

“Getting too mouthy for my liking. Can you learn your place and shut the fuck up, little girl?” He scolds, angry eyes burning into yours while keeping his tone even. You nod automatically, licking your lips once before pressing them together, catching Matthew’s eyes drifting to watch you. He moves his fingers to trail lightly down your neck, brushing over your collarbone before going further down your body. You hear him chuckle to himself when you place your hands under your back, not trusting yourself enough to keep your hands away from him. His eyes look back to yours for a second before he grabs your nipple between his thumb and first two fingers, trailing the hard nub around them. His touch is gentler than you expected, your eyebrows pinched together when he moves to your other nipple, the fact that he was just playing with them right now was not like him.

“Not enough for you, hmm?” Matthew quips, bringing his fingers to travel down over your stomach, your breath hitching when he caresses both of his thumbs over your pelvis, pressing down just enough for you to let out a whimper, the tight knot in your stomach begging to be released.

“I think,” Matthew starts, completely pulling away from you to grab one of the items he put next to you. You debate turning your head to see but you know that the outcome would probably not be in your favor. Matthew’s hands come back into your eyesight and your mouth drops a little at what’s in his hands, a flogger with many leather strips hanging from the handle.

“Mm, you excited, puppy? You shouldn’t be, because what you showed me today is that my bitch thinks she’s allowed to use me like that. I think, you might need a little reminder of who the fuck I am. Because you know your place, don’t you, Y/N? Speak up, now.”

The grin on his face terrifies you in the best way, and your voice cracks when you whisper out, “Yes, sir.” He hums, flexing his fingers before wrapping them around the handle and beginning to run his other hand through the ends. “Tell me then,” he pauses for a while, turning his head back to lean down and whisper in your ear, “Who do you belong to?”

“You, sir, I’m yours, I belong to you, please, please, pl-,” your whimper is cut short by a swift hit across your chest, back arching off the bed at the sensation. He managed to hit you directly on the nipple with one of the strips, feeling harsh pinpricks of pain course through your body and leaving you gasping for air.

“That’s right,” he condescendingly praises, lightly dragging the flogger over your body. “I think you might’ve forgotten that I fucking own you. You are MINE,” your right tit this time. “My property.” Left. “My whore to fuck as I please.” Right. “And my fucking slut to use.” Two fingers slip deep past your lips for only a second before he’s removing the digits, a loud moan leaving you when he begins slapping your tits with his bare hands, feeling the slight sting of his rings still on.

“Fuck, Sir, please, I know, I know, please, I’ll be such a good slut for you, please, just fuck me,” you cry out, legs shaking from the pain flooding your system, your brain turning it right into pleasure. Matthew laughs at this, a genuine belly laugh, dropping the flogger on the ground next to you. His hand grabs you by the throat, pulling you slightly upwards so you’re forced off the bed a ways.

“Good luck,” he whispers, releasing you before finally beginning to unbutton his shirt, taking his time taking his eyes up and down your naked body, small red marks already appearing from how hard he’s grabbing you. Dropping the shirt behind him, he moves to sit between your legs, forcing your hips to come off the bed and into his lap, a small, “thank you, sir” coming from you. He smirks at you, taking his thumb into his mouth to suck it past his lips, his cheekbones protruding and your mouth watering at how fucking hot he looks, watching closely when he pops it from his mouth and he grins at you, leaning forward to spit directly on your pussy. “I wouldn’t be thanking me just yet, pretty thing.”

A gasp escapes you when he brings his thumb down to your throbbing clit, the slightest touch making your hips jump but you force them down, closer to him. He begins to trace small circles on you, feeling you start to flutter already from the gentlest touch. “Close already, are we?” You whimper out, nodding quickly. “‘S a shame you had to be a bad girl then.” You hold back a groan at his words, clenching tighter to try and hold off your orgasm.

Feeling this, Matthew smacks your inner thigh, hard, and slides a finger into you, shaking his head back and forth when he sees your legs start to shake. “Don’t get all coy on me now, go ahead and relax. Wanna feel how aching you are for me without having to worry if I’ll be able to take my finger out of your greedy pussy.” He finishes his sentence by slipping another finger inside and beginning to curl his fingers towards himself, finding that soft spot inside of you instantly. Your neck cranes backwards while your lungs beg for air, unable to breathe at this point, let alone hold off your impending orgasm. Matthew senses this, and withdraws his fingers at the last second, smirking at the loud whine you release.

