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targaryen-dynasty · 6 months ago

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WHAT IS DESTINED CAN NOT BE AVOIDED. (4/4)

Cregan Stark x pregnant!Targaryen!Reader

WARNINGS: childbirth, swearing

WORDS: 3.5 K

NOTES: thanks to @arcielee for betaing this! <3

One hand is splayed out over the curve of your swollen stomach and the other clings to your maid’s forearm as you take your time climbing the edge of the bathtub to lower yourself in the tepid water, releasing a content sigh with it still being warm enough for some of the pregnancy pains to slowly but surely fade away.

“You may leave now,” you hum, head tipped back against the edge of the bronze tub.

What you don’t notice with your eyes closed is the baffled look the two maids assigned for you exchange, visibly hesitant to leave you alone. One of them, a younger girl whose name you’ve learned is Elia, speaks up first, her voice soft but laced with concern that makes you look at them. “My lady… are you sure you will be alright by yourself? Should we not stay here to assist you?”

You sink down a bit further into the water, chest and shoulders now fully submerged as well. “I am with child, not sick. Rest assured I can take care of myself alone.”

The maid still looks unconvinced, and it doesn’t help that it’s now the older one speaking up. “My lady, ‘tis not meant as any disrespect. We are just concerned about your well-being. You are carrying the Lord Stark’s heir, after all, and–”

The door swings open with a creek that cuts the maid off mid sentence. Your eyes dart over, and you can feel your annoyance subside just slightly at the sight of him. Something about the stay in King’s Landing has changed him a bit. You notice it as you watch how he all but saunters into the room, wearing a loose fitted shirt made of linen with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, similarly loose trousers with a pair of soft leather boots. He has forgone Ice, the large sword resting neatly on the equally large desk standing in the chambers, and opted instead for a simple dagger strapped at his hip, hidden beneath the shirt.

Yet you’d prefer seeing him in his usual leathers and furs rather in the light-eight attire he’s opted for given the warmer climate of the capital.

“And Lord Stark is here to take care of his wife,” he ends the maid’s sentence, throwing his vest over a nearby chair.

Both women turn around to bow their heads politely upon his arrival, giving him a knowing look. “Pardon us, my lord,” the older maid says. “We were merely making sure the Lady Stark was tending to her pregnancy well.”

Nodding in acknowledgment to their words, you spot his gaze drifting back to you. “Thank you for your concern,” he says politely but with a hint of dismissal in his voice. “But I can assure you my wife is in good hands now. You may both go and tend to your other duties now.”

Exchanging a glance once more, the maids curtsey quickly and take their leave under the steel of Cregan’s gaze.

“Thank the gods they’re gone,” you mutter and close your eyes again, sighing softly.

“You make it sound as if they were tormenting you, my love,” Cregan says, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt before he comes closer to the bathtub.

Opening your eyes once more, you all but glare at him. “They were hovering over me like a pair of mother hens,” you snap. “Ever since Munkun gave me that wretched tonic to bring the babe quicker, they have been treating me as if I am about to break, watching my every move as if I’ll faint any second from the smallest exertion.”

Completely unbothered by your grousing, your irritation has him chuckling. He leans forward to rest his hand on your belly, feeling the rather large swell of it. “They’re just concerned about you, my love,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “They want to make sure you’re well cared for during your pregnancy. Can you blame them?”

“Do they want to make sure I am well cared for, or is it a command of my brother’s council?” You cock a brow, bringing your hand to rest atop his.

Cregan sighs at your words, knowing that you’re probably right. The council does meddle in far too many things, and neither of you would be surprised if they’d given strict orders to the maids to watch over you.

“Perhaps ‘tis a bit of both,” Cregan says. “Aegon might be concerned for the health of his dear sister, and his trusted council is definitely influencing his worry. But they are not entirely misguided to look out for you, my love. You’re carrying an heir and your health is of utmost importance.”

Not quite satisfied with his reasoning, you roll your eyes. “Yes, I understand the importance of the heir, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,“ you huff. “But I do not need a flock of overprotective hens following me around, tittering and fretting over every little thing I do. It would not have been like that had we just stayed in Winterfell.”

“Perhaps not,” he agrees, rubbing your swollen bump. “But we’re not in Winterfell, we’re in King’s Landing, and here your brother is king. His council sees it fit to be overly cautious with you. Complaining won’t change that.”

You can’t help the annoyed sigh falling past your lips as you lean your head back against the edge of the tub, sinking further into the water. “How do you think the wolves are faring without us?”

The change of topic has Cregan laughing softly with the thoughts of your hovering maids quickly shifting to your dire wolves at home in Winterfell. “They are probably fine, my love,” he says, still rubbing your bump despite the rolled up sleeve of his shirt slowly soaking up water. “They are being cared for by our men. They’re tough creatures, those dire wolves. They can take care of themselves.”

“Just like me,” you quip, raising a brow. “And I was not born a wolf – I am a dragon.”

“Oh, that you are,” Cregan agrees. “A fierce and dangerous one at that. But even a dragon might need a little bit of pampering and attention now and then, don’t you think?”

The earlier annoyance and irritation at the maids quickly melts away with your husband’s teasing but comforting manner, making you hum in agreement. Yet you have to admit it’s mostly Cregan’s attention and care showered upon yourself that you enjoy. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Your hand now journeys along the swell of your bump, while you bring the other to rest at the back of his neck, gently massaging it. His attention and care, however, aren’t enough to keep your light demeanor up as a sharp tug makes itself known in your stomach. Your body curls together at that, making you moan out in pain.

Not wasting a moment, Cregan leans forward, trying to figure out what is going on. “Are you alright?” he asks with a concerned voice, his wide, gray eyes locked on your features.

As another pang of pain grips your body, you gasp and clutch the back of his neck instinctively, your eyes widening in realization. “The babe…” you gasp, face twisting in pain as another contraction washes over you. “I think the babe… the babe is coming. Now.”

His eyes widen briefly in surprise, but his instincts kick in immediately. Quickly springing into action, he rises to his feet and reaches for a large cloth. “Let me get you in bed, and then I shall fetch the mae–”

“Just fetch the maester please, this shall be fine.”

Biting back a worried protest, knowing that arguing with a woman in labor would be a futile endeavor, much more with a woman as stubborn as you are, he rushes out the door with a nod of his head and a forced smile on his lips.

As he leaves the room, you’re left alone, body wracked with increasing contractions that force one groan and gasp from your lip after the other. Your fingers dig into the rim of the tub, the realization dawns on you that you might have to give birth right here in the bathtub.

The door pushes open again, and behind your wolf of a man barging into the room is Grand Maester Munkun, his expression not as concerned as your husband’s.

“Maester,” you croak with a strained voice, looking at him as he moves to your side to assess your condition. “Is this normal? The pain, the–the rushed… labor?”

He grimly shakes his head. “‘Tis not uncommon for a tonic to bring on labor earlier than expected when the mother has surpassed her time. And the early onset of labor also does not necessarily mean anything is wrong,” he explains. “The pain you’re experiencing, however, should not be this severe. Let me examine you, my lady.”

You hardly notice your worried maids scurrying into the chambers with towels in their arms when the maester pressed his fingers against your swollen belly, eventually even going lower to feel inside of you. Cregan towers over him from behind, making sure that he does not make one wrong move and ensures your and the babe’s safety.

And only at the maester’s next words seem you and your husband to be able to breathe again. “The babe seems to be positioned properly,” he announces. “And the pains are strong and regular. This is a good sign. For how long have the pains been coming, my lady?”

You grit your teeth through another wave of pain, meeting your husband’s worried gaze. “I’ve felt little… twinges all day,” you manage to say between labored breaths. “But they were so minor, I did not think them worth mentioning.”

“Sometimes the early stages of labor can be mild and easy to overlook, my lady. But now that it is progressing, the pains will become more intense as the babe prepares to make its entrance into the world.”

You suddenly feel a twinge of pain tear through your body like a hot knife, like you are being torn apart, making it impossible for you to hold back a scream. The maids all but hurry to your side at the sight, the older one bringing a soothing hand to your shoulder. “Take deep breaths, my lady,” she encourages, “and then push.”

Two other maids grab your legs and hoist them over the rim of the tub, making it easier for them to gauge the process through the slightly opaque water.

Grand Maester Munkun has been forced away by your husband sinking onto his knees, peeling your hand off the edge of the tub to capture it with his own. Your nails dig harshly into his palm as you eventually bear down and push with all your might, your screams echoing off the walls.

“Cregan…” you pant, completely abandoning any courtesies with other people present. “I… I have changed my mind now… I do not wish–” you’re interrupted by a contraction, forcing you to push once again. “I have no desire to give you an heir,” you pant during a short lived, pain-less moment.

You’re a fierce and proud woman that has endured so many hardships before, yet this seems to be the ultimate test of your strength and endurance – and right now you’re not quite sure you can finish it.

Cregan can’t answer before he’s interrupted by another of your screams, each contraction and push bringing more and more agony, pain shooting through you as your babe readies itself to slowly make its way into the world.

“Keep going, my lady,” the maid says, dabbing a cloth on your forehead.

“I fucking am!” you all but snap, the sharp tone of your voice solely directed at her even causing the anxiety to leave your husband’s face for a moment.

None of their gentle touches and encouraging words ease the pain that ripples through your body – not when the pressure inside of you builds up so quickly.

Beads of sweat drip down your forehead, caught by the maid’s cloth and leaving your skin glistening with the effort of birthing Cregan’s heir.

The pain gets less for a moment, allowing you to breathe as exhaustion creeps up on you despite you not yet being done. Your head tips to the side, and your gaze meets the concerned one of your husband, an anxiety etched on his features that makes it clear his heart aches with your screams.

He leans in and tips his forehead against yours, allowing you to close your eyes for a moment and take in a deep breath. “You’re doing so well, my love,” he whispers, a tremor in his voice that comes close to the one that shakes his large hands. “Hold on, just a little longer.”

The urge to push becomes adamant once again, forcing you to hunch forward from the force that bears down on you. You all but squeeze the life out of Cregan’s hand, the pain so overwhelming you hardly hear the words of the maid kneeling at the end of the tub. “Almost there, my lady. The babe is almost out.”

Every bit of your strength is focused on delivering the child, your energy almost completely spent at this point. The pain seems to consume your entire being, filling your mind with nothing but the agony of birthing your child.

But with another push, all of your suffering suddenly is over.

The pain starts to subside, replaced by an overwhelming sense of both relief and exhaustion. You collapse back against the tub, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

That is the moment for the maids to go into action, their training and experience taking over. One of them reaches down to gently scoop the babe from the water, while another already is at her side to wrap a clean cloth around its tiny body. Where your screams have filled the chambers before, it’s now its cries that echo off the walls, easing all of your anxiety.

“It is a boy, my lady,” the maid still kneeling at your side says, a soft smile on her lips. “A healthy, beautiful boy.” You smile softly as well, releasing a deep sigh of relief.

Grand Maester Munkun leans over the other two maids to assess the newborn, checking for any immediate signs of distress. As much as you want, you can’t keep your eyes open to watch how he peels the cloth aside, and you just smile weakly at his voice. “The boy indeed seems to be in good health,” he declares, clearly talking to Cregan who hasn’t left your side. “A good set of lungs, too, my lord.”

Cregan also sighs in relief, the tension in his body leaving at once at that. Bringing a hand to your cheek, he gently rubs his thumb over your sweaty skin. “Well done, my love,” he praises. “You have done so well. Our son is here and he is healthy.”

“Show him to me,” you demand softly, blinking wearily at him.

With a nod, he rises to his feet to make room for the maids. One kneels down and presents you the small bundle, but as you reach out, a renewed wave of cramps not as harsh as the ones before takes over your body. You grit your teeth and brace yourself for a sharper pain that doesn’t come.

“Almost there, my lady. ‘Tis the afterbirth,” the older maid assures you, rubbing your shoulder. “You’re almost done.”

It’s been quite some time since your septa has told you about the process of birthing a child, yet you still know that delivering the afterbirth is another messy and unpleasant part of it – one that still has to be done anyways.

After it has come out without any issues, one maid quickly takes care of disposing of it while another maid tries to detach it from your son.

With the birth and delivery finished, the attention now shifts to getting you out of the bathtub and into bed to ensure your comfort and rest. The maids have handed your husband your son to gather around you, gently helping you up and out of the water. “Lean on us, my lady,” one of them said softly with her arm around your waist.

Your exhausted body is dried and put into smallclothes and a nightdress until it’s eventually allowed to sink into the soft sheets. The maids fuss around you, making sure you’re comfortable, before your still crying son is finally brought to you.

They tug at the neckline of your nightdress to free your full breasts without a warning, yet you’re quick to swat their hands away despite having your son in your arms. “What are you doing?”

“My lady,” one of them begins, “‘tis important that you begin to feed the babe as soon as possible. The first milk is the best source of nourishment for your son. We just wish to help you with the positioning and latching.”

Their words make you doubt yourself and your mothering abilities, although a part of you knows that it’s not their intention to make you feel that way.

“I know how to feed him,” you snap suddenly, maybe even irritated at your son’s hungry crying, and the maids recoil at your harsh tone. They know that the first hours with a newborn are never easy, and they know that you are exhausted, sore, and overwhelmed by the recent events – hence their quick recovery.

“Of course, my lady,” one says, her voice gentle. “We did not mean to overstep. We only want to ensure that both you and the babe are safe and well cared for.”

Letting out a deep breath, you meet your husband’s gaze and try to keep your irritation at bay. “I understand,” you reply, slightly opening your arms to allow them to continue.

The earlier, chastened demeanor of the maids is replaced by a reassuring one as one maid grabs your hand to bring it to your breast, demonstrating how to help your babe latch on your little bud. “There you go, my lady,” she whispers as you eventually begin to nurse your son, offering quiet, encouraging words.

Cregan, who has been silently observing the scene, finally interjects. “Thank you for your services,” he says, voice kind but firm. “You all have done an excellent job and you may leave now.”

The maids and grand maester glance at you and your son once more before filling out of the room, leaving your small family alone. Your husband contemplates sitting down in a chair close to the bed, but instead opts to occupy his side of the bed, scooting closer to you and bringing a hand up to brush your son’s cheek lightly with a finger. You shift a little to accommodate him right next to you.

Your eyes are fixed on the infant in your arms as you continue to nurse him, watching as he greedily sucks at your breast with soft smacking sounds filling the otherwise quiet room. Despite the exhaustion, a sense of contempt washes over you.

“Can you believe he is really ours?” you ask softly, not tearing your eyes off of your son.

Cregan chuckles softly and shakes his head. “I can scarcely believe it,” he replies. He leans in and presses his lips to your temple, speaking against your skin. “You are incredible, do you know that?” Pulling back, his gaze is filled with love and admiration. “Everything you went through… I have never seen anything more courageous and admirable.”

“What do you think about Eyron?” you whisper, eventually meeting his gaze.

He repeats the name, testing the sound of it and seriously considering it. “I like it. It has a strong, northern feel to it. Suits him well, I think.”

Your smile mirrors his as your eyes drift back down to your son, who is still suckling at your breast, his tiny hand clutching at the neckline of your nightdress as he does so. You gently brush a finger over his head, feeling the softness of the light hair.

Relaxing into your husband’s embrace, your body fitting against his like a missing piece, you close your eyes in contentment. “You do know you will not ride at the front with your men on the way back north, do you not?”

He kisses your temple yet again, chuckling softly. “That is something to discuss once you have recovered and ‘tis time for us to return, my love.”

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hawkinsbnbg · 8 months ago

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Soulmates au where Steve's soulmate is a man of culture.

ao3

Steve got Good boy inscribed on his butt, just on the right cheek.

