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aeyumicore · 1 year ago

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snowy serenity

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sub zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 7.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, somewhat public sex, f!riding, blowjob m!receiving, unprotected sex, sub zayne, like he’s kinda whiny and needy here, but tastefully, vulnerable zayne fr, kinda dom!reader, reader is kind of a menace here LOL, pretty vanilla for the most part, multiple orgasms m!receiving, lots of feelings, use of y/n, lots of making out, some fluff at the end?

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: SURPRISE IT’S HERE EARLY!! I really wanted to get this one out ASAP so I could start on a new jiyan (wuthering waves) fic hehe, so stay tuned if you like the sound of that!

This is my take and continuation on the new “Snowy Serenity” Zayne memory, with slight dialogue tweaks! Zayne is very vulnerable, needy, and overall sub in this one, so if you’re not a fan of that this will prob not be your fav! You can read any of my other Zayne fics, in which he is dom in all of them :D it’s a new version of Zayne for me, so I did my best!! Apologies if it’s not the best take on a sub Zayne.

I hope you guys are doing great <3 i miss writing for you guys. PLEASE ENJOYYYY ya filthy zayne enjoyers (me)

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

The deafening sound of metal thudding shut resounded in the frigid air of the underground shelter you found yourself and Zayne seeking safe haven in. Through the pounding of your thundering heart, you don’t notice Zayne thrusting a first aid kit into your frozen fingers, and then backing against the opposite wall, as far away from you as he can get.

You can vaguely hear the roars of wanderers lingering outside and in the halls of the abandoned protocore energy converter you’d traversed the blizzard to find after Zayne had gone missing for 4 days, 1 day longer than he had promised he’d be gone for. The ground slightly trembled as the beasts raged on outside, growing fainter as they grew tired and uninterested in waiting for the two of you.

Your heart pounds forcefully, almost painfully, the energy fluctuations causing irregular palpitations that make it feel as if your chest might explode. Thankfully, it slowly comes to a gentle and regular beat and Zayne’s voice finally reaches your ears.

“You need to tend to your arm. Can you do it by yourself?” his voice comes out incredibly pained and forced. At first you assume it’s from the, no doubt, plethora of injuries he’d likely endured after being stuck on the frozen mountain for days, but when your eyes reach his green ones, you notice the emotional turmoil and anguish locked behind his darkened emerald irises.

The surgeon sits at the wall farthest from you, skin looking even paler than you remember under the dim lights of the abandoned shelter, the frost spreading across his throbbing neck, glistening like the sun against the shimmering sea. You notice how the frozen flakes form not only on his skin like usual, but even on the collar of his thick black coat, and on the sleeves that cut off at his wrist. You stop yourself from shivering at the sight, realizing you’ve never seen Zayne like this. You’ve seen him struggle to control his Evol before, much to his dismay, but nothing like this.

You trace his line of vision to the shard of ice, formed into the unmistakable shape of an arrow, embedded shallowly in your arm. You suck in a breath, realizing Zayne must have accidentally struck you when he’d aimed to attack the wanderers that’d surfaced behind you. From the pain on his face, you know Zayne realized it too.

Wanting it out immediately, so as not to give Zayne any extra reasons to want to keep his distance, you carelessly yank it out. It takes a bit of force, but the wound is so shallow you don’t even flinch. Not that you’d say this to Zayne, but you’d definitely dealt with far worse and bloodier as a hunter.

The frighteningly beautiful piece of ice shatters as you chuck it at the ground, rushing to his side without a second thought. You ignore him weakly shuffling away from you, taking his large hand into the two of your smaller ones. His skin is even icier than usual, and your heart clenches at the thought of him having to brave the arctic snowstorm by himself these past few agonizing days.

Surprise overtakes you when Zayne doesn’t yank his hand away. You could count on one hand how many times Zayne had let you see him lose control of his Evol, but not once had he ever let you get close enough to really inspect him. The idea that he felt so defeated and exhausted right now that he could not physically push you away was enough to make tears well in your eyes, your throat catching as you forced them away.

Squeezing his hand in yours, you take this rare chance to really closely inspect your boyfriend, who sat so diligently before you. It’s then you notice that it’s not just frost that blankets his pale skin. You hold back a cry when your eyes follow the line of tiny, sharp, and deadly shards of ice protruding from his body. Your teeth gnashes against your lip as you do your best to hold back the sobs that threaten to escape as you stare at the icicles. It felt depressingly poetic, how something so beautiful could be hurting him so.

“Zayne! You –” But Zayne silences you when he brings his finger and free hand to his lips, forcing a smile as he gently shushes you.

“You can scold me all you want…after we leave here, all right?” You purse your lips at his words, wanting to give into his wishes but unable to withhold your overflowing emotions and concern.

“...This always happens. And you owe me big time already,” you grumble sulkily, bringing his hand that’s encased in yours up to your lips, puffing out frustratedly in hopes to warm him up with your breath.

You sigh contentedly despite yourself when his cold finger finds its way to the side of your cheek, caressing your nearly frostbitten skin. You instinctively lean into his touch, not caring in the least how his ice cold skin leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“Didn’t I say I’d call you once I got out? Why did you come here alone?” Zayne’s tone sounds accusatory and upset, almost like he was scolding a child for your poor judgment and bad choices.

“You haven’t said anything for more than three days. And without you, there won’t be anyone to make sure I eat breakfast,” you bite back. The harsh words you want to tell him die on your lips, as you simply shake your head in disbelief, not wanting to argue with the stubborn surgeon. Your heart had ached dearly for him in the last week, and infinitely more so in the last 4 days. You could berate him later, for now you just wanted to relish in the fact that he was safe.

You release his hand, instead wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him tightly to your chest in a bone crushing hug. You slot your body firmly against his, feeling absolutely unwilling to ever let him out of your sight and arms again.

Zayne shudders gently against your hold, but doesn’t make any moves to push you away. He groans inwardly, silently praying you assume his reactions are a result from the shards of ice piercing his skin, and not a result of your touch after he’d been starved of you for a week.

His voice is muffled as he speaks into the crook of your neck, “You might get hurt. It’s possible I won’t…” you can vaguely hear him gulp, “be able to control myself.”

He clears his throat, continuing, “I’m referring to my Evol.” You don’t notice his eyes that are latched onto the angry red skin where you’d pulled the ice arrow out of your bicep.

You pull away so that your faces come just mere inches apart, while still keeping your arms wrapped around him. Squinting at him, you grumble, “You should stay quiet while I’m still pitying you.”

With your breath mingling with his, you can practically see his resolve melt away as he sighs and wraps his muscular arms around your back. You smile to yourself at the feel of his strong hands around you, nuzzling your body impossible closer to his. His jaw subtly clenches at the feeling of your body melting into his, torn between embracing you fiercely and pushing you away. But the smell of your shampoo and pheromones invades his senses, making it difficult for him to think rationally.

“A while ago, someone promised me it was the last time I’d have to worry about him.”

Unable to keep himself back any longer, Zayne decides to give in, just a little. He buries himself into the top of your head into the mess of your hair, inhaling your scent deeply, “It’s not serious. I’ll survive.”

“I knew it. You’re better off not talking,” you scold sulkily, only half jokingly. He smiles into your head, letting a brief moment of welcomed silence come between you two. Unconsciously, your hold tightens against him.

“Do you feel better?”

“I do,” he reassures you, stroking your hair, “I’m okay now.”

You pull back slightly so you can take a good look at him. It’s then you notice the frost melting away from the areas in which your touch meets his body. Intrigued, you use your Evol, letting it emanate from the tips of your fingers, softly gripping an ice covered patch of his arm. You gasp when the snowy expanse recedes, almost like you held a flame to it.

“What are you doing?” Zayne’s sudden voice cuts through your concentration, his urgent alarm almost bordering on frenzy.

“Zayne, my Evol can help you!”

“Impossible. You must be seeing things.” You’re taken aback at his cold tone, so surprised you don’t resist when he pushes you off him. His eyes refuse to meet yours.

“But it actually worked. Look!” You grab his wrist forcefully, the mere touch of your skin causing your Evols to resonate, the Resonance faintly rippling out of the area where your bodies meet. You gape in awe as you watch the icicles embedded in Zayne’s skin shrink back almost instantaneously and melt away into his coat.

Zayne pulls his arm back and instead grasps your wrist in his strong fingers, eyes seemingly pleading with yours, “There will be a price to pay. It’s not as simple as you think.” His voice is low and desperate, unusually so.

As the words leave his lips, a piercing sensation erupts in your palm from where your skin came into contact with his. The pain seems to frost over your veins rapidly, heading straight to your chest. You cry out as the muscles of your heart seemingly freeze and incinerate all at the same time, the muscles contracting painfully and far too quickly. Your knees buckle from the agony, and Zayne catches you with very little effort.

“Y/N!”

The anguish in Zayne’s frantic voice causes you to seek him out, but your body refuses to cooperate, only able to allow him to carry you to the makeshift hospital bed set up in the abandoned shelter. As he sets you down, impossibly gently like you’re a withering flower, he speaks.

“Using your Evol to control the backlash of mine is dangerous. I don’t want –”

You ground yourself, forcing yourself to find your voice, “I told you to be quiet…Here you go again with ‘impossible’ and ‘you must be seeing things’...” Your tone is almost snappy, unhappy with how he’s always unwilling to share his pain with you, going as far as lying to keep you from taking any of the burden.

As the pain in your heart ebbs away, you shake your head and sit up on the edge of the bed, “When will you finally say something I want to hear?” Zayne sits at the foot of the bed, his upper body twisted so that he faces you completely.

His voice comes out as a reluctant whisper, “I want to protect you. Dragging you into a dangerous situation is the last thing I want.” He averts his gaze as the words leave his lips.

When he finally brings his eyes back to yours, a storm of emotions brew behind his glowing green-hazel eyes, “I don’t want the person I love to get hurt because of me.” His palm finds your cheek once more. Grazing your cheek faintly before looping your loose hair behind your ear. Your brief frustrations with him melt away as you watch the emotions flit across Zayne’s face. Your normally stoic and emotionally controlled boyfriend looked so vulnerable, desperate, and conflicted before you.

His despondent eyes lowered, almost like he was disappointed with himself. Your heart squeezes as your hand cupped his cheek, guiding him closer to you.

“But the person you love might not feel the same way,” you counter tenderly, wanting to take away the agonizing sadness from his beautiful features. You hold his face lovingly, hoping to convey even a fraction of the adoration you have for him as his eyes cast downward, wrangling with the anger he felt with himself, at putting you in danger today.

“She’s always wanted…to protect you as well,” at your words, Zayne grasps the hand you have on his cheek with his own palm, leaning further into your touch. You ignore the frost that ebbs into your own palm, like fracturing glass, at his touch. Instead, you focus on the vulnerability in Zayne’s eyes, as he sighs and turns his face so that he can brush his lips into your palm, pressing a fleeting kiss into your cold skin.

“Really…I shouldn’t have let you see me like this,” he laments regretfully, but he doesn’t let go of your hand, insteading nuzzling into it like a child with their favorite security blanket. His gaze locks onto yours before faltering, the intensity behind his eyes crackling, silently pleading with you to understand.

But you refuse to relent, removing your hand from his cheek and leaning in closer, pressing your hands against his frost covered chest, “But I’ve already decided to face this with you.” Your voice cracks as you continue, unwittingly expressing your insecurities.

“Unless…Unless you say you don’t need me.”

Zayne sighs, slightly in disbelief, “How could you think that?” When you don’t speak, he continues.

“When we were apart these few days, I was always thinking about you,” he confesses, grabbing your wrist laid gently against his chest, clasping his long fingers over yours and intertwining your fingers. He continues, “Whether or not you’ve been eating properly, taking care of yourself, and if you would be upset if we never saw each other again – you occupied my every thought.”

Your breath is stuck in your throat as you take in the weight of his words. Zayne brings your joined hands back to his cheek, unfolding your fingers to cup his face, leaning into your touch once more. Your chest clenches at how adorably and unusually needy he’s being, your thumb stroking his blush.

“If I hadn’t been missing you…Perhaps I wouldn’t have struggled to hold on until you found me.” His words stun you. You hadn’t realized your relationship might ever cause Zayne grief, beyond being an irritable girlfriend. It never crossed your mind that it would pain Zayne to leave you behind when he’d have to go on month long medical missions to the arctic. That his thoughts would be so invaded by you that it’d make simply existing a difficult task.

As you grapple with these revelations, Zayne leans in, holding your face so desperately in his hands and pulling you closer to him. Even sitting, he towered over you, his head coming down to whisper against your flushed skin, his breath fanning across your lips as he tilted your head upward towards him.

“I need you,” he states, his voice bordering on a plea, “I have never denied that. It’s just…”

You can hardly focus on his words as you watch his lips longingly, desperate to feel the cool expanse of his mouth slotting against yours.

“It’s not the kind of need you think it is,” he murmurs, the vulnerability and desperation so apparent in the way his breath comes out in short pants. Unable to hold back any longer, Zayne crashes his lips to yours, letting all carnal desire take over.

His large hands are firm against your cheek and neck, as if scared he’d lose you at any moment. At the same time, he pushes you backwards, gently lowering his thick weight onto you. Your back hits the rough sheets of the hospital bed while Zayne nibbles at your bottom lip, silently pleading with you to let him in. Instead of relenting, you swipe your tongue across his lip, urging the same of him. Zayne groans into your mouth, bordering dangerously close to a whine.