“Tell you what,” he starts, pausing to spit roughly on your clit, glancing back up at you when you cry out in frustration. “If you can put that dirty mouth to good use and beg for me, I’ll fuck you. Use those crocodile tears and give me a good performance.”

You gasp out, shaking your head from side to side as your hips start bucking, which Matthew puts a stop to immediately. “Not... not a performance, please, sir, please please please please please fuck me, I’ve been so-so good and haven’t touched once! I’m so sorry, please just fuck me, I’ve learned my lesson, please.” You’re crying by the end, your body on fire and the bubble in your stomach feels like it’s ready to burst, hands shaking from the adrenaline.

“Again.” Is all you hear from Matthew, and you lift your head up and whine, staring up at him with eyes filled with tears, not breaking eye contact as he pushes his fingers inside of you once more, finding your special spot with ease and pressing. Your eyebrows knit together as you moan, cutting yourself off to rush out, “Sir, please, use me, please just get yourself off, fuck me like a toy for your pleasure, please just fuck me. Need you to hurt me, Daddy.” The title you give him spurs him on further and you sigh when you feel him get up and slide his briefs down, your head lolling to the side in exhaustion and, to be fair, preparation for what’s to come.

“Hey,” Matthew snaps, pulling your spaced-out eyes back to see him in between your legs once more, watching as he leans forward to massage his tip against your wetness, coating himself in seconds. “Eyes on me. I’m giving you my cock and you can’t even say anything to me? Don’t care where you are, I’ve trained you better.”

You can feel the degradation as faraway as you were and you blink up at him before nodding quickly, thanking him as if your life depended on it. He leans forward, one arm going to lift up your back, his free hand guiding himself slowly inside of you, simultaneously moaning with you as he sinks deep into your pulsing walls.

Without giving you a moment to think, he sets up a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward and hitting your swollen clit with each thrust, repeated moans and screams falling from your lips as you try and keep breathing from how good he’s fucking you. You can feel his hard, hard cock inside of you, and you know that if you were to look you would be able to see him poking through your skin slightly.

As if he was reading your mind, Matthew pushes down on your stomach and a scream rips from your throat, the pressure from both sides making it impossible to think anymore. “Y’fuckin like that, nasty girl, can see me fucking your tight cunt through your stomach, yeah? Yeah?” He presses down harder until you scream out, “Yes!” thrashing on the bed underneath him. He groans, removing his hand to hold onto the headboard in front of you, keeping his fast, deep pace as he stares down at you.

“Hardest I’ve been in my fucking life, I swear, got me fucking whipped for this cunt, but I know you’re just as bad for my cock, huh, baby? Gonna feel me for days.” He moves his arm out from underneath you to cup one of your cheeks, watching with a smile as you nuzzle into it out of habit. He leans down to kiss you sweetly, too sweetly for how he’s fucking you, his lips meeting yours and just sitting there for so long, just giving you his touch before he’s peppering small kisses on your lips, before pulling away and humming, and you hear the slap before you feel it against your cheek.

He’s fucking cruel, watching with a grin as your head rolls back and you clench so tight you almost push him out, but he slides back inside easily and resumes his borderline torture on you. His fingers make their way over to pinch your cheeks together, your tongue falling out automatically which Matthew hums at, spitting slowly into your waiting mouth. Some of it falls down your chin, but Matthew catches it with his thumb, sliding it right back into your mouth. You whimper around him as your legs begin to shake again, unsure of how long you’ll be able to hold off.

“S-So close, Sir,” you gasp out, cutting yourself off with a loud moan when his hand moves from your face to push your legs over his shoulders, fucking harder into you than he had ever tonight, reaching spots so far inside of you that you weren’t even sure existed.

Breathing felt like a chore at this point, you didn’t know this level of pleasure existed, as if you were completely filled and satisfied, but also on fire and so close from the biggest prize of your life. You try and express this in a whine, and hearing Matthew tut, as well as his hips stutter once, you know what’s coming next.

His hands wrap around your throat and begins to use it as a handle to pull you on and off his cock, choked moans and gasps being ripped out of your vocal chords. Matthew groans deeply, pulling his left hand away to smack you across the face once, throwing your head to the side as your back arches off the bed, the new angle allowing him to slip even deeper inside of you.

“Stay there, stay right fucking there. God, my cockslut doing so well for me, letting her owner fuck her so hard, so deeply.” His left hand grips your hip, using it as leverage as he begins to pull on your neck harder, speeding up the pace. A mix between a gasp and a whine falls from you, chest rising and falling quickly as you try and comprehend how fucking good this feels.