It would be funny if it was a tattoo Steve had gotten one time when he was too drunk and on a dare.

Except it wasn't a tattoo. At all.

Even though it kind of looked like one.

It was the first words his soulmate would say to him.

When Steve first got it, his friends had given him odd looks in the locker room.

Tommy would use many excuses to touch and even Billy wouldn't shut up about it.

As for Carol, she just cackled her head off when he showed it to her.

Still, whenever Steve was alone, he would look at the words in the mirror and feel kinda giddy about the whole thing.

Who would call someone they had just met "good boy"? What if they were far older than him?

And what would his words be for them? "Yes sir"? "Hello sir"?

Soon, he found his answer when he learned about the BDSM world, which Robin had jokingly mentioned one time.

And Steve sort of fell down the rabbit hole since then.

He met many men and women who would call him "good boy", and occasionally "good girl".

But none of them felt right.

Until he heard about Kas.

Who was known to be an experienced dom and knew how to treat his subs right.

Most of the subs in Steve's circle put the man on a pedestal. They practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

And Steve had become curious enough to seek him out.

A quick text over the phone and Steve already had a date with Kas at a hotel on Friday night.

Once the day arrived, he dolled himself up a little, knowing many doms liked how rosy cheeks and pouty lips he was.

He even wore lipgloss and mascara just for good luck.

His outfit was simple enough to take off, but cute nonetheless.

A yellow and pink graffitied black sweater that was a little baggy on him, a tiny pearl choker, silver bracelets, a pair of jeans shorts, and baby pink sneakers.

He looked like a twink, all things considered.

It wasn't his first time dressing like this and it wouldn't be the last time, either.

Steve just..

Well, he just wanted to make sure if he stumbled on his soulmate who happened to be a dom, he wouldn't disappoint them too badly.

It had been years since his word first appeared. So he had the right to be a little bit desperate.

Steve didn't know why, but by the time he got to the hotel, he was a puddle of nerves.

He figured that maybe it was the "Kas' effect" that many people had told him about.

When the door opened to let Kas into the room, Steve just knew this man was going to rock his world.

Kas was attractive and tall. Easily having a couple of inches on him.

With long curly hair, big brown eyes, and plump lips, the man looked surprisingly intimidating.

He wore a burgundy shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing his tattoos and chunky silver rings.

His pants and heavy boots were made of leather, which Steve suddenly wanted to rub himself on.

He seemed to be a lanky type, but Steve knew better than to assume anything.

As Kas languidly made his way to the bed, Steve unconsciously slid down to the floor and got on his knees, waiting for his order.

Yeah, he was a good boy like that.

There was a reason why many doms had asked to keep him despite knowing he only let his soulmate own him.

Kas wasn't any different.

The man smiled at him, dimpled and warm, making Steve woozy a bit at being praised even wordlessly.

Once Kas sat down, he spread his thighs slightly and patted a hand on his lap.

Understanding the silent command immediately, Steve climbed up on it without being told twice.

He blushed and giggled a bit when strong arms wrapped around his waist securely.

"Good boy," said Kas huskily, smelling of cigarettes and something spicy. "What do you want for your reward, sweetheart?"

Steve felt his breath hitched at that. He knew the chance wasn't high but–

"Can I kiss you, sir?" He asked coyly, playing his role to perfection.

This time, it was Kas who took a sharp intake.

Surprise, disbelief, uncertainty, hope, and finally, joy settled on the man's handsome features.

Kas smiled at him again, more genuine and hopeful.

"Baby boy, do you know that I have those words written on my left ribs my entire life?"

"Show me," Steve demanded, unable to keep up the act when he was so close to finding his soulmate.

Without protest, Kas unbuttoned his shirt and there it was, scribbled on the man's pale skin was Can I kiss you, sir? in his handwriting.

Smiling fondly, Steve traced his fingers on those words.

They sounded so sweet. And yet concerning if being put into the wrong context.

What a pair they made.

"Can you show me yours, sweetheart?" Kas asked tentatively, looking unsure despite having been so confident just a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, sure, of course," Steve scrambled up from the man's lap and blushed as he turned around to unzip and pull down his shorts.

Hearing Kas curse quietly behind him was, perhaps, the most flattering moment in his life.

He could see what kind of an image he made with his baggy sweater bunching up around his waist, white thong, and Good boy being inked on his tanned buttcheek.

Some would call it hot, sexy, or erotic.

But Steve knew how obscene he looked with those words on him.

Especially when he was face down and ass up, waiting to be fucked into oblivion.

Not that he had let anyone fuck him, yet. But he wouldn't mind if Kas did it tonight.

Steve shuddered slightly as calloused fingers brushed on his cool skin, and let out a moan when hot lips placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

Then without pausing, strong hands grabbed his hips before sharp teeth sank into his flesh, eliciting a yelp from him.

It wasn't painful. It just made Steve want to ask for more. So he turned around to do exactly that.

"Kas–"

"Call me Eddie," the man tugged him back into his lap.

"Eddie," he breathed out as he straddled the man's thighs.

"Yes, my sunshine?" Eddie smiled adoringly at him.

"Can I kiss you now?" Steve braced his hands on the broad shoulders with a raised eyebrow.

Tightening the arms around his waist, Eddie pecked him on his chin, sweet and loving.

"How about I let you kiss me for the rest of our lives, my pretty angel?"

"And I'll be yours for as long as we live?" Steve murmured against those plump lips.

"Yeah, gonna treat you right, my good boy," Eddie chuckled before drawing him into a fervent kiss.

Steve was so going to thank that Chrissy girl who had sold him her mascara and lipgloss later.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #soulmates steddie #sub steve harrington #dom eddie munson #meet sexy #sionewrites

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buttercandy16 · 13 days ago

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Sugar, Spice, and Everything Extra

PAIRING(s): SugarMommy!Agatha, Rio, Lilia, Jennifer, and Alice x SugarBaby!Reader

SUMMARY: Str*pper Reader meets 5 interesting older women who wants to own her.

WARNING(s): I'm not sure, lol.

A/N: I saw some beautiful soul who requested for someone to write this fic idea. I thought to give it a try even though I suck at writing, lol.

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress 💜

You adjust the strap of your heels, the mirror reflecting the dim glow of neon lights in the dressing room. Another night at The Velvet Petal, another round of dollar bills and fleeting gazes. Stripping isn’t glamorous, but it pays the bills and keeps you in school. Plus, your roommate Wanda, the epitome of balance and chaos, has your back when things get rough.

The music thunders outside as your turn approaches. You don your stage persona: confidence wrapped in sequins and heels. But tonight feels different, charged. As you step out onto the stage, the crowd cheers, but it’s not the usual drunken revelry that catches your eye.

It’s them.

Five women, all seated in the corner booth like a scene out of a magazine spread, radiating power and wealth. Agatha, with her streak of silver hair and piercing eyes, exudes control, her tailored suit sharp enough to cut. Rio, effortlessly chic in a leather jacket, lounges like the queen of the world. Alice, the soft-spoken tech mogul, hides behind her glasses, but her smirk says she’s just as confident as the others. Jennifer, a successful actress, looks stunning and polished, her laughter like music itself. And then there’s Lilia, elegant and warm, her gaze lingering on you with unspoken approval.

As you move through your routine, their eyes never leave you. It’s unnerving at first, but then... intoxicating. They’re not here for the cheap thrills—they’re here for you.

After your set, you retreat backstage, heart pounding. Moments later, one of the staff calls you over. “The ladies in the corner booth asked to see you.”

Curiosity gets the better of you, and soon you’re standing in front of them, feeling like a deer in headlights.

“Sit,” Agatha says smoothly, gesturing to the empty seat in their midst. Her voice is commanding, yet inviting, like she’s used to getting exactly what she wants.

You sit, your hands clasped in your lap as their gazes sweep over you. It’s not uncomfortable—not entirely. There’s something magnetic about them, the way they move and speak as though they already own the room.

“You’re quite the performer,” Jennifer says, her red lips curling into a smile. “What’s your name?”

You hesitate, giving them your stage name. They exchange amused glances, clearly unconvinced.

“Your real name,” Rio insists, leaning closer.

You tell them, your voice barely above a whisper, and Lilia beams. “Beautiful. Just like you.”

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Alice asks, her tone gentle but probing.

“Paying for school,” you admit. “It’s... complicated.”

Agatha smirks. “Not for us. What if we made it simple?”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“We mean,” Rio says, sliding a black card across the table, “that we want to take care of you.”

Jennifer’s hand brushes yours as she speaks. “No strings, unless you want them.” Her words carry a playful edge.

“You’ll have everything you need,” Lilia adds, her tone warm. “Money, support, and... companionship.”

Alice adjusts her glasses, her voice soft but confident. “We’re already close. This would just make you... part of the family.”

You blink, trying to process their words. They’re not joking—this is real. Five successful, gorgeous women offering to be your sugar mommas? It’s too good to be true.

“Why me?” you ask, voice trembling.

“Because you’re special,” Agatha says firmly. “And we know how to recognize something—or someone—worth investing in.”

You feel your face heat as they all watch you, their expressions a mix of affection, desire, and genuine interest. For the first time, you’re not sure if you’re the one holding the power—or if they’ve already stolen it from you.

“Think about it,” Rio says, her hand brushing your thigh as she leans back with a smirk.

“Oh, and here,” Lilia adds, slipping a velvet pouch into your hand. “A little something to help you decide.”

When you open it later, back at home, you find a diamond necklace and a check with a number that makes your head spin.

Wanda raises an eyebrow when you tell her. “Five sugar mommas? Girl, you’re either the luckiest person alive or the plot of a Lifetime movie waiting to happen.”

You laugh, but your mind is already racing. What would it mean to let them in? To be theirs?

The thought thrills you—and terrifies you in equal measure.

You barely sleep that night, the velvet pouch and its contents sitting on your bedside table, shimmering under the faint glow of your desk lamp. Wanda’s light snoring from the other side of the apartment is a strange comfort as your mind swirls with questions.

The next evening, as you walk into The Velvet Petal, you’re surprised to find the same booth occupied. The five women are waiting for you, their presence commanding the room just as much as the night before. Agatha’s sharp gaze meets yours immediately, and a subtle smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.

You’re halfway through your set when you notice it—their eyes are on you, but tonight there’s something heavier in their stares. Possessive. Hungry. The way Agatha’s fingers drum on the table, the way Jennifer bites her lower lip as you lean into your routine, sends shivers down your spine.

You finish your set, and as you step offstage, you know you can’t avoid them. A staff member hands you a note:

VIP Room 3. Don’t keep us waiting.

Your breath hitches, but curiosity wins out over caution. You make your way to the back, heart pounding with each step.

When you enter the room, they’re already seated, their positions casual but exuding authority. The space feels smaller with them in it, the air thick with their energy.

“You came,” Rio says, lounging against the sofa like she owns it. “Good girl.”

The words ignite something in you, a mix of defiance and intrigue. “What do you want from me?” you ask, keeping your voice steady, though your pulse betrays you.

Agatha leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “We already told you. We want you.”

“And we don’t like waiting,” Jennifer adds, her tone playful yet edged with warning.

Lilia pats the seat next to her. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.”

You hesitate, but her warm smile and soft-spoken nature make it harder to resist. You take the seat, the proximity making you hyperaware of her perfume—floral, expensive, intoxicating.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” Alice says, her voice calm and steady. “You’ve worked hard enough. Let us take care of the rest.”

“We’re not asking you to give up your independence,” Rio says, though her eyes glint with something darker. “But you’ll find life’s a lot easier when you have five women devoted to your happiness.”

Jennifer leans in, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “And we are devoted, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure. “I don’t even know you.”

Agatha chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “You’ll get to know us. Intimately.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck as Lilia’s hand gently rests on your knee. Her touch is light, almost comforting, but it sends a spark through you.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Lilia murmurs, her thumb brushing slow circles against your leg. “But we want you to feel... wanted.”

Rio smirks, her gaze dropping to your lips. “And we’re very good at making people feel wanted.”

Before you can respond, Jennifer stands, stepping behind you. Her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, her fingers tracing slow patterns against your skin. The intimacy of the gesture makes your breath hitch.

“You’re tense,” she whispers, her lips close to your ear. “You work so hard, don’t you? Let us take some of that weight off.”

Agatha’s eyes darken as she watches the scene unfold, a predator assessing its prey. “You deserve to be treated like the treasure you are.”

Lilia’s hand slides a little higher on your thigh, her movements gentle but deliberate. “Let us take care of you, darling.”

Your heart races as you look around the room, their eyes on you, their intentions crystal clear. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and more than a little dangerous.

“I... I need time to think,” you manage, your voice shaky but firm.

Agatha stands, her imposing presence filling the room as she moves closer. She reaches down, tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. “Of course, take your time,” she says, her voice low and commanding. “But don’t take too long. We’re not the patient type.”

With that, she steps back, and the five of them exchange knowing looks, as if they’ve already decided you’re theirs.

As you leave the room, your legs feel unsteady, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You can still feel the ghost of their touches, the weight of their gazes.

Back in the dressing room, you glance at your reflection, your flushed cheeks and wide eyes betraying the storm inside you. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into—but part of you doesn’t want to escape.

Back in your apartment, Wanda is sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She barely glances up as you close the door, your heels clicking against the floor.

“Rough night?” she asks, her voice casual, though she finally looks at you, frowning slightly. “You look... flustered.”

You don’t answer right away, instead shrugging off your coat and tossing your bag onto the counter. Flustered doesn’t even begin to cover it. Your mind replays the evening on an endless loop: Agatha’s commanding tone, Lilia’s warm touch, Jennifer’s whispered promises, the way they all seemed to orbit you like you were the center of their universe.

“Not rough,” you say finally, though your voice betrays you. “Just... weird.”

Wanda narrows her eyes. “Weird how? Did someone cross a line? Do I need to come down there and handle something?”

You shake your head, though the thought of her trying to “handle” Agatha makes you snort despite yourself. “No, nothing like that. It’s just... this group of women. They were... different.”

“Different how?” Wanda asks, now sitting up, her curiosity piqued.

You hesitate, unsure how to explain. “They’re... rich. Like, stupid rich. And they... I don’t know. They want to... help me?”

Wanda’s eyebrows shoot up. “Help you how? Like charity? Or...” Her expression shifts to one of amusement. “...like sugar momma help?”

You stay silent, and that’s all the confirmation she needs. Wanda bursts out laughing, clutching a pillow as she leans back.

“Oh my God,” she says between giggles. “You’ve got five sugar mommas fighting over you? That’s the plot of a rom-com, babe. Or, like, a very specific fanfiction.”

“It’s not funny,” you mumble, though your cheeks burn. “They’re serious, Wanda. They said they want to take care of me.”

Wanda calms down, though her grin remains. “And what did you say?”

“I said I needed time to think.”

She tilts her head, studying you. “And what do you want?”

You sigh, collapsing onto the chair. “I don’t know. It’s... overwhelming. They’re all so... intense.”

“Intense hot?” Wanda asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny it. They are hot, each in their own way. Agatha’s commanding presence, Rio’s rebellious charm, Alice’s quiet intellect, Jennifer’s movie-star allure, and Lilia’s nurturing warmth—they’re all dangerously appealing.

“They’re hot, okay? But that’s not the point,” you admit, rubbing your temples.

“The point,” Wanda says, leaning forward, “is that they’re rich, gorgeous, and want to spoil you. What’s the downside here?”

You don’t answer, because you’re not sure there is one—at least, not yet. But something about the way they looked at you tonight, like they were already claiming you as their own, makes your stomach twist in a mix of anticipation and unease.

The next morning, you find a package waiting outside your door. It’s wrapped in elegant black paper, tied with a silk ribbon. Wanda, curious as ever, peeks over your shoulder as you open it.

