#but this whole encounter was just genuinely sweet

[qqqqqqqqqqq0]

i present to you the most useless talent i possess

[thevillainswhore]

A Forbidden Invitation

Pairing: Best Friend’s Dad!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Summary: You think a one night stand from the summer, the best fuck of your life, is a done deal — a single, heated encounter that now lives vividly in your memories. But you learn that your actions have consequences when you befriend a new student, starting in the new term, and she invites you over to meet her Dad.

Warnings: Age gap, flashback, betrayal of friendship, manipulation, coercion, reader has severe daddy issues and self esteem problems, derogatory names, daddy kink, praise kink, smut, kissing, nipple play, blowjob, throat fucking, choking, fingering, pussy slapping, p in v sex, squirting.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne

“Come on, babe!” Rebecca whined at the edge of your bed. “You’re telling me a weekend away from this shithole doesn’t sound good?” 

It had been a whole hour of your friend begging you to come back home with her for your midterm break and while you usually had the patience of a saint, it was difficult to keep composed as she refused to back down to your unacceptable reasoning.

You sighed, finally closing your laptop with an inwards huff and coming to terms that you would not be getting any more work done. Blowing out a breath, you leveled your gaze onto her. 

“Becs,” you treaded carefully, mindful of her feelings. “It’s very sweet of you. But, I really need to get my work finished.” Rebecca’s face fell sullen and you rushed to explain. “I just like my time alone, y'know? I concentrate better.”

Her brunette hair fell over her eyes as she bowed her head. This girl really knew how to put on a show and you playfully rolled your eyes at her dramatics. But as she lifted her head with a pout and her wide, shining ocean blues, you knew you were done for. 

Oh no. The puppy eyes.

“Hey!” You pointed at her. “No—stop that! I’m not changing my mind.” 

The intensity of her stare only worsened while she slowly gained on you. “But what am I gonna tell my Dad when he asks when you’re not there?” 

“Wait.” Clarity hit you then and you held your hand up to stop your friend in her tracks. With a glare you questioned, “Did you already say I was coming?” 

The guilty twitch of her eye said it all. “Maybe—“

“Becca!” 

“I couldn’t help it!” she swore. “My dad invited you, I couldn’t tell him no.” 

“He invited me?” you asked, surprised. 

“Yeah. The day we met, he called to see how I was doing—asked if I had made any new friends.” 

She shrugged. “We’ve moved around a lot ever since I can remember and trying to fit in somewhere…” Her voice suddenly grew quiet as she solemnly whispered, “I’ve never had a real friend before. You’re the only one who’s been able to stick around for so long and he really wants to meet you.”

The frustration embedded in you faded out to make way for the sudden ache in your heart. To your knowledge, Rebecca was a new student who transitioned to your college in the middle of the recent school year. Both of you had a couple of classes together and the first time you ever saw her still reigned fresh in your mind. 

The doors to the auditorium crashed open as she stumbled in late and out of breath to her first class. Strands of her brown hair fell from the messy bun on the top of her head and her cheeks coloured bright red; it pained you to watch her embarrassment as a room of over a hundred stared at her, along with the professor. And so began your friendship when you rushed out of your seat to help her with her huge stack of books, ushering her to the back to sit next to you. 

Since then the two of you had been inseparable. Rebecca was a genuine, lovely girl — sweet and a breath of fresh air to your college life. She never failed to let you know how appreciative she was to your kindness of friendship, so even though you had only known her for a short while, it felt as though she was a true friend; one who would be staying around for a while.

Sighing in defeat, there was no way you could decline the offer after hearing she had been gushing over you to her Dad. “Okay, okay—Fine. I’ll come— AH!”

You squealed as she leapt onto you, knocking you back against your mattress as she profusely thanked you while vibrating with joy. The giggles and uncontrolled laughter that filled your room masked the unexplainable dread knotted in your stomach. But not wanting to tarnish Rebecca’s excitement, you let go of your worries for the time being. 

Going to the club alone wasn’t an activity you made a habit out of; you understood the dangers of your vulnerability to men who couldn’t take a hint. 

However, that summer night — a hazy memory now in the present — forbade common sense and instead, threw it out of the window. Not to be seen again until you woke up the next day. 

The stress of the week had gotten too much for you; too many assignments needing to be handed in at once, your parents bombarding you with passive aggressive texts about their ongoing disappointment with you and the cherry on top of it all, you had caught your boyfriend cheating on you with the girl he had sworn you had nothing to worry about. 

So of course, that week in particular had tested you. But instead of moping around your dorm room, your mind unhelpfully persisted with the motion to get shitfaced drunk and allow future you to worry about your problems. In the moment, you thought that to be your most genius idea of the week — letting your hair down in a sweaty nightclub around people you didn’t know and not caring about the consequences sounded perfect. 

In hindsight, it was probably one of your most beautiful mistakes. 

You remembered it all clearly. The newfound freedom of not giving a fuck, the humid air with the bass of the speakers invading your ears — every small detail added to the atmosphere as you were in your own world in the middle of the dancefloor, erotically swaying your hips side to side and running your hands through your hair. 

The short cocktail dress you had worn to make yourself feel good illuminated your curves while also giving you the liberty to dance without limit to your movement. You wanted to forget for a while — go crazy and let loose. 

Which was why the stunning pair of cerulean eyes that pinned you down across the room from the bar was your ticket to a night of fun — everything you needed at the moment in time. From your vantage point, the stranger looked to be in his forties, but in the best way possible. His form was built, the right amount of muscle carrying his frame and his grown out brown locks tucked behind his ears. No one had ever looked more sexy to you. 

Aware of being the center of attention to an attractive stranger, you smoothed your hands down from your hair, seductively over your neck, teasing your glowing skin and finally to your chest. You bit your lip when his hungry stare that soaked your lace underwear focused on your tits, overspilling from your dress and you watched, smug and exhilarated as the unknown man tightened his fist against his tight trouser cladded thighs. 

Through the whole night, the delightful burn of his stare never left you. A brand was marked into your skin; a warning to everyone else that you were spoken for — only for the night at least. 

If you ordered a drink at the bar, the stranger was a couple of seats down from you, greedily lapping up your figure. If you were sitting in the smokers area, catching your breath and cooling down, he was there too, leaning against the brick wall smoking a cigarette with his attention solely focused on you, no matter the amount of women who were not so discreetly throwing themselves over him. 

Even at the end of the night, as you once again danced to the deep bass of the beat among everyone else, he watched you from his own corner, still as enamored with you as the first time your eyes met. 

Adrenaline spiked your veins. It was addicting to be the object of someone’s desires, to be seen. 

You had only spoken through heated looks and loaded glances, but he was unlike any man you had encountered before. Mysterious and cryptic. You were just as lost in him as he was into you and you couldn’t have cared less that he was obviously older than you. It was what you needed. He was what you needed. 

The buzz from the few shots you had taken reached their peak and you decided it was now or never to claim what you so rightfully deserved. 

With a bounce in your step, you strutted in your heels through the crowd of people, never taking your eyes off your prize and him neither. He licked his lips as you closed the distance, stopping just before you bumped into the tip of his shoes. 

“Listen,” you spoke over the music, determined and resolute. “I’m gonna skip past the pleasantries and bullshit.” The allured stranger raised his eyebrow, intrigued. “You want me and I definitely want you. So, do you want to get out of here?” 

Your bravery faltered slightly as you realised in his close proximity how direct you had been. While you were almost certain this stranger was as attracted to you as you were to him, the tiny seed of doubt that a mature man wouldn’t want to hook up with someone as young as you revoked your liquid courage. 

But that worry soon disappeared when he gave you a fierce once over now you were up close. A raging storm of lust and desire clouded his beautiful eyes, wild and desperate to get his hands on you. Your breaths came in quick and heavy as he smirked so sinfully. The bastard knew he held so much power in the palm of his hands when his body towered over yours, the difference in size between you not hard to miss. There you could tell the fun had already begun. 

The rest of the club became a blur as he brought his mouth down to your ear. You felt each slow and steady breath against the curve of your neck and you were sure even in the darkness, he noticed the  goosebumps that littered your skin. “All I need you to know tonight is my name.” His voice was as sexy as you had imagined, a deep, rasped husk that made your legs weak. But it was his next words that almost made you collapse. “Because it’s the only thing you’re gonna be screamin’ for the rest of the night, darlin’.” 

Your mind grew foggy at the next sequence of events. The hustle of getting into a car and fiercely making out in the backseat until you arrived at an upscale hotel. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were waiting impatiently at the reception desk and the next you were stumbling into a lavish hotel room, unable to keep your hands off each other as items of clothing flew across the room in your haste to get naked. 

The two of you bumped into the array of furniture in the hallway, the thought of tearing away from each other's lips unbearable. Bucky, you learned was his name, was an amazing kisser, his tongue gently teased yours as he threaded his fingers through your hair and he kept a firm grip of your cheeks like he was desperate to keep you close. 

“Fuck,” he slurred between kisses. “You’re so— fuckin’— gorgeous.” His eagerness to keep his lips against yours while complimenting you spun you for a loop, unfamiliar to this kind of intensity.  

The clink of dog tags were the culprit to halt your motions while he kept on kissing you, traveling down the slope of your neck and to your shoulders to bite your skin. As he was occupied, you took your chance to admire his physique. For a man his age, he was jacked — a toned stomach with several abs sharp enough to cut and two deliciously slender grooves running underneath his trousers to a bulge big enough for you to let an unhinged moan escape. 

His body was sickening, he truly had no business to look as good as he did for a man his age. But like hell were you going to complain when all the boys at college disappointed you time and time again. The bar was low and this man had already exceeded your expectations, he was only supposed to be an idea fit for your wildest fantasies. Yet, there he was, real and existing. 

Time was of the essence and you wasted none of it as you ripped yourself out of his hold, left in only your underwear, and dropped to your knees without pause to hurriedly remove his belt. 

“Oh, shit.” He gulped. “Baby— baby—you don’t have to do that—“ 

You hushed his assurances and batted away his hands that tried to pull you up without real effort. “No, I don’t have to. But I want to.” Fluttering your eyes, you looked up at him and slyly smirked. “Let me suck your cock. You just worry about having a good time.” With a wink, you unlooped the expensive leather through the buckle and dropped it to the floor, soon after working to unzip his fly and rid him of the offending trousers that stood in your way. 

The material slid down his thick thighs and he was left stood in his underwear, black briefs tented from his hard cock. A frenzied need to soothe the urge to get your mouth around him took the reins when you instantly nuzzled into his crotch.

“Fuck me, you’re a needy little slut aren’t you?” He wrapped your hair into a ponytail around his fist, controlling your movements. Though, there was no reason to, eager as you were. You would have done anything he asked. 

You did do anything he asked. 

You hummed while suckling the tip of his cock over the material of his underwear, “Mhm.” He threw his head back and groaned like a wild beast while you admired the wet patch growing on the fabric before your very eyes. It was unhinged — raw. But your stranger of the night didn’t seem to care, too fucked out as his eyes rolled back from pleasure. 

Unable to control your burst of desire, you suddenly shucked his briefs down. 

Your mouth fell open at the sheer size of him, an audible gasp echoed over the silence of the marble walls. Never had you seen a dick as pretty or big before and the drool that had gathered in your mouth began to leak out the side of your mouth. 

You were aching for him. 

With a cocky smile, the man tapped under your chin twice to direct your head upwards. “Up here, darlin’—I want those pretty eyes on me when you take my cock.” 