The sound makes your gut clench with anticipation, your chest heaving with your breaths and your fist gripping his shoulder to bring him closer.

But to your disappointment he pulls away, his eyes sparkling down at you sprawled out on the bed. His cheeks are flushed pink, lips puffy and pink, a rare sight for you to behold. The frost has rapidly started to melt away from his coat and even his skin, almost like your mere touch was enough to thaw the biting frozen reigns of his evol.

Your hand snakes behind his neck, pulling him back towards your lips. Zayne looks slightly startled, his mouth parted open in surprise, but he lets you guide him to you.

He pulls away after another brief kiss. You can tell by the expression on his flustered face that there’s more he wants to say to you, a rarity for Zayne. Normally the heart surgeon preferred to convey his emotions with his actions. You’d hardly ever seen him like this.

“If I must say something now…Then I…” he trails off, trying to find the words. It’s obvious he’s out of his comfort zone as he once again averts his gaze, cheeks flushed an adorable peach. When he finally looks back up at you, stroking the side of your face with his fingers, his voice holds the heavy weight of his feelings, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Before you can respond, Zayne’s lips are descending upon yours once more, his eyelids hooded with desire. Desire for you.

This time he kisses you with much more force, as if his confession had broken down the barriers of his restraint. His hand firmly holds your face, fingers threading into your hair, pulling harder, rougher. His hands are damp, the uncontrollable frost of his evol melting away as he beheld the love of his lives in his hands.

Your tongues bruised along each other, savoring every second the pair of you had longed for so deeply this past week. His knee pushed into your thigh, spreading them apart fully so he could slot himself between your legs, hard body brushing against your pulsing core.

But just as fast as his desperation had come, Zayne was pulling away. You look at him in disappointment, a pout forming on your bruised lips. You waited for him to speak, but he only readjusts his tie, his eyes glued to the quickly purpling bruise forming on your bicep. You could visibly see his eyes darken, the anguish on his expression palpable. Though he doesn’t speak, you know what he’s thinking.

I’m glad you’re here, but I wish you weren’t.

You sigh, knowing he’s torturing himself over accidentally hurting you, and the possibility that it could happen again. Though the glistening frost still ebbed on his skin, the icicles had receded and you were confident Zayne would not hurt you.

Your hands instinctively seek him out, wanting to show him that you’re alright. You clutch the collars of his coat, yanking him to you with as much force as you can muster.

He groans under his breath, the need just barely audible.

“Y/N…” he warns, doing his best to keep his distance despite your desperate clutches. You ignore him, throwing your thigh over his lap and bringing his lips to yours once more. Zayne hisses as you seat yourself on his twitching thighs, his muscles straining under his restraint. Though he doesn’t push you off, he keeps his hands firmly at his sides, so as to not touch you.

With your lips never leaving his, you grab his hands and place them on your hips, simultaneously bearing down harder on his lap. A ghost of a smile finds its way to your mouth when you feel the unmistakable outline of his throbbing erection against the apex of your thighs.

As you move to unbutton his shirt, Zayne’s strong fingers find your wrist, halting your desperate actions.

“Not here. Not now,” Zayne grits.

“No one will be here for hours,” you murmur, pleadingly against his cheek, “No one will find us.” You grind into his massive erection, biting your lip as you reminisce on just how well he can fill you up. The man beneath you pants at your movements, his fingers digging into your wrists. His grip is painful, yet you only find yourself wanting him to hold you tighter, rougher.

“This is not the kind of place I ever wanted you to have to be, let alone…” he trails off, his voice low and dangerous.

“But I don’t care,” you protest, unintentionally squirming in his lap out of frustration. Zayne throws his head back, a stream of expletives leaving his lips.

“You truly love to test me, don’t you?”

You giggle, mistakenly taking his words as playful confirmation. But when you look into his eyes, you see just how tortured he really is. Immediately you stop.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, “If you don’t want –”

But Zayne cuts you off with a pained groan, “I need you.” His words echo what he’d said earlier.

Not the kind of need you think it is.

“But I can’t control myself…not when I’m inside you… I could hurt you.”

You do your best to understand where he’s coming from, but it’s not enough to keep you away from him. “Zayne…” you murmur against his parted lips, “You trust me don’t you?”

“With my life,” he swears, sounding absolutely tormented, “It’s me I don’t trust.”

You gently stroke his neck, hands trailing down to his marbled chest, “Then let me take care of you, okay?”

The conflicting emotions swim rapidly in his eyes, but he finds himself giving in, his dick twitching, desperate to be inside your heat, "You'll have to take control.”

Instead of responding, you climb off his lap, sliding onto your knees before him. You guide his legs to spread as you settle between them. Your eyes never leave his as your fingers undo his belt, swiftly freeing his cock.

You bit back a gasp as you watched his thick manhood spring out, tapping against his heaving abdomen. After a week of deprivation, it was truly like witnessing his glory for the first time all over again. You thumb gently at the throbbing vein on the underside of his girth, mouth salivating at the mere sight of him. You trail your fingers up to his weeping slit, collecting the oozing pre cum there and smearing it across his thick tip.

Zayne pants, his fingers weaving into your hair, “Don’t tease me. Please.” You’re stunned at his words, enjoying the rare instance of Zayne begging.

“You said you needed me to take control…” you murmur, your voice coming out far more sultry than you’d ever heard it, “so let me.”

Zayne’s jaw clenches, his Adam's apple bobbing excitedly at the way you command him, “Okay.”

“Good boy,” you whisper, before guiding his leaking tip into your mouth. Zayne hisses, hips bucking upward into your mouth, but to his dismay you press him back down. Wordlessly, he understands what your actions are conveying and he reluctantly lets you resume the lead, not at all used to giving up control when it came to your collective pleasure.

You swirl your tongue around his tip, rewarding him for his very thin patience. You enjoy the way his pleasured noises meet your ears, the grunts bordering on strangled whimpers.

“Sh-shit,” he groans, doing his best to sit still for you, “Please Y/N.”

You let your lips tighten around his shaft as you briefly pop him out of your mouth, teasing him innocently, “Hmm?”

Zayne groans at your feigned innocence, not used to being the one needing to ask for things, “Please…Please don’t stop. Feels…feels perfect.”

Your heart soars at his praises, sinking him back into your mouth. The taste of his arousal coats your tongue as you take him deep into your throat. Tears spill from your eyes as you gag around his impossible thickness, but you feel nothing but motivated as Zayne whimpers above you.

“I-I need –,” he moans, fingers gently gripping your scalp, grounding him to this moment, “I need you. I always need you.”

His words encourage you further, your bobs on his length increasing in speed and vigor. You intend to take full advantage of this moment, of seeing Zayne so utterly desperate for you. Unabashedly at your mercy.

Not an inch of his manhood remains untouched as you use your hands in tandem with your mouth to render him into a groaning and panting mess. The sounds coming from the man you love make your thighs squirm, a familiar dampness forming in your panties. Your jaw aches at his girth, but you’re determined to keep going.

“You’re perfect,” Zayne grunts, “So damn perfect.” You peer up at him through your teary eyelashes, enjoying the view of the rosy blush painted on his pale cheeks as his head laid thrown back in sheer pleasure.

Zayne can’t seem to contain his rambles, fully succumbing to the bliss only you could provide him, “Don’t stop. Please don’t — hah — fucking stop.”

His eyes lock onto yours, and your gaze instantly catches on the corners of his eyes that glisten unusually under the dim lighting in the shelter.

He’s crying.

You’re taken aback, instantly filled with worry, “Zayne? Are you okay? Should we — ”

Zayne’s response is instant, his head snapping up desperately searching for you, “No.” He clears his throat before continuing, gently cupping your chin in his fingers. He tries to subtly guide your lips back to his aching tip.

“Continue. Please.”

The longing in his words is enough to make you envelope him back into your mouth, wanting nothing more than to please him, his pleasure fueling your own. The idea that you could make him feel an ecstasy that made literal tears pool in his eyes fueled your own excitement beyond belief. Your core ached with a week’s worth of need, need for the astonishingly handsome man falling apart at the tip of your tongue.

“Anything for you, when you ask so sweetly,” you giggle. This time you take him directly into your throat, as deep as you can before your body starts to reject his unbelievable size. Your throat constricts deliciously around him, once again short circuiting his brain into a rambling mess.

“You don’t understand how difficult it was to leave…when you feel like this.” His words make you moan in satisfaction, the vibrations running along his pulsing veins, straight to his sensitive balls.

“H-holy fuck,” Zayne pants, his hips bucking slightly into your mouth while your hands are occupied with stroking the length that couldn’t fit into your mouth, “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. About this.”

Wanting to see him come completely undone, you take his hefty balls into your palm, kneading just hard enough to have him writhing with need. The copious amounts of arousal that flood into your waiting mouth and the unrestrained twitching of his length signal to you that he’s close.

Zayne taps your cheek, signaling just that, “Love, I’m –” But you shut him up, your tongue running along his sensitive vein, cheeks hollowing, and fingers massaging. With a strangled cry, his hands gripping your hair roughly, Zayne releases himself into your mouth. It’s endless, too many nights worth of pent up need for you, and so warm against your tongue.

Zayne’s whole body heaves, still recovering from the orgasm. Through the haze, Zayne stares at you lovingly, cupping your chin in his strong fingers.

“Spit it out,” he commands lowly, worried his questionable and limited arctic diet would negatively affect how he tasted. You shake your head vehemently, staring straight into his glassy green eyes, making a show of letting your throat bob with a slow gulp, relishing in the taste of him. Nothing would ever stop you from savoring what Zayne gave you.

Zayne swears, his voice edged and his eyes dangerously dark as he takes you in, “You’re trying to drive me fucking insane aren’t you?”

You bat your lashes at him innocently, “I would never do that.” Climbing into his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and shimmy out of your thermal leggings. You’re left in your panties, translucent from the slick pooling in between your thighs, grinding against Zayne’s exposed length which still stands proudly against his abdomen, already ready for more.

“Can I?” you ask, suddenly bashful. But Zayne doesn’t respond, eyes glued to your glistening covered cunt. His fingers nimbly slide against your folds, rubbing up and down, catching torturously on your clit. It’s almost like he can’t hear you, mesmerized by how aroused you’ve become from just sucking him off.

You take that opportunity to take him by the base of his cock, moving your panties to the side and rubbing the engorged tip against your weeping slit, his arousal mixing with your own. The warmth of your waiting cunt snaps Zayne out of his gaze, his eyes darting to yours.

“Y/N…” he warns, voice low, dark, but desperate.

You pause, wanting to respect his boundaries, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

He swears under his breath, repeating his words from earlier, “You’re going to need to do it.” You nod excitedly, but he continues.

“Once we start, I won’t be stopping. Not until I see you come undone all over me,” he says, almost like a final warning. You press yourself deeper into his chest, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“Would never want to stop Zayne,” you purr, before sinking onto his waiting cock. You hiss at the stretch, body still unprepared for his girth. Zayne pants at the mere entrance of his tip inside your pussy, his throat bobbing as his head tosses back. His hands claw at the hospital bed sheets, seemingly not trusting himself to touch you in this state. You pause, trying to give yourself a second to adjust.

“Love…” he bites out, voice tinged with insurmountable emotions, “Please.”

Feeling mischievous, you prolong your pause longer than you’d originally intended, parroting words he’d demanded of you countless times, “Please what Zayne? You have to tell me what you want.”

Zayne appears unamused, his jaw ticking in frustration. His knuckles are white as he does his best to restrain himself against your teasing, eyes hooded and dangerously stormy. You know you’re definitely going to regret teasing Zayne later, but for now you decide to enjoy the power he’s letting you wield.

But you’re surprised by his next words, coming out heartbreakingly gentle, “Please Y/N. I…I need you.” The sincerity and vulnerability behind his words makes you shiver, your thighs moving instinctively to take his throbbing erection fully into your cunt.

Your simultaneous moans mingle in the enclosed space, entwined with the slick sounds of your body melding with Zayne’s. The unbelievably lewd squelches of your body receiving him makes you bite your lip as you seat yourself fully on Zayne’s lap.

This position always lets you take Zayne as deeply as humanly possible. It's almost painful how his cock presses into your deepest parts, the drag of his tip making you want to slump over and succumb to the blinding pleasure.

“Ride me, love,“ Zayne begs. His large palms twitch with the need to grab you, fighting with the logical part of himself that knows he should keep his hands to himself. His pleas fuel you with confidence, your cunt leaking profusely at the delicious way his girth stretches you to your absolute limit.

Your thighs move on instinct, clasp tightly against his larger legs. Your breath comes out in hot puffs, torridly breathless as your body struggles to accommodate him. Your clit brushes against the rough fabric of Zayne’s undershirt at every bounce, your orgasm building quickly under the tension.

“Nngh, just like that,” Zayne moans, the sound of his pleasure so unbelievably erotic, “You’re so perfect.” His words go straight to your core, your pussy clenching as it takes him in repeatedly. Your breasts bounce vigorously under your thermal shirt in rhythm with your thighs bobbing up and down on Zayne’s lap.