Inside, you find a designer handbag that probably costs more than your rent, a card tucked neatly inside. The handwriting is elegant and precise.

“You deserve the best. Let us show you. - A, R, Al, J, L”

Wanda whistles low. “Girl, they’re not playing.”

You run your fingers over the smooth leather, your heart pounding. The gift is beautiful, thoughtful even—but it’s also a reminder of the power they hold. They could change your life, make everything easier. But at what cost?

That evening, you find yourself back at The Velvet Petal, though you’re distracted the entire night. When your shift ends, one of the staff hands you a note.

“Meet us upstairs. Same room. We won’t ask again.”

You hesitate, the weight of their words heavy in your hands. You don’t know why you go, why you climb the stairs and open the door to find them all waiting, just as they were before.

This time, they don’t give you a chance to second-guess.

“We’re done waiting,” Agatha says, standing as you enter. Her presence fills the room, her sharp suit impeccable as ever.

“We know you’re hesitant,” Lilia adds gently, rising to meet you. She takes your hands in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. “But we also know what you need, even if you don’t yet.”

Jennifer steps behind you, her hands settling on your shoulders again. “You’re too special to let go, sweetheart.”

Rio smirks, lounging on the sofa. “And let’s be honest—you want this as much as we do.”

Alice steps forward, her eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. “Say yes, and we’ll give you the world.”

The air is thick, their words wrapping around you like a velvet cage. Your heart races as their gazes lock onto yours, each one waiting for your answer.

You take a shaky breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “What happens if I say yes?”

Agatha’s smile is slow, deliberate. “Then you’re ours.”

Agatha’s words linger in the air, heavy and inescapable. The way she looks at you feels like she’s already decided your answer. The others exchange glances, their expressions a mix of hunger and satisfaction, as though your hesitation has only added fuel to their fire.

“I...” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

Jennifer’s hands slide down your arms, her touch gentle but firm. “Shh, don’t overthink it,” she murmurs. Her lips are close to your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “Just let us take care of you.”

Your heart races as Lilia steps closer, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve worked so hard, darling,” she says, her voice low and soothing. “You deserve to rest. To feel wanted.”

The way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. Her hand moves to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that leaves you breathless.

Before you can respond, Rio rises from the sofa, her movements slow and deliberate. “You’re overthinking,” she says, her smirk sharp as she closes the distance between you. “You want this. I can see it.”

Her fingers trail down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Let yourself enjoy it for once.”

Alice is the last to move, her presence quieter but no less intense. She steps closer, her eyes locked on yours as she speaks. “We’re not asking for anything you don’t want to give,” she says softly, her tone disarming. “But if you say yes, we’ll make sure you never have to worry again.”

Agatha’s voice cuts through the haze, commanding and steady. “Say it,” she urges. Her hand reaches out, tilting your chin up so you’re forced to meet her gaze. Her touch is firm but not harsh, her thumb brushing over your jaw. “Say yes.”

The weight of their attention is almost too much to bear, your body reacting in ways you can’t control. Your mind is screaming at you to think, to process, but your heart is louder, pounding in your chest as their words sink in.

“I...” you begin, your voice trembling.

Jennifer’s lips brush your ear, her voice a sultry whisper. “Yes, baby. That’s all you have to say.”

And before you know it, the word falls from your lips. “Yes.”

The shift in the room is immediate. Agatha’s smile is predatory, Rio’s grin smug. Lilia’s eyes light up with warmth, and Jennifer presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, her touch lingering. Alice nods, her lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.

“Good girl,” Agatha murmurs, her hand still cradling your face. “You’ve made the right choice.”

Rio steps behind you, her hands brushing your waist as she leans in close. “Now, let us show you how much we appreciate you.”

Jennifer’s fingers trace slow patterns against your arms as Lilia pulls you into a gentle embrace. Her perfume surrounds you, a soft, floral scent that makes your head spin.

“You’re ours now,” Lilia whispers, her voice dripping with affection. “And we take care of what’s ours.”

The way she says it sends heat rushing through you, their touches and words weaving a web around you that you can’t escape—and, deep down, you realize you don’t want to.

The air in the room feels heavy, thick with anticipation. You’re caught in the pull of their presence—five women who’ve effortlessly taken control of the space and, now, you. Each of them steps closer, their combined energy overwhelming, intoxicating.

Agatha’s hand lingers at your chin, her sharp nails lightly grazing your skin as she tilts your face toward her. Her piercing eyes search yours, and a faint, satisfied smirk spreads across her lips. “You’re trembling,” she murmurs, her voice low and smooth. “Are you nervous? Or just excited?”

Before you can respond, Lilia presses against your side, her arm wrapping around your waist. The warmth of her body seeps into yours, and her fingers begin to trace soft circles along your hip. Her touch is gentle but firm, grounding yet possessive.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Lilia whispers, her lips close to your ear. “We’ll take care of you. Let us show you just how much you mean to us.”

Jennifer’s laugh is soft and teasing as she moves to your other side. Her hands slide over your shoulders, her touch featherlight but deliberate. “You’re ours now, sweetheart. There’s no need to hold back.”

Rio leans against the wall, her dark eyes fixed on you with a smoldering intensity. She doesn’t move, but the heat of her gaze is enough to make your knees weak. “We’ve been waiting for this,” she says, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “And now that we have you, we’re not letting you go.”

Alice is quieter, but her presence is no less commanding. She steps forward, her hands sliding into her pockets as she watches the others with a small, knowing smile. “Don’t let them overwhelm you too much,” she says softly, though the glint in her eyes betrays her own intent.

You feel surrounded, enveloped by their presence and their touch. The intensity of it all sends your pulse racing, your breaths coming shallow and uneven.

“You’re so beautiful,” Lilia murmurs, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. Her gaze is warm and affectionate, but there’s a glimmer of something deeper—something darker—just beneath the surface.

Agatha’s thumb grazes over your lower lip, her smirk widening at the way your breath hitches. “We’ll make sure you never feel neglected again,” she says, her tone promising and possessive.

Jennifer leans in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is let us take the lead, baby. We’ll handle the rest.”

You’re caught in their web, their touches and words binding you tighter with every passing second. You don’t know where this will lead, but you’re certain of one thing: they won’t stop until you’re completely theirs.

_-_-_

Please don't hesitate to leave a comment, like, and reblog. Tenchu!

#agatha harkness x reader #lilia calderu x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha all along #jennifer kale x reader #alice wu gulliver x reader #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha harkness #agathario #kathryn hahn #marvel #rio vidal #dark fanfiction #patti lupone

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 18 days ago

Text

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕚𝕩: 𝕄𝕪 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

𝙾𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: ward is awful to the reader, pet names, older!rafe, soft!rafe, brief mention of the reader’s late grandpa, and swearing

📖 based off an ask by lhhlver 💕 Hi babesss! Could you do one where like Rafe brings his pogue gf home for Christmas and it’s really awkward for her and she has anxiety but he’s there to comfort her and even stands up to his parents or something cuz they don’t like him dating a pogue? Just a thought 🫶🏼

Masterlist

Rafe’s POV:

Festive lights twinkle in the dim night, candles lit on all the windows. The balmy heat of the North Carolina summers exchanged for the chilly bite of winter.

We roll up the cobblestone drive, my hand resting on her upper thigh; the other twisted around the leather wheel. She hums along with the song, velvety and sweet, trying to distract herself from the inevitable. She looks beautiful, as always, a little more at peace than usual when she stops by my parent's place…

I know why, I'm not stupid… This dress helped, as did the shoes and the jewelry. Just simple gifts— nothing out of the ordinary. I love spoiling her.

Sure, it made her a little uncomfortable at first, but she settled into the fact that this was my love language. I wasn't buying her things to change her. I would never want to change her…

She lifts her hand, resting it in mine, her emerald dress catching the winter wind as she steps out of the car. I smile down at her, wrapping her tight in my arms as we take the last few steps up the walk.

I open the door, stepping inside watching her eyes glimmer, just a sliver of unease lingering that she’s trying her best to shrug away. She didn't come from this side of the island… But she belongs here with me, and that’s all that matters.

“You alright, princess?” I ask as I help her out of her fur coat.

She smiles at me, the kind that doesn't quite reach those pretty eyes of hers as she smoothes out the front of her dress. “Just nervous, baby. You know how I get.”

I lean in, kissing her forehead, lingering as I wrap my arms around her waist. “You got nothin’ to be nervous about, sweetheart.”

And I’m hoping that’s true.

Dinner was set like a scene from a Christmas movie. Their formal dining table’s arranged with crisp white linens and ruby centerpieces; Rose’s fine china is placed perfectly alongside delicate gold-trimmed plates.

I look down at the table, catching my old man's eye. His dark gaze flickers to her as she talks to Rose and Wheezie; the weight of his judgment is heavy, as usual. But even with that weight, conversation flows around him—the hum and laughter of the three women filling the dining room, regardless, somehow making him angrier.

She smiles at me, taking my breath away in a glance; my perfect girl. Graceful, kind, everything I ever wanted, but nothing I deserve. And then…

“So,” I simple word. His first utterance all night. Like nails on a goddamn chalkboard. His tone is smooth, spiked with a familiar edge that I’ve unfortunately become far too accustomed to myself. “Was that a gift?” He asks as he gestures lazily to the Cartier necklace around her throat. “N’that dress too, huh? Stunning.”

The table falls silent, and my stomach drops fast. I feel her hand tense in mine under the table, putting me on edge.

“Yeah, anniversary, I believe…” I smile, recalling the necklace. “And the dress, well, can you blame me? It was made for you, sweetheart,” I lower my voice. Lifting her hand to my lips, kissing the top, feeling her tremble with adrenaline.

Ward chuckles, swirling his Old Fashioned in his rocks glass; his laugh low, condescending. “Thought so. She looks well taken care of.” He drawls, talking about her like she’s not even there… Like she’s some kind of pet.

She bites her cheek, eyes shifting to the plate in front of her, confidence shrinking under Ward’s sharp stare.

“It always interests me when I see a fellow Pogue on this side of the island. Well, former Pogue,” he gestures to himself, giving us that old money laugh before taking a sip. Ward sucks his teeth, the dark liquor burning on it’s way down. “I was once in your shoes… Seems a Pogue turns Kook for two reasons: hard work or, well, what do you call it, sweetheart?”

“Dad,” I level my voice, cold and sharp enough to cut through the tension. “That’s enough. Yeah?”

He cocks an eyebrow in my direction, clearly amused. “Just a question, son.”

“Hmm… Yeah,” I chuckle back, borrowing his tone. “A cruel and classless question. Seems about right for you.”

The table falls deathly quiet, all eyes on her and I. Heat rises in my chest; my pulse pounding in my ears. I glance down at her, the hurt in her eyes all but breaking me.

“She’s here because I love her,” I continue, my voice steady but firm. “Not because of what I can give her. And if you can’t respect that, we’re gone.”

My dad finishes the rest of his drink before setting the empty glass on the table. Rose goes to speak, but I’m already pushing my chair back, helping her to her feet. I don't care about the gifts waiting under the tree or Rose’s carefully planned evening. None of this shit matters if she feels unwelcome.

“We’re goin’,” I say sharply, leaving it all behind.

The two of us leave, pulling out of the driveway faster than we came; her cheek shifted slightly to avoid my gaze. She doesn’t want to talk about it. I know her… She’s overwhelmed —her emotion boiling, threatening to spill over if I even utter the words, ‘Are you okay.’ She’s not… How could she be? She needs a minute. She just needs me to be close. I reach down, resting my hand on top of hers.

She looks down at the contact between us, the tears building on her waterline falling on her dress.

“Thank you, baby,” she mumbles hastily, like the words had been on the tip of her tongue for too long. “You didn't have to do that.”

“Of course I did, princess. Are you joking?” I ask as I steal a quick glance. “Nobody talks bad about my girl. Alright? No expectations,” I assure. “My dad… My dad’s an asshole. He’s got to understand that it’s a privilege to be around you.”

Her pretty lips tug to the side, fighting back more tears. “I don't care if he’s family or not, sweetheart. You're the most important thing to me. Okay?”

She looks up at me, eyes glassy. “I love you, Rafe,” she whispers as he lifts my hand, kissing my fingers one by one.

”I love you too, princess.”

“Where are we going?” She smiles softy at me from the passenger's seat as we pass our road, headed north.

“Change of plans. I just wanna go for a ride, princess. That alright?” I ask as I squeeze her thigh. She nods, turning up the music before relaxing into her seat.

She smiles as we roll into The Cut, gliding into a familiar parking lot. “Shells Diner?” She beams brightly, basking in the nostalgia of it all.

“Mhmm…” I hum as I lean over the center council. She grabs my cheeks, kissing me gently. “Met the prettiest little waitress here…” I whisper against her lips, feeling her smile against mine.

I trot around the car, helping her out just like I had at Tanneyhill, looking down at her beautiful eyes, that sliver of unease long gone.

The diner is a staple— nothing fancy, just a cozy, hole-in-the-wall place with peeling paint and a flickering neon sign. But it’s special.

The diner glows with a warm retro charm. It’s the kind of place that never changes; the scent of coffee and griddle-cooked meals clings to the walls. Christmas lights dangle messily along the ceiling. Dusty garland frames the windows; its shelf, cluttered with decorations.

The booths are well-worn, their red vinyl cushions cracked but familiar. A small Christmas tree stands in the corner by the jukebox, its ornaments mismatched but lovingly placed. The faint hum of holiday music filters through the speakers, blending with the occasional clatter of dishes from the back and the people scattered around.

Eyes shift nervously in my direction as they always do. My girl sees the good in me and might be the only one. I don’t blame the old waitresses for looking at me uneasily from time to time. But, when I’m with her, their judgment seems to fade away… If she’s happy, they're happy. And that’s the way it should be.

They greet her like they haven’t seen her in years, eyes wide as they take in her beauty, making her give them a little twirl in her fancy dress, chuckling about how they wanna hug her, but they’re afraid they’ll get her all dirty.

When we slide into the booth, she leans back, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watches me, and I’m hit with the most beautiful deja vu of the first time I saw her… The only thing that changed is that she’s mine.

I throw my coat off my shoulders, rolling up my sleeves, adjusting my Breitling watch, getting a taste for how out of place she must have felt tonight. Not even scratching the surface.

The waitress sets down our coffees and pie, the two of us alternating bites, our hands occasionally brushing ‘til I'm shifting out of the table, nestling myself next to her.

She cuddles into me as I feed her and myself, and she feeds me, the two of us chuckling every time our forks clash. The waitress comes over, drawing two fresh cups of coffee, steaming curling together.

After a while, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a small wrapped box from her bag. Her hand is a little shaky as she slides it over to me with a nervous smile. “Merry Christmas, baby,” she whispers.

“You didn't have to, sweetheart,” I smile as my heart swells.

Inside is a pendant—simple but elegant. The band was made from her late grandfather’s gold bracelet, and I recognized the ruby right away. The name embossed on the velvet box lets me know it’s custom. She shaped into something timeless for me… something she knew I’d love. The metal glows softly in the diner’s dim light. I flip over the pendant, our initials looped in cursive, perfectly intertwined.

I stare at it for a moment, my fingers running over the smooth surface. “This—this is perfect, baby,” I breathe. “Thank you. I love it.”

“I’m glad... I love you,” she whispers, and I feel that in every fiber of my being.

“I love you too, princess.”

“Can you help me?” I smiles as I reach around my neck, fiddling awkwardly with the gold clasp, battling against my blunt nails. I turn slightly, the tight booth making it impossible for me to twist.

“Come here, baby,” she coos as she moves out of the booth. I push out and stand up, smiling down at her before turning around. She unclasps it easily, sliding on the pendant before clipping it again.