Immediately opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out for him, he chuckled breathily at the crazed look in your dilated pupils. “Well, aren’t you just the biggest whore I ever did see.” Grabbing his cock and pressing the tip onto your tongue, he began to slide it forward. “Good fuckin’ job I like ‘em that way. Now open up wide so I can fuck your throat, baby—”

“Babe!” 

Jolting out of your memory infused dream with a shriek, you span your head around to Rebecca in the drivers seat of her car. “Oh, there you are!” she hissed, teasingly. “I called for you like ten times. Where the fuck did you go?” 

You swallowed the dryness coating your throat and hastily sat up. A hot sweat had settled over your skin and you immediately grabbed your water bottle from the footwell and chugged it down. 

Once you had cooled down, you glanced back at your friend, cringing at the raised eyebrow that meant you weren’t getting out of an explanation. “I, uh— I’m sorry I didn’t—um—get much sleep last night,” you lamely replied. 

The unimpressed expression on her face told you she didn’t believe you. But you were saved when her face suddenly lit up with glee. “Eek! We’re finally here!” 

Had a three hour drive really gone by that fast? 

Looking out the car window, your eyes widened when you saw an estate, guarded by iron gates around the whole property, surrounded by acres upon acres of land. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, even when Rebecca began animatedly speaking with someone by the toll station. 

Who the fuck was this girl? 

Eventually, she pulled up to the house, passing the stone driveway with a water fountain in the middle and cut the engine off. “Come on, you. My Dad’s expecting us.” 

You were in a daze while you opened your door, stepping out the car and taking in every inch of the property. You would have never guessed your friend, the most down to earth and humble person on campus, had a lavish lifestyle with all the trimmings. It was clear she didn’t feel the need to brag about her privilege and her nonchalant attitude about it only baffled you more.

The doors to the mansion suddenly swung open and what you could only have presumed to be a butler promptly rushed towards the car. “Miss Barnes, how lovely to see you again.” 

Rebecca scoffed and hugged the man without hesitation. “Don’t be silly. You know you don’t call me that.” 

Even with her sweetness, he remained as professional then ever and brushed by her to pick up her bags. “Of course, Miss Barnes. Your father is out at the minute, but he has left you a gift by the entryway table.” 

With a high pitched scream, your friend ran inside without looking back. It was hard not to smile at her carefree ways and trying to shake the deepening apprehensiveness from the moment Rebecca invited you, you rounded to the boot of the car to grab your luggage. 

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am.” The butler immediately stepped forward and swiftly picked up your bags along with Rebecca’s with ease. 

“Oh, no that’s okay, honestly! I can bring them in no problem!” You tried detesting, not used to any kind of special treatment.

But it was no use as he kindly insisted, “There is no need to worry. Please relax and join your friend, I believe there is a gift for you too.” 

Sighing, you yielded and eventually followed in your friend’s steps, twiddling your fingers anxiously while you walked into the foyer of the mansion. 

Carefully crafted marble walls with what you could only guess were decorated with millions of dollars worth of extravagant paintings, lined up neatly up to the grand, spiral staircase where a round oak table sat in front of it. 

You instantly spotted two gift baskets, difficult to miss as they were both filled to the brim with an assortment of treats and bright pink tissue paper. 

Rebecca was already busy appreciating hers, taking care to read the note her father had presumably left her and gushing over the copious amount of sweet treats, new nightwear and a cashmere blanket, like this wasn’t a regular occurrence to her. 

However, it was surprising to see you had also been spoiled; all of your favourites, intricately placed in the hamper. Your eye caught the note addressed with your name on and hesitantly, you reached out for it and unfolded the card — a simple yet polite message inside. 

I can only apologise that I wasn’t here upon your arrival. 

I’ve heard great things about you from my Becs and I sincerely look forward to meeting you when I’m home. 

Please make yourself comfortable and enjoy the contents of your gift basket. 

J.B.B.

“Oh, he’s the best,” Rebecca swooned, hugging the white blanket to her chest. “He said he got called into work for a couple of hours so he should be back tonight. 

You exhaled, flitting your eyes over your new gifts. The information eased your nerves slightly — you were never any good at meeting parents, whether that be of friends or partners. The dynamic of a happy household wasn’t one you had experience with and the idea of ruining first impressions caused an anxiety you didn’t particularly care to revisit often. Especially now that Rebecca had come into your life — a friend you could absolutely see yourself building a strong bond with. 

Realising you had been silent for too long, you spoke up, “Your Dad is very kind.” Your fingers inched forward and ran over the soft material of your very own matching cashmere blanket, it felt like you were touching a cloud. From the corner of your eye, you caught your friend suddenly looking sheepish. “What’s wrong?” you asked, turning towards her. 

“I’m sorry about all of this.” She vaguely gestured her hand up in the air, to which you guessed she meant the sheer amount of money that screamed in your face. “I didn’t warn you and I should have. It's just that—” Rebecca’s eyes darted down and she crossed her arms over her stomach, shrinking in on herself. 

You stepped closer, rubbing your hand over her arm for comfort. “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me.” 

She took a deep breath before lifting her gaze to you and shrugging. “I didn’t know if your intentions would be good if you knew about the money.” 

“Oh, Becs.” Your heart ached at the obvious trauma from her past. Squeezing her arm, you attempted to uplift the sullen mood with some playful teasing. “I became your friend because I couldn’t get rid of you. Although, now it doesn’t hurt to know your family is loaded.” 

Reluctantly, the smile grew on her face, turning into a bright grin she no longer could hide. “You’re awful.” 

“Tell me about it.” You winked, nudging her hip with your own. “Seriously, you’re a good person and I’m your friend because I want to be. I couldn’t give a fuck if you’re rich.” 

The muscles of her body relaxed and she quickly pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, babe.” 

“It’s nothing, silly.” You squeezed her one last time before breaking away. 

Rebecca sniffled, blinking away the onslaught of tears that were close to falling before cheerfully grabbing her basket. “Come on then, let’s go set up and order some pizza.” 

Picking up your own basket, you followed your friend up to her room.

The few hours spent working on your assignments, eating pizza and listening to music flew by. Spending so much time with Rebecca actually turned out to be fun. You usually spent all your free time by yourself, respiting into a hermit because of your inability to enjoy friendly companionship.  

But it was to your surprise that you found yourself not regretting agreeing to the trip. The thought of being back at your dorm, wasting your night away by sleeping, watching trash tv and succumbing to the vibator in your bedside drawer begging you to relive a night of passion now seemed sad as you glanced at your friend and the corner of your lip curled up. 

That bubble burst quickly when a shout coming from the foyer echoed up to the open bedroom door. “Rebecca, sweetheart—I’m home!” 

Instantly, her eyes widened and she shoved the laptop she was using off her lap at once, squealing with joy before leaping off the bed and running downstairs. “Dad!” 

Your fingers twitched over the keyboard of your own laptop in anticipation, looking towards the door and sighing in resignation. 

Decidingly, you thought it was best to give your friend a moment with her father. Not at all because you wanted to prolong the inevitable as long as possible. 

But as a couple of minutes went by, the tick of the pink clock on the desk getting louder and louder by the second, you figured your absence would go noticed and so you begrudgingly shut the lid of your laptop to slowly begin making your way out of the room. 

As you reached the balcony at the top of the staircase, you looked down just as Rebecca hugged her Dad tightly. An ache panged in your heart.

You weren’t close with your parents; neither of them checked up on you or asked when you’d be coming home to see them. They only contacted you when they felt like spewing their badly-hidden resentment towards you and the hurt you thought you had buried long ago began to make its way front and center. 

You shook your head and cleared your throat. You wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t tarnish your stay with your friend over something so silly — or be scared to meet her parent. So with a deep breath, you glided down the steps. 

Rebecca’s Dad had his back turned to you, which meant you only saw his thick head of hair, tucked neatly behind his ears and the muscles of his back straining against the white dress shirt he wore. 

You were unable to pinpoint the exact reason a tingle started to form in your lower stomach, the sensation extremely familiar by now, but you immediately scolded yourself and pinched the skin of your thigh to snap out of whatever mood had caused such depravity. This was your friend’s father; get it together.  

As you reached the bottom of the steps, your friend’s eyes locked onto yours and her whole face beamed. “Dad,” she gasped excitedly. “I want you to meet my friend.” 

You steeled your features; the warmest smile you could manage with the straightest posture possible. 

Time stood still when Rebecca stepped back to let her Dad turn around. Your emotions were all under control and you finally felt like you could do this. 

But that was until your eyes met and your face dropped. Those blue eyes, those damn blue eyes, you would remember them anywhere. 

Bile began to rise in your throat when he faced you completely. Suddenly, you were thrown back to that forbidden night that all started with the same man across the room by the bar, watching you like you were his last meal. Bucky.

You held back a loud gasp, aware that Rebecca was witnessing the interaction. Though, your blood ran cold when his lips lifted into a grin, one you knew a little too well. 

The palms of your hands were clammy with sweat and your heart hammered inside your chest. You weren’t sure how to play this, the stifling silence had already been stretched out ridiculously. 

Rebecca’s voice broke the quiet with an awkward chuckle. “Sorry Dad, we’re a little stumped. Exams have been kicking our asses lately and the drive over was long.”

Guilt crippled you then. While you could never have known the one night stand who invaded your thoughts daily would turn out to be your best friend's father, it still didn’t change anything — you fucked her Dad.

He finally took his eyes away from you to swing an arm around his daughter and laughed in fondness. “Don’t worry, I understand, Becs—you girls must be exhausted.” He then lifted his gaze back to you. “You must be the one she hasn’t stopped talking about.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. He doesn’t remember you? The lack of expression or recognition instilled a sense of hope within you. 

Maybe he had forgotten about your night together — the low lighting of the club you met him at and the haze of alcohol hindering your senses as he took you to a hotel created a perfection concoction of forgetfulness you rationalised. 

Eventually, deciding to act oblivious and hope for the best, you stammered up the courage to introduce yourself. “M—Mr Barnes. Thank you for letting me stay in your home.”

“Oh none of that, please.” A shiver raced down your spine, memories of begs and whimpers taunting your mind. “I’m James. But call me Bucky, darlin’.” 

It took all the strength you had to trap the moan on the verge of escaping your lips. Yep, you definitely remembered that name. 

Rebecca’s Dad stuck out his hand in front of you. “I’m very happy to meet you.” Your eyes darted between his hand and his face and then to your friend. Steadying your breath, you hesitantly placed your hand into his and felt his fingers tighten against yours. He shook your hand, his thumb gliding over your skin. 

Tightening your lips in anguish, you replied, “V—Very happy to meet you, too.” 

Bucky’s touch lingered against yours until you snatched your hand out of his when Rebecca hopped giddily and clapped her hands. “Oh, this is great! This weeks going to be so fun!”  

You didn’t return the sentiment. This week was going to be your worst nightmare come to life — your biggest mistake being dangled on a string in front of you, only reminding you what a piece of shit you were. 

“Okay, Dad. We’re gonna catch up on a little more work, so I’ll come find you later.” Your friend grabbed your hand that was limped by your side and started to pull you back up the stairs. 

“Hard workers, ain’t you?” he laughed. “If you need anything let me know.” 

“Thanks Dad, will do!” Rebecca shouted back down the stairs. 

When you had reached the first landing balcony, you couldn’t help sneaking one more tiny glance at the one night stand you never thought you would see again. But your heart skipped a beat as you saw him already looking up at you and he slid his hand out of his suit pocket to wave at you before you disappeared. 