The way your cunt clenches at every bounce has Zayne seeing stars, his thoughts turning to incoherent mush, “I want you. I need you. Need more of you…”

You whimper at his words, doing your best to maintain your composure and upperhand. But as his cock bruises against every possible sensitive inch of your pussy, you can feel yourself falling apart. Your nerves burned with unrelenting pleasure, fueled by the view of Zayne faring even worse underneath you.

Small beads of sweat slid down Zayne’s brow, almost crystalizing against his intensely frigid skin. His eyes were hazed over with a thick cloud of lust, lips bruised and shiny from your earlier kiss. His cheeks were beautifully dusted with a red blush as he watched you, the woman he loved and cherished more than life itself, fuck herself unabashedly onto his lap.

“Haah…it was absolute hell leaving you…” he grounds out between his moans.

Your attention perks up temporarily, your voice breathless and weak, “R-really?”

“Do you have any idea how warm and perfect you are here?” Zayne finally breaks his rule and touches you, his fingers reaching to brush torridly against your vibrating clit. You whimper, clenching uncontrollably around him, hips still bouncing rhythmically on top of him. Your actions make Zayne groan, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the whines from escaping.

“How could I leave knowing you feel like this around me,” Zayne forces out, his thumb rubbing gently at your slippery clit, “Absolute hell.”

You find yourself bouncing with more conviction at his confession, probably with more intensity than you’ve ever ridden him with. Your unabashed cries of pleasure mingle with your warm breath, right by Zayne’s red ear.

The sound of your pleasure only serves to push Zayne further, “That’s it love, just like that. I’m all yours, ride me just like that.”

With his fingers still toying at your clit, Zayne looks up at you so adoringly. His brows furrowed together as he took in the sight of you, his beautiful angel riding him like you absolutely owned him. Which you absolutely did.

You can only whine at his words, all your energy and concentration funneled into pleasuring yourself, and him, atop his strong thighs.

His puffy pink lips parted again, “You’re…fuuck, you’re so damn beautiful.” Your eyes squeeze shut at his praises, abdomen clenching in excitement. You itch for Zayne to touch you more, for his fingers to bruise your hips, his hands to leave angry handprints on your thighs.

You grab his free arm, looping it around your waist to firmly hold against your lower back. Your shirt had ridden up from all the activity, so your skin was exposed for him. In doing so, you notice that the sharp icicles embedded into his delicate skin have completely melted away, but a beautiful path of snowflakes ebb from his fingertips up to his thick forearm, veins bulging deliciously.

You hope he doesn’t notice as you quickly bring his palm to the small of your back, forcing the shiver back as his chilly skin meets yours. Zayne’s eyes are blown open in hesitation, and you can tell he’s fighting with the urge to yank his hand away. But before he can, you plead with him.

“Please, touch me, Zayne.” He swears, unable to deny you when your eyes flutter at him dazedly, voice coming out in a sultry, desperate, rasp.

“Anything for you,” he agrees, words unsure but voice deep and demanding. His fingers gently dig into your back, grounding himself to the immense pleasure of your walls unrelentlessly squeezing against him. His rough grip on your body has your vision sparking with pleasure.

“I-I’m not going to last much longer,” Zayne warns, his hand leaving your clit to grip against your back, drawing you in closer, harder. The blush on his cheeks intensifies as he comes closer to his release, his jaw edged so sharply it looks as if his frozen skin could cut. He buries his face into your chest, biting against the fabric of your thermal top.

Zayne swears, cursing the Gods for allowing him to leave you clothed as he yearned to suck at your skin, at your breasts, to ease some of the intensity that chokes at his throat. His grip on your back only intensifies as he gasps at your chest, inexplicably swearing as you ride him into oblivion.

“Can I cum inside? Please,” his eyes dart to yours, desperate and pleading, like he’d absolutely combust if you denied him. You nod fervently, wanting nothing more than to feel his warmth inside you.

Without a further warning, Zayne releases into you with a strangled grunt, almost as if he could not physically hold himself back for a second longer. Like he absolutely could not control the orgasm your body was inflicting on him.

His creamy seed spurts against your walls, the heat coating every possible ridge of your welcoming cunt, taking it all. It seems endless, your body shivering at every single pump of his finish, thighs still bobbing up and down, fucking Zayne through his orgasm. His cum coating your walls only serves to lubricate your quivering pussy more, exciting you and pushing you towards your own orgasm. You vaguely feel a cold sheen along the expanse of your lower back, likely a harmless layer of frost emanating from his hands still gripping you desperately as he continues to release into you. The thought leaves your mind as quickly as it comes, your focus shifting to his cock, still spurting inside of you.

“That was so much,” you murmur in astonishment, counting nearly five pumps of his sticky seed, releasing into your aching womb, “My poor baby, you’ve been so pent up huh?”

Zayne is unable to speak, his still hardened cock twitching inside you with overstimulation and excitement. His mind numbing orgasm seems to have broken down all remaining barriers, his needy and desperate moans sounding right in your ear as you continue to bounce on him, wanting to reach your own climax.

“I’ve been so fucking pent up without you, thinking about you, about this,” he groans, “W-wait — love. I just came, I don’t think I can — haah — come again.”

“Pleeease, I know you can,” you beg, your bounces slowing but not stopping, instead slamming down more languidly, passionately, “Just one more, for me please.”

A few more thrusts is enough to have his eyes rolling back, lips parted, breath so hot it creates a small puff of mist, “Please, jesus please.” His cock throbs inside you, ready and begging to release again. He swears repeatedly, watching as you try to suck the absolute life out of him.

A few more clenches of your heavenly cunt is enough to fire him back up, his cock throbbing angrily, harder than ever. “Keep going, don’t stop,” he pleads, his words and wavering tone a complete stranger to him, “I need you. I need you to see you cum undone for me sweetheart.”

“M’so close Zayne,” you cry in response to his filthy words, thighs threatening to give out.

“Thank you, thank you — fuck!” Zayne swears, teeth digging into the small exposed area of your neck, “Cum, cum for me, please. Need to feel you.”

With his lips against your sensitive pulse point, you thrust once, twice, a third time, before crashing back down and headfirst into your climax. Zayne’s strong arms keep you steady as you squirt all over him and his expensive overcoat. His cock thrashes, releasing again, another stream of unbelievably endless seed straight into your quivering abdomen.

“I love you. I love you so much,” Zayne groans into your ear before shifting and guiding your mouth to his. The kiss is a desperate clash of intensity, the two of you fighting to convey the magnitude of the emotions you felt for one another, and especially in the absence of each other.

When he pulls away, he breathes in your scent like it’s the air he needs to breathe, the smell of your arousal and pheromones clouding what little judgment he has left.

“I love you, Y/N,” Zayne gasps out one last time, as if those words are important as his last breath. His arms hold you tight against him, not wanting this moment to end.

Your bodies heave in unison, Zayne ghosting featherlight kisses along the deep angry bruise on your neck, eliciting an uncontrollable shiver from you. It’s rare for Zayne to lose control and leave marks on your skin from your activities. The idea of the hickey forming on your neck leaves you deeply satisfied and your spent cunt quivers in response, squeezing even more of Zayne’s thick and hot seed into you.

He swears, teeth grazing against the purpling bruise along your neck, “Please. Have mercy on me.”

You giggle breathlessly, trying to ease the tension of your pussy against him, “M’sorry Zayne. Are you okay?”

He chuckles, nuzzling against the crook of your neck and admiring the beautiful mark he’d left on you. He has a slight stubble that rubs soothingly against your quaking nerves, making you practically purr against him, “What if I said no? What would you do then?”

“I guess I would just have to keep making you feel good, wouldn’t I?” you tease in faux innocence, though the meaning of your words are not lost on anyone.

You feel Zayne’s smile against your shoulder, “You’d better be careful what you say, sweetheart. You’re playing a very dangerous game.”

You shiver at his words, briefly reminiscing on just how many times you’ve lost at this game. How many times Zayne had you begging for reprieve, pussy red and swollen from too many orgasms to count, body folded whichever way he wanted you. Not that you could or wanted to complain.

But you’re feeling feisty, not knowing when to quit while you’re ahead, “Really? I quite like the game where you’re crying and begging me for more.”

Whoops.

Zayne’s smirk isn’t the slightest bit embarrassed, but rather amused. Mischievous.

He doesn’t speak, instead he takes your face into his hands again. This time, the frost has completely thawed, leaving just his chilly soft skin against your own. He brings you in, deceptively gently and slowly, lips pressing against yours with so much respect, adoration, and thirst.

His tongue strokes against yours with such passion and need that you’re struck absolutely dumb. Somewhere in the back of your head you can vaguely feel the instinct to pull away to breathe, but you can’t bring yourself to separate from Zayne’s torrid kiss. A week’s worth of agonizing yearning in one kiss.

It’s so distractingly perfect and mind numbing that you don’t even notice the way he stirs back to full mast inside of you, your aching walls clenching, half in protest and half in anticipation.

Zayne is the one to finally pull away, saying nothing but staring at you intently with his darkened hazel green irises, a string of saliva connecting your parted panting lips. His fingers gently cup your jaw still, but his other hand reaches up to carefully thumb at the corners of your eyes. It’s then you feel a vague dampness against your skin.

At your startled and, no doubt, confused expression Zayne chuckles warmly, “I thought you liked this game?”

His words bring you to the realization that tears were in fact streaming down your cheeks. From a single kiss. At your adorably furrowed brows, embarrassed expression conveying no amusement whatsoever, Zayne’s smirk deepens.

“No? I guess I’ll need to have you begging for you to enjoy this game, huh?” as if to punctuate his point, he shifts beneath you, thrusting his once again hardened member further inside you. You yelp at the feeling, clutching his shoulders for dear life.

“Only joking, my love,” Zayne chuckles, ghosting a kiss along your jaw as he holds you firmly against his body. You sigh in relief as the sincerity behind his teases, pressing a kiss to his cheek gratefully. Your fingers snake up into his tousled raven hair, rubbing slow circles into his scalp, to which he groans in satisfaction, laying his head against your chest. You rest your own head atop his head, smiling into his hair as he nuzzles into you like a baby.

You wince when you feel his fingers just barely ghost over the injury on your arm, where his ice arrow had accidentally struck you. You still, hoping he doesn’t notice your brief discomfort.

But of course he does, his voice choking with anguish, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Zayne! It’s really okay!” you reassure, desperately trying to get him to see that you’re perfectly alright, better than you’ve been in a week. “I’ve dealt with far worse.”

That was evidently not the right thing to say, as Zayne’s face visibly darkens, the scowl on his lips simultaneously endearing and terrifying.

“We will discuss that more when I get you home,” Zayne grumbles, and despite his cloudy and stormy demeanor you cannot find him anything other than absolutely pouty and adorable. You knew without a doubt he’d be making you take all sorts of expensive medical tests after safely returning home.

You think about how overbearing you know he will be after this, a smile playing on your lips at the thought of him fussing over you like a stoic mother hen. It would be annoying, but it was part of the reason you loved him so dearly.

“What are you laughing at?” Zayne questions, his eyebrows arched at your beautiful smile.

“Nothing…I just missed you,” you mumble sheepishly, burying your face into the crook of his neck, resting against his solid body, his manhood still snugly nestled inside you. You could definitely get used to this.

He leans his head onto yours, lips brushing a kiss against your messy hair. His voice is muffled, vibrating against your scalp as he speaks, “I…”

His voice is thick with emotions, so you decide to wait silently for him to find the words, stroking his palm, encouraging him to take his time.

“Thank you for coming.”

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

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unladielike · 10 months ago

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"Wow, one of my guesses was actually right? Jocks are truly something else..." Vivian exclaims, allowing pleasant surprise to seep through her voice. Honestly, she wonders just how strenuous practice was for Mizumachi to have enough room in his stomach for ten burgers, but regardless, it doesn't take long for a pensive hum to subsequently slip past her throat.

"As for me... probably 4 or 5? When it comes to McJunior burgers at McDonalds, though, I could eat 7... provided, of course, there aren't any fries to go alongside them! But the food truck I'm taking you has such filling teriyaki cheese burgers, chances are high you'll be full from eating 4 or 5," Vivian then proceeds to point out before letting out a little laugh.

"And yeah, I guess I kinda take after my mom in the sense I like ensuring my friends are fed! I also prefer being the one to pay, since... I dunno, it manages to make me feel manlier somehow, as if I'm one of the boys. I mean, usually, girls are never expected to pay for stuff whenever guys spend time with them, right? Hence why I get such a sense of empowerment from using what little money I have on my friends..."

Then again, to most, her logic may sound incredibly silly; after all, it was now the twentieth century, meaning to genderize the concept of footing the bill itself could come across as extremely outdated. Even so, Vivian always subconsciously had the impression it would feel less like a date or would make her seem that much more 'manlier' if she was the one paying, to the point where she could count on one hand how many times she had recently allowed anyone else to treat her... which, for better or worse, remains a bad habit of hers to this very day. Still, with how much she hated being perceived as a normie, she'd rather her wallet become lighter than be forced to confront the reality she was truly a girl at heart.

Either way, they'll soon reach Wakwak Burger, causing Vivian to come to an eventual halt ahead of him. "Ta-daaaah! What do you think?" she finally turns to flash a grin at Mizumachi just as the last customer strayed off from the front of the food truck.