“G-gonna cum,” you cry out, whining when you see Matthew shake his head side to side, causing you to squeeze tighter around him to try and hold off. Matthew chokes on his moan and his hands fall from your body, hips stilling inside as he sits up more. While you’re grateful for the opportunity to breathe again, it’s short lived when Matthew smacks you across both cheeks, not even giving you a second before backhanding you on both sides. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your body shakes underneath him, pussy fluttering around him as you try not to cum.

“Oh, you fucking liked that didn’t you, you dirty slut. Think I should take a picture of you like this to show to the world, let everyone know how filthy my girl is. What would they think, seeing you so close with my handprints across your face, saw how rough you like it.” His head’s tilted back, lips dark red and bruised from how hard you were biting them, chin glistening from your wetness, looking like a devil in an angel’s body. His tongue peeks out to swipe along his teeth, chest heaving but he stares down at you with a grin on his face, watching your body thrash, bark arching and falling repeatedly while your hands clench into fists as you try and hold off your orgasm.

“Please, please, please!” You beg, openly crying and squeezing the absolute life out of Matthew. Hearing you sob underneath him, he finally takes mercy on you, bringing a hand down to rub fast circles on your clit, the other tightening around your throat, squeezing as hard as he knew you could take.

“Give it to me, come on, let go for me. Need it so bad, now, Y/N,” he moans, looking into your open eyes before finally spitting in your open mouth, the bubble building up inside of you finally shattering and you scream, your body convulsing as you cum, and squirt all over the sheets, Matthew, and yourself, feeling as if your orgasm would never end.

It was like your pussy got stuck by lightning, you didn’t know this kind of pleasure was possible, it was like every nerve in your body was exploding, every atom being stimulated by Matthew, and you knew your voice was going to be sore tomorrow but you couldn’t stop moaning, the feeling otherworldly. You vaguely felt him release your throat, gasping as you tried to catch your breath, feeling as if your entire body had a vibrator held to it, the aftershocks hitting you again and again as you tighten and release Matthew’s cock again and again.

Matthew swore he saw God that day, watching your head roll back into the mattress and cum so hard he had to hold you down to keep you still, fucking you through his own as he came deep inside you, unable to wait after being drenched with your squirt. Your moans sounded like a choir in his ears, spurring him on to make sure to get every last bit of your orgasm out of you, groaning lowly in his throat before resting his forehead in the crook of your shoulder, continuing to slowly thrust in and out of you. His arms tighten around you immediately when he feels how much your body is shaking, lifting his head up to get a look at your eyes.

“Oh precious baby,” he murmurs, smoothing out your hair around your face. Your eyes were looking right through him, not even realizing he was there as you basked in the warm cloud you were currently on. He leaves a few kisses on your temple before trying to pull out of you, a loud whine stopping him quickly. His thumbs brush away the tears that had already started falling, hearing you moan, “No, no, no, no, no.” Slipping his thumb in your mouth, he rushes out,

“Okay, okay, not going anywhere sweet girl. Mm, you wanna tell me your color, honey love? You feeling good?” The hand in your mouth moves up and down as you nod slowly, eyes drifting back to the ceiling. “You did so well for me, pumpkin, such a good girl. Do you wanna go take a nice, warm bath? Make you feel so much better, how does that sound? Good?” You blink slowly up at him, squeezing them shut when they start to burn with tears. Matthew wipes them away faster than they can fall, biting his bottom lip nervously. You had never been this far under before, he was sure, and to have you so unresponsive made him a little scared. He just wanted to take care of you.

“Babygirl,” he breathes, pulling his thumb from your mouth to wrap around the back of your head and pull you closer to him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Your bare chest is pressed against his and warmth spreads over your body, happy to be close to your dom. You hum contently and light suck on the skin your lips touch, holding it gently between your teeth, not even processing the groan Matthew lets out. He makes sure that he’s feeling you breathing under him, mind moving a million miles an hour trying to think of what he should give you first. Nuzzling your head out of his neck, he presses his lips to yours, lightly sucking on each of your lips to distract you while he pulls out.

“I know, I know, I know, honey, here, I’m still with you little one,” he tries to console you when you whine into his mouth, his fingers moving to replace his now softened cock. His hand moves to cup your dripping sex and he gently pushes a finger inside, but by the look on your face he knows you felt empty. “You can warm my cock later, but I’m gonna sit you up right now, my love,” he whispers, sliding his finger out of your quivering heat.