You were sitting on Rebecca’s bed, waiting for her return when the inevitable happened. 

An emergency she called it, when she slipped her feet into her shoes and swiftly threw on her hoodie, claiming an issue with her neighbour she absolutely needed to handle. 

You had tried insisting on going with her, an extra pair of hands to help out. But she instantly pushed away your pleas, telling you not to worry and to focus on your work. That was Becca, a true sweetheart. But you wanted to strangle her then, scold her for leaving you in uncharted territory by yourself. 

Nervous and on edge, you couldn’t concentrate on your assignment for the longest time. You consistently made quick glances to the open door of your friend’s bedroom, listened for footsteps upon the landing. Soon enough though, your nerves died down when nothing happened and it allowed you to focus on your laptop, finally becoming fixated on your assignment. 

The only unusual thing that caught you off guard by yourself was the sudden heat of the house. You had built up a sweat in your hoodie and, unable to handle it, you took the fleeced material off in a swift flourish, leaving you in a tank top and shorts. 

Other than that, you powered through, happy to be finally getting somewhere with your work. You weren’t even sure how much time had passed since Rebecca had left and the worry of how long it was taking her to come home slipped your mind. 

Your guard was down while you hummed to the low music, lying on your stomach, back facing the door and typing away as you swung your legs in the air.

“I see you’re working hard.” 

Yelping in fright, you almost fell off the bed, the deep grunt of Bucky’s smooth tone scaring you from the sanctuary of his daughter's room. You whipped your head around to see your friend’s Dad leaned against the doorway dressed in a tight black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his dog tags rested against his chest.  

The sight was a difficult one to swallow. 

It was instinct to turn around so you were facing him as you raced to shuffle up Rebecca’s bed — a danger, your mind cautioned, to have your back turned to a wolf. 

He held his hands out in front of him as he walked towards you, as though taming a frightened lamb. “Hey there, it’s only me. No need to be scared.” 

“S—Sorry. I was a little lost in my assignment.” You apologised as you scrambled to gather all of your supplies together, desperate to gain some space from Bucky. “I think I’m done for the night, though. So I’ll just go downstairs and wait for Becca—“ 

“Hold up.” Bucky sat on his daughter's bed, leaving little to no proximity between you to effectively trap you in. “There’s no rush now, is there?” 

Exhaling shakily, you stuttered, “N—No— um, not at all, Mr Barnes—“

“Bucky,” he corrected gently. 

“Yes, B—Bucky.” You struggled to test his name on your tongue, not having spoken it since your night together. “I’m so sorry.” 

Rebecca’s dad just laughed, amused at your rambling. 

A tension, seemingly only one-way, swallowed you whole, threatening to drown you. It was impossible to hold direct eye contact with his ocean blues eyes, ones that ran vivid through your mind in your nights alone filled with heated memories and your biggest — now new favourite — vibrator.

His voice snapped you out of lust filled haze. “Rebecca shouldn’t be too long. Poor old neighbour lost his wife a couple of years back and Becs—the angel she is—goes over to help him when he needs it.” 

You could see it. She was the sort to not think twice about helping anyone in need and the thought eased your mind. “Well,” you smiled, hoping you didn't look as awkward as you felt. “That’s very kind of her.” 

“That’s my Becs,” Mr Barnes proudly grinned. 

The room grew silent once again. Picking your fingernails, you fought to calm the cold, harsh anxiety eating away at you. It still seemed as though Bucky couldn’t remember you, but a nagging feeling in your gut wouldn’t let that settle your nerves. 

“I just thought I’d come check on you anyway, sweetheart. Y'know, make sure you’ve settled in nicely for the week.” He smiled while placing his palm on the bed in the small space between you, leaning his weight against it as he got closer. 

“Y—Yeah.” You cleared your throat before continuing, keeping your answers short. “Mhm, I’m all good, thank you.” You smiled tightly, hoping Bucky would take the hint to leave, but alas your luck was short. 

“What you been workin’ on then, darlin’?” He nodded to your laptop resting on your legs. 

“Oh, not much.” You downplayed. “Just a written piece, nothing major— no wait!—” Bucky cut you off as he abruptly swiped your laptop from your lap, the cold ring on his pinky finger brushing against the bare skin of your thigh. Before you could even think of hastily clambering for it back, he already had your laptop open and sitting on his thick thighs as he began reading. 

“A psychology major, huh?” Bucky smirked, eyes scattering across the screen to take your assignment in. “Impressive. You’re a very clever girl.” 

Heat quickly rose up your neck, warming your cheeks as you were rendered speechless. A heavy ache between your legs left you squeezing your thighs together because of his praise — his words sent you straight back to the night against the hotel’s glassed windows he had brutally fucked you against while worshipping how much of a good girl you were for taking all of him. 

Quickly, you shook the intense thought from your mind, scolding yourself for letting it happen an umpteenth time. “Really, it’s nothing,” you said.

Bucky stopped reading your work and looked at you intensely, enough to make you squirm. “You really shouldn’t put yourself down like that.” Placing your laptop on the floor, he smoothly shuffled closer to you. You couldn’t help but stare at the hand he moved into your vicinity. His touch as he laid it on the naked skin of your thigh sent a thrill through your whole body. “Hasn’t anyone ever praised you before, huh?” 

His intricate voice, delicate and gentle soothed you and excited you both in equal measure. The previous alarm bells blaring in your head were non-existent when he squeezed the meat of your thigh so tenderly with his large hands. “I— um— I don’t—”

“Nobody told you how proud they are of you?” 

Your eyes glossed over as the shield you had built for yourself started to dismantle. Bucky was right. You were lonely and tired and you worked so hard for little reward. Your parents didn’t tell you they were proud of you, nobody ever told you how good you had been. 

Bucky’s hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb delicately rubbing over your lip. You melted into his touch too quickly. “Shh, it’s alright, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”  

You willingly fell into a dangerous trap he had set out as your eyes fluttered closed. Your friend’s Dad’s caress was so familiar, even after so long — his scent intoxicating and his voice a melody to the scrambled mess in your head. 

It didn’t occur to you then, the issue with Bucky inching more forward, almost until his chest was plastered to yours. The thought of his strange comfortability with his daughter’s friend wasn’t worthy of space in your head. 

For once you weren’t thinking of Rebecca.

Until the slam of the front door ricocheted up the stairs and into her bedroom. “I’m home, Dad!”

Your eyes shot open and you gave yourself a quick second to get lost in Bucky’s gaze before you leaped up in panic. 

You were half expecting him to also worry, to quickly dart out of the room. But instead he carelessly stood up from the bed along with you and combed his hair back with his fingers. 

“Dad! Where are you?” 

Pure terror. The fear of being caught in a compromising position with Bucky by your friend was overwhelming as your hands shook. Rebecca’s footsteps began to sound over the stairs and you closed your eyes, waiting for chaos. 

It was only a couple of seconds after your stomach jumped in frightful anticipation when you felt her presence join you. “Babe, have you— What the fuck are you doing?” 

Your stomach lurched. Slowly squinting an eye open, you saw your friend standing in the doorway looking at you in confusion. You steadily tracked your sight across the room, expecting to see Bucky. To your surprise, he wasn’t there anymore. 

You opened your eyes fully, the fear easing away some though your nerves were still alight with edginess. “I don’t— I don’t know.” 

“Um, okay?” Becca said wearily. “Anyway, have you seen my Dad, I wanted to talk to him before we head to bed.” 

This was a chance, you inwardly thought. To tell your best friend about everything while your friendship could still be repaired. 

But the probability of disclosing your secret and potentially ruining Rebecca’s life won out. “No. I haven’t seen him.” The lie tasted sour on your tongue and shame clawed its way back to the surface. 

Your friend smiled brightly and shrugged. “No problem, I’ll go find him. I’ll be back to work on assignments in a minute.” She exited her room in search of her Dad. 

You crumpled to the bed and hung your head in your hands, exhaling deeply. You’re a shitty person, the voice in your head supplied unhelpfully. 

After a while, Rebecca had returned to her room and for the rest of the evening, you both worked on your respective assignments; her chattering away happily while you stared at the screen of your laptop blankly, adding nothing to the open document until the two of you decided to call it a night.

Unexpectedly though, instead of getting ready for bed together, your friend showed you to a guest room. 

“Becca,” you laughed. “I thought I’d be staying in your room for the night. You know—with you?” 

“Well, I told my Dad you liked your own space and he set up one of the guest rooms for you. It's no biggie.” She shrugged. 

Right. Because of course you wouldn’t be staying with her when there were an endless amount of spare bedrooms on the first floor alone. 

You cursed yourself in that moment, reliving your protests of spending the midterm break alone because of your need for space. 

“Are you sure?” You tried again, the vulnerability of being by yourself without the buffer of Rebecca taunting you. “We could have a sleepover! Watch movies and stay up late!”

But she just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Girl, I know you are dying for a minute to yourself—to relax and decompress.” Holding your hand, she softly laughed. “I practically begged you to come here and you agreed. You’ve been more kind to me in the minute we met than most of my old friends over the span of the years I knew them. So please, the least I could do is give you a break during the nights.” 

The guilt ate you alive; her selflessness and naturally good heart steadily chipping away at your conscience. Why the hell did she have to be so nice? 

Putting on your best smile, you tried to rid of the nasty voice spitting venom inside your head. You slept with her fucking Dad, you whore — you don’t deserve this. Outwardly, you said, “I don’t deserve this, Becs. It's too much.” A somewhat admittance of the truth; the full story you would take to the grave, if only to keep your friendship intact.

“Oh, hush. Of course you do.” She pushed you away playfully into your new room. “Now go freshen up and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Clenching your hands in unexplained nerves, you wished her goodnight while she began to walk down the hall to her own room. “See you tomorrow, Becs.” The door closed with a click and you dropped your forehead against the wood with a loud thud. 

You could do this, you reasoned with yourself. It was only for a couple of days, and as long as you stayed close to Rebecca and was not left alone with her father, you could ignore your inner thoughts — the vile, disgusting voice that simultaneously begged you to to crawl on all fours to him like a desperate bitch and be ashamed of your sins.

It wasn’t difficult to fall asleep. Exhaustion from the events of a long day and a shower with the most luxurious products you had ever used assisted you with that and you whispered an internal gratitude to the fluffy pillows you laid your head on for helping you escape reality before you closed your eyes. 

However, you were awoken from your deep slumber when the rattle of your bedroom door knob interrupted your dreamless sleep. You had to fight the heaviness of your body as you sat up, rubbing your eyes with a groan before you tried squinting through the darkness to no avail. 

The sudden thought of your friend coming to annoy you after all surprisingly made you crack a smile. “Becs?” you sleepily called out. 

The latch of the door clicked as it steadily creeped open and you rolled your eyes at your friend’s antics. “If you’re trying to scare me then ha ha—very funny, dork.” 

Your sight began to adjust, outlines and shadows soon becoming more clear but still a struggle to make out in the late hour.  

Though there was no response from your friend. Silence shrouded over the room with only your small breaths to be heard. 

You stared at the doorway expectedly, waiting for a response you wouldn’t get. “Becca?” you called out warily once more.

But that time, as the door clicked shut with a deafening loudness, a deep voice — one that definitely did not belong to your friend — answered. “Y’know, you look just as pretty as you did the night we met.” 

Cold dread had every muscle of your body locking up. It became clear then that it wasn’t Rebecca that had entered your room. More so a tall figure, clad in only his underwear and his dog tags.