[水]

She’d be correct in assessing him as a ‘himbo,’ considering that he didn’t always think before he did anything… and even if he did think, it sometimes wasn’t the most logically sound. It was like most of his IQ points went into sports and athleticism. He had this idea that she could pay for his burgers and he’d pay for hers, but realized the errors of his thought process when she spoke.

“Ah! Uh… I meant to say I’ll treat next time!”

Nice save, Mizumachi. Totally believable and sound reasoning. That’ll work, right? She can pay this time around and he can pay for the next time! That way he can return the favor because she also made some breakfast for him that other time. Hm?

“Let’s go! Say, do you like feeding people?”

He keeps pace with her as she walks them to the promised burger land- or rather, truck. If he had a nickle for each time she’d fed him, he’d have two nickles. It wasn’t a lot, but it was interesting how it happened twice already in the time they’ve known each other.

Selling Japanese burgers already would have him sold. Wakwak burger was going to have a new regular customer who was craving a reminiscent taste of home, no doubt. With how hungry he was feeling, somewhere close was definitely for the better, he’ll get to eat sooner!

“Ah… I could eat 5, yeah. Some days I could eat 10. Depends on how hungry I am. I eat a lot after practice.”

Which was to say that he didn’t gorge himself on food before practice, because it would only slow him down if he pigged out on food. It was better for him to make up for the calories lost during practice by eating his fill on food afterwards.

“How about you? 1? 2?”

Seemed like a safe conservative guess for how many burgers she could eat in a single sitting. It seemed pretty fun trying to guess how much she could eat.

#fightingthetides #║▌ ⧼ ⸢ ʚɞ ⸣︳m̲o̲d̲e̲r̲n̲. ⧽ ― ENTER THE MANLY HEROINE OF JUSTICE.#⸾ ❖︎ ⸾ ( SOCIALIZING / o3: vivian and mizumachi ) ⤹ •• 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕤.#⸾ ❖︎ ⸾ ( QUEUED ) ⤹ •• 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕣𝕪.#[ SEE... you get it! ]#[ also that's very yikes?? like... being flaky af is one thing but getting peeps to send you hate as well makes me in utter disbelief ]#[ this person could be an actual adult. ALSO i would be wary too if they went and talked to sb that triggered me especially if i told ]#[ them beforehand this person triggered me... AND YEAH i do the same provided i have less than 3 stuff i owe ]#[ RECENTLY THOUGH i've become more fast due to the fact i've gotten asks + wonderful mutuals who continue said asks into threads ]#[ which is why you're receiving this reply only a day later when normally it would stay rotting in my drafts for a while longer ]#[ as for asks i just work on them asap. LIKE i may not always queue them right away but i have a habit of finishing them before the day ]#[ is through... only to then have them sit in my drafts until i receive 2 more IC things i owe ]#[ so i don't really struggle with replying to asks (especially since i'm a mun who is good at writing improv). in fact it's super rare ]#[ for an ask to get me stumped. i'm also fortunate enough to never have received anon hate on this blog yet ]#[ like with the amount of vaguing/baseless accusations hurled my way YOU WOULD THINK I'D GET MORE TARGETED HARASSMENT ]#[ but nope. there wasn't even (1) person who came forward and provided me with receipts for the alleged stalking/harassment i apparently ]#[ committed according to this paranoid af mun who vagued/block evaded me for months ]#[ and is prob still vaguing about me to this day but i wouldn't know because i've grown addicted to actually touching grass ]#[ than keeping tabs on other people's blogs. and considering one of this person's friends blocked + then curiously unblocked me ]#[ i wouldn't be surprised if at least some think he's off his rocker (despite ironically disliking me) ]

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mercurial-chuckles · 1 month ago

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Giddy Affairs

Pairing: Congressman!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader WC: ~300 Warnings: Fluff | Established relationship | Bucky getting nasty with you in his office | Bucky being insatiable | Bucky being a simp for his wife | Bucky being hot and incorrigible | Allusions to spicy times | Some wrist-tying | Some language | Very much unbeta’d | Lemme know if I missed anything! A/N: Sorry, I haven't been in a great headspace and I've been running my blog on queue. I promise I'll get back to all your wonderful messages/asks/reblogs ASAP. Put this together super quickly for Hot Bucky Summer 2025 | Week 03 Prompt: "Not now" | @buckybarnesevents Thank you for hosting. 😊✨🥹💞 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. Banner & Divider made by me. Picture credits to Pinterest. Check out my other works: Masterlist Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Indulge Away!

"Where d'you think you're going?" Bucky drawled, fisting your dress at the small of your back and yanking you against him.

"OW! BUCKY."

You chuckled, trying to squirm away from his grip, but he didn't let you up, instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing you firmly to him as he dragged you toward his office.

"Congressman Barnes, Mr. Elliot wants to meet you," Grayson, Bucky's assistant, stopped you just before you both entered Bucky's office. He was clearly flustered to have walked in on yet another intimate moment.

"Not now. Reschedule it for tomorrow," Bucky murmured tersely.

You blushed, offering Grayson an awkward smile before Bucky shut the door.

"Bucky," you admonished, giggling as he lifted you with one arm and carried you to the couch.

He tossed aside his suit jacket, muttering about, "Stupid entrapments."

"What did you think, Mrs. Barnes? You'd show up looking like that and torture me?"

"I love that tie. Don't ruin it, Mr. Barnes," you warned, biting back your grin when you saw him loosen his tie in a hurry to unbutton the top two buttons of his white shirt.

You toed off your heels as he backed you toward the plush couch.

"That tie," he said, already yanking it loose, "is now your problem."

Before you could quip back, he pounced, pinning your wrists to the cushions and expertly looping the silk around. "You're too smug for a woman about to be ruined by her husband."

You laughed, breathless and bound, "Congressman Barnes, you're abusing your power."

He leaned in, nipping at your jaw, "I'm exercising my rights."

"How very patriotic."

"Mmm. Civic duty, doll," His smug reply went muffled as he licked a trail down your chest and took one of your tits into his mouth.

A sudden thought occurred to you, "Buck. The cameras."

He paused, chuckling, eyes glinting at you, "I disabled 'em the time we broke the desk."

"Good times," you said, your laugh turning into a lewd moan as he dragged your panties down.

"Let's see if we can top those times, sweetheart," he said, unzipping his pants.

Well?!

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

If you'd like to be tagged/removed from my works, please do so here.

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jadore-f1 · 30 days ago

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Hard Launched | LN4 | chapter 1

Synopsis ♡ A series of coincidences lead the world to thinking that you’re dating Lando Norris.

Genre ♡ SMAU, Lando x Fem!reader, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, may be slightly suggestive in future chapters

Notes ♡ MDNI (no smut but I am a +18 blog), my first smau! i’m having so much fun with this lol so i hope you guys enjoy! 🫶🏾

Face Claim ♡ Kianna Naomi (any other pics are for outfits and general vibes) all credit to pintrest for photos

y/nuser

(one minute video and one picture)

15k 💬 600 ⤵️ 343

y/nuser: @/Kwnway @/Kehlani Y’all did your big one with Worst Behavior i’m obsessed! So you know I had to make a lil combo for it 😘 Watch the full video on YouTube and get a behind the scenes look at my creative process!

bestieuser: oh you ate this upppp omg teach me

↳ y/nuser: I gotchu pookie one on one lessons coming up 🫦

↳ bestieuser: 🧍🏾‍♀️see here you go with that freaky stuff

↳ y/nuser: my bad 😭😭😭

nicolekirkland: 🔥🔥🔥 as always, can’t wait to collab again!

↳ y/nuser: 🫶🏾🫶🏾 yes we need to get back in the studio together asap

user1: ur so talented!

user2: @/user3 are you seeing what i’m seeing?

↳ user3: i’m peeping for sure…

↳ y/nuser: ???

user4: loving the dance but the shoes!! i need immediately

↳ y/nuser: thank you lovely, they’re from Aldo you can use the code linked in my bio for money off ✨✨

user3: @/user2 i can’t find anything showing they know each other

↳ user2: idk it feels targeted like the lyrics plus she’s wearing his jersey in her yt video 🤷‍♀️

user5: she’s not his usual type at all i think you guys are reaching

user6: ew what is she even doing

user7: LMAO bitches do anything for attention

user8: 🙄🙄typical slut just trying to use Lando for clout he would never go for her

↳ y/nuser: Not to fucking much???? who are you even talking about

Maxfewtrell: 👀

Meanwhile…

New Stories Posted!

Lando Posted on his story!

🏁F1gossip has posted a new article!

New WAG on the rise?

LANDO NORRIS & INFLUENCER SPARK ROMANCE RUMORS AFTER NIGHTCLUB SIGHTING

Lando Norris, McLaren’s golden boy is fueling the rumor mill once again. But this time it’s his off-track moves that have everyone buzzing. The 25 year old driver was spotted at an exclusive London nightclub over the weekend, but it’s who he was seen with that has fans putting on their detective hats. None other than Y/N L/N, a 24 year old dancer originally from the United States.

Eyewitnesses say the pair arrived separately and weren’t really seen close together BUT maybe they’re just good at keeping it low-key in the public eye.

The speculation started when Y/N posted a dance cover to a song fans felt was heavily targeted towards their beloved driver. With lyrics like

“Keep drivin’ one hand on the wheel and one inside it Speed into your crib to get me riding”.

The post was soon followed by a youtube video where she can be seen wearing his iconic papaya merch. {link to video}

I mean come on girl, it doesn’t get more obvious than that!

Naturally, social media went into overdrive.

“Why is Lando always at these clubs? Who’s that with him??” wrote one curious fan. “Okay but if Lando and Y/N are a thing… I’m not surviving this season,” tweeted another.

To add fuel to the fire, followers noticed Y/N and Lando both posted very similar Stories the next day, coincidence? F1 Twitter thinks not.

So, are Lando and Y/N just friends who party, or is there a new power couple on the horizon? Only time and perhaps a cheeky soft launch — will tell.

But for now, we’ll be keeping our eyes on the grid... and the guest lists.

Okay sooo thoughts? 👀 no direct interaction between our main couple but trust! it’s coming soon 🙂‍↔️i have so many ideas i just gotta make them make sense you know. gotta figure out how to turn the enemies to lovers because shes sick of him at the moment 😭(deservedly so tbh) Anyways Thanks for reading!! love ya 🫶🏾🫶🏾

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nocturnalcharm · 1 year ago

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Faking It (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

𐙚 prompt: charles forces you and logan to do a mission together in order to help you bond. 𐙚 cw: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, if this does well i’ll do a part 2 w smut ;) cussing, 𐙚 a/n: thanks to everyone who's sent me req's! this wasnt a req but id already started it haha if youve sent a req ill try to get to it asap.... also so many ppl wanted to be added to a taglist but for the nsfw alphabet post i dont think it tagged like half the ppl?? so im sorry if u dont get tagged, im trying to fix it :)

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Professor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“(Y/N), it’s not me you should be apologizing to. It’s your team. That’s who you both let down.” He eyes flick between you and Logan.

“I’ll go apologize to them now.” You turn to leave.

“You too Logan.” Charles says.

On this latest mission, you needed to sneak into a factory and take down all of the enemies— But you and Logan were arguing so loudly, you alerted all of the rivals, turning a few quick sneak attacks into full blown fights. No one was badly injured but you still felt horrible about it.

“This is all your fault.” You mumbled, just loud enough for Logan to hear.

“My fault? You’re kidding.” He huffs.

“Shut up.” You walk ahead of him, on the way to the common room to see your team.

Everyone was sitting there, talking amongst themselves. Once you and Logan entered, they all stopped their conversations and looked at you.

“Guys. I am so sorry about this mission.”

“I’m sorry, extremely sorry, and I apologize for my behavior.” Logan mocked your expression of regret.

“You are such a child, Logan! I’m trying to apologize!” You raised your voice.

“I am too!”

“Can you two just stop?” Hank stood up, silencing you both. “Your attitudes have been getting in the way of every mission. If you guys can’t get along then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh..” You didn’t know how to respond. You couldn’t believe you let your dislike for Logan get in the way of your job, so much that they thought you shouldn’t be an X-Man anymore.

They all left the room, leaving just you and Logan to culminate in your thoughts.

“I think it’s pretty obvious we’re not going to get along any time soon.” He broke the silence.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He walked out, as you sat in the empty room.

The next day, Xavier called you and Logan into his office yet again. You were concerned, worried he might be kicking you off the team. But instead, he said he had a mission for you two.

“I need you to pose as a couple. You’ll be going to an upscale hotel in Manhattan. It’s a cover for a drug smuggling ring. You two will stay as guests in order to collect information. I need everyone that is there, guests and workers alike, to think you two are madly in love. We don’t know who could be involved, so we can’t have them think anything suspicious.”

“Professor, is that the best idea? We just blew the last mission because we couldn’t stop arguing.”

“If you two fail this mission, I will have no choice but to replace both of you. You are amazing at what you do, but your arguing affects everyone. Not just yourselves.”

“Okay. We won’t let you down.” Logan speaks up.

***

The trip to the hotel was long and frustrating. You two couldn’t agree on anything the entire time. You criticized his driving, he criticized what you put on the radio, and how loud it was. You called him an old man, which just resulted in the radio being turned off and continuing the last hour drive there in silence.