Her fingers run across my chest, my heart banging underneath, and I drop on one knee— the ring burning a hole in my pocket all night, lifting a weight off my chest when I show it to her.

“I’ve been waiting for the right moment…” My lips spread in a trembling, awkward smile. “I told you it’s a privilege to be around you. And I meant that. I want you to know that I’ve always known how lucky I got with you, princess. You have shown me love for the first time—real love. I want to take care of you like you take care of me. I hope you need me just a fraction of how much I need you. So, sweetheart, will you let me spend the rest of my life showin’ you just how much you mean to me?”

She smiles and nods happily as her hand meets mine, sniffling and holding back tears.

“Will you marry me?”

I slip the ring on her finger, and before I know it, her lips are on mine, pulling me closer, and everything and everyone else fades away.

tags: @hippiegoth97 @loserboysandlithium @rafesthroatbaby @kisses4angels @watchmerora @babygorewhore @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @littlelamy @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren

#rafe cameron #rafe #outer banks #obx #older rafe cameron #older!rafe #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe x female reader #rafe x y/n #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafeyscurtainbangs kinkmas 2024 ❄️#rafe kinkmas #rafe cameron x reader

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moonlitdesertdreams · 8 months ago

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Take the damn shot

A/N: Ohhhhh I've spiraled. Going from Mandalorian fics to writing about a radioactive cowboy with no nose within a couple weeks of each other is totally healthy :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence. Summary: A single quiet day in the saloon is all you wanted. But somehow, your Ghoul partner is pulling his gun and you're covered in another person's blood. Honestly, it's just typical.

Word Count: 1.7k+

(GIF Credit to @djo)

The Ghoul hates to admit it, but he needs you.

In the same sick and twisted, goddamned way he needs the Vials to stay sane, he needs you next to him. When poison air grows thick and the scorching sun sinks beyond a brutalized horizon, you’re always at his side. Day in and day out, you stick around. Full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the fucked up world you’re all stuck in.

And Cooper’s not one for generosity anymore, but he gives you credit a lot of the time. He knows he can be nasty, and you don’t mind one bit. In spite of his callousness and general disregard for safety, you put on a chipper attitude and tug him (sometimes physically) along to the next town. Outwardly innocent but filled with a mutual hatred for Vault-Tec and what its influence had done to the world and yourself, you’d quickly become his diamond in the rough.

And you shine particularly bright in the shack of a building the Wasteland called a saloon. You’ve made careful friends with a couple of gray-haired biddies- presumably the owners- in the back of the room, and chat happily with them. Cooper sits off to the side behind you, a bottle of the local brew dangling between his fingers. He’s content for the first time in a while; ass in a creaky rocking chair and boots kicked up on an old milk crate. The brim of his hat is pulled down to hide the majority of his face, but eyes wander lazily from you to the front door.

Cooper didn’t think many things were nice any longer, but listening to you prattle on with the women warmed something in his dead heart.

“You’re awfully pretty for this place.” The older of the two women, sporting a single eye and an impressively neat beehive style, compliments you. “Gotta be out of the Vaults with that skin.”

The Ghoul tenses, knowing the mention of your 200-year prison would strike a nerve.

“Yeah. I’m from before the war, actually.” You say it plainly and chase it down with a swig of liquor. “Fuckin’ Vault-Tec.”

The Ghoul’s familiar with your story, from you finding out about the plan to drop homemade bombs on American citizens to your confrontation with the executive group in Vault 31. Little did you know, you’d be sneaking in with no chance for escape. Cooper tightens his fist at the thought of Hank MacLean shoving you carelessly into a cryopod and slamming the button to lock you in. You’d relayed the story to him with watery eyes, and that’s something he absolutely loathed. He had enough personal beef with Hank that your trauma added to his ever-growing list of things to be absolutely pissed-the-fuck-off about.

Finch and Sparrow, as they were so comically named, clutch their pearls in sadness as you tell your story. They fawn over you, and Cooper makes out a few ‘fuck them Vaulties’ and a ‘well as much as it sucks, we’re glad you made it this far’. You sniff just barely and wipe your eyes.

“Thanks, ladies. It means a lot.”

The conversation turns back pleasant for the most part, and you’re enthralled as the women pull you into the town gossip. Cooper begrudgingly gets up to piss, comfy as he was, but stops at your side to hand off his bag first. You take it with a nod, more interested in the rumor mill than his whereabouts for the moment. He swaggers to the back door of the saloon, where wind whips sand against his jeans and patters the leather of his boots with tiny rocks.

Voices drift out the door from inside as Cooper yanks his zipper back up.

“Is it true what they say ‘bout Vaulties?” It’s a man’s voice, gruff and demanding in comparison to the happy lilt of yours. “Heard your story and always been… curious.”

“If you listened, you would know I ain’t no Vaultie.” Your reply is instant, but the edge in your voice has Cooper stepping a little faster down the short hallway. He reemerges to the sight of a suspiciously dressed man leaning against the wood beam beside your table, a little too close for comfort.

“Sure you are, darlin’. I can tell by lookin’ at’chya.” The man’s face is half-covered by a bandanna, and a pair of sand goggles are pushed up on his forehead, “Like they say.. everything’s… softer.”

There’s suddenly a hand landing on your shoulder, and Cooper sees red. His gun is pulled before he knows it, leveling at the man’s forehead.

“Hands off the girl.” He growls.

On closer inspection the man is probably close to the age you appear. Above the bandanna, weatherbeaten skin turns into frizzy ginger hair. He’s wearing a typical duster type coat, and the goggles are leaving red marks in his forehead. Cooper decides he’s taken shits more attractive than him.

Probably smarter, too.

“Fuck off, Ghoul.” Is the reply Cooper receives, sending a flash of white-hot anger through his already irradiated body. “I wasn't talkin’ to you.”

It was all too common, being brushed off. At this point in his life, it actually brings a smirk to his face. Your mouth is even tipping up at the edges, having had many interactions with the can of worms this guy was prying open.

“Listen man, I think you should let it go.” You warn and try to stand from the broken chair you had been carefully perching on. The red-head doesn’t relent, and pushes you back down into the chair. It wobbles dangerously as Cooper stomps closer. The movement prompts your captor to pull his own gun. It’s a crudely made pipe pistol, but able to shoot flying projectiles into your brains nonetheless.

“Get your goddamn hands off her before I decorate that wall with your fuckin’ skull.” Cooper yanks the hammer back on his pistol, hesitating at your close proximity.

The redhead pulls his bandanna down and Cooper watches you lean away as you recognize the scent and characteristics of a Fiend. His teeth are hanging loosely at crooked angles, and the pock marks around his mouth from scratching his skin open drip blood and serous fluid. His gun is trained on Cooper, but he freezes when he sees the Ghoul shift forward.

“Ah ah ah. How’d you like me to put a bullet in her instead?” The Fiend tugs you to your feet and nuzzles at your hair as he presses the barrel of his gun to your ribs. “I’d love a taste myself.”

The suffocating need to keep you safe and at his side fills Cooper’s corroded veins as you scowl at the Fiend whose nose is pressed dangerously close to your cheek with rotten teeth bared. Rage ignites from the anger he’s already feeling.

BANG.

Cooper’s watching when the red spray of blood washes over half the saloon, but still doesn’t quite comprehend what’s happened. His gun didn’t fire, but the scent of ignited powder fills the air. You fall to the floor along with your captor, and the aforementioned rage boils over. He holsters his gun and scrambles to pull you away in the chaos.

Thankfully, a quick once-over shows you to have no injuries, but the same can’t be said for your attacker. A foot away the Fiend lies still, about five pounds lighter from the gaping hole in his chest. Gore from his wound is splattered thick across your face and neck. Your eyes are pinched closed to avoid anything unsightly entering them, and you lash out blindly when Cooper grasps your arms.

“Let me go, you rotten bastard!” The Ghoul catches your right hand before it can hook into his jaw, “I’ll kill you myself.”

“Quit squealin’ sunshine, it’s me.” Cooper growls

While he’s getting a handle on your flailing limbs, a shadow covers the both of you. Cooper glances up at the one-eyed old woman who’s sawed-off shotgun is still smoking in her left hand.

“I know your brain is shrunken and all, but next time take the shot sooner.” She bites. ��And feel free to clean up my damn bar.”

Cooper is torn between staring at the older woman- Sparrow, he thinks- and trying to contain your squirming. He’s not too fragile to admit he really doesn’t want to take a punch from you right now, so he wipes the back of his hand across your eyes and tugs you to sit up beside him.

“Cooper?”

He huffs a laugh at your incredulous tone and flicks away the remnants of blood littering your skin “The one and only. Open your eyes.”

They flicker open slowly, and you pout at the blood congealing on your clothes. “I just got these pants.”

Cooper sets a hand on your thigh and squeezes gently. “I’ll buy you a new pair. S’Long as you promise not to get Fiend all over those ones too.”

You thrust an elbow into his ribs at the jab and climb to your feet. Cooper follows with a dramatic groan.

“Old man.” You tease over your shoulder, observing the carnage from Sparrow’s well-aimed shot. A kick to the corpses’ ribs follows, sending a splatter of blood across Cooper’s pants. You shoot him an insincerely apologetic look. “She’s right, you know.”

The Ghoul follows your gaze to Sparrow, who’s hollering at any remaining patrons that dare tread too close to the mess, damning them for tracking blood around the bar.

“‘Bout what?”

You lean into his space, the scent of blood thick in the air. “Take the damn shot sooner.”

Cooper grabs the back of your neck and yanks you forward in a hard kiss. The blood transfers easily onto his lips, and he licks it off while pulling away. “Fucker deserved more than one shot.”

Possessiveness floods his mind and he squeezes the soft flesh beneath his fingers.

“I’da strung him up by his balls if I got my hands on him.” He mutters, tracing another finger through the blood and popping it into his mouth. “After grabbin’ onto you like that.”

You lean into his chest and let a smile curl the corners of your lips up. “All for little ol’ me?”

The Ghoul pinches your bloody cheek. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

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

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

#fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #The Ghoul x Reader #the Ghoul x you #cooper howard x oc #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #walton goggins #fallout fiends #possessive!cooper howard #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #ghouls deserve love too #the ghoul

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cryobabiess · 22 days ago

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Can you write a fic where the reader came to the palace as a new and untouched slave and is really beautiful (also her body). And like Caracalla and Geta want her but she is sassy and refuses but the second they touch she is really shy and acts innocent because she is a virgin but they didn‘t know?

Inter Duos Deos

pairing: Geta x Reader x Caracalla Tags: Light nsfw, implied threesome, dubcon

AN: Reader is named after the gorgeous Sherouk Farid 👀 Enjoy!

It is a miracle by your god that you've kept your virtue intact considering your unfortunate circumstances. The Roman army was civil enough to transport the female prisoners of war on a separate ship from the men. You quickly understood this not as an act of mercy, but of preservation.

A general dressed in leather regalia had grabbed you by the flesh of your arm, separating you from the other women being rounded up like cattle. He inspected you with an intrusive eye, hardened gaze lingering on the linen tunic falling off your shoulders. He forced your jaw open and ran his finger along your gums and the flesh of your cheek.

"This one appears to be in good health. No signs of disease, and quite the sight. Bring her to Palatine. They should find good use for her there. Atilius will deliver her."

They brought you to your conqueror's palace, where you were cleaned and perfumed with incense and oils. The servant girls offered wisdom as they plated your long hair into ornate braids. In hushed whispers, they warned against looking the Twin emperors in the eyes and urged you to keep your head down; do not show fear, for they will revel in it. Back home, amongst the grain fields where you laboured, there was talk of the two holy sons of Rome and their lust for blood and war; it was only a matter of time before they exercised their divine right and sent their men to the shores of your humble village.

As you stood before the great god emperors Caracalla and Geta, with hair and robes spun from gold, you thought they looked more human than what the rumors described.

"My lords, It is my greatest honor to present the spoils of yet another successful campaign!" An older man with thick black kohl lining his eyes pushes you towards the center of the throne room, gold bracelets chiming with his enthusiastic movements.

You discreetly glance at the twin emperors through your eye lashes only to see the elated grin of Caracalla, who eyes you like a starved animal. His aquamarine irises travel the length of your body, lingering on the round of your hips. The servants dressed you in nearly transparent chiffons and delicate gold jewelry, as per Caracalla's request.

"Such beauty you've brought us, Atilius! And to think you found it amongst savages." He jovially exclaims, leaning back against his seat.

"From where does she hail?" The taller brother, Geta, stands from his gilded throne and descends down marble steps. His dark gaze, though equally as ravenous, is more calculated than his brother's.

"From a small conquered village south of Aegypti. And salvaged from a grain field, none the less! Like a jewel plucked from dirt."

"Does she have a name?" Geta inquires.

"Is she pure?" Caracalla interjects.

You speak before your handler speaks for you.

"I am named Sherouk." You declare the name your father gifted you with pride and meet Geta's domineering gaze. He startles at your confrontation, his once pleased grin straightening to a hardened line. Atilius raises his palm to strike you, but Geta catches his hand before it makes contact with your cheek.

"Leave us, Atilius." He commands, unbothered by your words. Your handler looks at you with unease before dutifully retreating from the throne room.

"How bold! She will make for interesting nights. I want to be the first to taste her, brother." Caracalla laughs, sufficiently entertained by your futile resistance.

"I should sooner die by the blade on your hip." In the mere seconds it took to say the words, outrage erupted in the throne room. Caracalla stood from his seat in an instant, fingers hovering over the dagger sheathed at his belt as he strides across the marble floor. Geta holds the space between you and the spurned emperor, his palm colliding with Caracalla's chest.

"Peace, Caracalla, peace."

"Why do you permit her to insult us?! Allow me to grant her dying wish!"

Fear strikes you then. You hold your head high, close your eyes, and prepare to feel the cut of a blade, but it never comes. Instead, you feel the feather-light touch of a pair of hands ghosting over your shoulders, cold metal rings brushing down your exposed breasts and the supple curve of your womb. You gasp at the foreign sensation, your body tightening and your sex awakening. You open your eyes to see Geta's arrogant expression. His fingers dip lower, pushing past the thin layers of your dress to glide through the folds of your cunt. Caracalla's rage is replaced with curiosity as he watches his brother raise a single digit to his mouth to taste your essence. A shaking breath escapes you along with your feigned bravery. Desire takes hold.

"Ah, I understand now." Geta exchanges a knowing glance with his brother. Your facade of strength has been compromised.

Intrigued by your obvious arousal, Caracalla positions himself behind you to take greedy handfuls of your tits, his thumbs plucking at your hardened rose-bud nipples.

"Is it true, brother? That a bitch that guards riches barks the loudest." Caracalla rests his chin on your shoulder as he kneads your tender flesh in his hands. You can hear the smile in his voice.

Geta takes your face between his palms, caressing your flushed cheeks.

"Sweet Sherouk," His low voice is as saccharine as molasses, but false. "what riches do you guard?"

#emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla x reader #Geta x caracalla x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #mine #aight im slowly gonna get through these asks #ill post another tomorrow

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milfsdoll · 2 months ago

Text

Did I tell you how beautiful you are, already?

Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Your best friends drag you to a club to celebrate finishing college, and when you cross eyes with a stunning older woman it makes you do something you’ve never done before.

Warnings: +18, smut, alcohol, soft dom!Agatha, sub!reader, oral sex, finger sex, strap on, choking kink, praise kink, etc.

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: Just a reminder that English is not my first language, and... I might have got carried away writing this.

Masterlist

“Come on, please, do it for me?”