“M—Mr Barnes?” your lips quivered with panic. “What— What are you doing?” 

Every clink of the metal around his neck haunted you with each step he made closer. You scrambled up towards the headboard, plastering yourself against the wood. 

Pointless when he sat beside you on the bed, bending his knee to lean one leg against your thigh. The feel of his bare skin against yours burned. 

“No need to be afraid, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled. “You know me, don’t you?” 

You gulped. Sudden dizziness blurred his face to your eyes and the deprivation of your sight made his touch all the more electrifying when he swept your hair to the side and kissed your shoulder. 

A shudder ran down your spine, the strap of your silk nightgown falling down your arm and stripping you of your only defense left against him. 

“Mr Barnes,” you tried again, more pleadingly. 

“What have I said about calling me that, hm? You know my name well enough by now, pretty girl. You’ve screamed it enough.” His tormenting laugh vibrated through you while he still peppered feather light kisses across your skin. 

You begged your body to move, for your hands to push him away and your voice to shout for Rebecca. Alas, you kept to your place, still as stone. 

“You can’t— you can’t be here,” you whispered shakily. 

Bucky smirked. “Oh really? Is this not my house, sweetheart?” Your nipples pebbled against the silk material covering them as his breath cascaded goosebumps over your skin in its trail. “Been tryin’ so hard to restrain myself since I saw you again this mornin’. But I can’t fuckin’ hold back anymore.” 

“You remember me,” you managed to choke out.

Bucky hummed, laving his tongue over the sweat building on your neck. “Like I could ever forget a girl like you.” 

The knot in your stomach tightened, each press of his lips over your body immobilising you further. Bucky knew who you were, from the moment your eyes connected in the foyer. The reality set in then — deep and unsettling and delicious, all at once. 

“I had to act like I didn’t know you, baby. Couldn’t have Rebecca finding out her only friend knows the taste of her Dad’s cock now, could I?” 

You felt sick. Your mind raged in war between a guilty conscience and your own pleasure. To give in would be evil, so horrendously sick and twisted.

A single tear dropped from your watery eyes and slowly rolled down your cheek, the sudden saltiness hitting Bucky’s tongue and making him groan. “Fuck, don’t tease me already, baby.” 

“She’s my friend,” you whimpered. “I can’t do this to her.” 

Bucky looked up, a soft expression on his face. “Oh, darlin’. I love her too, really.” His lip curled up then, a wolfish gleam in his eye. “But I can’t go another minute without touchin’ you.” 

Placing his forehead against yours, his hand traveled up from your thigh, all the way over your stomach until he reached your tits. You squeezed your eyes tightly closed when his forefinger and thumb pinched your nipple through the silk. “Doesn’t this feel good, hm? Doesn’t this feel right?”

Against your will, you released a high pitched keen. “Bucky.”

His chest rumbled in delight, a deep purr in your ear. However, your mind still bartered with itself, unrelenting in its inability to give in. “But what if Becca—?” 

“She doesn’t have to know a damn thing, baby.” Bucky turned his head and bit over the pulse of your neck. “It’ll be our dirty little secret.” 

Your head was filled with clouds, a fog smothering over any rational thought. Especially with the way Bucky began to sneakily slip the other strap of your nightgown down. He was mesmerising in his actions, his fragile touches that made you feel special. 

You so desperately wanted to feel special. 

Just like he made you feel back in the summer. 

The evil voice in your mind hissed at you — dirty, disgusting, whore. The hopeful one became louder — lonely, unloved, tired. 

You were so fucking tired. 

The fight in you left. You were a goner, a sacrificial lamb while you tilted your head back to reveal more of you. The walls you so carefully crafted came crumbling down pathetically. 

Bucky didn’t waste any time taking advantage of that. “There’s my good girl. Let it happen, baby.” 

The moon shone through the window, becoming the only source of light in the darkness and its glow blanketed over the same features as the strobe lights in the club back in summer. 

Fate hadn’t been on your side from the moment it cruelly introduced Becca into your life when it had already manifested your demise with her Dad. So who were you to try and change it?

Letting your body take control over your mind, you turned your head, grabbed Bucky by the back of his neck and crashed your lips to his — finally giving into temptation. His answering moan of shock and arousal made you more daring and you snuck your tongue into his mouth too. 

Bucky ripped away, a string of saliva connected between your lips. “You still wear the same fuckin’ cherry chapstick,” he groaned, before squeezing your breast tightly. “Fuck—go lay your head at the end of the bed for me, sweetheart. Want that shit around my cock.” 

With urgency, you rushed over to the edge of the mattress, lying on your back and making sure your head hung over the bed. Your view was upside down, warped while you watched Bucky stroll towards you with bated breath. 

He stood behind you, all menacing and tall — you had never felt smaller in your life, though you liked the feeling with him. 

The veins on Bucky’s forearm bulged from his skin as he brought his hand to your throat. Lightly, he caressed his thumb over the junction of your neck. “Do you remember how eagerly you sucked my dick last time?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the bob of it transcending under his large hand. “I— I do.” 

He smirked down at you. “You gonna make me proud again, baby?” 

Your eyes glazed over with neediness. “Please—Want to make you proud of me.” 

His bright white teeth gleamed with his predatory smile. “Stick out your tongue for me, darlin’.” 

Doing as he asked, you opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out, uncaring to how easily you obeyed his commands. 

“Good job, sweetheart.” Bucky brought his hands up to his underwear and with a swift pull, his black briefs fell to the ground. 

You preened like a cat at the sight of his cock bobbing into your view. The light casting in from the moon glistened over the underside of his dick, the purple head pulsing harshly. 

Bucky pumped his cock slowly twice, a premature pearl of cum gathering at the head. “You ready for me, baby?” 

Nodding your head hungrily up at him, you whined, “Uh-huh.”

Bucky positioned himself closer to you, your head hung between his spread legs. You waited in anticipation for him to inch forward and slide his length down your throat, but instead he tapped the head of his cock against your wet tongue. 

The resounding slap caused you to rub your thighs together in agony, the feel of his heavy weight divine. 

“Aw, babygirl,” Bucky teased. “You missed me that much you can’t help those tingles already, huh?” He tapped his length against you again and his eyes fluttered. “There’s more where that came from.” 

The desperation to wrap your lips around his cock was overbearing and so you sealed your mouth around him, suckling the tip with a refound hunger. 

“Holy fuck.” Bucky’s legs trembled at the shock of your sudden confidence. “Oh, just like that, sweetheart.” 

You swiped your tongue around the bulbous head of his dick, moaning rabidly at his salty taste. Bucky’s natural musk was addictive and you tried to shuffle your body closer to take more of his length, but he quickly grabbed your hips to stop you. “Woah—slow down there. Daddy’s the one runnin’ the show tonight, not you.” 

You let go of his cock with a pop. “Please, Daddy.” Your pleas were breathless as you panted for air. “Want all of you—please!” 

Leaning over until his lips brushed yours, Bucky kissed you deeply before murmuring, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, I’ll make sure you take all of me.” 

He stood back up promptly, giving you whiplash in your current state. “Now open that slutty little mouth. Wide.” 

Hardly giving you time to do as he asked, Bucky shoved his entire length down your throat. Your eyes widened as you gagged around him. 

“Shh, baby. You’re okay, relax.” Opposite to his brutal force, he brushed softly over your chin. “You can handle me. You’ve done it before, right?” 

Breathing through your nose calmly was a challenge with his thick cock limiting your intake of oxygen. But you wanted so badly to fulfill Bucky’s wishes. So closing your eyes and willing yourself not to panic, you focused your breaths. 

“There we go.” The pride in his tone was exhilarating. “Knew you could do it, darlin’.”

Bucky kept still for a few more seconds, allowing you to get used to the intrusion of the new position before he began to ease his cock out of your throat and gently push back in. “Yeah, you remember my cock don’t you, sweetheart? Your tight little throat feels so fuckin’ good.” 

Your hands came up to grip the back of his firm thighs to ground yourself. You felt every inch of him glide down until his tip reached your windpipe and you coughed violently, sputtering around him.

“That’s right, baby. Choke on me.” Bucky upped the speed of his pace then and your nails dug deep into his flesh. 

While his actions turned harsh and forceful, your pleasure grew and with your squirming, the skirt of your nightgown began to ride up your body without you realising. 

Bucky did though, almost immediately. You couldn’t see how his eyes snapped towards the bare skin of your thighs and lower stomach and to his pleasant surprise, you weren't wearing any panties. 

The sound of his laughter while his hips continued to pump into you made your nerves spike. 

“My sweet girl,” he cooed short windedly. “You must’ve known I was coming, huh? Not wearing anything under that cute little outfit.”

You squealed, unable to say anything while sucking his cock, though the vibrations of your moans made Bucky’s thrusts falter. 

“Fuck—shit, baby. I almost forgot how good you are at that,” he laughed. His hands traveled tantalising over your stomach until he reached the bottom of your nightgown. “Let Daddy see what you’ve been hidin’ from me.” 

The silk material unpeeled from your skin as Bucky lifted it over your breasts. Your full body was on display for him and you fidgeted bashfully under his scrutiny. Your sight was compromised, your movements were limited and your thoughts were scrambled. 

“Oh, darlin’. You’re a doll, ain’t you?” Bucky’s rough and calloused hands smoothed over your bare skin. He palmed your breasts roughly, just once before inching down to your lower stomach. “Now, you gonna show me what I really wanna see?” 

It didn’t take you a second to spread your legs for him, the cold air hitting your soaked cunt. 

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Open those gorgeous thighs for me, I wanna see how wet my baby girl is.” 

Bucky leaned over your body, pushing his cock even further down your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, but your body soon jolted at the feel of his finger sliding through your folds. 

You screamed around his dick and tapped his thighs for a breather, which he so graciously granted. As soon as he tilted his hips to let his cock fall out of your mouth, you gasped loudly. “Oh my god— Bucky, I can’t. I can’t I can’t, please—” 

Your hoarse voice was cut off when Bucky wrapped his free hand around your throat. “Shut the fuck up and take it.” 

His cock laid against your cheek while he looked into your eyes. He forewent easing you into it and instead forced two of his fingers into your cunt. You were about to cry out until he shoved his cock down your throat again with a sigh. “Guess Daddy’s gonna have to keep you quiet—such a noisy girl.” 

The clink of his dog tags with each thrust mixed with your gurgles around his cock, a mixture of your spit and precum bubbling around your mouth and running messily down your chin. The stretch of his fingers unprepared was painful and yet it blended perfectly into pleasure. “Mmph!” 

“Yeah? You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky choked when he thrusted into your mouth at a particular angle. Taking advantage of his legs twitching erratically, you managed to release his dick and reach further back to his balls. 

Wasting no time, you sucked them into your mouth while his cock slapped against your cheeks, smothering precum all over your face. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, keeping the steady rhythm of his fingers pumping into your pussy. “You filthy fuckin’ whore—you just want all a’me don’t ya?” 

You hummed while playing with balls, using your tongue to tease over his perineum. Bucky was losing his composure fast and the thrill of it made the knot in your stomach tighter. 

But not one to be outdone, he ripped his fingers out of your cunt and slapped your clit, hard. You let go with a pop and squealed his name. “Bucky!” 

You tried closing your legs, the sensation too overwhelming. Though it was useless with his strength as he held your thighs apart to carry on bringing his hand down firmly on your cunt. “I thought you wanted to play dirty, darlin’,” he growled. “Daddy’s just having some fun.” 