Pulling away slightly to make you chase his lips, he uses this as an opportunity to gently lift you up and sit in his lap, arms deadweight over his shoulders and your forehead pressed to his sternum. He wraps one arm across your entire back, holding you tightly towards him while the other hand strokes your back up and down. He continues to murmur, “good girl,” and humming in the back of his throat, knowing the deep vibrations from his vocal chords is soothing to you. The change in position allows him see all the marks he’s left down your back, nail scratches, small angry red marks left by gripping you a bit too tightly. He also gets a look at the top of your ass, handprints and small ‘MGG’ clearly visible all over. He winces while looking at that, maybe he went a bit wild on that one. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels you move your lips against his chest, whispering something too quiet for him to pick up on.

“What was that, baby?” He asks, pitch raised as if talking to a young child. You repeat what you said, his heart clenching at your small voice asking him, “Bathtime?” Stroking your hair softly, he holds you to his chest, lungs releasing all the air inside of him. He pinches his eyes shut and his voice cracks when he coos,

“Yeah, sweetheart, we can go take a bath now, do anything you want. Oh, little one,” he murmurs, feeling your tears fall onto his chest. He takes your face in his hands, studying your expression carefully. Your mouth parts slightly and he takes it as a sign to place his thumb back inside your mouth, watching you hum in appreciation. Lifting you up carefully, he brings you over to the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub with you in his lap while the water begins to run.

A small whine catches his attention from where he was pouring epsom salts into the bath, his head snapping to yours quickly. Your big y/e/c eyes stare up at him, still very hazy but recognizing where you are now. Releasing his thumb from your mouth, you begin to mumble, “Love you, love you, love you, love you,” over and over again, reaching your arms over his shoulders to hug him tightly. Feeling his arms wrap around your back, you breathe in his scent, senses overwhelmed with HIM. His lips kiss the side of your head as he sighs into your ear, squeezing you closer.

“Love you so so much, angel. Oh, you have no idea how loved you are, pretty thing.” You hum quietly, shaking your head back and forth. “Oh, you do know then?” His fingers run up your side lightly and you giggle, trying to lift yourself away from his skillful fingers. Pulling away to look up at him, you lose your words for a second when you see the bright smile on his face, eyes looking at you with nothing but appreciation, love, and a bit of worry still in them.

“Tickles, Daddy” you say around his thumb, having placed it back in your mouth already, as your eyebrows crease slightly because you think it makes you look intimidating. He hums, turning the water off behind him before his attention returns to you. A small chuckle leaves his lips when he sees your expression, watching with a lovesick smile when your lips turn up and you place a small kiss on the tip of his thumb. He swipes the digit across your lower lip, leaning forward to give you a kiss, sighing deeply into it.

“Why don’t I put you in the tub and you get all cozy while I go get some things for you? Oh, baby, don’t cry, only for one minute, okay? Daddy’s good girl can do it, so brave,” He consoles you, not liking the way a pout rested on your lips.

“Promise?” you ask pathetically, voice cracking while you let him slide you into the warm water, his arms getting wet when you hold onto him for longer than needed.

He can feel his heart breaking at your bambi eyes, overwhelmed with the amount of care he needed to give you right now. “Be back so quickly you won’t even notice, okay?” When you huff out all your air, he takes it as a sign to slip away and quickly grab everything he needs to, leaving you alone in the tub.

You bite your lip, reminding yourself that you were Daddy’s good girl, she could last a few minutes without him. Whining quietly to yourself, you rest your head on the side of the tub, feeling the effects of the last few hours catch up with you. While you were doing this, Matthew was running around the house like a mad man. He first grabbed the biggest glass of water he could find, some dark chocolate and peanut butter so he could get some protein in you, and finally grabbing the robes he threw in the dryer when he first got home. It was a habit of his at this point, he always wanted you to be warm, cozy, and safe.

You hear the record player turn on in the bedroom and perk up, the soft sounds of jazz slowly filling the space when Matthew walks through the door, arms full of different items that he places on the table next to the tub. He smiles down at you, taking your outstretched hands in his as he slides in behind you, pulling you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist. Soft kisses are pressed behind your ear as he sighs deeply, finally able to relax and completely focus on taking care of his baby.

“Look at you, my perfect girl, did so well for me. I got some lavender oil, you wanna put a few drops in the tub?” he asks you gently, holding the glass bottle in front of you. His other arm caress up and down your side, making it difficult for you to focus on anything else. “Y/N,” he draws out, his soft voice getting you to turn your head and look at him. “Lavender, yes or no?”