When you arrived, it was late afternoon. Logan, pretending to be your fiance, grabbed all the bags by himself and walked inside. The hotel was huge. It was upscale, classy. So fancy you were afraid to touch anything, in fear it might break.

“Hi! Checking in for Anderson.” He greeted the front desk clerk, giving his forged name. He dropped the bags on the floor and you wrapped yourself around his now-free arm, squeezing it.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” She smiled back, “Let’s see. You had the penthouse, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re celebrating our engagement!” You beamed, holding out your hand, showing off your fake engagement ring.

“That’s lovely. Congratulations! We’ll have a bottle of champagne in your room for celebration.”

“Thank you so much!” You squeaked.

He finished the check-in process, then you headed to the top floor.

The penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. It was huge, the size of a decent apartment. Just like the lobby, you were afraid to break something.

“Wow.. This is amazing. Only time I’ll ever get to stay in a penthouse and it’s with you.” You said, as he shut the door.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Now, c’mon we gotta go to the pool. Get changed.” He handed you your bag.

You opened it, pulling out your bikini. It was the only one you had, admittedly from a few years ago. You didn’t have time anymore to relax by a pool or go swimming in the ocean, so this swimsuit had to do. It was a simple black string bikini.

You went inside the bathroom to change. Once you had your swimsuit on, you felt a little self conscious at the amount of skin showing, but figured it’d help with the whole ‘can’t keep your hands off your new fiance’ vibe you and Logan needed to exude for this mission.

You walked out of the bathroom, faking confidence you didn’t have. Logan had taken the opportunity to just change in the living space since he was alone. He was wearing black swim trunks. It was funny, it looked like you two had matched on purpose.

“Wow.” He said quietly, clearing his throat.

“What? You like what you see?” You joked at his clear uncomfortableness with seeing you in such little clothing.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” He spat, grabbing two towels, the key, and exiting the room.

The second you were out the door, you both had big smiles on your face. His arm was around you, holding your side as you headed to the pool.

It wasn’t too busy, just a few kids with their parents, and a bartender at the outdoor bar. You told him you wanted a drink, so that’s where you headed first.

“Hey, can I get two Mojitos?” Logan asked, handing him the room key “And can you just charge it to our room?”

“Of course,” He started working on the drinks immediately, while you two sat and people-watched. He finished the drinks, and gave you them and the room key back.

You said thank you as you walked off, hoping Logan would just follow. There was a small hot tub that was empty, so that’s where you went. You stepped in carefully, afraid of slipping, and sat down in the warm water.

“Really?” Logan whispered, a fake smile still adorned on his face.

“This is what couples do, Logan. And we’re a couple for this weekend. So sit down and act like you love me, sweetie.” Your grin was starting to hurt your cheeks.

He sat down across from you, and you mentally rolled your eyes. You got up, and repositioned yourself, sitting in his lap, “What part of ‘act like you love me’ are you not getting?”

He was frozen for a moment, caught off guard but quickly acted like he was happy to have you there, to not draw suspicion. You both took sips of your drink, as you continued to nonchalantly looked around.

You two stayed at the pool for awhile, taking mental notes of the guests and employees you saw. Honestly, this hotel didn’t seem too strange. But Xavier said it was a front so you guessed that’s why it seemed so normal, for their cover.

Once your drinks were empty, and the sun had started to go down, you both decided to head back up to the room. He got out drying himself off before wrapping you up in your towel. He picked you up and carried you bridal-style to the penthouse.

“Logan!”

“What? Just acting like I love you.” He smirked.

Once inside the room, he set you down. “I’m gonna go shower.” You stated, not really knowing what to do.

He just nodded, walking off to the kitchenette. You grabbed your bag and headed to the bathroom.

***

You mentally cursed yourself as you scrambled through your bag, searching for a pair of pajama shorts you thought you packed, but they were nowhere to be found.

“This cannot be real.” You whispered. The only other clothes you brought were jean shorts, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sleep in those.

You pulled out your oversized sleepshirt, putting it on. The hem landed right above the middle of your thigh. It was a little shorter than the length of a nightgown, so you just hoped he wouldn’t notice. You slipped on a pair of panties, snatched up your things, and exited the bathroom.

You immediately bumped into Logan, who was standing right outside the door.

“What the fuck?” You raised your voice, annoyed. “Why are you right outside the door?”

“I was about to knock. You’ve been in there for over an hour.”

“It’s all yours!” You sassed.

You walked over to the small kitchen, and see he had already opened up the champagne. You had a glass as you sat on a barstool, writing down some notes about the people you’d observed earlier. Pouring yourself another glass, you headed over to the bed.

Just as you made yourself comfortable, Logan came out of the washroom, in just a towel. You stared at his wet torso for a moment, hypnotized.

“My eyes are up here.” He laughed.

You looked up, embarrassed.

“Forgot my clothes. Hey, wait, why are you in the bed?”

“…Because I’m the girl?”

“You're also the short one. I can’t fit on that couch.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a big bed. We can both fit just fine. Unless you’re nervous. Never slept with a girl before, Lo?”

He sighed, clearly not wanting to argue, before taking his clothes and escaping back to the bathroom. You silently celebrated your victory.

He came out a few moments later, turning off the lights, sliding under the blankets and getting comfortable. You both ended up facing the same direction. If he was any closer, he’d be the big spoon, but there was a few inches separating you.

You adjusted your body, and accidentally felt your ass rub against him. You went rigid from humiliation, before scooting away slightly, ignoring it since he didn’t say anything.

You tried to fall asleep, but it was difficult, for many reasons. One, you’re not used to having someone else in your bed. Two, he was breathing heavily. Three, you couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he was.

Of course, you knew Logan was attractive, you’d thought that since the moment you first saw him. But today, probably because of the faux-gagement, the touching, the flirting, you saw him differently. He was still getting on your nerves, but the flames between you two… His body… It was unlike before.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You twiddled your feet, moving around your body nervously, before unintentionally grazing your ass against his crotch again.

“Y’know, if you keep rubbing your ass against my dick, I’m gonna do something about it.” His words sounded gruff in your ear, but they gave you butterflies.

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Taglist:

@figsnpassionfruits @marcybug @sacred-holy-light @keigohawks @rockytheluver @parasiiite @iluvstrawberry @18lkpeters @daydreamin1220 @hoesformenotforyou @ninuwrites @chaoticpaintsplatter @red-jay @sweet1squash @here2bawl @silversprings-mp3 @leathargic @issylovessharks @serenewrote @jakegyllenbaalz @whore-for-marvel@cookiesandcreammoolkshake @what-did-you-just-say @demitralover @midnight036 @lanassmarty @sugarrushbell @kitomon @lysmeadows @halpin4 @rebelmarylou @jupitersiberis @ginamcflurry @dilflover-420 @blubobbi @midsommarmayqueen911 @popsickle1235 @jairmi @maxx205 @kmc217 @callmejod @bellaaa32 @suiien @whiskytoast @zeeader @jasmines-greentea @malfoys-demigod @poplottie @navs-bhat @argos-13 @marvelreadingarchive @krisslegacy @chassidypowell24 @godness-gracious13 @hpttsa @fandomsunited @sseleniaa @vampuck @veetallla @chasedbyatlantic @fluffy-anna @deaky-with-a-c

#wolverine x reader #xmen #xmen wolverine #x men #wolverine smut #wolverine fanfic #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #logan fluff #logan fanfic #logan fanfiction #logan smut #logan howlett #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

katiascraft · 5 months ago

Text

﹙CL16﹚ ── ❝ let's fall in love for the night ❞

── ♬⋆.˚

charlesleclerc just made a post

liked by lewishamilton, taylorswift, billieeilish and 1,345,965 other users

charlesleclerc: happy to announce my new single will be out in a week 🙂‍↕️ excited for you to hear it! see you in a bit…

view more comments

── ♬⋆.˚

summary - charles finally drops his frist ever sang song and unsurprisingly for the fans it's about you <3

warnings - none at all it’s all just pure fluff and cliche romance!

blog masterlist

¡ tap to continue reading ू♡ ࿔ ۪

yourusername made a post

liked by billieeilish , ferrari, arthurleclerc and 823,510 other users

yourusername: so excited that finally the weirdest kid on my block it’s about to become a worldwide superstar 🥳

view more comments

charlesleclerc: was it necessary to humiliate me in front of the world?

⤷ yourusername: I thought you looked cute and kissable 😔

⤷ charlesleclerc: THOSE pics???? Are you blind?

⤷ yourusername: blindly in love with you? yes sir 🙂‍↕️

⤷ charlesleclerc: I can’t fight with you

⤷ carlossainz: bro you can’t be so weak BE A MAN

⤷ charlesleclerc: first of all, don’t shout at me. And secondly, you’re not part of this conversation.

⤷ carlossainz: then don’t comment a public post on Instagram for the world to see.

⤷ yourusername: @/rebeccadonalson take your shit out of here

⤷ carlossainz: mean.

⤷ yourusername: don’t shout at my man.

maxverstappen: I know it’s gonna be the best song in the whole world

⤷ yourusername: and you haven’t seen the video yet!

⤷ oscarpiastri: is he naked?

⤷ yourusername: no.

⤷ oscarpiastri: thank god I thought I was about to be traumatized

⤷ carlossainz: would be traumatizing if she was in it

⤷ yourusername: then call a therapist.

user235: HOW’S THAT THERE’S GONNA BE A MUSIC VIDEO? Omg Charles never did a music video

⤷ user123: and apparently y/n it’s gonna star in it!

user12: can’t wait to watch it

landonorris: let’s goooo that kid would stop being ugly to be sexy and important! I’m so here for it

⤷ charlesleclerc: i’m already sexy and important I drive a Ferrari

⤷ landonorris: you’re irrelevant dude you drive cars puff BORING

⤷ charlesleclerc: is it because i’m the hottest driver on the grid and you aren’t?

⤷ landonorris: you’re not taylor swift and i’m sure your song will suck plus WHO WON LAST YEAR CHAMPIONSHIP?

⤷ charlesleclerc: oh you’re so 🐍🐍🐍🐍

⤷ landonorris: baby now we got bad blood

billieelish: so excited to be the one who produced this masterpiece 😋

⤷ yourusername: love of my life you’re so perfect and talented 😍

⤷ charlesleclerc: so you don’t want to get married with me then?

⤷ yourusername: i just gay panicked

⤷ charlesleclerc: we broke up.

⤷ billielish: I don’t like girls dude

⤷ charlesleclerc: LIES YOU CAN IT THEM FOR LUNCH

⤷ yourusername: you need to get off the internet asap

⤷ charlesleclerc: and who are you?

⤷ yourusername: the love of your life

⤷ charlesleclerc: I thought she was the love of your life how fast the night changes 🚩

⤷ yourusername: she is my love but you are my LIFE

⤷ charlesleclerc: let’s get married now my chérie 😍

user0863: i think I’m more excited about this insane comment section than for the song tbh but I’m here for all of it

⤷ yourusername: I promise the song it’s even better

── ♬⋆.˚

charlesleclerc made a post

charlesleclerc: im the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid cuz I know better that to call you mine ❤️ only two more days to go!

view more comments

user22: wait…

user716: if this is promo for the song… then those are lyrics…

user763: OMG HE IS GONNA SING FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER

user66: the man that you are Charles

user917: the man of any girls’ dreams

carlossainz: if she’s not yours then what she is? Make it make sense

⤷ maxverstappen: not a possession or an object for sure 🥰

⤷ user123: lestappen ♾️

yourusername: you need a pick me up? I’ll be there in 25

⤷ charlesleclerc: I like to push my luck so take my hand let’s take a drive

⤷ user1299: LYRICS LYRICS LYRICS

landonorris: last time I heard you sing leo didn’t like it

⤷ charlesleclerc: using my child to insult me talks a lot about you.

oscarpiastri: i’m so excited omg

rebeccadonaldson: my fav people! So excited for this new era @/charlesleclerc !

⤷ charlesleclerc: thanks rebe ❤️

yourusername: you’re my whole entire life Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc ❤️

⤷ charlesleclerc: im crying 🥹

⤷ yourusername: baby

⤷ charlesleclerc: 🙄 no fun for the next month.