Your body jolted with each slap delivered. You took it, even when the pain became too much and you thought you would pass out, until Bucky decided to give you respite. He left your pussy sore and aching as he lifted up away from you. A whine tore from your throat. 

“That's what happens when you don’t do as I say.” You were manhandled up and into Bucky’s arms as he sat down against the headboard. He moved you around without a hint of struggle and placed you on his lap, facing away from him. “Good girls don’t disobey Daddy, do they?” 

“No,” sighed. His hard, thick length stood firm against your ass, his dog tags soothingly cold against your warm back and you whimpered pleadingly while grinding back into him. “Want it in me.” 

Bucky’s laughter vibrated through you. “Yeah, baby? Wanna bounce on Daddy’s cock?” 

“Yes! Please!” you cried. 

Gliding his hands around to your front, he pinched each nipple. “Well, I’m not stoppin’ you. Go ahead.” 

You inhaled deeply, gathering all your strength to lift up on your shaky legs. Using Bucky’s thighs to hold yourself, you tilted your hips up until your heat skimmed over the head of his cock. “O—Oh, oh shit,” you stuttered at the sensation. 

Bucky’s head thumped back against the headboard. “God—I’ve fuckin’ missed that cunt.” 

His enjoyment allowed you the courage to balance on one hand while your other reached down to grip his thick length. A strangled noise rose from Bucky’s throat, but you ignored it and swept his tip through your folds. 

“Look who’s gotten brave, huh?” Bucky laughed breathlessly while he played with your tits. “Not thinkin’ about poor Becs now are you, baby?” 

Before the harsh retort could dig deep and make a home in your conscience, you shook your head and let his cock catch on your clenching hole. “Wanna be filled again.” 

“Then do somethin’ about it, darlin’.” Bucky rested his chin on your shoulder and you both looked down to where your sex rested on his length. Your stomach sucked in with your uneasy breaths and after internally counting down, you dropped your hips. 

“Fuck!” Bucky’s hands gripped your breasts tightly, something to help him through how good the slick glide felt. You did the same, latching on to his meaty thighs. “Shit.”

Your chests rose and fell in tandem, but the sensation of feeling so full made you tighten around his cock. “I need to move, Daddy.” 

His mouth moved over your neck as he spoke, “Go on, babygirl. Milk Daddy’s cock.” 

With his approval, you began to angle your hips up, letting his length slide out of you until the very head rested snug in your hole and then sank down again steadily. Your breath hitched while your head fell back onto his shoulder.  

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck—just like that. Keep going for me.” Bucky’s hands smoothed down to your hips and gripped them, helping you move over his cock. 

“You’re so b—big,” you whispered. “Forgot how big you are.” 

“Oh, I know. But you’re doing so good for me, aren’t you?” he cooed. 

“Mhm,” your head bobbed lazily up and down with your motions. “I’m your good girl, right?” 

Bucky grunted and made you bounce faster. “The best, baby. Such a good girl for me.” 

His dick throbbed angrily inside you, its length scraping your walls and stretching you with its girth. The clapping of your thrusts grew louder, more depraved as you lost control from the divine pleasure. Had you been thinking more clearly, you would have been careful about your volume, but all your inhibitions went out the window long ago. 

“Need more,” you slurred. “Wanna cum, but need more Daddy.” 

“Shh—I know what you need, sweetheart.” Bucky slithered his hand down your stomach and to your heat. With your legs spread wide over his, it gave him ample opportunity to snake his fingers over your engorged clit and begin circling them.  

You squeaked, instantly snapping your legs closed around his hand. “Bucky, wait!—”

But he forced your legs open and slapped your clit, making you jump with a shout. “Don’t you fuckin’ tell me to wait. You asked me for more so you’re getting more, you slut. What happened to wantin’ to make me proud, hm?” 

You sobbed as a tear tracked down your cheek. “I— I do!” 

“So then you’ll take it—won’t you?” Bucky growled against your ear. 

Sniffling, you nodded, panting while bouncing on his cock. “Yes.” 

“Yes, what?” 

You hiccuped. “Yes, D—Daddy.” 

Bucky hummed in approval and began thrusting up to meet your stride. “That’s more like it.” 

You took what he gave you while he fucked up into your pussy. The strain of your muscles was almost unbearable, but you persevered through the pain — to be the center of his attention, to be so utterly wanted felt too compelling to give up. 

His thrusts were harsh, rough enough to have your toes curling and his balls to smack against your skin. All those sensations paired with his ruthless circles on your clit blended to build your impending orgasm. “I’m so close,” you gasped. 

“Me too, babygirl.” Bucky grunted, biting into his plump bottom lip. “Gonna empty my load inside a’you.” 

You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. “Please.” 

Bucky’s hips worked overtime, a ferocious beast taking over in its haze. He brought his free hand up to your cheeks and squished them together. “Who’s Daddy’s little cumslut, huh?” 

“Me,” you cried. “I’m Daddy’s cumslut.” 

“Fuck yeah you are,” he snarled. “And now that I’ve got you back you’re not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.” 

You were too dizzy to comprehend the weight behind his words, instead you slammed your hips up and down in time with Bucky’s movements, chasing the tightening in your lower stomach. 

“You ready for me, darlin’?” he asked. 

You swallowed the dryness in your throat. “Uh-huh.”

“Good. Now hold on.” Without waiting for you to reply, he grabbed under your thighs and lifted you. You were held up solely by his arms as he powerfully began to fuck you. 

You became mute, mouth hung open on a continuous silent scream. The feeling was like no other; Bucky’s pure strength and huge length tore you apart, physically and mentally. 

“Gonna,” thrust, “fill,” thrust, “this,” thrust, “gorgeous fuckin’ pussy.” 

Your tongue lolled out of your mouth like a dog, drool dripping down your chin while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You were on the verge of cumming. “Close.” You had been reduced to one syllable words. 

“I know, baby. I fuckin’ know—Can feel you,” Bucky gasped. “Let go for me, darlin’.” It was only when the angle of his hips changed and the head of his cock repeatedly nudged against your cervix that the balance of your orgasm tipped over. 

“Hnng—Fuck!” You walls trapped Bucky’s dick in a tight chokehold as your thighs shook in a spasm. He continued to grind up into you, releasing his warm load into your pussy. 

“Bucky!” you keened while your walls fluttered around his length. The rush was unlike any you had experienced before and an errant thought that any consequence was worth it to cum like that again swirled through your mind. “Made me— made me cum so hard,” you slurred.

Your high began to simmer down and you felt like you could regain control over your mind until Bucky’s hand came down onto your clit again. “One more,” he breathed into your ear. “Gimme one fuckin’ more.” 

Your eyes shot open and you shook your head, rapidly. “C—Can’t,” you managed to croak. “Too much.” 

You reached down to try and pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong. “I said I want one more.” Bucky held your arms to your chest then, beginning to rub your clit in fast circles. 

An unusual pressure built up quickly and you panicked. “Bucky—something’s wrong.” 

But he sucked over your neck, easing your worries. “You’re okay. It's okay, baby. Just let it happen, remember?” 

You writhed in his hold, moaning salaciously. “I’m— I’m g—gonna cum again.” The feel of his cock still filling you, his cum seeping out of your whole which each dirty grind he made, the sensation of his tongue against your neck and his tireless fingers was all too much. 

“Cum for Daddy then, darlin’.” A couple of circulations later and you screamed out in unimaginable pleasure. Your stomach swooped and the next you knew, a strong pressure forced Bucky’s cock out of your cunt. A rush of liquid sprayed out of you and covered the entirety of the bedsheets. 

“There we are,” he grinned wickedly. “Exactly what I wanted.” 

It felt like it went on forever. Bucky didn’t let up on his insistent rubbing. But as soon as the last juices squirted out of you, you deflated into his chest, breaths heaving with utter exhaustion. You were too tired to keep your eyes open, body boneless and overexerted. Your body jumped with aftershocks, tiny zings of electricity igniting your nerves. 

Bucky finally slowed his fingers down to a stop on your clit. Your back rose and fell with his pants, each puff of his exhales hitting your sensitive skin and making you shiver. 

“Holy fuck,” he laughed deliriously. “That was—fuck.” 

Internally agreeing, you hummed, incapable of formulating words. Bucky’s arms wrapped around you while he placed a kiss to the back of your head and you enjoyed being surrounded with his warmth and comfort. “You were perfect, babygirl,” he mumbled. “Did so fuckin’ good for me. Made Daddy so proud.” 

A wide smile curled onto your face as your eyes remained closed. You were falling out of consciousness, giving in to sleep fast. 

“Let’s get you comfy.” You didn’t stir when Bucky began to lift up, or when he rearranged your form so he could carry your limp body in his arms. 

Your body bounced with each powerful step he made. Vaguely hearing the room door open, a cold blast of air hit your heated skin and you shivered, snuggling closer into Bucky’s chest. 

Your head swam with fuzziness. You couldn’t bear to open your eyes with their heaviness. But you felt as you were delicately placed onto a large, comfortable bed, stacked with pillows and fitted with dry sheets, along with Bucky’s delicious scent that tickled your senses. 

A soft kiss was pressed onto your cheek, a firm hand curling around your waist and just before you could succumb to sleep, you heard his last words. “You get some rest now, sweetheart. We’ve still got a whole week ahead of us.” 

You were sure the mortification would hit you in the morning. Pure regret sinking deeply into your skin and making you feel sick to the core. 

But you also knew now that any chance of quitting your best friend's dad had been lost. Because Bucky was a guilty pleasure, a rush you couldn’t bear to give up — no matter the consequences and no matter who it would inevitably hurt. 

[smutinlove]

hi! how are you? can I make a request? so ive been imagining in my head how would jason react to reader going to the wayne gala with him? (for being more especific after jason introduce reader to the batfamily reader gets invited by jason's family to go to the wayne gala)

how would the batfamily treat her? how does Jason behave on gala nights?? sorry for so many questions lol

thanks for reading this <3

y'all are FEEDING THE DEMON inside me. slay

-not proof-read. has punctuation mistakes (probably. maybe.. idk)

•after a few embarrassing encounters (for jason HAHA) with his family, you were formally invited to have dinner with them. and dinner turned into an invitation to the wayne gala. pretty big, huh?

•at first, you were hesitant... but jason said he wouldn't go without you and you did not want that. so you went with him.

•i mean, it was one thing being with him. but his arm wrapped around you waist while he introduced you to everyone, calling you his, "girlfriend."

•and whenever he called you his girlfriend, he blushed and smiled.

•i mean, usually jason would be one of those "macho, no feelings/emotions need to be shown" kind of men. but when he's with you, it's a whole new genre.

•he's so gentle with you. your dress got stuck? he'll buy you a new one. hungry during the gala? he'll make you sit down and give you a plate filled with food. (his siblings said that he's so chaotic during gala nights... not true.)

•and omg, speaking of his siblings, they are so protective over both of you. if you hurt him, count your days. if he hurt you, that's a different book in general.

•dick is like an older brother, except he is so sweet and genuine. he knows everything about everyone. tim is like the nerdy but really chaotic younger brother. he's super smart, but also on the brink of causing an alien invasion and murdering everyone in the galaxy. but he's just a goofy little boy <3

•steph is such a girl's girl. she's so friendly and sweet. she's an angel, i swear. cassandra cain doesn't talk much. but she isn't untoward or rude to you. she just doesn't talk a lot. but she has said a few nice words to you.