You nod slowly then, taking the dropper from the bottle and placing four drops into the tub, feeling so much praise when Matthew continues to tell you how good you are. A happy squeal comes from you when you curl back into his chest, feeling his laughter reverberate off of you. His hand reaches up to hold your head against him, the two of you sighing as you sat in your own little perfect world, nothing but love and calmness filling the space.

Hearing you sniffle, it breaks the silence you were surrounded in, sending a hot flash down his spine, Matthew’s arms pulling you back to look at him, your teary eyes making his fill with worry. Before he has the chance to speak, you choke out the most pitiful, “Bad girl?” His hands take your face in them immediately, bringing you close to kiss your forehead and shake his head back and forth. “No, baby, you’re my best girl, so good for me, so so good for me. My Y/N was just a little naughty today, yeah? But Daddy’s not mad, pretty. Got such a good girl for me.” When you shake your head back and forth in his hands, his eyebrows furrow, pulling away to look at you eye to eye, wincing when he sees how goddamn faraway you were. “Do you want to tell Daddy what got you so worked up? Maybe let me know your color, little one?”

You let out a wet sob, looking at his kind eyes staring at you with so much love that it physically hurts. “I just wanted you to touch me, b-but you would only let me kiss you! N-No lovin on me, but y-you are so good to me and I was being selfish,” you finally end, suckling your bottom lip before Matthew’s thumb replaces it, his other hand moving to cup the nape of your neck. His lips softly kiss your swollen eyelids, then your nose, then your lips, removing his thumb for a moment to pour his love into you.

“Not selfish, sweet pea, just gotta tell me you want me. I know I’ve got an insatiable puppy, who I love very much, yeah?” He smiles sweetly at you, pushing your hair back behind your ears to tsk, seeing another tear roll down. “I think you’re also just a little overwhelmed, should’ve let you eat more before I went so rough on you.” You can barely think of what he’s saying with the way he’s holding you and how kind his tone is, like you were a little child he needed to care for.

A cool glass pressed to your lips pulls you out of it, looking up at him while you drink it slowly, not having to lift a finger as he tilts his hand up for you. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips, watching as you drink almost the whole glass, turning your head away when your done. He drinks the last few sips in one big gulp, placing it to the side before unwrapping the chocolate bar. His thumb presses against your lip as you bite into the piece he gave you, the bitter flavor having you crinkle your nose in response. Matthew laughs at you, placing the other half in his mouth.

“I know, sugarplum, not too sweet, but so good for you. Got some good antioxidants in there.” He continues to hand feed you half of the bar, eating the other half for himself after you bite each square. It takes more coaxing for the peanut butter, but he knows that you trust him with your entire being right now and you’ll listen to anything he says. It’s almost unreal the minimal amount of effort he has to put in for you to do what he says, something that takes some getting used to, but, god, does he relish in it.

You feel his hands start to rub soap up and down your body, taking his time near your shoulders, neck, and back to give you gentle massages. A long sigh fills the air as you lie there, feeling so well-cared for by him. A cup of water rinses off the suds from your shoulders, but your eyes have slipped shut a long time ago. Matthew takes his time washing your hair next, scratching your scalp and making sure to not tug on any knots, you can worry about those later. Right now was just to take care of you.

He feels you shift in his lap while he’s rinsing out the conditioner, his eyes snapping to watch yours open, still very far-away. Leaning his head down, he gives you a kiss on the nose, feeling so full of love when you giggle at his actions.

“Love you, Daddy,” you whisper, feeling like any louder would ruin the moment. He places the cup on the table, turning you around to face his chest as he hugs you, kissing the top of your head. Your eyes fill with tears out of nowhere and you tighten your arms around him, making it difficult for him to pull you away to look at your face. His hands hold your cheeks while his eyes search yours back and forth quickly.

“Hey,” he gently starts, a small smile on his face while he wipes your tears. “I love you so much, little love. So so much. You’re quite far away still, aren’t you? Still feeling green?” His body can finally relax when you repeat the color back to him, tension dropping from his shoulders from the verbal confirmation. “Good girl, so good,” he hums, the praise sending flutters to your stomach. “Thank you for telling me your color, angel. Do you want to get out and Daddy can put some lotion on you? Got some ouchies we need to take care of.”