Your roommate, Yelena, has been begging you to go to a club with her and her girlfriend Kate for a whole week, you weren’t the type to go partying, so many people in such a tiny space overwhelmed you, but you just finished your last day at college and Yelena really wanted to celebrate it with you.

You have been studying and working so hard for the last four years she wanted you to get loose just this once “you deserve a break, come on” she whined following you around the apartment while you went to have a shower.

Maybe you did need a night out…

“Fine” you scoffed turning around to look at her, her face breaking into a excited smile “just for a few hours ok? I don’t want to spend the whole night out”

Yelena squealed and hugged you tightly “it’s gonna be the night of your life!”

You really doubt it, you’d prefer spending the night watching a movie with them and drinking the, really bad, cocktails Kate did, but well, I guess you could make the best out of tonight.

“Yeah, yeah… let me shower in peace now” you chuckled and she ran to her room, hearing a too enthusiastic ‘yes!’ From Kate “these two…” you whispered to yourself before getting into the shower.

You spent the next two hours getting ready, doing your make up and the girls’, this was the only part you really enjoyed about going out, getting ready with music blasting from your tv, you and Yelena laughing watching Kate dance her soul out.

“I hope you’re taking me to a only women club or something, I don’t want to spend the whole night rejecting guys”

“You really think we’d ever go to a club with straight people? Oh no, we’re going to a gay bar, maybe you’ll find a girl to distress yourself a little bit”

“Hey!” You looked at her with a shocked face, making her burst into laugher “whatever” you rolled your eyes, trying to hide your blush as you turned to the two outfit options you had laid out on your bed.

You’ve been on a dry spell for like… a whole year probably, you don’t even remember the last time, since you broke up with your girlfriend you drowned yourself in your career and you job at the university cafe, deciding you didn’t want any distraction from finishing it.

Shaking your head to get out of those thoughts you studied the clothes in front of you, the first outfit was some black plain pants and a lace corset, and the second one a black mini skirt with a deep v neck red top “that one” Kate pointed to the skirt and top “I’m sure you’ll get laid if you wear that top” You groaned at the pair laughing at your flushed face, you shoved them out of your room and got ready, opting to agree with Kate.

Not on the last part tho…

You paired the outfit with your favorite black leather boots before going to the living room where the pair was “ok I’m ready, we can go now” you said making sure you had everything in your purse when you heard Yelena whistling and Kate saying something you didn’t even catch “god you two are insufferable, let’s go”

They knew how shy you got when they hyped you up, and they really loved doing it.

The three of you got an Uber to go to the club, neither of you knowing if you could drive back home later, so you decided for the safer option.

You spent the ride laughing and chatting a bit, finally out of the stress of college, telling what you were going to do now, your plans and dreams for the future. You’d take a year off, deciding to travel around before getting tied down by studying for two more years, you’ve been saving for it these years, and you were gonna live the best time of your life visiting places, you were sure of that.

When you arrived to the club you stared at the entrance, a few people seated outside, smoking and chatting, while Yelena paid the driver, she insisted the whole night was on her, and honestly, you weren’t going to complain a bit “it will be fun, I promise” Kate pushed your shoulder with hers playfully, sensing your anxiety “let’s go” she held your hand and guided you inside.

The loud music reached your ears, it made your whole body shake from the vibrations, the warm lights making you ease your nerves a bit, you looked around, sighing in relief when you only saw women on the dance floor and the bar, you didn’t have anything against men but you really didn’t want any near you, not tonight at least.

“I need a drink” you announced the pair who was already dancing, chuckling slightly at them “do you want any?” You were sure you were gonna end with a hoarse voice tonight, having to yell over the loud music so they could hear you. Yelena nodded at you and gave you her credit card.

She really was going to pay for everything.

You walked to the bar, already feeling a few eyes on you, you sighed and sat on one of the stools “three shots of tequila please” you almost yelled to the waitress, she just winked at you, in a friendly way, and started making your shots.

You looked around while you waited out of boredom, your body slightly swaying to the music, when you looked to your left you saw a woman at the end of the bar, her eyes already on you as she talked to a redhead woman who got her back to you, when you felt her gaze running your figure up and down you immediately turned your head, your cheeks feeling hot.

You couldn’t really see her very clearly but… you could tell she was attractive.

“Your shots” the voice of the waitress pulled you out of your thoughts, you thanked her before paying and made your way to the girls, not without glancing again to the brunette woman, who was still following you with her eyes.

“What’s with the flushed face?” Yelena raised an eyebrow at you while taking her shot, Kate taking her as well.

“Nothing” you just shrugged it off and downed your shot, the hot liquid in your throat making you hiss, the couple glancing at each other shocked, but deciding to let it go.

Kate pulled you to the dance floor, the three of you starting to dance to the music, shouting along the lyrics, but you couldn’t shake that older woman from your head, that wavy wild hair and those blue eyes checking you out.

It felt like she put a spell on you.

Yelena came back with another round of shots, downing them immediately she discarded them on one of the nearest tables. You started to feel the liquor easing your mind, your worries about your life slowly disappearing, only feeling the music and the lights above you.

Closing you eyes dancing to the beat like you were the only one in the club, it’s been so long you didn’t feel this way, not caring about anything or anyone, you made a mental note to thank Yelena for convincing you to come, maybe you would regret it tomorrow morning when the hangover arrived but you didn’t care a bit about that now.

When you opened your eyes you realized you lost the couple, looking around the dance floor you saw them far from you, dancing and practically making out in front of everyone, you giggled at the view and turned around, ready to go to the bar when you saw her, right in front of you still sitting at the stools. You paused for a second, watching as she sipped her drink calmly looking away from you.

Your eyes travelled her form, how the suit hugged her figure in all the right places, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up to her forearms making her look even better, your gaze went to her face again, admiring her side profile, that prominent jaw, watching how she licked her lips after sipping on her drink again, and then her eyes landed on you.

Fuck.

Suddenly everything went quiet around you, you could only hear the music blurry in the back, your heart pace quickening, only focusing how the woman winked at you, in a way of saying she caught you staring, but the smirk she wore told you she didn’t mind a bit.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just the way her eyes encouraged you to do something, but you felt a wave of boldness in you, making your way towards the woman, her smirk widening at the act “hi” you told her your name, you were sure she could hear your heartbeat, you felt like it was going to pop out at any second.

“Agatha” she simply told you, grabbing your hand assuming she was going to shake it, but your breath hitched when she took it to her lips, kissing the back softly “can I buy you a drink?”

You just nodded, your voice failing you to let any word out and she just chuckled at that, finding your flushed reaction really cute “come sit with me, beautiful” she patted the stool next to her, you didn’t hesitate sitting down, trying to hide your blush with your hair a little “you want something in special?”

“Whatever you’re drinking is fine” you smiled at her, seeing how her lips pursed in a hum, her eyes lingering on your legs for a second, making you more flustered if that’s even possible.

She ordered the drink before turning her attention to you again “might sound like a cliche but, are you here all alone?” God her voice, that deep, slightly raspy voice, it sounded hypnotizing.

“No” you giggled and shook your head “I came with my friends, who almost dragged me here, but now they are somewhere making out” you shook your hand towards the dance floor, making both of you chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad they did, it would have been very bored for me otherwise”

“Oh? How’s that?” You raised an eyebrow at her and sipping the drink the waitress laid in front of you.

Agatha got closer to you, her chin resting against the palm of her hand “you’re the only one who seemed interesting in this place” her other hand carefully sneaked it’s way to your knee, her finger tips dancing through your skin, quietly asking for permission.

You grabbed her hand in yours and put it flat on you upper thigh, making the older woman bite her lip, her thumb caressing your skin “the feeling is mutual then”

Your eyes stared at each other for a minute, you could cut the tension between you with a knife, and when you felt her move towards you, her lips parting a little, you suddenly stood up, you were not gonna fall that easily.

The fun just started.

“Wanna dance?” You held your hand to her, seeing as she chuckled in disbelief.

“Oh no sweetheart, I don’t dance”

“Too bad, I’ll have to dance alone then”

You sighed dramatically and walked backwards to the dance floor, wiping a fake tear from your eye. Agatha shook her head at you, secretly loving the show you were putting on.

When you hit the dance floor you slowly started to sway your hips to the music, you hands traveling up from your sides to your head, tangling them in your hair as you closed your eyes, turning around so she could get a perfect view of your backside.

Her eyes never left your form, watching you dance so deliciously, eyes going from your swaying ass to your fabric less back, noticing your floral tattoo for the first time making her breath hitch, her fingers twitching around her glass, imagining how it would be to feel your soft skin under her touch.

She gulped down the rest of her cocktail and stood up, making her way towards you, carefully sneaking her arms around your hips not to scare you “you are something else, you know that, doll?” Her low voice whispered right into your ear, making goosebumps raise all over your skin, a shiver running down your spine. And when you went to turn around she held you back tightly, pushing your back to her front “nah ah”

You let out a gasp, your hands holding her wrists that rested on your abdomen, her hips started guiding yours, making you both moving in unison, you felt her breath on your neck, moving your head to the side making room for her to plant a light kiss just under your ear, one of her hands guided yours to the back of her neck, your fingers interlocking into her hair.

“For someone who doesn’t dance, you move pretty good” you turned your head so you were looking into her eyes, your teasing smirk making her chuckle darkly.

“You have no idea…” she rubbed her nose against yours, feeling her breath against your lips, your eyes flickering between her mouth and her eyes, she slowly turned you around, her fingers softly caressing your spine.

It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to someone, feeling her soft hair around your fingers as you scratched the back of her head, her eyes never leaving yours, she made you feel shy under her gaze, biting your lip you looked away from her.

But it didn’t last a second, her hand grabbed your chin and made you look back at her, her thumb pulling your lower lip from your teeth, stroking it slowly “if I kiss you now, will you pull away from me again?” She asked with a teasing tone, her eyebrow raising for a second.

You just shook your head, looking up at her with doe eyes “I wouldn’t dare” you whispered, your breath hitching as she closed the gap between your lips, you closed your eyes, your lips parting a little, waiting for the woman to finally kiss you, but after a second of waiting you felt her laugh under her breath as you looked at her again, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, she was smiling diabolically, ghosting her lips against yours but never properly kissing you.

With a huff your hands grabbed her cheeks before pulling her towards you, your lips finally meeting, causing Agatha to hum in surprise but kissing you back without hesitation, her arms on your lower back pulling you flush against her “eager, are we?” She hummed between kisses.

“Shut up” you bit back letting out a chuckle, but the woman didn’t like that, her teeth biting you qlower lip in a warning before her tongue intruded your mouth, making you moan into her mouth.

She liked control…

Good.

The kiss was soft, but intense, she tasted like sweet alcohol, her hands squeezing your hips, and when she pulled away for air you pouted, already missing her addictive soft lips.

And when she was about to comfort you she saw two girls behind you, looking at the two of you not very subtly, she turned to you clearing her throat “I hope those are your friends”

“What?” You looked at her with a questioning face before she pointed to them with her head, you turned around, her hands never leaving your body, when you saw Yelena with her arms crossed and raised eyebrow playfully and Kate giggling behind her “oh come on” you groaned and hid your face in your hands.

“Oh no, don’t mind us” Yelena said with a smirk “we were just about to leave, are you… coming home with us or…” she looked between you and Agatha.

You turned to Agatha, not really knowing what to do, you didn’t want to leave at all, not now, but you didn’t want to go home alone later “you can come to my place if you want” she whispered in your ear and winked at you, making your face flush red, your breath shaking for a moment.

“Are you sure?”

“More than sure” she squeezed your hip and nodded at you confidently.

You turned back to the girls, perfectly knowing they saw and heard the interaction “I’m staying, don’t worry about me”

Yelena nodded before turning to Agatha “I don’t forget a face, so be careful with her, or be sure I’ll search for you”

“Yelena!” You huffed at her in disbelief, leaving Agatha’s hold to push your friend away before she embarrassed you any further “I will call you if anything happens, I promise”

“I told you the top would work!” Kate squealed behind you, making you blush even harder.

“Yes, yes, now please go” you whined looking at her desperately, she gave you a quick hug and a ‘have fun’ whisper before dragging Yelena out of the club. You sighed in relief before going back to Agatha, who was trying to hold her laugh with her hand over her mouth “God, I’m sorry”

“Hey, they’re just looking out for you, it’s cute” she chuckled and pulled you close to her again by your waist, it was cute really, seeing how protective they were of you, she wished she had someone like that in her youth, it would have saved her from a lot of unwanted situations “now… do you want to go to my place?”

“Right now?”

She hummed nodding her head “only if you want to, of course” the last thing she wanted was making you uncomfortable “we can walk, I only live a few blocks from here”

“I do want to” you reassured her, holding her hand and squeezing it, and you two walked outside, hand in hand Agatha guided you to her house.

You made a little chat, talking about meaningless things mostly “are you cold?” She said seeing you shiver at her side, you just shook your head, telling her you were ok, but she just took off her blazer and placed it on your shoulders “if I let you freeze I’m sure your friend will kill me” you both chuckled at that, it was true, if you came home with a cold Yelena would certainly kill the woman.

Soon you arrived at her place, it was nice, a cute house in a neighborhood, she let you inside before her, allowing you to look around a bit “I wish to have a house like this some day” you smiled at her, following her to the kitchen.

“If you work hard enough you’ll have it in a few years” she winked at you, watching as she grabbed two glasses from a cabinet, she poured you both some wine “and something tells me you’re a smart girl”

That made you blush “well I just finished college, that’s why my friends wanted to go partying” you said while hopping on her island.

“Cheers to that then” she clicked her glass with yours before sipping it “What did you study, if it isn’t much to ask?” Her hand stroked your upper thigh, making you hold your breath for a second.

Her touch was just so… electrifying, so warm, it felt so good, you didn’t know this woman at all, but you knew you wanted to feel her touch everywhere, her voice praising you right in your ear.

“I studied creative writing”

You earned a curious hum from the woman, seeing how she made herself comfortable between your legs “I want to be a writer, but I have to get my master’s degree to get a good job, but my brain is so fried of studying I’m going to take a year break and maybe start writing my first book, who knows? It might blow up and I won’t have to study anymore”

The woman listened to you, paying attention to every word you said, a smile growing on her lips “that’s very interesting, and I’m looking forward to read your book” she squeezed your thigh, making you giggle “it’s true, I’ve always admired the creativity of the writers, or of the artists in general”

“Yeah, it takes a lot of imagination” you hand played with her shirt “what do you do, if I can ask?”

You didn’t know why but you wanted to know everything about the woman, you were sure she has lived a lot of adventures, the decoration of her home agreeing with you, it was full of paintings and sculptures of all around the world. And she did tell you, she told you she was an archeologist, how she has travelled all around the world, studying about all cultures and collecting so many treasures.

Her eyes glowed when she talked to you about her job and her trips, and you loved it, you wanted to be like that someday, being proud of who you were and what you have done.

She was inspiring.

You didn’t know when or how but you ended in her living room, seated on the couch facing each other, wine still in hand, Agatha asked you about where you wanted to travel this year, telling you advises and warnings from the places she had been.

She told you stories, anecdotes, you spent hours talking, it felt so easy with her, you’ve never met anyone this interesting.

You were both laughing at something she said, your hand fell on her thigh softly for support, when she suddenly grabbed your glass and discarded it on the coffee table with hers, when she sat back she pulled you close, pulling your now bare leg over her lap “you are really beautiful, you know that?” She said wiping a hair out of your face, her thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“I could say the same thing about you” you smiled at her, your lips kissing softly the palm of her hand.

“I’m old” she scoffed and bit her lip.