•damien... that little minx is formal. but once you break down his barriers, he is just another child and child soldier. you and him bonded over your love for animals. he even introduced you to alfred the cat.

•now, papa wayne, the man, the myth, the bat. bruce wayne. he was very friendly. holy shit, this man raised amazing children. he deserves the world. he is very sweet to you, always making sure you're comfortable. he's like a dad to you. (i wish he was my dad)

•alfred, the heart of the bat family. he's formal too sometimes. but he's really nice. he's helpful and witty. he knows everything about every member of the bat/wayne family. if you want to see jason in diapers or when he was in an awkward teenage phase, ask him. he has pics of EVERY batfam member.

•let's just say that jason was raised by amazing people. and those same people adore you with everything.

jason is my pookie bear. he's just a big cuddly teddy bear and i love him for that

[bossbtch1]

Forbidden Reunion

Summary : You managed to escape from Loki after discovering his lies. Aware that both he and the TVA would be searching for you, you prayed they wouldn't succeed. However, now Loki stood in front of you and he had no intentions of letting you go.

Pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

General tags : SMUT, 18+, Dark Fic, Obsessive, Yandere

Trigger Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Stalking, Non-con, Dubious Consent, Forced Blowjob, Forced Orgasm, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Breeding, Overstimulation (let me know if I missed any lol)

Word Count: 10k

A/N : Sorry it took me too long to post this, juggling this alongside my other story took some time. But as promised, I'm releasing this one first.

Before you continue, please read TW again. This is a dark!fic and explicit, strictly for readers 18+. Please, DO NOT PROCEED if these themes disturb you. I've warned you, this fic isn't for the faint-hearted.

This took in Loki season 2 based on that shadow play.

If you like my story, please go check out my other stories here

Exhausted from years of evading both Loki and the TVA. Tonight, you found yourself in a bar, a moment to escape the chaos for years and hoping for a chance encounter. Despite your past with Loki, you were eager to move forward and explore new relationships, you have your own needs, and the more time went on, you knew they could not be sated by yourself anymore.

You could use your power to manipulate them into sleeping with you, but you knew it was wrong, you were sure there was a natural progression you just needed to be patient, and maybe your powers were going to waste being used to keep you hidden from the TVA.

Your mind drifted back to Loki, the god of Mischief and how he lied to you, manipulated you.

Flashback

"I'm sorry to say this, but you have been deceived by him," the TVA agent asserted. You turned your back on her as you attempted to escape, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of Loki. You had become separated during the chaotic chase within the TVA headquarters.

"No, I'm not. Loki wouldn't lie to me," you defended him, your voice laced with unwavering belief.

"Is he? Tell me, what did he say to you, the reason he got caught?" the agent probed, her tone challenging.

"He tried to rule Earth and failed," you replied, recalling the events that had led to his capture.

She seemed surprised that you knew. "Yes, and whose fault was that?" she pressed further.

“Yes, I know it was his.” You admitted, frustration seeping into your words, “But it stemmed from his deep-seated need for approval and love, especially from a father who resented him for being adopted." Despite the firmness in your tone, a flicker of doubt shadowed your eyes, making you question whether you were convincing the agent or merely grappling with your own uncertainties.

"Is that the whole story? Or just a part he wants you to believe?" Her words hung heavy in the air.

"He's the trickster god, the silvertongue," she continued, her voice steady, unwavering. "Manipulation is in his nature. Don't fall for his lies."

"Hello? Hey?" You heard a voice bringing you back from your daydream. "Can I buy you a drink?"

You looked up, it was a handsome man who had sat down beside you. You smiled, not wanting to appear rude. "Yes, please," you said.

He smiled, "I'm Mark."

"Y/N," you said.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he smiled.

You returned his smile. You enjoyed his company as you chatted and laughed, his eyes sparkled as he listened to you talk, you knew you were making him blush when you teased him, he was sweet, and you knew he liked you.

Conversation flowed easily between you two. You couldn't remember the last time you felt so at ease with a stranger, the feeling was new and exciting. He seemed so genuinely interested in what you had to say and you felt as if he actually understood what was going on in your life.

"Do you want to come to my place? I've got a bottle of whiskey that needs drinking," he smiled.

"Sure, why not?" you said, downing the rest of your drink. This was your chance to get what you've been craving, and what better way to start than with a handsome man inviting you to his place?

Then someone spilled his drink onto Mark, ruining his white shirt.

"What the hell? Are you kidding me?!" he yelled at the man. "Watch where you're going, asshole." He shouted in frustration.

"Oh, I am so sorry, man, I tripped," the other man said, his voice calmed.

You recognize the voice.

It was Mobius.

Your heart raced, and you couldn't believe that he had managed to track you down. Paralyzed with fear, you sat there, feeling the color drain from your face as you stared at him in disbelief. If Mobius was here then that meant that Loki wasn't far behind.

Mark was fuming, he stormed off to the bathroom, leaving you alone, and you wanted desperately to call out, to warn him not to leave you by yourself, but fear kept your words trapped in your throat.

"Hello, Y/N."

Your name was like poison on his lips.

"Loki," you hissed back, turning around to face him.

He looked exactly the same as the last time you'd seen him, his black hair was neatly styled, his green eyes were piercing, and his face was pale. His expression was serious, his jaw set and his eyes cold, he looked so different from the Loki you had known and fallen in love with.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?" Your heart pounded in your chest, your palms sweaty with anxiety, and you were suddenly very aware of how alone you were in the bar.

"I missed you, pet. I have been worried," his tone was mocking and his smirk didn't reach his eyes.

"Don't lie, Loki," you shot back, glaring at him.

"You know, you've always been so difficult."

"And you're an asshole."

Loki didn't say anything, instead he reached for your wrist and held it tight. "Let me go! You fucking liar, I trusted you, I loved you, and you betrayed me," you shouted, struggling against his grip.

"Little one, don't make a scene." he growled in your ear.

Your eyes pleaded with Mobius, who stood caught between the two of you. "Are you just going to stand there and let this happen?" you implored, your voice cracking with desperation.

Mobius sighed, a mixture of resignation and sadness in his eyes. "I'll leave you be for now then," he said, his tone heavy with regret. "I'll see you later." With that, he turned away, leaving you to face Loki's wrath alone.

"How about I give you a choice," he said, a sinister glint in his eyes. "Either you can come home willingly, or I can use my magic to knock you out and bring you home. Which do you prefer?" The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving you trapped in a lose-lose situation.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Loki!" you hissed, your voice laced with defiance as you struggled against his grip. Every fiber of your being screamed resistance, but you knew the sheer force of his magic could easily overpower you.

"Very well then," he purred, his lips twisted into a sadistic smile as he waived his hand, ready to use his magic.

"Wait!" You blurted, holding up your hands to stop him, your voice trembled as the weight of your decision bore down upon you.

"Yes, little one?" he asked, his tone condescending and smug.

"I'll come willingly," you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It was a lie, a desperate attempt to buy some time.

"But can I go to the bathroom first?" You clung to the hope that a brief moment alone might offer a chance, your mind racing for an escape plan.

"Alright," Loki agreed, his tone oddly accommodating. "Go on, pet." He nodded towards the restroom.

You hurried into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, your heart pounding in your chest. Your frantic eyes searched for your tempad, only to realize it was gone. "Asshole!" you muttered under your breath, realizing that Loki must have taken it when he grabbed your arm.

You had no escape plan, and Loki was waiting for you. You looked for a way out, but the windows were too small for you to climb through, so you thought it would be best to just run through the door and run far away from the bar.

Gathering your courage, you unlocked the door and burst out, your footsteps echoing in the corridor. Behind you, you could hear Loki's enraged shout, "Y/N!" His voice boomed, fueling your determination to run as far and as fast as you could from the bar.

"Y/N! Y/N!" you could hear him getting closer and closer. His voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. "Y/N, stop now!"

"FUCK OFF!" you screamed, frustration and fear fueling your voice. You cast a desperate glance behind you and saw Loki hot on your heels. "Fuck!" you whispered under your breath.

You could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and the fear of being caught was overwhelming. "Fuck, no! Not again!" you thought.

You were annoyed by the people "Move! Move! Please!" You screamed at the people that were blocking the road, but they wouldn't move.

"Fuck you!" One guy shouted back at you after you pushed him away.

You couldn't run anymore. You were too slow, and he was gaining on you, and you knew that you couldn't escape him. But you need to keep trying, you couldn't give up. You were running, and running, and running.

The pain was too much, your muscles ached, and your lungs burned. Your vision was blurred, and you couldn't focus. You were tired of running and out of breath, you leaned against a wall and rested, hoping Loki wouldn't see you.

However, your respite was short-lived. In a blink, Loki teleported right in front of you, his expression oddly calm. "Pet, we have been searching for you for a long time, you hid well." He said, his tone icy.

"You can't be fucking serious!" you hissed, "Why did you look for me? I left for a reason, you betrayed my trust. You used me, and I hate you."

"Little one, why are you angry at me?"

"Are you really asking that, you lying snake?" Pushing him away, you shouted, and sprinted away from him once more, your determination fueling your escape.

You didn't make it far, though, before you felt a familiar, freezing hand grasp your arm, tugging you backward and pulling you against a cold, solid form.

"I don't appreciate it you calling me that."

You gasped, and tried to pull away from him, but his grip was like steel, and no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn't free yourself from him. "I don't care! Let me go!"

He ignored your pleas, then you pulled out a knife from your pocket. You knew he could've easily taken the knife, but instead he let you go, "You think you can hurt me, little one? How adorable." he cooed, his voice silky smooth.

"I'll fucking kill you!"

He laughed again mocking you, "Do you want to try? Do you think you can stab me with that knife, pet?"

You didn't answer, instead you held the knife up, threatening him, "Loki, you don't want to make me angry." You knew that was stupid of you saying that.

He smirked, he wasn't afraid of you, and he wasn't intimidated by you. "You are so cute when you are mad," he mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and his eyes were dark.

"Put the knife down, and we can go home, pet" he offered.

"Fuck you, Loki," you spat, your voice dripping with venom as you stood your ground, the knife still clutched tightly in your hand.

He grinned, "Oh, you will soon enough, pet."  He let out a low chuckle and he snapped his finger and the knife flew from your hand to the wall. You watched in horror, you didn’t have anything else on you to defend yourself from him.

He began to advance toward you, a predator toying with his prey. Panic surged through you, urging you to flee. Yet, no matter how fast you ran, Loki always reappeared before you.

His voice dripped with amusement, "Come on, pet. Do you really think you can outrun me?" His grin widened, relishing the chase as if it were sort of a game to him.

"You won't ever escape me, pet. Even if you manage to get away from me, I will always find you again and again. You will be mine, whether you want to or not." He declared, his tone possessive and chilling. He stood before you, his presence looming over you like a dark cloud.

"I won't stop fighting you," you vowed, your voice filled with defiance, glaring at him as he advanced toward you. Desperation fueled your steps as you ran, but he always caught up to you, teleporting right in front of you, a relentless pursuit that seemed endless.

"You can't run forever, pet," he taunted, his eyes dark and menacing, his voice deep and husky. “Eventually, I’ll catch up to you.”

You were getting tired of running. "Come on, pet. Are we playing a game?" He chuckled, the sound echoing eerily through the empty street. The bastard was enjoying this twisted cat-and-mouse chase.

"Just stop!" you cried out, your frustration boiling over.

"Why would I stop? This is the most fun I've had in years, darling. I enjoy seeing you run, it's quite entertaining."