⤷ yourusername: EVIL

── ♬⋆.˚

charlesleclerc made a post

charlesleclerc: alright my first ever single it's out now everywhere! feedback is very welcome! it took me six months to learn the choreography 🙂 but it was so cool to have a car made of people :)

view more comments

user163: IM CRYING IM SCREAMING IM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET

user973: you’re a real superstar now

⤷ yourusername: I told you’ll

user98: didn’t disappoint

user9174: YOUR VOICE ITS THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL

⤷ yourusername: he is in fact heaven sent

⤷ user976: y/n we love you 😭

user7653: play me a song that you like you can bet I know every line 😭

user711: I wanna be in love like he is in love with y/n

yourusername: I know my ex is crying like a baby rn :)

⤷ charlesleclerc: he was ugly anyway he deserves it

⤷ landonorris: once a cheater always a cheater

⤷ user7653: let’s burn that asshole alive

user9764: I want what they have

user9874: charles it’s such a green flag like can we clone him please?

user9175: god created men and then created Charles as an apology

⤷ yourusername: I can confirm this theory is real

yourusername: WHY WOULD YOU SAY I WONT STAY IM NEVER LEAVING YOUR ASS YOU IDIOT

⤷ charlesleclerc: J’ai peur que ça ne dure pas pour toujours (i’m scared that what we have doesn’t last forever)

⤷ yourusername: Je me moque de l’éternité, ce qui m’importe, c’est chaque jour à tes côtés et qu’il paraisse infini (I don’t care about forever, I only care about everyday with you by my side and that that feels like an eternity together)

⤷ charlesleclerc: 🥹🥹 Je t’aime, amour de ma vie

⤷ yourusername: still waiting for the ring on my finger

⤷ charlesleclerc: dont rush me I’m still a kid 😭

⤷ carlossainz: loser

⤷ charlesleclerc: get out of here

user8365: love how supportive y/n is 😍 such a queen

user55: a part of me wanted y/n there :(

── ♬⋆.˚

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: NEWS‼️ fórmula one driver Charles leclerc has just dropped his first ever music video! Here’s a pic of him and his girlfriend y/n in the behind the scenes of the music video. What do we think about it? We can’t stop listening to it!

view more comments

user81653: to have what they have 😭

user9726: I don’t know Charles had a girlfriend!

⤷ user254: she is @/yourusername, and they have been together for like 7 years now. She’s been with him since almost the beggiging of his formula one career!

user88623: the way she looks at him so proud and in love I want that 😭

user8652: we know Charles is beautiful but can we talk about y/n???? She has like the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen in my life

⤷ user615: she is gorgeous

⤷ user33: and so caring as well. When she said like she tried since 2020 to convince Charles that the song was more than good enough to drop it bc he felt so insecure about his voice 😭 charles so insecure sometimes FOR WHAT he is perfect omg

⤷ user9164: we can say that she really loves him and cares for him by the way she always is hugging him, asking him if he feels fine, making him laugh

⤷ user177: we love our assertive queen

user8144: am I the only one who didn’t know y/n was a writer and helped Charles with all of this???

⤷ user199: she is a producer, composer and songwriter! She works for artists like madison beer and selena gomez!

⤷ user453: omg she is so talented like wow im really surprised that I didn’t know!

⤷ yourbff: she is a woman of many super powers!

user123: they are the perfect family WTF 😭

user8864: love how Charles looks at her it have me butterflies and im not even either of them 🥰

⤷ user334: Charles it’s obsessed with her no doubts

⤷ user8874: he knows he is a lucky man to have such a queen by his side

⤷ user97634: I love them sm like the way she always supports him at the garage almost every single race weekend and how he always shares into his stories all of the songs she writes and the pic he uploads with her saying the cutest things ever like 😭 and now THIS just get married already

⤷ yourusername: that’s exactly what I said!

⤷ user9715: OMG QUEEN

⤷ user996: AAAAAAAAAA

⤷ user91753: @/charlesleclerc JUST GIVE HER THE DAMN RING

── ♬⋆.˚

yourusername just made a post

youusername: ‘let’s fall in love for the night and forget in the morning’ means how love can be so frightening we tend to think nothing can’t last forever because we don’t we believe we deserve that love. It’s means that just a moment can mean a lot to you. It means that love can happen in just one second and that forever actually means everyday. It means love it’s mundane and average and typical and ordinary. And that it’s actually what makes love so beautiful. I didn’t believe in love till I found you my Charles. I didn’t know love can have so many shapes and forms and times. You taught me it all. and love is this, loving every single flaw, mistake, past, present and future of one person, embrace them and make them feel loved and worth it and important. I will forever hold you tight in my arms my love and I will never let you fall. Im so proud of you Charlie, keep on being the Angel you are to this world. You’re the most talented human I know and the most loving and sweet and thoughtful. You deserve the entire universe and nothing less <3

view more comments

charlesleclerc: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

charlesleclerc: I can’t text properly cuz I’m actually sobbing 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

charlesleclerc: wtf 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

francolapinto: fan de su relación ❤️

carlossainz: thank you for writing this about my Charles. I feel like a proud mom right now. You two are so beautiful and disgusting 💙

⤷ landonorris: specially disgusting

⤷ charlesleclerc: you wish it was you don’t you?

⤷ charlesleclerc: I love you @/carlossainz

⤷ user7544: we still waiting for the wedding

user76: like im sobbing and it’s not even about me tf

user7753: so this proves that y/n it’s actually a writer

yourbff: thank you @/charlesleclerc to make my girl so happy I love you both so freaking much! (I swears if you don’t choose me as your maid of honor I will kill you)

⤷ yourusername: 🤫🤫🤫

charlesleclerc: I can’t not even think straight to find the words to tell you how I feel every time I wake up next to you. What I know it’s that im sososo lucky that you love me. My life would be miserable without you. You’re the light I need to keep on carry on. Thank you for being the most wonderful human being there is to exist. You make life be so easy. And love feel so gentle and kind and amazing. Thank you for making me happy my love. I love you.

⤷ yourusername: Je t’aime pour toujours, mon amour (I love you forever, my love)

⤷ charlesleclerc: Je t’aime pour toujours, mon amour

rebeccadonaldson: love you both ❤️

── ♬⋆.˚ melbourne 2025

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: 📸 SPOTTED! formula one driver charles leclerc just arrived at the Australia gp 2025. He walked in the paddok along his girlfriend y/n and their dog son Leo. As always both were really affectionate and took pics with fans! Also, a few fans told us there was a ring on her finger with a huge rock on it 👀

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user7653: FINALLY

user997: omg omg omg omg

user615: im giggling and kicking my feet

user864: I don’t get why are all of you so obsessed with them they’re so basic and boring 🙄 and it obvious she is with him for money

⤷ user22: die

⤷ user654: actually she was already rich when they started dating and I would say that she was even richer bc she was already successful in the music industry. Inform yourself.

user765: she just wanted to be famous so I don like her hope Charles wake up asap 🤷🏻‍♀️

user2334: can’t believe the comments like why everyone out of nowhere is no negative about them getting married???? Pls check with a therapist the parasocial relationship it’s killing your neurons 🙄

user711: no matter what if he is happy them im happy he seems very in love let’s be supportive

user22: hope they invite me to the wedding cuz I’m here fighting bitches 👊

── ♬⋆.˚

yourusername just made a post

yourusername: rumors are true! Guess we hid it for way too long now. Finally, I can confirm I will be y/n leclerc real soon <3 dreams do really come true!

comments have been restricted

carlossainz: finally!!

rebeccadonaldson: so happy for you guys ❤️

landonorris: hope im invited

⤷ yourusername: no 🩷

⤷ landonorris: cruel

oscarpiastri: me and lili are so happy for you guys can’t wait to dance the night away celebrating your love!!

⤷ charlesleclerc: we love you child

francolapinto: congrats you two!!!

yukitsunoda: ❤️❤️❤️

charlesleclerc made a post

charlesleclerc: mine all mine ♾️

comments on this post have been disabled

── ♬⋆.˚

charlesleclerc made a post

charlesleclerc: you aren’t ready for what’s cominggggg

view more comments

yourusername: 🤫🤫🤫

yourusername: til forever falls apart

⤷ charlesleclerc: till forever falls apart my love

user6443: OMG NEW SONG NEW SONG

user223: IS Y/n A SINGER AS WELL??????

yourbff: omgggg so excited!!!!! I just know it’s gonna be sooooo good

landonorris: can I produce it?

⤷ billieeilish: bro she is a producer

⤷ landonorris: and?

⤷ yourusername: we don’t need you darling

⤷ landonorris: could you stop hurting my feelings some day?

⤷ yourusername: you hurt you own feelings commenting shit 🥰

⤷ landonorris: how cruel

⤷ yourusername: I love you bestie

⤷ landonorris: I don’t

⤷ yourusername: 🙄

billieeilish: so excited for the world to hear this masterpiece

── THE END ♬⋆.˚

don’t forget to like, reblog or comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together)

406 notes · View notes

virginreprise · 11 days ago

Text

P O A C H E R ' S ✧ P R I D E ⋆. ˚ ｡ ⋆. ୨ ୧ ˚

joel miller x reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

S U M M A R Y : There had been so little fight left when he had found you, and now there was even less. He had picked wisely, and you could only assume his choice had been intentional. He knew you'd break so easily, and his predictions were coming to fruition as he nursed you back to health and promised you things you had never had the pleasure of experiencing. 7.0k words.

W A R N I N G S : DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, starvation, captivity, non-consensual touching, dark themes, suicidal ideation, ddlg, forced ddlg, manipulation, see series masterlist for full tags

A/N: I know this chapter is out probably a lot sooner than expected, but I already had so much of it written that I wanted to share it asap! Thank you for all the love on the first chapter! I know it wasn't particularly long, so I hope this next instalment makes up for it. Again, heed the warnings. This is a little lighter than the last chapter but still equally as dark when you look past surface-level. The next chapter won't be out so soon - this was a one-off, but I'm hoping to keep consistent updates. Also, this is lowk gonna be slowburn in terms of sexual content; I haven't quite decided yet. Tell me what you think!

TAGLIST: @koshkaj-blog

⋆. ˚ ｡ ⋆. ୨ ୧ ˚. " 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐞-𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 "

C H A P T E R ✧ T W O — The Ten Commandments

You slept fitfully, shivering and crying, stomach protesting every gag that contracted your weak muscles. There was some time in the middle of the night when you genuinely thought you were dying. Your body had shaken so violently, your head pounded so harshly that it felt like a bowling ball crushing the sides of your skull, and for a brief moment, you had forgotten your name. Then you passed out; it was dawn when you woke. Too afraid to fall asleep again in case you died without repenting, you huddled into a corner, trying with all the strength you had left to cease the tremors, and waited for him.

You waited until the Northern Cardinals stopped their chirping, flying away to start their work, and jumped when you heard the slam of a door.

It felt like a lifetime, yet simultaneously mere seconds, before he was fumbling with the locks and swinging the shed door wide open. You squinted at the brightness, shielding your eyes with your arms and responding to his call with a choked sob.

“C’mere,” he said, almost softly. The care in his voice just made you feel that much sicker. When you didn’t move, he didn’t shout; he just knelt in the snow and reached his hand out to you. “C’mon, sweetheart, let's get you fed.”

You cowered in confusion, your eyes still adjusting to the whiteness of the snow, and decided to focus instead on his outstretched hand. It was so big. He was so big and terrifying, and yet you wanted to take his hand and let him drag you away. The promise of food was too great. Your body had been protesting for so long, and you felt like you were knocking on death’s door. He could save you.

Skin pressed against skin as you touched him, burning with warmth; you crawled towards him on shaky legs. It didn’t matter in that moment that you were naked. You had promised yourself that you would do what he asked, and pretend that he had not chased you down in the woods and broken you to the point that your only salvation was your captor.

Your legs buckled under you as you went to stand, and your head lolled as vertigo snatched you away.

“Easy there, girl, c’mon,” he encouraged, sweeping you off your feet with a grunt and pressing you tight against his chest. Dazedly, you pushed at him, weakly murmuring your protests, not willing to succumb to him so easily, but he was so warm and inviting. There was food in the house, a shower and a bed. He’d said he didn’t want to hurt you, and you still did not believe him, but if survival meant compliance, you would obey like a believer obeyed the word of God.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said, tapping your face lightly as you lulled in and out of consciousness. “Can’t eat if you ain’t awake.”

Some part of you thrummed with the urge to heed his subtle warning, and your eyes snapped open of their own accord, skin bristling with the contrast of the bite of winter and the blessedness of four walls and a fire as he dragged you up the porch steps and through the front door.

Your muscles relaxed when he placed you on the couch, head falling against the cushions and clutching tight at the blanket he slung over your shivering form. You felt the burn of the fire against your bare cheeks, bringing with it the most comfort the Lord had granted you these torturous weeks of neglect and impending death. It was tingling along your skin, burning the delicate flesh and fumbling around in your soul. It bent the very fibres of yourself and dragged a lingering feeling of home to the forefront.

You felt like you were back home. You were delirious, but you felt warm, and the scent of chicken noodle soup filled your senses, along with the image of his stature in your peripheral vision.

You realised too late that you could’ve run out the front door and into the woods in the time it took him to fetch your food.

“I don’t trust you to eat this slow,” he muttered, the sloshing of the broth making your mouth salivate as he pushed the spoon through the food. “Your body’ll go into shock otherwise.”

You just whined in response, and you felt drool drop from the corner of your lips.

“C’mon.” He was using that same soft tone, the faux comfort that burned through you as harshly as the fire licked at your delicate skin. “Open up.”

It would’ve been humiliating if you weren’t so hungry, but the first taste of broth, the press of the noodles under your teeth, were worth every ounce of shame that coursed through your defiant being. You were being fed by the man who had kidnapped you, but you couldn’t find it in you to feel angry at yourself.

All you needed to do now was get your energy up, let him feed and hopefully clothe you so you could escape the second he got too comfortable with your submission. There was no use in fighting anymore; he was stronger. There was no way around that fact, so you would use your mind instead of your body and hope that the former didn’t fail you along the way.

He fed you in silence, making sure each bite was chewed and appropriately swallowed before he granted you another piece. It did not fill you, but it was a temporary fix for the lingering cracks.