“You’re not that old, and so what if you are? I’ve always found older women gorgeous” you made yourself comfortable on her lap, your hands stroking her collarbone and neck “and you are gorgeous”

Agatha just hummed and pulled you closer, her hands laying comfortably on your bottom “well thank you, sweet girl” she planted a kiss on the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, making her way down your neck, causing you to gasp, your hands going into her hair.

“Agatha…” you breathed out, her teeth biting on you pulse point “please… kiss me” she turned her head to look at you, admiring the love bite she just left on your neck.

“Such a good girl” she hummed, her nose rubbing against yours softly “let me hear you beg for me a little more, hm?”

You pouted at her, yours hands traveling down to her shirt, unbuttoning it slowly “please, I need to feel your lips everywhere, I need you, please Agatha”

“Everywhere, huh?” She asked, making you nod eagerly “I can’t deny such an obedient girl then” she said before her lips were on yours, how she perfectly molded your lips together, her tongue dominating yours into your mouth, it was intoxicating, addictive even.

The woman stood up from the couch, wrapping your legs around her middle as she walked up the stairs, holding you tightly so you wouldn’t fall, her lips only parting from yours for air, immediately yours landed on her neck kissing and nipping softly, hearing how her breath hitched with your act.

When she arrived to her bedroom she laid you on her bed softly, seeing her stand on the end, her hair a mess from your hands, her lips puffed from the kiss, her shirt half unbuttoned, showing the purple lace bra underneath it made you shiver, your thighs closing on their own, feeling how wet you were already, it was embarrassing.

“None of that, open your legs for me”

Her eyes darkened suddenly, her voice lowed an octave while she finished taking off her shirt, throwing it somewhere in the dark room. You obeyed of course, your legs opening for her causing your skirt to ride up, your eyes never leaving hers, watching as she crawled the bed on top of you, her lips kissing the naked skin between your breasts.

“You’re too dressed for my liking”

You felt her hands pulling your top upwards, and you raised your arms so she could take it off completely “fuck” she whispered when she saw your bare chest, her fingers softly dancing around them “did I tell you how beautiful you are already?”

“Yes” you said gasping out, you felt her lips wrap around your left nipple, making your back arch from the mattress, your hands holding her hair, she just hummed and turned to your neglected nipple, tugging it carefully, earning a moan from you.

She was already addicted to your sounds, loving how you hips rolled into her with every touch, she wanted to hear you scream her name, to have you ruined beneath her, only the thought of that made her core clench into nothing.

On your end you were trying to ease your breath, it’s been so long without any kind of intimate touch you were so fucking embarrassingly soaked already, but you were sure if it was with anyone else you wouldn’t feel like this, her touch was like magic, it made you feel so freaking good.

Agatha kissed her way down your stomach, leaving marks here and there, loving how they looked on your pale skin, when she reached your skirt she signaled you to lift your hips, her hands pulling the fabric down before discarding it on the floor “oh my sweet girl…” she almost moaned at the sight of your ruined panties “I didn’t even start yet”

Her fingers ran down the wet spot, making you whine and hide you face in your hands “I’m sorry” you whispered out.

“Don’t be… it’s fucking hot” she pulled your hands out of your face, the smirk on her face reassuring you she was being truthful, you nodded, watching her slowly pull your panties down your legs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

You only saw how her face changed, seeing you completely naked, spread out on her bed with her marks all over you, waiting for her next movement impatiently, your hips slightly moving on their own, you looked perfect, she wished she could take a picture of this moment.

With luck tonight would only be the first of many.

She started kissing your knee, painfully slowly making her way up your thigh, feeling her breath over your mound as she continued her tease on your other thigh “Agatha please” you huffed desperately, your fingers wrapping her sheets tightly “just fuck me please”

Agatha chuckled, deciding to put mercy on you before her tongue ran through your folds, making both of you moan, you tasted like heaven, and she made you feel like you were in heaven.

She wrapped her lips around your puffy clit, her hands pining your hips down into the mattress with force, never taking her eyes from your face, seeing how it squirmed in pleasure, your head arching back into her pillow, your moans increasing with each movement of her tongue, she played with your entrance with her fingers, rubbing your wetness all over you hole.

Your hands flied to her hair when you felt her finger slowly pushing inside of you, she groaned at how easily you let her, yet how tight you felt, her mouth never ending the abuse on your clit, nipping and sucking on it, hearing how your voice failed you to let any sound, only gasps and broken moans.

“You feel so good” she moaned biting you thigh “being such a good girl for me” she felt you clench around her finger, slowly pushing another one in, keeping her pace slow but deep.

Your mind was blurred, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t talk, just feel her long fingers inside of you, curling and spreading, your climax growing quickly in your lower stomach, hearing her praises, how good you were taking her, how good you felt around her fingers, it was maddening you.

She could tell you were close, so close, your cunt tightening her fingers, your moans getting louder, you legs slightly shaking already, she had to be face to face with you, needing to see your expression when you came for her, her thumb continued stimulating your clit, her lips kissing your neck, going up your jaw.

“Cum for me”

Her deep voice in your ear made your insides snap, crying out her name you reached your orgasm with force, your back arching into her, seeing stars through your closed eyes. Agatha helped you ride your high, her fingers slowing their pace, staring at your blissed out face, how a smile broke into your lips.

She carefully pulled her fingers away, watching you open your eyes and looking into her eyes, your breath slowing easing, she brought her fingers to your lips “suck” she said, your mouth immediately opening for her, wrapping your lips around her digits, cheeks hollowing as you suck on them, your tongue cleaning them whole.

“Such a good pet you are”

Fuck yes, that pet name, if anyone else said that to you, you would have laughed, but coming from her… it made you immediately wet again, a shiver running down your spine.

Pulling her fingers out of your mouth she attached her lips against yours, biting your lower lip before her tongue intruded your mouth, you both could taste yourself on your mouths “can you go again for me, pet?”

How could you deny her?

“Yes” you said breathlessly, pulling her into another kiss before she stood up from the bed “wait, where are you going?” You whined after her, hearing her chuckle and disappear into her large walk in closet.

A few minutes later she walked out, fully naked and with a harness around her hips, a big, purple, strap on standing proud and tall “fuck” you let out in a breath, admiring her beautiful body, her long wild hair now in a messy bun.

“Like what you see, doll?”

The cocky smirk she wore on her face told you she already knew the answer, watching her walk to the bed, like a hunter walking to it’s prey, her hands landing on your waist as she got on her knees on the mattress, waiting for her to do whatever the fuck she wanted with you.

You were willing to take whatever she wanted to give you.

Suddenly she turned your figure around, manhandling you however she pleased, bending your knees, making you stand on your elbows, her hand wiping away the hair from your back, her fingers following down the pattern of your back tattoo.

It made you giggle, just for this moment it was worth the six hours you laid still getting the tattoo a few months ago.

“You like it?” You said in a teasing voice, turning your head to the side so you could look at her.

“You have no idea”

She hummed her hand making it’s way up your back again, stopping at the back of your neck, slowly she wrapped her hand around your throat, squeezing just the right amount to make your core clench around nothing, you mind suddenly fogging in submission “is this ok?” She whispered against you ear.

You just nodded, afraid your words would fail you.

“I need words, pet”

“Yes, fuck yes” you whined out, feeling her length slightly rub against your wetness.

Agatha chuckled at your state, you were so pathetically desperate, it was adorable. She planted a kiss on your shoulder, her free hand guiding the strap to your entrance, seeing how you rolled your hips into it impatiently, your fingers holding the sheets so tight you knuckles became white “one rule, you won’t cum until I say so, got it?”

She didn’t let you answer, feeling the large toy slide into you, making you hide your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your loud moans, but the woman wasn’t having that, her hand on your throat sliding into your hair, pulling your head out of the pillow “I want to hear you, pet” she moaned into your ear, the heavenly sound causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin.

“I-Is it-?”

“Double sided? Fuck- yes” she hissed between thrusts, it wasn’t fair, at all, hearing her moans and grunts into your ear as she thrusted into you, her pace hard and deep, feeling her right in your g-spot.

She had you cursing between moans, your legs already shaking after your first orgasm, the sound of her skin slapping against yours only making you closer to the edge.

You looked yo pretty underneath her, so ruined, it made her clench around the toy, the base stimulated her clit just perfectly, moaning as she bit your shoulder, trying to get a hold of herself, feeling how her nipples rub against your back.

Her hand made it’s way around your throat again, loving the feel of the vibrations from your sounds on her hand, she pulled your middle up from the bed with her, her free hand sneaking to your clit.

“fuck-! I’m close, please-“ you let out a broken moan, your hand scratching the back of her neck, making the older woman shiver.

“Hold it” she moaned into your ear “be a good girl and wait for me” she was close too, feeling her lower stomach burst with fire, but she wanted to make you suffer a little longer.

You whined out at her words, your nails digging into her wrist on your throat, tears threatening to spill out from the overstimulation, you were not gonna be able to hold it much longer, the feeling of her fingers on your clit making your cunt clench around her.

It only took her a few more thrusts, feeling on the edge with you “cum with me, pet” her voice weak while she bit on your shoulder, you didn’t hesitate a second, letting yourself go, the orgasm waving through your body, feeling the older woman tense behind you, her hold on your throat tightening for a second, cutting the air from your lungs as another wave crashed over you.

She let go of you immediately when she realized, making you fall on the mattress, seeing you shiver for a moment when she caressed your back, both of you trying to catch your breaths for a minute.

You didn’t realize her walking away, your mind to focused on the aftermaths of your high, it wasn’t until you felt her turn you around carefully, a damp towel cleaning between your legs making you hiss a little.

When she finished cleaning you up she threw the towel somewhere, laying down besides you, her hand wiping away the hair from your face making you hum “was it too much?”

You opened your eyes at her worried voice, shaking your head immediately “it was perfect, thank you” you whispered, kissing her lips softly as you wrapped your, still shaky leg, around her middle, your hand stroking her cheek softly.

“Good” she chuckled pulling you closer to her.

You stayed like that for a while, looking into each other’s eyes, still calming down after your highs, before you broke the silence “you know… I don’t do this often, never done it actually” you chuckled as you felt you shyness creep into your cheeks “and I really like you, so maybe… we could do this another time”

Your heart was about to pop from your ribcage.

“Of course, I’d love to, doll” she kissed your forehead smiling, sensing your nervousness.

“Ok, good” you giggled, hiding you face into her neck.

Agatha chuckled with you, stroking your hair as she felt you arm wrap around her comfortably “just to clarify, I don’t to this often either” she felt your shoulders shake with laugher.

After a few minutes you pulled your head from her neck, your elbow resting on the pillow, seeing how the rays of the early morning sun coming from her window light her beautiful face.

“Agatha… did someone tell you, your name sounds witchy?” You hummed in thought, the older woman looking at you in disbelief for a moment.

“That’s because I am a witch, doll” she scoffed playfully, pinching your side and making you laugh, falling back on the bed as she caged you between her arms.

“Where are you powers then? I mean, every witch has powers, right?” You raised your eyebrow at her, your fingers pulling her hair from the bun she still had on.

Agatha stared at you for a moment, her long hair caging your face around it, it almost felt poetical “did’t I just show you? Maybe your little brain needs a reminder” her bit back, her lips lowering on your neck.

“Touché” you just giggled, feeling her fingers tickle your sides.

And suddenly the sound of your stomach roaring made the woman look at you “oh my god” you hid your face in your hands, both of you laughing into the air.

“Come on” she stood up and handed you she shirt “let’s get you something to eat”

“Only if I’m able to walk” you chuckled, your legs still numb from the two powerful orgasms the woman pulled from you.

Agatha laughed, helping you up from the bed and down the stairs.

When you watched her cook breakfast for both of you, your only thought was you could get used to this.

And you thanked the heavens for Yelena to drag you out tonight.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #x reader #agatha harkness x you #x you #smut #fanfic #marvel

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freakyformula · 3 months ago

Text

Stockholm Syndrome

Summary: Mafia Max kidnaps the reader and tries to win her over.

A/N: Might make a part two... Maybe.

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, swear words, mentions of injuries, oral (both receiving), creampie, light spanking....

Word count: 7,7k

The sound of music and glasses clunking filled your ears as you sat with your friend on the balcony of the most extravagant nightclub the city could offer. The menu was filled with ridiculously expensive drinks and appetizers.

You didn't live here, but your best friend Emma did. You two had known each other since you were in kindergarten and spent every day together in school. When you got a little older though, life got in the way and you got separated by university and work. This didn't stop you two, you still spoke almost every day on the phone.

Emma had recently gotten promoted and decided to invite you over to her city to celebrate. Neither you nor Emma had any other friends, it was just you and her, always together.

You didn't really know why she'd decided on this club, but you had to admit, it was impressive with the expensive-looking ornaments and the huge crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the industrial building.

As you looked around, all you could see was well-dressed men and women. You felt misplaced.

"I need a fag so bad." Emma declares and struts off, leaving you alone inside.

Sitting alone made you feel even more awkward and you could see the others looking down at you with what looked like pity in their eyes.

You sipped on your spritz and looked down, embarrassed. You dressed modestly, wearing an off-shoulder midi dress in white, fitting you perfectly. Emma and you had been out shopping for the occasion earlier that day. When you got ready a couple of hours earlier, you thought you looked okay, but right now, you couldn't feel more unattractive.

A bunch of men barges out from a room in the back, making the other guests quickly move out of their way. The men were dressed in all black and walk up to the bar, a couple of meters from you. You quickly turn around on the fancy leather sofa, not wanting to draw their attention. When you turn around, you notice a man exiting the same door from which the other males exited only a few seconds before. This man was unlike the others; he strolled in with gentle steps, whereas the others made their arrival sound like a swarm of hippos was approaching. And he looked so put together. That suit of his must be really expensive.

You catch yourself staring and quickly look away.

"Wanna dance?" You hear Emma yell from behind. You really weren't in the mood but you obeyed her wish. You follow her to the dance floor. You threw your hair and sang along to the song, making the other guests look at you in annoyance, but you couldn't care less at that moment. All you were here for was to celebrate your friend and her accomplishments.

As you walked up to your table again, you went by the bar and inspected the menu closely. You decide on a cocktail and place the order.

"This one is on me." You hear, the raspy sound coming from behind.

The bartender quickly starts working on your order as the man looks at him. You turn around and lock eyes with the man you saw before. He gazes down at you and gives you a sweet smile.

"Sorry, Max." He introduces himself and offers a handshake.

"Hi, I-I'm Y/N." You reply and shake his hand. His handshake was powerful, just like you thought it would be.

"Y/N. Beautiful name. Now tell me, Y/N, what lures a beauty like you to my club?"

You're shocked by his statement, which makes him chuckle, but you still keep eye contact.

Is this man the owner? But he looks so young, surely he's lying, right?

"I… I'm here with my friend." You say and point to your friend who is half asleep on the leather sofa, clearly completely off her face.

"I see." Max turns to look at you again. His gaze is so intense, that it almost makes you uncomfortable.

You turn to look at the bartender, who is taking longer than usual to finish your drink. Max lingers by your side, making small talk with you and what you assumed were his friends until you got your drink. "It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Enjoy the rest of your night." Max smiles at you and you sip on your drink, giving him a smile back. He was pleasant to be around and you felt a little lonely when he and the black-suited men followed him. You went back to your table only to realize that Emma has dozed off.

"Emma, wake up!" You yell at her. You try shaking her without luck. She was out and there was no way of waking her.

"Fuck, always drinking too much…" You mutter to yourself. Now what were you supposed to do? Before you could think further you started to feel drowsy. "The hell?" You ask yourself as you too drift off into a comfortable slumber.

The sound of men talking fills your ears as you're lulled out of your sleep. The bright light makes it hard to see and it takes a while for your eyes to adjust.

"Where am I?" You ask.