"Shut up." You tried to run away again, your breaths ragged. "Quit your magic, and fight fair!" Deep down, you knew if you were in a one-on-one combat with him, without his magic, you could win. "If you win, I'll come willingly."

"That's not how this works, little one," he chided, his tone laced with amusement.

You felt the anger boiling inside of you, but you continued to run. Each step echoed in the empty alley as you tried to escape his relentless pursuit. "Leave me alone then!" you shouted, desperation lacing your voice.

To your horror, your movements came to an abrupt stop. Loki stood in front of you, his mischievous grin sending shivers down your spine. Frantically, you turned around, only to find him there again, mocking your attempts to escape. Panic set in as you attempted to flee in the opposite direction, but there he was once more, his presence haunting you like a nightmare.

"What the fuck is going on?" you muttered, disbelief coloring your voice. How was he everywhere? How was he doing this? Your mind raced with questions as you stepped back, trying to distance yourself from the three identical Loki that surrounded you.

Were you tripping, or is there really three of them?

Loki's chuckle reverberated around you, a haunting sound that sent chills down your spine. Frustration boiled within you, and you screamed in exasperation, "How are you doing that?" Your voice wavered, trembling with a mixture of frustration and fear as you desperately demanded answers.

His grin widened as he continued to toy with your sanity. "Oh, come now, surely you know a trick or two, you being a witch and all," he taunted, the words laced with mocking arrogance.

You took slow steps backward as the three Loki remained in front of you, your resolve mingling with confusion and growing fear. "I'm not a witch, you... asshole," you retorted.

Suddenly, you felt his warm breath near your ear, and his voice sent a shiver down your spine. "It's called an illusion, little one," he whispered, the hot air tickling your earlobe. You jolted away from him, only to find another Loki standing in front of you, and you jumped yet again.

Fear gripped you, not of him, but of the overwhelming confusion and frustration that clouded your senses. The relentless onslaught of illusions left you feeling disoriented, unable to discern reality from the intricate tricks he was playing.

"Please stop," you pleaded.

"Stop what?" he asked, feigning innocence, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Your tricks. I'm not stupid, stop," you demanded, your voice growing firmer despite the fear gripping your heart.

The three Loki slowly closed in on you, each step they took making your heart race faster. You retreated, trying to create distance, but soon your back met the unyielding wall. There was no escape. Your mind raced, your heart pounded, and you breathed heavily, trapped in a nightmare of your own making.

Suddenly, you felt an invisible force restraining your hands, pinning them against the wall. You looked around frantically, searching for the source, but there was no one in sight. Panic clawed at your throat as you realized you were immobilized.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Let me go."

"I don't think I will, my little pet," Loki said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Suddenly, Mobius reappeared beside Loki, seemingly out of thin air. "A little over the top, don’t you think, all the shadow play?" he commented, his tone disapproving.

Loki smirked, unrepentant. "I thought it was spot on."

Mobius turned his attention to you, his expression filled with concern. "What are you trying to do to the poor girl?" he asked.

"I'm merely making a point," Loki replied casually, as if discussing the weather and your distress was nothing more than a game.

Mobius shook his head and lightly chuckled, "Oh, I'm sure you are. That's why she looks like a frightened rabbit."

"I'm still here? Hello?” They were casually talking like you were invincible, despite being bound to a wall. Their attention shifted to you, and you erupted, "Mobius, what the hell? Arrest him! What are you doing!" Panic and anger laced your words, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I can't do that. I made a deal with Loki," Mobius responded, his tone regretful yet resolute.

You felt a chill run down your spine. "What fucking deal?" You asked, your voice trembling. "What are you going to do with me?"

"I'm not going to do anything. But Loki, on the other hand..." he chuckled darkly. "Well, the deal is, we only need you alive. That's all I'm saying. My lips are sealed," Mobius replied with a cryptic smile.

You didn't have a chance to process his words before the Loki closest to you began circling you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Your heartbeat wildly, fear coursing through your veins as he trailed his finger along your arm, his touch light and teasing in suspense.

"What the fuck is the matter with you, let me go!" you shrieked, your panic and anger rising. "Mobius you fucking bitch, you are nothing but a- MMM" abruptly, as the shadow silenced you, turning your pleas into incoherent whispers.

Mobius sighed, shaking his head. "Now you're just showing off," he admonished.

"I can't help it, you bring out the worst in me."

Loki stepped in front of you and leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Now, where were we?" he whispered, his voice low and seductive. His fingers trailed along your jaw, his touch feather-light and tantalizing. You were struggling to break free from his hold, but your body remained paralyzed, at his mercy.

Loki, leaning casually against the wall, let out a low, amused chuckle at your futile struggles. "Oh, little one," he purred, his tone mocking and condescending. "There's no use in fighting. You won't be able to break free. Trust me."

"Now, be a good girl and remain still," Loki said, his smile cruel and unsettling as he locked eyes with you, a twisted affection glinting in his gaze.

"Loki, take it easy on her. She's just a young girl, after all." Mobius interjected, his voice laced with a hint of compassion, though his eyes conveyed a different story. "Make sure to control your pet, Loki.” Mobius emphasized before vanishing into thin air.

You screamed was incoherent since your mouth was being covered by the shadow, you tried to say "Help!" and "No" but nothing came out.

Loki grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your head up to meet his gaze. "Oh, darling. Don't try to speak, or scream, or fight. You can't escape, and no one is going to save you. No one will hear you, the only sound you will make is your moans."

Fear gripped you, the uncertainty of Loki's intentions leaving you paralyzed and vulnerable.

He advanced toward you, his steps deliberate and predatory. "Now," he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic anticipation, "let the fun begin, pet."

With a snap of his fingers, Loki dispelled the shadow covering your mouth, granting you the ability to speak again. "Get off me, Laufeyson!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with defiance. You strained against your restraints, desperate to escape his grasp. "This is wrong. You're crazy psychopath."

"Oh, pet," he said, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "We've done far worse together."

Frustration and fear gripped you as you struggled against your bindings, pleading, " Why can't you just leave me alone?"

A dark chuckle escaped Loki's lips as he replied, "You know why."

"Please, just let me go." You pleaded, desperation creeping into your voice.

Loki's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with possessiveness. "I'm afraid I can't do that, love. You belong to me."

"No, I don't! I'm not yours," you protested vehemently. You writhed against the magical restraints, a mixture of anger and fear fueling your struggles. His control over you felt like a violation, and you despised him for it, for using his magic against you in such a cruel manner.

"Oh, pet," Loki purred, his voice dripping with both mockery and desire. "You can fight all you want, but you'll never win, not when it comes to me." He leaned in, his lips grazing your neck in a chilling caress. You whimpered as he sucked on your skin, his teeth scraping lightly.

"Stop. Please," you begged, your voice trembling.

"But why would I stop," he replied, his tone silkier than ever, "when I'm having so much fun?" His words hung in the air, laden with sadistic pleasure.

"I hate you. I will never stop hating you," you spat out, your words laced with a fierce determination, even in the face of your vulnerability.

Loki's lips curled into a sly smile, "You don't truly hate me, little one. You merely pretend to. I see through the façade. I know what lies beneath."

"What the hell are you talking about, Loki?" you shot back.

"Stop being such a brat," he sneered. The shadow binding both your wrists kept you firmly against the wall, his control unyielding. "Do you like being restrained, hmm? Enjoy the feeling of someone else in control, knowing you can't escape, and no one will help you?" His face hovered dangerously close to yours, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“No! Stop that nonsense!” You lied, you were scared, and angry, but you also secretly enjoyed being under his control whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He hummed and kissed your neck and whispered in your ear, his breath tickled your ear and you felt shivers down your spine. “Fuck, how I miss you.” His voice was deep and commanding, sending tingles of pleasure throughout your body.

"Please, stop. Just leave me alone. Don't do this to me, please."

"Oh, little one. You know I can't do that." He said as his hands roamed all over your body, caressing every inch of you, making you feel so vulnerable. You felt the heat rise between your legs and your heart raced faster.

"I can smell your arousal, pet.” He lightly bit your neck. “Your body betrays you. It craves my touch, just as much as you do," he said, his voice laced with a sinister confidence. "You want me, even if you refuse to admit it."

You met his gaze with defiance, attempting to deny the truth he claimed. "You're delusional," you retorted, your words aimed at rejecting his manipulative influence.

"Am I?" Loki's eyes bore into yours, a predatory glint flickering in their depths. "Your heart, your mind, your body—they all long for me, even if you deny it. You can't escape this, no matter how hard you try. I will always find you, even if I have to tear the universe apart to get you back."

Loki was right. Your body was betraying you. The wetness was getting more intense by the minute, you could feel the pleasure building up, but you couldn't let yourself fall into temptation, he had hurt you, lied to you, manipulated you, used you, and now he was going to take you against your will.

You had to fight him.

You had to escape him.

You couldn't let him take you.

Not like this.

But you wanted more, and you knew that Loki would give you everything you wanted and more. You could feel the pleasure building up. You moaned softly as his hands roamed over your breasts. You felt a rush of anger, "What are you doing? You're using your magic to seduce me, aren't you?"

He met your accusation with a knowing grin. "I don't need magic to seduce you.” He countered, “Your body responds to me naturally, so beautifully. It's like a drug, and once I've had a taste, I'm hooked. I can't get enough of you."

You felt his lips on your neck. His kisses were soft and tender. You gasped as his tongue licked your neck, trailing down your collarbone. You couldn't stop the moan that escaped your lips as his fingers pinched your nipple.

You felt he smirked and you tried not to moan, biting your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was affecting you. But he could read your mind, and he could hear your thoughts, and he knew what you were feeling. He was inside your head.

"Just stop."

"Not until I'm finished with you. Not until you're begging for more. Begging for my cock inside of you. Begging for me." He slammed your back against the wall, and you yelped as you hit it hard.

He had you caged, and your legs were starting to tremble. You didn't know if it was from the force or the intensity of his words. You tried to push him away but he was stronger than you. His body was pressed against yours. He then kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel his body against yours.

He was a good kisser, and he knew what he was doing. You were moaning into the kiss, and you were fighting to keep control. Then you felt his cock growing hard. You gasped and that was when you realized what was going on. In a desperate act of defiance, you bit down hard, drawing blood. You tasted it.

He pulled back momentarily caught off guard. He looked like a maniac, and you had to remind yourself not to be afraid of him. His lips curled into a sinister grin as he wiped the blood away with his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. "I like that," he said, his voice low and dark, his grin widening.

You stared at him, and you felt your eyes widen in shock. You felt your heart race. You were still struggling against him, and you tried to pull your hand free from his restraints, but it was useless.

"Oh, pet," he sneered, his tone laced with malice. "I'll make you pay for that defiance."

"What are you planning? Torture me?" you challenged back.

"Torture is such a crude term," he replied, his words dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I prefer 'punish'. After all, you've been a naughty girl. And naughty girls must be disciplined."

Your eyes narrowed, a fierce glare aimed his way. "You can't do anything to break me. You can't force me to feel anything. You have no control over me."

He laughed, "Is that so? You know nothing about me, love. Nothing. If I had my way, I would've taken you to my bed, and kept you there, tied up, blindfolded, gagged, naked, helpless, at my mercy. But I can't do that, yet. However, that doesn't mean I can't have fun."

"You're insane. I despise you," you retorted, your words heavy with hatred.

"That's fine," he replied, his tone oddly calm. "I'm used to people hating me. It's just a matter of time before they change their minds. And I'll have you. One way or another, you're mine."

"Go to hell."