Then, he forced you to drink something disgusting, a blend of all you needed to stay alive, he’d said, and you’d chased the concoction with a pint of water that you spent at least half an hour sipping to completion. You hadn’t even realised that somewhere along the way he’d tied your hand behind your back again, and the normalcy he’d created was quickly stripped by the burning reminder that he did not care for you. If he did, he would’ve let you go.

It was silent aside from the crackling of fire, and the blessedness of a full stomach made your eyelids heavy. Your body slumped against the couch, the blanket slipping off your right shoulder and exposing your collarbone to the cool air. You went to reach for it, to pull it tight around you, but you could not. You let it stay there and hoped that his lingering glance at the exposed skin held little malicious intent.

“You look tired,” he said into the quiet and settled tensely in the armchair by the fire. He sat like he was ready to pounce up at any moment, and if you had any more strength, you would’ve told him that he looked just as exhausted as you felt.

It seemed like he was mocking you, prying you open and praying that you’d break so he could chase you again. He watched you cower at the sound of his voice, your body visibly shaking, all too aware that you were naked underneath the blanket he’d wrapped around you. He spoke up again with a tilt of his head and a gruffness to his voice that you recognised as vaguely Southern the more he spoke. “I got a spare room, your room,” he corrected, and you cringed at the determination. “Food, water, a bath…if you listen to me, I ain’t gonna let you go without any of it.”

The prospect, in your current situation, seemed unthinkable. In the shed, your prison, you would’ve jumped at the idea. You would’ve let him do anything to you if it meant you could eat and sleep in a warm bed. Yet, the ache in your belly had been sated, you could almost feel the vitamins reinvigorating your obstinance, and you did not want to give him the satisfaction of your obedience. No matter what necessities he gifted, the rope around your wrists was a constant reminder that he had stolen you from your life. He had ripped a hole in the fabric of time and brought you to a hellscape where the sun seemed to set in the east and rise in the west.

“Why am I here?” you asked, voice cracking yet housing a truculence your mother had always scolded you for. “You just…you—”

“What?” he asked, as casually as if you had been there years, encouraging you with a simple cock of his head like you were a baby learning its first words.

You swallowed, hoping to calm your shaking. He was terrifying, but you were not so easily scared. You would not succumb.

“You just took me from my life.” The words came out in a whisper, and you cursed the splitting of your soul each time you looked in his eyes.

There was a pause where he seemed to consider, swallowing away the words that swilled and then spat them at your face once they had begun to form coherency.

“What kind of a life was that, hm?”

The words rang sonorously in your addled brain, the painful sting of the truth in them mocking you with their exhortation. For years, you had urged yourself to experience life in any capacity you could, to escape Massachusetts and run away to New York, where dreams were made and fulfilled. There was so little to live for in Lexington. You had never had any friends in high school, and you had always been too shy to do things alone. So, you lived without acquaintance. Your mother had died a few months before you turned sixteen, your daddy had left for a new life when he could no longer stand the abuse, and you hadn’t seen him in over ten years. So, you lived without family.

There was no one, alive or dead, who cared about you, and you had done nothing to change that fact in the eighteen years you’d had to decide what you wanted life to look like.

The man noted your pause and huffed in acknowledgement of his victory. You waited, trying your hardest not to panic as he stood and walked towards the accent table backed against the wall. He rummaged through the top drawer; you looked towards the door whilst his back was turned, and the rope stung and pulsed in warning. Now was not the time.

When he turned back around, two items in his hands, you began crying again. You were sick of it: the sting of salt, the accumulation of salvia that pooled around the corners of your mouth and the constant drip of your nose that ran like a leaky faucet. When you had once cried yourself to sleep every night and awoke almost content that the same thing was bound to happen once again, you now grew tired of the habit. It was more of a nuisance than anything.

He seemed to ignore your display and simply stood in front of you, a notepad and pen held in front of your face.

“Take it,” he muttered. “You gon’ need to write these down. If you forget ‘em, I’ll give ya hell.”

You shuddered, almost ready to spew the food you’d just consumed all over his face. The sight would at least make you feel a little better. However, the thought of being hungry again helped settle your stomach, and you stuttered as you stated the obvious.

“I-I can’t.” A small sob left your throat. “My hands.”

He narrowed his eyes, seemingly irritated with himself for forgetting something so stupid and threw the items down on the coffee table before exiting your line of sight and disappearing down the corridor. You suddenly felt cold, despite the heat of the fire searing across your bare skin. Where the nakedness didn’t bother you as much before, the urge for food replacing the feeling of vulnerability, you began to feel increasingly uncomfortable with just the fabric of the blanket covering you.

The man came back a few minutes later, and you jumped at the sound of his footsteps. Your paranoia heightened and your shaking worsened when you caught sight of what was in his hands. There, clutched between his big palms, was a mix of pink and lace that he set down on the arm of the couch as he settled himself above you.

Softness gave way to irritation when he went to peel the blanket away from you, and you recoiled in horror.

“I’ve already seen all of you,” he informed, and your stomach churned with the image of him stripping your unconscious body. “Now, you can either let me see you again, or go back outside. Your choice, honey.”

The irony was not lost on you: you had no choice. The distinct feeling that you could die out here if you didn’t comply captured you, and you let him peel away the checked fabric with a shake and a whine.

Surprisingly, he did not linger on your naked form for too long, just roughly bent your arms until you cried in pain and unsheathed the blade that rested in its scabbard. The cut was clean, and he reprimanded you when the tip nicked your wrist—courtesy of your wriggling. He paid little mind to it, however, and let the rope fall away.

You thought about running. You did every time he offered you an ounce of freedom, but the knowledge that he would catch you before you reached the front door rang with a solemn ring, and you decided to stay put.

“Shh, now,” he murmured, picking up the slip of pink and holding it in front of you. “Should fit…if it don’t, I guess you’ll just have to walk around with nothin’ on.”

The “please” fell from your lips unconsciously, shaking your head on instinct and hoping to God that the babydoll dress he held between thick fingers would slide over you as easily as skin over condensation.

“What’s that?” he asked, almost disregarding, still choosing not to gawk at the sight of you naked. He dressed you like a parent would a child and knelt almost subserviently when he pinched the lace and began to pull the knee highs over your calves. You thanked whoever was willing to listen that you fit in the clothes, even if the hem settled high on your upper thigh. When you stood, you were afraid that it wouldn’t cover much of anything at all.

You didn’t reply to his question, assuming it was rhetorical and jumped when he patted your thigh twice and stood with cracking knees.

“Rule number one,” he began, and you felt whiplashed by the haste with which he commanded his intentions. It was something you started to learn quickly: that the softness did not last for long. It was almost a blessing that he was so willingly able to remind you of who he really was.

His voice trailed off as he disappeared behind the couch, fumbling with something near the door. You refused to look at him. He was too terrifying to behold, so unpredictable in nature that you were constantly jumping at any sudden movement and shuddering like he was some malevolent spirit come to take your soul.

He surprised you once more when he was suddenly at your feet and the sound of metal clanging met your ears. You caught sight of the shackle, the thick slab of steel that he clasped round your ankle—the cold of the material seeping through your sock and into your bones.

You should’ve anticipated, as cautious as he seemed to be, that he would find a way to keep you trapped. The ropes couldn’t be permanent, so he had found another, more malicious method that humiliated you with every jangle. He tugged, and your eyes trailed to the ring in the floor near the door; you wanted to be sick again.

“You ain’t ever allowed to leave this house.” The key slipped into his back pocket, and he settled once more in the armchair. He clicked his fingers and pointed to the discarded pen and paper. “I hope you’re plannin’ on writin’ these down.”

You glanced at the two items like they were slick with poison, reaching hesitantly. If you were to pick them up, it felt like accepting defeat. You were going to seal his commandments in your blood.

When your fingers brushed the paper and slipped around the plastic biro, he let out a pleased hum; observing you as you shakily placed the lid on the other end of the pen and began to write.

Rule Number One: I’m not allowed to leave the house.

Your penmanship was almost illegible, your hand shaking so violently that each pass of ink over paper became a scrawl. You had to cross out the word ‘allowed’ and rewrite it without three ‘L’s.’

“Number two,” he said, and you missed a line before beginning to write again. “You call me daddy. Sir, when you’re feeling apologetic.”

You stopped writing on the ‘D’, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His expression was set, face stony and unrevealing. Your stomach bubbled, and you swallowed down a gag. Yet this time you did not feel sick from your disgust but because that moniker, that fateful name that represented so much more than he could comprehend, housed all of your depravity and lust. You had fought against your desires when you’d begun to understand your sexuality, shook away the thoughts that seemed influenced by everything; you had let them take you when you were sixteen years old and had touched yourself every night since with that name on your lips. It felt right when you would moan it into the ether and then cry when you pulled your hand away and knew that there would be no one to share such degeneracy with.

Then, he’d shown you that he was willing to partake in the perversion, and your entire worldview seemed to crumble. It was like he knew who you were, had access to the deepest archives of your brain that you had thought was reserved just for you.

Swiftly, he moved onto number three and you shook more than you had when you were out in the cold, and hastily scribbled the rest of rule number two along the paper.

He continued, spouting his laws, his eyes never leaving you as you wrote each one down, moving along to the other side of the page before you pressed your final period onto the end of rule number ten.

You looked down at your handwriting, scanning over every loop, every stem, every little jerk of the ink that resembled your twitching. There they lay: the ten commandments, the beginning of a religion you had unwillingly subscribed to.

Rule Number One: I’m not allowed to leave the house.

Rule Number Two: I must call him Daddy, or Sir when I’m feeling apologetic.

Rule Number Three: I will do all of my chores without complaint.

Rule Number Four: I will eat three meals a day and bathe every night.

Rule Number Five: I must be in bed by Ten O’clock every night on weekdays—eleven O’clock on weekends.

Rule Number Six: I cannot leave my bedroom when Daddy leaves the house.

Rule Number Seven: No pants allowed. Only skirts and dresses.

Rule Number Eight: I must be polite at all times, and use my manners.

Rule Number Nine: Never answer the door. If anyone knocks and Daddy is not there, ignore it and hide.

Rule Number Ten: If I break any rules, I will be punished. If I’m very bad, Daddy will put me outside again.

When he was finished, he stood and advanced, reaching out his hand and silently asking for the symbolic stone tablet.

You handed it to him diligently, your brain reeling from the feeling that you had just signed over your life to his evil spirit, and followed him as he ripped the sheet from the spiral and hung it on the fridge with a Rhode Island magnet.

“Just so you don’t forget ‘em,” he murmured, then added with a hint of humour in his tone. “You can make ‘em look nicer when you’re in a better frame of mind. Can’t quite believe a pretty girl like you has such shitty handwriting.”

You stayed silent, staring at him with no more fight. You felt numbed as you sat in borrowed robes, your mind slipping into its subconscious and creating a blockade around the pink flesh that repelled every hope of escape you had once clung to. You felt defeated, and you could tell as he advanced towards the back of the couch that he felt it too.

He took your face in his palm, dragging your eyes to his. He did not care that you jerked away; he pulled you right back.

“Don’t make me hurt you again,” he whispered. “I ain’t gonna do anythin’ you don’t ask me to s’long as you follow those rules.”

He was utterly delusional. It felt like he was competing with two different versions of himself. One: the man who held you now, fed you and clothed you like you were his baby. Two: the man who had thrown you into a dark pit with no food and no concept of where you were or what time of day it was. Already, he had done everything you hadn’t asked him to. You had not wanted to be kidnapped, stripped of your life and clothes and placed in garments that did not reflect the darkness of your soul. He had forced you to comply. He had forced you. Yet, you could no longer bring yourself to feel angry. He had succeeded in his goal; you were shattered. Every piece of you had been stored somewhere in that shed, and the shackle around your ankle meant that you couldn’t get out to find them again.

Bravely, you opened your mouth to speak, to try and make sense of something so unfathomable.

“Why am I here then? What do you want from me?”

The brush of his thumb against your cheekbone paused its careful movement, and he gripped at your face tighter, squeezing each cheek until you were silenced.

“You’re special,” he muttered. “And I learnt a long time ago that you don’t get nothin’ in this life unless you take it. So I took what I wanted.”

You squeezed out a few more tears and they landed ceremoniously on his fingers, running along the lines on his palm. His grip loosened, and you felt like you could open your mouth again.

“Can’t you just let me g—”

The slap interrupted the end of your sentence; the force of it causing your head to pound.

“What aren’t you understandin’, huh?” The bruising grip was back again, and the chain around your ankle rattled as he forced your body to face him. The couch was the only thing separating you from him, keeping you safe from his strength as you kneeled against the cushions and gripped the back of the sofa. Your knuckles were white as he pulled, socks slipping past your knees and resting mismatched on your calves. “I can’t let you go, honey.” His voice softened, and the harshness of his eyes descended to an undecipherable haze again. “One day, you’re gon’ realise that this is where you’re meant to be. I just hope for your sake it’s sooner rather than later.”

Then, he leant down so he was face to face with you, so close that his breath fanned against your cheek.

“Now, apologise for speaking out of turn. Remember number eight?”

You swallowed, lip quivering as you nodded.

“Yes.”

“Repeat it.”

You were quick with your reply. “I must be polite at all times, and use my manners.” You visualised your shaky handwriting, the etch of the pen against paper. You were hopeful that your following words would incite some reprieve. “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t question you again.”