No answer. The satin pillows under your head aren't yours. And you didn't recognize the room either. You were too groggy to register anything about the room you were in, except that it was light. Wait, why were you in a hospital? You try to move your hands to rub your eyes but your hands are stopped. You look up at your hands, they're bruised by the handcuffs around your wrists.

"What the… actual.." You whisper to yourself. Now, panic starts to take over all of your senses and you spring up from the mattress to your knees.

"Help!" You yell.

The room felt sterile, and even if your sight was blurred you noticed the white tile walls and what looked like medical equipment in a couple of cabinets on the other side of the room.

Panic fully encompasses you and you place your legs against the wall to try to pull the metal off your hands. You've quickly used all of the remaining energy. Your eyes water up and you look around for something to help you escape. Everything you see to make you company in the room is the mattress, a couple of pillows and the cabinets.

You cry out and try to remember what exactly happened last night. Emma. Where was Emma? You think to yourself. You had to get out of here. As you're about to start struggling with the chain again you freeze, hearing footsteps and voices from outside of the door.

"Open the door." A familiar voice says, followed by the sound of keys clinging.

You have no idea what to do, so you just collapse on the mattress, pretending to be asleep.

As the door opens, you hear multiple footsteps approaching you.

"Good morning, beautiful." The voice whispers. "Get out before I kill you all." He says, barely audible, assumably to the others in the room. Before you can even register it, the room is empty, except for you and the man.

You feel someone rubbing your arm lightly.

"Ik weet dat je wakker bent." I know you're awake

You have no idea what the familiar voice just said, and just keep your eyes shut. The voice sighs and walks off. You hear a thump and you can only assume that the man has sat down on the floor.

You lie there, quiet, not daring to move an inch.

"You know, Y/N… As long as you treat me nicely, I will do the same to you." The voice speaks.

How does the voice know your name?

Slowly but surely, the happenings of last night come to mind.

The man you met at the nightclub. Max. Was he behind all of this?

You don't dare to look up to check if it's him you're sharing the room with, but the voice is similar.

You hear him moving on the floor, shuffling his way over to your mattress. When you feel his fingers on your hand you instinctively kick in his direction. The man is quick though, and dodges the kicks from you. As if by routine, he grabs your swinging legs. You let out a cry, and you two settle with him looking down at you lying on your back with your legs in his embrace.

"Max…. Where the fuck am I and where is Emma?" You look up at him with tears flowing on your cheeks as you tremble in fear.

"Shhhh, sweetheart, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then why the fuck am I here?!" You yell.

"You're simply here because I want you, and I couldn't risk you getting away last night."

You stare into his mellow eyes and try to process what he just said.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Max Verstappen and I'm the head of the mafia around here." Your body tenses up when you hear him. Mafia? Max looked way too innocent to be a part of the mafia. This had to be some sort of sick joke.

"You're mad, you know that? Now, let me loose and we'll forget about all of this." You try to bargain.

"Oh no, that's not how this works, Y/N. You see, I can't just let you go, you belong to me now."

"Where is Emma?" You ask again.

"Your friend? She's safe."

He lets your legs go and starts pacing the room.

"Why me?" You ask in confusion.

"Because you tick all of my boxes. You're beautiful, you've got class, you're funny…"

"You don't know anything about me, creep." You mutter.

"Oh trust me Y/N, I know more about you than you probably realise."

You crawl into a ball, sobbing your heart out as Max looks at you.

"Let me help you, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you, but I also can't let you go.

His words enlighten a rage in you, a rage that you thought you weren't even capable of.

"I literally met you last night, motherfucker! Don't barge in here thinking you know me when you clearly know nothing." You yell at his face.

He looks completely deflated as he looks at you. He stares down at his shoes and seems to think about what to say next. "Clearly, this will take time." He finishes and walks out.

A couple of weeks pass, and you're moved to a new room, equipped with your own toilet, a proper bed, kitchen table, and two armchairs. Max would visit you multiple times a day to get to know you, sometimes spending hours upon hours sitting in that stupid armchair of his, either trying to strike up a conversation with you or just sitting there in silence, keeping an eye on you. Either way, he seemed to enjoy himself.

You, on the other hand, either ignored him or argued back to anything he said. You weren't going to make this easy for him, that was for sure. How he kept his cool, was beyond you.

"Liefje, stop that." He sternly says as you hit the door, desperate to get out.

"You know there are at least 12 heavily armed men on the other side with strict orders not to let you out, right?"

You couldn't give less of a fuck, they might as well kill you.

When you're about to hit the door once more, you feel Max's hands on yours, hitting against the door one last time. He presses you against the metal door and keeps his hands on yours.

"You will do exactly as I say, will you not, hm?" Max asks.

"Kill me then! You might as well kill me if I'm going to be held here like a prisoner for the rest of my life!" You yell in his face.

Day after day, he'd come. Sometimes he'd bring you a bouquet of flowers, which you tossed in the trash immediately, sometimes he brought you something you'd requested, like a McDonald's cheeseburger or Lindt chocolate. You were grateful he actually cared enough to bring you those things. Some kidnappers surely wouldn't treat you with this much dignity, you resonated.

A couple of more weeks pass and Max starts to bring you gifts. Clothes he thought you'd look good in, jewellery he'd put his eyes on and needed to buy for you to wear, shoes he'd take off your feet at some point.

He convinced you to eat dinner at the same time as him. Usually you'd wait for him to finish his meal in order to avoid having to face him. To you, it would equal defeat and you were adamant on making his life a living hell.

"So, could this be concidered a first date?" He smiles at you.

"In your dreams, Verstappen."

His whole body shuddered as he heard you use his last name.

You sitting at the same table as him was progress. In the beginning, you wouldn't even look his way.

"So, when are you letting me free?" You ask with a stern tone.

"When I know you won't run away."

"So in theory, never?"

"If that's what you want." He shrugs as his eyes darken. "I will always find you if you run away. Always."

A couple of days pass and Max once again walks into the room. He'd visited you in the morning, accidentally waking you up. Now though, he was ready for dinner.

"My cook made us dinner." He says as he takes off his coat and approaches you sitting at the table, completing a puzzle he'd bought for you; you were pleasantly pleased when he stepped in with it, you'd mentioned that you enjoy crocheting, reading and solving puzzles at some point, and he'd picked up on that.

"Hmmmm… I'm not hungry." You say.

"I know you're hungry Y/N. My men told me that you didn't eat breakfast."

And he was right, you were starving.

"Ugh… Hate you." You mutter to yourself.

"You don't mean that." Max whispers, reassuring himself.

You move over so you sit opposite the handsome man. You gladly eat the food the cook made, you have to admit that the food they made was delicious.

Max looks at you fondly while you eat until you look up at him.

"What?!" You ask, irritation evident in your voice.

"Just admiring my girl."

"You slam down your fork into the table, leaving four small dents in the wood.

"Your girl? I'm not your girl Max. You kidnapped me! I'm not here of my own free will."

He smirks at you. "Just give me some time and I'll change that."

"Do you promise to be a good girl?" He asks of you as he ties the blindfold around your head.

"Yes, Max." You sigh.

Finally, he was moving you from the lonely room to his very own house.

He leads you into the car, making sure you're comfortable.

On the way, the guards, the same men you met that night, kept communicating with each other. You wondered how many men Max needed to feel safe.

"Don't worry about them, it's only a precaution to keep us safe. I've got important cargo on board." He chuckles as he grabs your hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

You huff, "Last time you call me cargo, imbecile."

When Max opens the door for you and removes the blindfold, you finally realise the extent of his wealth.

What he had defined as a house was a mansion in reality. And the garden… Surely, this is where he got those bouquets from. You also catched a glimpse of the padel course and the swimming pool close by.

All of the guards welcomed you respectfully. It was weird seeing all of them like this, months after your first encounter at the club.

"Y/N, these are your personal guards, Daniel, Lando, and Charles. They will keep you safe at all times." Max states.

The men don't dare to look at you, afraid of Max's reaction. They simply just nod.

Living with a mafia boss had it's perks and drawbacks. He'd bring you flowers from his garden daily, and gifted you something ridiculously expensive weekly meaning your new wardrobe started to fill up with new expensive clothes and jewellery. Max didn't trust you enough to be alone outside the house, so you were still followed by at least one of the guards.

You tried your hardest to be nice to them, it wasn't their fault that you were in this unfortunate situation. They were clearly uncomfortable being your guards, not wanting to look your way, touch you or talk to you, afraid of their fate if they angered their boss. You were thankful though, they helped you with things you needed help with and stayed out of your way when you needed them to.

You had to admit, you lived a comfortable life. You'd spend your day either by the pool or comfortably inside the large, luxurious house. You wouldn't have to lift a finger again with Max as your man. The problem was, you were itching to get out into the world again. You had no contact with the outside world. You missed your parents and siblings at home. You missed Emma. Hell, you even missed work.

One day, after dinner, Max walks up to you with a box.

"Open it." Max encourages you.

"Not another gift, Max. I've told you, I don't want any!" You complain.

"I promise, you will like this one."

You sigh and study the neat black box with a black ribbon on top.

And Max is right, you love the gift. He had gifted you a phone, how generous of him. Finally, you had a way to keep in contact with the world. You had one contact. Emma. You immediately dial her and wait for her to pick up.

"Hello, who is this?" You hear your dear friend ask.

You instantly burst out crying when you hear her voice.

"It's Y/N! I'm so glad to hear your voice!"

"Y/N?! What the fuck, where are you, are you okay? I reported you missing months ago! Honestly, the police, your parents, and I started to lose hope of finding you." You hear her sobbing too.

"I'm okay, I've been forbidden to tell you where I am but I'm fine. Please send my parents my regards."

You continue talking for the rest of the evening. Max leaves you to it, trusting you enough not to tell your friend about your whereabouts. Max permitted you to call Emma once per week, and your calls was all you looked forward to. Hearing Emmas voice was soothing and felt like home.

"Y/N, I'm going mad, where are you? I want to meet up." Emma asks after a couple of weeks.

You look up at Max and Lando, both of them standing in front of you, hearing her question as she's on speaker.

"Uhhh, I'm afraid I can't tell you, Emma, but I hope we can meet up soon." You nod at the men and they nod approvingly back. Not being able to tell your best friend hurt more than it should have. That night you spend sobbing your heart out into one of your goose down pillows in your bed, cursing Max out as he pats your head.

"Fuck you, Max!" You curse.

"Shhhh…. It will get easier. And if you behave and act like a good girl for me, I'll let you meet Emma." Max tries to soothe you.

The day after, you tried calling your parents when Max didn't see or hear, but the call didn't come through. Surely, Max had a function on it, meaning the only person you could call was Emma. Max found out that you'd disobeyed him by calling your parents and took your phone away, enraging you even more. You soon realised that the only way you'd get out of this was by obeying Max's rules.

You were peacefully eating breakfast when Max and a couple of his men followed him into the kitchen.

He sneakily appears behind you and steals a piece of your toast as you're about to have a bite.

"Heyy!! Thief!" You yell.

Max and his men let out a giggle at your annoyed expression.

"I'll be home at 7 pm, okay?" Max asks.

"Yeah." You shrug at him. He gives you a small smile and turns around.

You spend the day at the pool, reading a book Max gifted you. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. Why he chose that book, you didn't know. Daniel and Charles spend their day near you, standing guard. Luckily they don't have to be by themselves and you can hear them laughing now and again.

You craved a friend like that too. In a way Max was unfair, he let his men talk to each other and have friendships but letting you meet Emma was out of the question.

You figured you would freshen up before Max got home, and walked inside. The men didn't follow for once, seemingly deep in a conversation.

That meant that you could discover the mansion by yourself. The men had stopped you from exploring the whole building for some reason. Mindlessly, you strolled around the house, checking the doors. Weirdly, all of them were locked. Bored, you walk back to your room. On the way, you walk past Max's room. Curiosity overwhelms you and you check the door, and it's open. You hear the floor creak as you walk on it. You try to walk even lighter as you find your way further into the room. The floor was painted in a dark wooden accent and the ceiling was filled with paintings of angels, lambs and plump clouds. You turn to the fireplace with a huge painting of a man above it. The man looked like an older version of Max, surely it had to be either his father or grandfather.

All of a sudden, the lights come on, and you see Max standing in the doorway.

"Sneaking around, are we?"

"No, no, it wasn't like that!" You try to explain, as Max walks closer to you.

"Shhhh…" He shushes, "This is the perfect opportunity to show you our bedroom. This is where you'll be sleeping for the rest of your life when you decide to move in."

"I like it?" You say, insure about the dark red tones and tassels spread around the room.

Max takes notice of your facial expression. "I'll have it renovated for you, maybe that will encourage you to move in quicker?" Max asks. "I'm making no promises." You shake your head and give him a teasing smile.

Max creeps closer to you, not breaking eye contact. You've gotten used to the man and you don't back off when he walks closer to you. He grabs your arms, pulling you even closer. You feel the heat he radiates as your bodies touch. And that signature cologne he wears every day smells different at this proximity. Before things get too heated for your liking you pull away, which results in Max pulling you in again, making you yelp. He bends down and places a delicate kiss on your forehead. Then, finally, he lets you go.

You're so shocked, you don't even register that his hands aren't holding you in place, and you stand there for what feels like an eternity, staring into his ocean-blue eyes. Your breath is heavy, and so is his. Max returns his hands to you, but this time he doesn't hold you in place but rather supports you. His hands wander from your sides down to your hips.

Max lets out a small moan. "Feel so good. You're driving me crazy." His words are messing with your head. You know what he's trying to do and you refuse to fall for his gaslighting. But goddamn, his hands felt so good on you. His hands grow bolder and fall to your ass, giving it a little squeeze.

You break from his soft hold and glare at him.

"Too soon? Sorry, liefje."

A couple of weeks pass, and you're growing accustomed to Max and his life.

You and Emma talk almost daily at this point and you're starting to enjoy your surroundings, despite the lack of freedom. Well, lack of privacy to be exact, as Max has let you off his premises a couple of times to do some shopping. The guards were still following you wherever you went though.

Max would try to get closer to you, stealing light kisses on your forehead and cheeks.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Max smiles when he sees you walk into the kitchen. You grab the kettle, "Good morning… You sound like you're in a good mood."

"I am, I actually have some very exciting plans for us later." He says as he walks around the kitchen island and walks up behind you, turning you around.

"Here." He lends you his black card, "Take this and get yourself something nice for later."

"Max… What do you mean by "nice"? You ask.

"Something that will make people drop their jaws, I give you free hands."

And with that, he leaves for work. Lando, Daniel, and Charles are ordered to take care of you. They quickly nod and wait for you to get ready. Just to mess with them a little, you take your time eating breakfast, choosing your outfit, and applying makeup.

"Finally!" Lando exclaims, followed by a slight push by Charles. They lead you outside, walking close by in case you decide to run away. What they don't seem to realise is, you're in heels and you're not running anywhere with them on.

You walk around the mall all day in order to find something nice to wear for the evening. It was harder than you thought, especially since you had no idea of what Max's plans were.

You finally decide on a black maxi dress with a slightly exposed back. You walk out from the changing room and ask the men for opinions.

"Errrm, it's fine, I guess?" Charles answers, unsure of what to say.

"It looks awesome on you." Daniel corrects his co-worker, followed by an approving nod by Lando.

"What exactly are I and Max doing later?" You ask the trio of guards as you walk out of the shop with a couple of shopping bags in their hands.

"He told us not to tell." They simply state.

"Ugh." You roll your eyes at them, annoyed by their loyalty to their boss.

Your eyes land on a jewelry shop, and the most beautiful necklace you'd ever laid your eyes on. You turn your heel, making the men almost crash into you. They apologize profusely but you don't listen. "Good day, miss." The store clerk greets. "Searching for something in particular?"