After receiving your nod, Matthew unplugs the drain and stands you up, helping you out of the tub and immediately into a robe. The two of you walk back into the bedroom, his arm around your waist while you lean on him. He had changed the sheets when you were in the bath, not wanting you to have to lie on the soaked fabric. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you allow him to braid your hair quickly, knowing that you hated lying on the bed with wet hair splayed everywhere. You hear the elastic wrap around the ends and then his arms are around you, head tucked into your neck to kiss you softly.

“You warm enough for me to do your butt, honey?” He whispers, grinning when you nod happily. This was one of your favorite parts of aftercare. He gently slips you out of the robe, letting you get comfortable on your stomach before he sits crosslegged next to you, gently ghosting his hand down your spine.

“I’m using special lotion today, do you want aloe instead?” Special lotion was what you always called the cream Matthew put on your marks, something your faraway self once muttered when he was taking care of you. With no surprise, you agree with him, and he uncaps the pot, beginning to massage the cool cream on your ass. His heart clenches when you hiss at the ring marks, immediately spitting out, “I know, I know, shh, it’s okay.” His thumb traces over them, cock growing when he feels how indented his name was into you. He snaps out of it when he feels you shift under his hand, continuing to apply the lotion on your ass, and a thin layer across the scratches on your sides and back.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N,” Matthew breathes, caressing your back while you turn your face to look at him. “Just, such an angel for me. So so lucky to have my good girl.” Your cheeks turn pink and you try to hide your face in the pillow, not making it far before his hands turn your body over to look up at him. Crawling over your body, he rests himself on his forearms, dipping his neck down to plant soft kisses on your lips. After a minute, he pulls away to lift up the covers and shuffle the two of you under them, immediately wrapping his arms around you to tuck your head into his chest. This was his form of aftercare just as much as yours, he needed to remind himself that you were there and his and that you loved him.

“No more cryin’, honey, don’t like to see those tears on my girl, okay?”

His arms hold your naked body to his chest tightly, like if he let you go the world would end. Feeling your soft sighs hit him every few seconds was enough to make his eyelids begin to droop, and hearing how even your breathing has gotten, he figured you had already fallen asleep, and finally allowed himself to breathe. You were safe, loved, and cared for. He’d just have to get some food in you when you two woke up from the nap.

THREE HOURS LATER

Your eyes slowly flutter open, the bright golden sunlight hitting them from between the gap in the curtains. Turning your body to face Matthew’s once more, you exhale slowly, trying to get out of the sleep haze you were in. Or maybe you were still under.

Perhaps your thinking was enough to wake Matthew, the dom side of him always just knowing when you were up. He groans lowly, tightening his arms around you to pull you tighter into his chest, feeling him kiss the top of your head a few times.

“Still floaty, baby?” He softly asks, holding the back of your neck in his hand, the feeling so deeply comforting to the both of you. You shrug, muttering out, “dunno,” before looking up at him finally, seeing his tired eyes already crinkled from the wide smile on his face. You lean up to press a soft kiss on his lips, just holding them there and allowing Matthew to suck softly on your bottom lip, shushing the small whimper that comes out of you.

“Love you, baby,” he whispers, smiling softly when you repeat it back to him. “You know you’re my good, perfect girl, yeah? Gave me a good fright seeing you so sad over me,” he frowns, tracing your cheek with his thumb. You nod slowly, whispering “good girl,” to yourself, smiling when Matthew tugs you closer to him, thumb moving down to play with your bottom lip.

“Feel like I should also let you know I changed into a pair of clean shoes when I got home, don’t want my girl to actually be dirty,” and you whine into his chest, blushing at his loud chuckle.

“Who knew I had a squirter as my little love? Why’d you hide that from me?” Matthew fake pouts, and you blush, trying to hide your face in your hands, but Matthew’s quick to pull them away by your wrists. Trailing a hand slowly down your face, he turns your jaw to examine the bruises on your neck, small, but distinct fingerprints outlined on your otherwise unblemished skin. He tuts, to himself mostly, placing his fingers over the purple marks and lightly pressing down, reveling in the gasp you release.

“Such a shame your pretty pussy’s much too sore to take me, because I’m doing that again and again and again to you, very soon, my dear.”

A/N: so...... yeah. lol. i’m sorry ? idk what to say after this. that was a lot. hope you liked it !!! i’m ASS at taking requests (seeing as this took over a month) but i’m going to see if i can get into blurbs or little drabbles or whatever they’re called hehe so send in requests !! (i’ll have to dm you for clarification for my piece of mind if it’s a long piece, so expect that haha)

- lana xx

#matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid #dom mgg #mgg smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #spencer reid smut #daddy matthew #daddy mgg

2K notes · View notes