At that, he smiled, a simple upturn of his lips, and he patted your face mockingly before his hands fell away completely.

“You learn quick,” he praised. “Now look at that clock for me.” He pointed to the wall behind you, the one wih the fire and the deer antlers.

You did as requested, turning around to gaze at the surface—the two hands that pointed three hundred degrees around the face of the clock.

“What does it say?” he asked, leaning down so his mouth was against your ear.

“T-ten O’clock,” you murmured.

“Hm,” he acknowledged. “What does that mean?”

Rule Number Five.

“Bedtime.”

“That’s right.”

You turned back around to face him, neck twisting. His eyes were pinned on yours, and you instinctively jerked back when you realised how close your faces were. Your voice was quiet as you spoke.

“B-but…daddy.” His eyebrows raised as you uttered the name, and your skin crawled as you realised how easily it had fallen from your lips. “My ankle?”

He looked towards the chain, then his eyes flicked back to yours, and you were locked in the deepness of them. His eyes were pits, fettered sockets housing no soul. They were bottomless, and you were struggling to claw your way out as he pressed his thumb to your chin, brushing the underside of your lip.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that.” You twitched when he plucked the plump flesh. “There’s another one in your bedroom, so that I can make sure you don’t go anywhere whilst I’m asleep.”

Just like that, you were reminded. Just when the comfort seemed to consume you, just when your sense seemed to be slipping away, your awareness seized you from such untrustworthy thoughts. He had kidnapped and starved you. He had thrust his ten commandments in your face and promised punishment if his rules were to be broken. That was not a sign of a man who cared, no matter how much he tried to proclaim anything different.

“Now, c’mon. I’ll let you go to bed without a bath tonight, but tomorrow I expect you to scrub yourself clean before you go to sleep.”

I’ll be gone tomorrow, you thought. You would fight tonight to free yourself from the shackles on your ankles and take off running again. You’d map your pathway, and when you eventually made it to the police, you would willingly take them back to this godforsaken hellscape, and laugh as he was dragged away.

Whilst he was there, however, you would follow his rules, and as he pulled the key from his back pocket, you murmured a small, “Thank you, daddy,” just for good measure—just to make sure that you’d remain in his good graces.

He smiled at the words but did not reply. He told you to hold his hand before you stood, and your body fizzled with electricity when your fingers laced with his. If you could separate those hands from the rest of him, you could feel a semblance of solace. If you could just have the body and not the mind, you would go with him willingly.

You had been lonely for so many years; you had struggled with the battle of your mental standing that raged continually ever since your daddy had left. You fought against the urges and acted in ways you thought you were supposed to. With so little guidance, you had pulled through, danced through the motions of yesterday: a repetition of emptiness that rendered you immobile when the thoughts grew too loud to be silenced.

For so long, you had wanted someone. You used to flirt with James Newman every time he would come to the gas station. The man usually frequented at least twice a week, and you would lean over the counter, hoping that he would peek at the slight glint of breast that teased with the promise of something bigger. You’d gone in the back with him on a particularly slow day, and he’d sloppily kissed your neck, groping at every bit of you he could before you realised that it did not feel right. You felt like you deserved it when he kept pushing, but the bell had rung sonorously and he’d shoved you away, harsh names rough on his lips and curses spilling as he left you shaking.

You had not seen him again and truthfully, you’d been grateful, despite the knowledge that you would not get to indulge in his attention again.

It was the only mildly sexual experience that you’d had, if it could be classed as such. He hadn’t even kissed you on the lips.

After so much loneliness, there was a romance to the situation you’d found yourself in. It was a twisted sort of romance, most definitely, but a romance all the same. He’d said that you were special, that he wanted you, and so he’d taken you. A man you had never spoken to before had descended into criminality for you. It was bold to assume that he hadn’t done such things with another woman before, but his words were seeping into your psyche, and the prospect that you were special, that you meant enough to anyone, was bullying into you.

Despite everything, you liked the attention and you hated yourself for it. He was confusing you, altering your worldview with precise intentions, and everything began to crumble. You were so tired you couldn’t quite fathom the idea of escape. Not today. He was dragging you along to the bedroom by your hand, and when you eventually fell onto that motel bedspread, you felt yourself slipping completely.

“There we go,” he murmured as you settled against the mattress, the duvet pulled up tight around your chin. After weeks of sleeping on the forest floor, back screeching in pain, muscles torn and begging for release, the reprieve of feathers was welcome. It didn’t matter that he was tucking you in, not when it was so easy to close your eyes and sink away.

You slept through till the morning and dreamt of what life would be like if you’d met him at a bar, all shy smiles and bright eyes, and let him take you home with the promise of a life you had fantasised about—a life with someone who cared about you.

⋆. ˚ ｡ ⋆. ୨ ୧ ˚

You woke to the sound of metal and the distinct click of a lock as the shackle fell away from your ankle. You had been so tired last night that you hadn’t even realised he had strapped you in.

“Mornin’, precious,” he greeted as you began to stir. “You’ve been out for a good twelve hours. Must’ve needed it.”

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, still groggy and basking in your dream. It was sudden, the way you remembered where you were. You shot up, staring at him with wild eyes and went to run before he grabbed your ankle and pulled you a foot down the bed.

“Hey now,” he scolded, dragging his hand upwards to cover your shin. “I’ll break this leg if you keep pullin’ that shit. Now you can either eat breakfast or keep this up and go without.”

His words made you pause, and your heaving chest slowed as you realised you had left the willingness to fight somewhere inside the shaky etch of ink tacked to the fridge.

“I’m sorry, sir.” It was becoming easier to listen—to leave whatever defiance you had and curl into your shell of despair and self-pity. Maybe one day, when he got too stupid, you’d be able to leave. Perhaps you’d end up killing him for everything he’d done and then kill yourself because you couldn’t live with the memories.

So instead of kicking, you let your legs fall limp over the side of the bed and stood shakily.

“Hand,” he commanded, and you laced your fingers with his just as you had done hours prior. They were still so warm and big; you had hoped before you’d fallen asleep that the comfort was just a figment of your imagination. Now, you could blame nothing on the physical state of your body. You were well-rested and well-fed. Excuses were becoming hard to find.

You went willingly to the kitchen, socks shielding you from the cold morning air; the dress, however, did not offer the same protection. You shivered and he noted the movement.

“I’ll go sort the fire out, you sit yourself down.” He gestured to the table in the corner, a round wooden one with four chairs surrounding it. There were two placemats, atop them, a generous helping of bacon and eggs, and a glass of juice on a coaster next to it—a coffee for him.

The whole place was panelled with cedar wood, a deer head mounted on the wall next to a Winchester rifle that looked just as menacing as the dead eyes of the animal. You felt watched by it as you sat across from its position, and did not strip your gaze from it until he came back and placed his hands on your shoulders.

He was heavy and warm, and the cold that you’d felt previously dissipated. You blamed it on the now roaring fire.

“It came with the place,” he said as he followed your eyeline. “I didn’t have the heart to take it down. It’s quite pretty, don’t ya think?”

You did not reply. You were taken by how casually he seemed to be addressing you, acting as he had in your dreams. It made it feel better if you pretended that he’d taken you home from the bar and cooked breakfast for you in a bid to impress. It made it easier if you engaged and forced yourself to believe that he was not a bad person.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I guess it is.”

He squeezed your shoulders. “Pretty like you,” he muttered. “Looks scared like you, too. Maybe I should start callin’ you Bambi.”

He chuckled to himself and squeezed once more before walking towards the couch and picking up the discarded chain. You didn’t fight when he locked it around your ankle again. You were beginning to realise what two weeks of captivity could do to a person. You were craving attention and connection, and he was giving it to you in bucketloads.

When he sat across from you, your brain started creating images of a first date and how he’d ask you about your job and your parents; you’d laugh at his jokes and blush when he was overtly flirtatious. You’d pretend now that there was no metal around your ankle binding you to the land.

“Eat,” he said, lifting his coffee mug to his lips. He took a long gulp, watching you over the rim; you picked up your fork and stabbed a mouthful of egg onto the end of it. Truthfully, your stomach was rumbling, and the thought of new textures and flavours along your tongue made you salivate. You didn’t want to have to endure the blended mix he had forced down your throat again. You didn’t want to go outside, and rule number four battered your chest with its simple reminder.

You were both silent as you ate, Joel scooping his food up in big mouthfuls and disposing of it within minutes. In contrast, you ate carefully, your stomach still not used to so much food. You couldn’t escape if you were sick and you didn’t want him to grow irate with your constant spewing. It was possible he’d get the wrong idea, that he thought you didn’t like his cooking; being thrown in the shed again was such a terrifying possibility that you could hardly risk it.

“I need you to clean the carpet today,” he said over the clanging of cutlery and disparagement of your mind. “You got puke on it yesterday.”

You paused your chewing and dryly swallowed down a sharp bit of bacon. You remember making a conscious decision not to get it on his floor, aiming for a shirt that you would likely never see again; you couldn’t help it if you had passed out in the process.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to—”

“Now, Bambi,” he interrupted. “I ask you to do somethin’, you do it. I don’t need an excuse.”

“I’m sorry,” you said hastily, and he hummed softly. He stared as if waiting for something, and the scrawl of rule number two materialised before your eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s better,” he praised and downed the rest of his coffee. You went back to eating your food, and let it settle in your stomach with an inviting warmth. The protein-heavy nature of the meal filled you nicely, and you sat diligently with your hands in your lap as your body digested what it was so grateful for.

The silence was deafening, and you shifted uncomfortably as you waited for him to break it. Questions were bubbling inside you, but you remained silent, opting instead to furrow your brow and hoping that the urges and curiosity would subside. You wished your mind could just be blank and that you wouldn’t have to think about anything at all.

“What you thinkin’ ‘bout, Bambi.” His words snapped you from your reverie, and you stared at him as if caught misbehaving. After your heart slowed, you realised his words were an invitation and your question was spilling from your mouth before you could think of the consequences.

“Am I really special?” you asked, and informed where your question had come from as he tilted his head. “You said last night that I was special. Do you really think so?”

There was a moment where you thought he was going to reprimand you again, his eyes narrowing to slits, jaw clenched and ready to bite, but your fears slipped away as that expression disappeared from his face and was replaced with a glimpse of sympathy.

“You are very special to me, Bambi. For reasons you don’t understand yet.” The cryptic nature of his admission had you shivering, but the corroboration of his words that you had convinced yourself was a flippant confession had you heating with fever. You had never been special to anyone before. Your mother had reminded you of that all too often, and your daddy had left before he could convince you he felt such a way about you.

You found that the fact that he had secrets, that he wasn’t willing to admit to you the reasons for your notability, didn’t matter all that much to you. Warmth settled, and you found yourself becoming grateful that he had nursed you back to health instead of leaving you out there to die. Surely that amounted to something.

“C-can I ask something else?”

He scoffed, then said, “You just did,” and your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you mumbled; he shook his head in dismissal.

“No, go ahead. Ask away.”

Your confused brain didn’t think to question why he was suddenly being so nice to you. You decided that it was because you were being good and that if you kept up the act of compliance, it wouldn’t be long before you were back at your shitty job at the gas station, in your shitty little trailer house that you had lived your entire life in. He would simply be a figment of your imagination and a haunting phantom that you would dream about; you would miss the way he called you special.

You took a breath before you asked your next question. “What’s your name?”

His jaw twitched before he began to shake his head again.

“That, little girl, is none of your concern. You know what you’re supposed to call me, don’t you?”

A sinking feeling of disappointment weighed down your chest, and you bit into your bottom lip with anxiety.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you said and watched as he picked up your empty plate and stacked it atop his.

The cutlery scraped against the ceramic as he bunched them together, knives and forks lying against one another and knocking around as he lifted the stacked plates and began to walk over to the kitchen.

“I know you’re sorry,” he said before he advanced, eyeing you with a disapproving look that had your disappointment deepening and materialising into anger at yourself for being so stupid. Of course, he wouldn’t tell you his name. He was risking imprisonment if you were to get out. He was risking so much just because you were special.

You were special.

Desperately, you looked around for something that could redeem you. The sound of rushing water from the tap as he filled a sink of water fed you your idea.

“D-daddy!” you called above the sound, and he turned off the tap to acknowledge you. “Do you want me to clean the dishes?”

The feeling of regret worsened as he called back disconnectedly.

“I want you to clean the carpet.” You shook in fear at the notion he was unhappy with you. You didn’t want to go outside again. You didn’t feel special outside. “Go on,” he encouraged as you stayed frozen. “Bleach is in the cupboard under the bathroom sink.”

Your legs felt unstable as you stood up, and as you began to walk, you wondered if they were going to give up on you before you could convince him you were willing to be good.

You had to grip the counter to steady yourself, the chain dragging behind you; a constant reminder of your predicament. Yet, as you gazed at the expanse of his back, the broadness of his shoulders and the taper of his waist, you couldn’t bring yourself to be aggrieved any more. You were no longer starving or cold. You were special.

It felt natural when you spoke your following words.

“Thank you, daddy. I’m sorry for being bad.”

You did not stick around to see his reaction, worried that if you didn’t clean his carpet soon enough, he’d punish you. You just hoped that he appreciated the sentiment and that you were still special enough to keep out of the cold.

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