You walk over to the grand necklace. "How much is this?"

"100." The salesperson states.

You look at them, confused. 100? Surely the necklace was worth more than that.

The clerk must've noticed your confusion because they cleared their throat and looked at the men behind you with a questioning look.

"100 000, miss."

The words came off their tongue like it was nothing. On the other hand, you could not believe what you'd just heard.

"….100 000?" You question. "Consider it sold." You say, smiling. The clerk turns and stares at you with big eyes. The trio behind you stare at you with even bigger eyes. Theoretically, you could get a house for the same price. You finish up the deal and walk away as a proud one hundred thousand necklace owner with the guards taking care not to walk into you again.

When you get home, it's already late and you need to start getting ready.

"When is Max coming home?" You ask Lando.

"Soon." He answers, leaving you alone in your room.

You take a quick shower to freshen up. You wrap a towel around your naked body and when you get out of the bathroom you're startled by Max, as he's lying on your bed scrolling on his phone languidly.

"What the fuck, Max? That's my bed!"

"Hello schatje, miss me? And actually, you're in my house, I can do whatever I want in here."

You groan, "Some privacy please?!"

Max gets up and gives you a quick kiss on your cheek, something you don't fight against.

"Wanted to see you, that was all." And with that, he exits your bedroom and closes the door.

You get ready for him in record time. When you come down the stairs, he's already waiting for you. The dress you wear fits you like a glove and you feel sexy. What finished your look off though, was the necklace, that you'd paired with some other jewelry to match.

Max meets up with you halfway and takes your hand, kissing it.

"When I said 'free hands', this is exactly what I had in mind, Y/N."

"Do you like it?" You ask, giving him a spin.

"I love it, I love you." He admits as he pulls you close and kisses you. This was unexpected and you should've refused but you just… couldn't. When he pulls away he studies you once again and huffs,

"So beautiful, mijn liefde."

"Ready?" He asks as he guides you out to his car.

"When are you going to tell me what we're doing?"

"I'm taking you to see my mother."

"You're taking me to meet your mother?! I thought you were taking me for dinner!"

"Well, technically I am, she's an excellent cook and she's making dinner for us."

You shake your head aggressively, not happy with the situation. Max keeps talking as if nothing happened on the remainder of the car ride. "Here we are." Max says happily as he turns onto the road leading to his childhood home. You see a lady waving on the stairs leading up to the large manor.

"Max, Y/N." She yells. "I'm so happy to finally meet you!"

"Mama!" Max runs to hug her.

He walks back to you to lead you up to his mother.

"Hi, I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you." You try to be nice to the woman and give off a positive impression.

"Hello, I'm Sophie, Max's mother. He has told me so much about you."

You give him a questioning look as you walk in. They give you a tour of the large house, and you can't help wondering what both Max and his mother are doing with such large houses when they live alone, excluding the guards of course.

"I hope you're hungry, I've made dinner!" Sophie tells you with a wide smile.

Sophie is one of the best cooks indeed, and you eat with a good appetite, much to her delight.

Sophie spends the rest of the dinner sharing awkward stories about Max. He buries his face in his hands in order to escape his mother's story about how he shot himself in the foot when he was 11. "And then, he stole his father's gun and ran away… Not knowing it was loaded." She explains.

You enjoy their company, and you can tell that Max has inherited his nice manners from his mother.

"Will you excuse me and Y/N for a moment, I'd like to show her the rose garden?" Max asks his mother.

Sophie nods and you take off outside, it's getting late and chilly, so Max offers his suit jacket to you. As you slowly walk towards the garden, Max creeps closer, wrapping his arm around your back and landing his hand on your hip.

"Your mother is lovely, Max." You look up at him.

"I know, and she seems to love you too."

When you reach the garden, he stops you. "I brought you here because I wanted to ask you to be my one and only for the rest of my life." He asks as he leans in, stopping only a few centimeters from you.

"W-what are you implying, Max?" You ask nervously, looking him straight in the eyes.

"I'm asking you to be my beloved. I want to make you my wife, the mother of my children. I want to grow old with you, and die by your side."

His words makes your stomach flutter. You can't help yourself anymore, you crash into his mouth and he very eagerly kisses you back.

"Max…" You moan, out of breath. "I think I like you."

He sighs. "I love you, Y/N, and I intend to make you love me too, but I understand if it takes time."

As you walk back up to the manor, Sophie is already standing at the stairs.

"We better leave, it's getting late." Max looks at his armwatch.

After saying your goodbyes and getting into the car, Max drives homeward.

His hand is glued to your thigh the whole way, squeezing it.

You feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and you press your legs together. Max must have noticed this, because he pries your legs open with his hand. He quickly slides his hand up to your heat before you have the chance to close your legs again.

"Mijn god, you're so wet already. And I haven't even done anything yet." Max gasps as he moves your thong to the side and slides his finger along your slit.

"Max, please."

"So pretty, begging for me like this. Are you mine, huh? Are you?" He asks.

"Please, please. I'm yours."

Max groans and stops the car at the first bus stop he can find.

"Get in the back." He commands. Luckily he brought the SUV, because there was plenty of space for you and him in the backseat.

"Come here, beautiful." He pulls your dress up to your hips as you slowly straddle him, taking care to not rip your dress.

"Just like that…" He whispers. "Don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you." You can hear your own heart beating, and Max probably noticed too.

"Can I touch you… Like this?" He asks as he kneads your buttocks. All of a sudden, he gives your left asscheek a slap, making you yelp.

"Ouch! What was that for?" You raise your eyebrow.

"For making me wait so long." He whispers, feeling his breath on your face.

You enjoy him massaging your ass but you have another place that desperately needs some attention. You try to grind down on him to get some friction but when you do, he grabs your hips to hold you still. You groan, looking at him disapprovingly.

"What do you need, schat?"

"Need… Need you."

"Need… This?" He asks as his hand wanders to the sides, pulling your thong halfway down your legs and touching you where you need him most. His finger starts flicking your clit while he slowly and gently inserts a finger into your cunt, making you moan out. You feel your walls tightening around his finger deliciously, making him moan. You grind down on him while he adds another finger into your aching pussy. By curling his fingers, he quickly makes you scream out your orgasm. It was drawn out, warm, sweaty and stopping your breath. You collapse on him, making him chuckle.

"We need to continue the drive…" Max whispers in your ear when you've come down and your breath has steadied.

The rest of the car ride home, you spend looking at him, you study his features… His dark blonde ruffled hair, big puffy lips, delicious thighs, blue eyes, and his beautiful soul. Deep down, you knew he was good, he was just brought into the wrong family and upbringing.

Were you falling for him? Absolutely. Helplessly, shamelessly.

When he parks in front of the house, he walks over to your side and pulls you into his arms, carrying you inside.

"I was hoping you'd sleep with me tonight…" He looks down on you.

"If you promise not to snore." You smile up at him. He bursts out laughing at your shenanigans.

"You're allowed to kick me off the bed if I do…" He softly replies as he walks up the stairs.

The guards are smart enough to stop in their tracks at the stairs, leaving you completely alone with Max.

"Why does this feel like some sort of wedding night?" You whisper.

"Does it? Are you nervous?" He looks at you with worry in his eyes.

"Yes… I mean no. I mean… Uh, maybe a little?"

"Don't worry, liefje. You're okay." He whispers back in your ear.

By the time you reach the bedroom, his lips are on yours in a delicious and heated kiss. He lets you down from his arms but as soon as your legs reach the floor his hands are on your hips, swaying you from side to side.

"Would you like to dance?" He asks.

"I can't dance…." You look down in embarrassment.

"Everyone can dance." He huffs and walks up to a stereo hidden in his wardrobe. The songs on the old CD give off the exact atmosphere Max wanted. He walks up to you and grabs your hands, leading you to the middle of the room. He lifts your right hand up slightly and places his other hand on your hip, swinging you from side to side to the music. He leans down and rests his head on your shoulder, letting out a deep sigh.

"You won't believe the effect you have on me, Y/N." He mumbles.

You hum and keep slow dancing. When Max lifts his head, he puts his hands on either side of your face and leans in to kiss you. The kiss was heated and turned into a makeout session. You feel your knees becoming weak and Max grabs you to hold you upright. He gives you a tiny nudge to take a couple of steps back and when you feel the edge of the bed behind your legs you collapse on top of it.

Max takes a moment to admire you as you lift yourself on your elbows and pout your lips. He hovers over you, picking your legs up on the way.

"Is this fine? I don't want to hurt you." He asks and you nod as an answer. How in the fuck is this man a mafia boss? You had never been with a man this caring.

He unzips your zipper and slides the dress down your body with your help. The sight he's met with was like something from a wet dream. You, with a naked chest, in front of him lying in his bed. He slips your dress off, pulling your thong off along with it.

"So fijn…" He coos as his hands wander on your body. When his hands land on your bare chest you look up at his wide eyes. Your hands reach for his, grabbing them and holding your breasts with him. You gasp at the feeling of his rugged hands on you sliding along your sides, finding their way lower down. He leans into your heat, giving your clit a light kiss, looking at you for permission to dive in. As soon as you nod, he sticks his tongue out and tastes you. The taste makes him moan out loud. He's sure the guards downstairs can hear his sounds but he doesn't care at the moment.

"Taste so good, princess." He says as he laps his tongue around your clit and down to your pulsating hole, teasing it with his tongue. He continues eating you out as his finger works wonders on your clit. You try to cum quietly but you're unable to when Max sucks your clit into his mouth while adding two fingers into your sopping cunt.

You announce your orgasm, "I'm cumming!" and grab a hold of Max's hair to bring him impossibly closer as you cum all over his face.

"My turn." Max growls and pulls you up on your knees, as he quickly pulls his pants down to his knees. You see the outline of his dick in his underwear. You get the hint and pull his briefs down, and his cock springs out, making your mouth water. It was above average but not too big. He had more girth than length, and the head was pink and… puffy? For lack of a better word.

You instinctively open your mouth and stick your tongue out, giving max full access to your mouth. He doesn't waste a second and sticks his cock into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat instantly. You gag, but he doesn't stop. He wasn't rough per se, he was still attentive and stopped when you started struggling.

"Taking me so well…" He breathes out as he pushes himself into your gape again.

"Do you think you're ready to take my cock?" He asks.

You let his length go with a pop and nod.

He positions you under him, with your legs placed on his shoulders. "Do we need to use protection?" He asks.

"I'm clean and I've got an IUD."

"Good, let me know if I'm too rough."

And with that, he slides his cock through your lips and teases your entrance. Finally, his tip finds its way home, and you yelp out at the feeling of the intrusion. He slowly pushes his whole length into you while you try to breath through the feeling of him stretching you out. He gives you a break for you to adjust to his size.

"You okay?" He checks in.

"Yeah… Please move."

Max slides his length out, leaving only the tip inside of you, and pistons his way inside of you again.

"Oh god… So big." You moan.

He chuckles and increases the pace. You can't help yourself, and moan out in pure enjoyment.

"Shhhh…" He shushes you, putting his hand over your mouth.

He increases the pace even further and you squeeze your eyes shut in another toe-curling orgasm. Max doesn't stop though, and continues destroying your dripping pussy.

"Come here…" He pulls you up and you watch him lie down.You get the hint and get on top. You grab his dick and guide it to your entrance. At this point, you're so wet that it slides in without any resistance.

You start riding his cock at a slow pace, making Max grunt in desperation. He grabs your hips, trying to set a quicker pace but you're having none of it. You slap his hands away and continue at your own pace.

Your pace quickens when you feel Max twitching in you, spilling his seed inside your pussy. He groans out every last drop that he has to give and pulls you down to his chest, peppering your face with kisses as you giggle at his antics.

"I love you." He admits as he stares into your eyes with a warmness in his eyes, something that you hadn't seen before.

When you part, he studies your pussy as his cum drips out, playing with it and stuffing it inside of you again.

You're exhausted after the nights activities and you collapse on the bed, falling asleep within a minute.

You're awakened by birds chirping and chattering. Your vision is blurry but you see the outline of Max on the other side of the bed. You stretch your body and hum happily, having last night's happenings fresh in your mind.

"Come here, Max… It's too early to be up."

It wasn't, but you'd gotten used to sleeping in over the last couple of months.

"Good morning, mijn schat." He coos as he walks over to you, kneeling on the bed. He gives you a quick peck before he pulls on your arm carefully, encouraging you to get up while you grunt, still plagued by exhaustion. "I guarantee pancakes if you get up." You look up at him and spring up from bed, suddenly not feeling tired at all anymore.

When you're done with your morning routine, you walk out of the bathroom and see Max getting dressed, with his back to you. You're shocked to see 5 small dents on his back, making you walk closer to inspect. As you trace your hand along his strong back muscles, he tense up.

"Stop that, Y/N." Max asks sternly.

"Why?" You tease.

"I said stop it!" He turns around and grabs your hands, holding them in his strong hold.

You yelp. "You're hurting me!"

As soon as he hears that, he immediately lets you go. His change in mood makes you take a few steps back in fear.

"I'm so sorry, liefje… I just c-"

"Don't touch me." You warn him holding your pointer finger up.

"Please, let me explain. I'm sure you can guess what those marks are. You see, Y/N, I'm not proud of what I am. Those marks remind me of what a monster I really am."

Your heart melts when you hear the man in front of you talk that way about himself. The usually so hard and masculine man is suddenly small and showing emotion. You see his eyes watering, looking fondly at you.

"Oh, Max…" You walk up and hug him, while he hugs you back with a tight grip.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." He sobs into your shoulder.

"I know, I know." You comfort him. You lead him to the bed, making him lie down while you lie down on top of him, grounding the man.

After lying like that for what feels like a minute but surely was more like 10 minutes, Max lifts you up, smiling.

"Thank you, mijn schat. You're so kind to me, despite my flaws. Now, didn't I just promise you pancakes?"

You get up and strut down to the kitchen, smiling and laughing, happy with the fact that Max was making you one of your favourite breakfast dishes. In the end, you had to give him some assistance, men are bad at multitasking, but you didn't mind at all. The teamwork made them taste even better.

The guards are no where to be seen so you and Max get to enjoy your breakfast in piece on the porch, enjoying the view over his garden.

444 notes · View notes

pedrospatch · 1 year ago

Text

fall into temptation | one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before.

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it?

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name.

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face.

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them.

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that.

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened.

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing.

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him.

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol.

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit.

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late.

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head.

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse.

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?”

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig.

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly.

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?”

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door.

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone.

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself.

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet.

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening.

Kent was going after you.

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around.

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent.

That couldn’t fucking be good.

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh.

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs.

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two.

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist.

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear.

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard.

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face.

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley.

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more.

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you.

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet.

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it.

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest.

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you.

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face.

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours.

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards.

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.”

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you.

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?”

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.”

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin.

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side.

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted.

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship.

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring.

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls.

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk.

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered.

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar.

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else.

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it.

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world.

A fucking slab of carved wood.

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder.

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt.

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers.

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church.

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly.

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words.

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him.

He was right, after all.

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?”

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.”

It had been a statement, not a question.

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone.

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse.

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee.

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest. “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables?

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone.

Want, sure.

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther.

But Joel didn’t just want you.

He fucking needed you.

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain.

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?”

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you.

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek.

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body.

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.”

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours.

You heard him chuckle softly.

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle.

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss.

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

And what about you?

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it.

None.

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench.

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss.

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you?

He couldn’t. Simple as that.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself?

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further.

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance.

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat.

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt.

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline.

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise.

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt.

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else.

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud.

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.”

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle.

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest.

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t.

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson.

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God.

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?”

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression.

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

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