"Only if you come with me."

You felt a chill run down your spine, and you couldn't help but shiver. You couldn't stop thinking about the things he had said. About how you were his. You tried to shake the thoughts away, but they were persistent.

You accidentally clenched your pussy at his words, you hoped he didn't notice.

He chuckled, the sound sending chills down your spine. "Oh, pet, that's adorable," he taunted, his grin widening with malicious amusement. "Do you like the thought of that, pet?" Loki's eyes glittered with dark intent, sensing the conflict within you, and it only served to fuel his sadistic amusement.

"No!" You denied.

"Then why did you clench your pussy, hmm? Was it because you were imagining me taking you?"

"It was just a reflex," you stammered, attempting to deny the undeniable truth.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice a dark, taunting whisper. His smirk widened, and he moved his face closer to yours until there were mere inches between your lips. "You're lying, love."

"I won't let you slip away again," he whispered, his fingers tightening around your throat, making each breath a struggle. His eyes bore into yours. "I will make you mine."

He tightened his grip around your throat and slammed your back against the wall, your head hit the wall with a loud thud. You couldn't breathe. The pain was unbearable. Tears began streaming down your face as you struggled to breathe.

But this was making you turned on, despite how much you hated Loki, you couldn't deny that he was hot and the way he was being rough with you was making your pussy throb.

"You'll see. It's time to begin your training, pet." He whispered as his hands travelled lower, caressing your inner thigh. "Please, Loki."

"Shhh, shh." He pressed his finger against your lips, "Save your begging."

“Fuck you!”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked, "I would love to do that right now, but I think we should save it for later."

"You bastard!" you spat, your anger seething.

"Watch your language, pet," he sneered, his grip tightening as he grabbed your chin, his fingers digging into your jaw. "Now, be a good girl and open your mouth." He took a piece of cloth out of his pocket. It was green.

"Hell No! I won't do it. I won't cooperate." You retorted, like who in the world would agree to that?

He sighed. "You know, you really are a stubborn little thing. It's adorable. But, it won't get you anywhere. In fact, it'll just make things worse."

You stared at him. You couldn't believe what was happening. How could he be so cruel? So evil? He chuckled. "I told you. You're not in control here. I am. Now, open your mouth."

“Never.”

"Fine. Then I'll do it for you." He used his magic to force open your mouth, his magic was painful, and it burned. You could barely move. He put the cloth in your mouth and tied it around your head. You tried to scream but couldn't.

"So pretty," he said as he stroked your cheek. "You should be grateful that I'm even letting you use this, instead of forcing you to be silent. And remember, the gag stays on unless I say otherwise. Understand?"

You shook your head mumbling, "Mmff, no."

"That's too bad," he mused, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. "Because if you try to remove the gag, I'll have to punish you. And you don't want that, do you?"

"Nnooo, I don't," you mumbled, your voice barely audible through the gag.

"Good girl," he purred. "You'll get used to it."

With a swift motion, he removed the shadow restraints from your arms, and you immediately attempted to fight back, you tried to hit him, but he easily dodged your blow. His grip iron-strong when he caught your hand. "Careful, pet," he cautioned, his voice a dangerous whisper. "My patience wears thin."

Using his powers, he summoned the shadow to immobilize you once more, pinning you against the wall, this time including your legs. You were rendered utterly helpless, trapped in his web of darkness.

"Now, let's begin," he said, his voice oozing with menace. You remained tied up, gagged, and entirely at his merciless mercy.

He took out a dagger from his belt and cut through your shirt and bra, leaving you exposed. "Oh my, that's a nice sight."

You let out a muffled scream, "You don't need clothes. They will only get in the way."

He began kissing your neck and sucking on your skin. "Mmf," You moaned softly as his lips trailed down your collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and bites. He cupped your breast and teased your nipple.

"Mmff No..."

He ignored your protests and continued to play with your nipples.

"You like that, don't you? I can feel how wet you are, darling." He whispered into your ear.

"Mmmff." You tried to deny, but he could hear your thoughts.

He smirked. "I bet if I put my fingers inside you right now, they'd slide right in. I bet you're dripping wet for me, aren't you, my sweet?"

"Mmf."

"You don't need to speak, little one," he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "Just relax. I know what you want."

His hand glided down your thigh, his touch sending electric sparks through your skin, until he slipped his fingers under the hem of your dress and traced the edge of your panties. "And it seems that your body agrees with me," he continued, "It's telling me that it's ready to submit to me."

You closed your eyes and tried to block him out. But he could hear your thoughts, and he knew what you were thinking.

"Come on, pet. Open your eyes and look at me. I want to see your beautiful eyes."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes and found him staring at you, his gaze darkened with hunger and desire.

"There you go. Such a good girl." He praised you.

He slid your panties to the side and his fingers found your pussy, already dripping wet. "Oh, you're so wet, pet. Do you want me that much? Do you want me to fuck you, hmm?"

He slid your panties to the side and cupped your pussy. "Fuck," he muttered as his fingers slipped between your folds, "You're already dripping for me."

You blushed furiously as he rubbed your clit in slow, gentle circles.

"Yes," he said, his voice deepening, "Your body wants me. It wants me to take you and make you mine."

His finger pressed against your entrance and then pushed into you, making you gasp. He curled it and began to massage your G-spot. You bit your lip and moaned, trying not to make too much noise. You tried to squirm away from him, but it was no use.

You clenched your fists, struggling to hold back the moan threatening to escape your lips. A soft whimper escaped your lips, and the Loki behind you laughed softly. "No. You're not getting away from me."

You whimpered as he thrust another finger into you, stretching you even further. He began pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, making you gasp and moan under the gagged cloth. His fingers worked their magic, sliding in and out of you, rubbing your G-spot with each stroke. He kept a steady rhythm, keeping you on the edge.

You could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, the sensation driving you mad. The Loki in front of you watched intently as he continued to pleasure you, his gaze filled with a mix of lust and amusement as you struggled to keep control. "Oh, little one," he said, "I love seeing you like this. So desperate. So needy. So fucking sexy." His other hand gripped your hips, keeping you in place.

"You're so wet," he murmured, "You're practically begging me to fuck you."

"Mmfff." You tried to ignore him, but he curled his fingers and stroked you just right, and your hips bucked involuntarily. You were quickly approaching your orgasm, and it was impossible to stop yourself from moaning loudly.

Loki leaned in and nipped at your neck, and you shivered as his breath caressed your skin. "But I won't. Not yet. First, I want to watch you come. I want to see your face when you orgasm. I want to hear the sounds you make when you come."

His fingers thrusting into your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit. You were so close, and you knew that he could sense it. "Ah, yes. That's it. You're doing so well. Now, tell me... do you want to cum?" He pumped them faster, deeper.

You shook your head. You didn't want to come, you tried to resist, but you were too far gone. You felt the pressure building in your core, the pleasure was too much.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Then let's see how long you can last."

He pumped his fingers faster and harder, making you moan and cry out. He thrust a third finger into your pussy and continued his assault on your clit. He was fucking you with his fingers, and you were so close. You could feel the heat rising in your belly, and you knew you couldn't hold it back any longer. You shook your head at him begging him not to make you come.

"Come on pet, don't fight it, just let it happen. Give into the pleasure. Come for me."

He pumped his fingers faster and harder, making you moan and cry out. "Yes, that's it," he whispered, "Just a little bit longer, you're so close."

He was relentless, his fingers working your pussy expertly. "Nnnn." You tried to tell him that you weren't going to let him win, but you couldn't speak.

You could feel the pleasure building and you knew that he could sense it. He kept pumping his fingers and rubbing your clit, and you couldn't hold back any longer. Your pussy was so wet, his fingers were sliding in and out so easily. You felt the orgasm approaching, the pressure was building, and you knew you couldn't hold it back any longer.

"You're going to come, whether you want to or not. So, don't fight it, just let it happen."

"Mmmmmm"

"Yes. You can't stop it. I'm going to make you come."

He continued to thrust his fingers, his thumb circling your clit, the pressure building until you could take it no more. He removed the gagged from your mouth, "Let me hear your moans, pet."

You let out a loud cry, unable to contain it. "That's it. You're so close, I can feel it.” Your back arched and you cried out, his fingers and thumb pushing you over the edge. "Come for me, my sweet. Come for me. Now." He curled his fingers inside you and bit your neck.

You screamed and bucked as the orgasm took you, and he didn't let up. He continued to pump his fingers and rub your clit, pushing you further and further until you couldn't take it anymore. You thrashed about as the pleasure was too much, your orgasm overwhelming your senses.

Your body writhing against his fingers. Your release was so intense that it made your whole body shudder. He held you tightly, his fingers still moving in and out of your pussy, drawing out your orgasm.

"There we go," he said, smiling down at you. "Such a good girl. You're such a good girl for me, pet."

You were a panting, sweating, mess, and you were exhausted.

He kissed your forehead and pulled his fingers out of you. You were glad the shadow was there restraining you or you would collapse.

After you came down from your high, you realized what just happened. You spat at him, "Fuck you, Loki. You're disgusting."

"Disgusting?" He raised his eyebrows. "Now, why would you say that, little one? Was it not good for you? You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself."

"Get the fuck away from me." you spat, your voice filled with venom.

He laughed, "You don't get to tell me what to do, little one. I'm not done with you yet."

"You fucking monster," you screamed, "I'm not going to let you touch me."

He grinned and grabbed your hair, pulling you towards him. "Watch your mouth, pet. I don't like hearing you use foul language. Now, since I was so kind to give you such a nice orgasm, will you be a good girl and obey me without any fuss?"

You rolled your eyes. "Like hell I will!"

He smirked in response. "Since I've been rather kind to you," Loki began, his eyes roaming over your body, "I have a proposition for you."

Though you had little desire to hear anything he had to say, your curiosity got the best of you, compelling you to reluctantly listen.

"Do you want me to fuck you here, right now in this alley, or in our room where we will be alone, and no one will interrupt us." He said with a smirk.

Your throat tightened, both options he presented were equally horrifying. But, the last thing you wanted was for someone to find you two here, like this. "Neither.” you choked out.

"That wasn't an option, my sweet."

You glared at him, "You're vile," you hissed

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly unaffected by your words. "You say the most hurtful things, pet."

"I'm not going to choose," you declared, "I'm not choosing anything. I'd rather die than have sex with you."

He looked amused. "Fine, then I will choose. You have a few seconds to think about it." He said as he took his jacket off, and dropped it to the ground.

"You're going to take me right here? You're an animal."

"It's your fault for refusing. If you choose the other option, I was going to be nice. I'll be rough if you insist."

"If you touch me, I'll kill you." You growled.

He laughed. "Oh, little one. It's not me you have to worry about."

Ignoring your warning, he reached forward, his touch cold against your skin, and ran his thumb along your lower lip. "Shame that I have to punish you. I'm sure you'll be a good girl after today."

You gritted your teeth and move your face away from his touch, "Don't touch me."

He ignored your demand, and began undoing his pants. He pulled his cock out, and started stroking it. You stared at his member and he was already rock hard. You hesitated, not wanting to touch him.

"Are you afraid, my sweet?"

You remained silent, refusing to dignify his question with a response.

He laughed, “There's no need to be scared. I won't hurt you. Unless you disobey me."

He moved closer, his proximity suffocating. With a swift, unwelcome touch, he reached out and stroked your cheek. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but flinch away from his caress.

"Relax, darling. This will be pleasurable for the both of us." He said as he grabbed his cock and ran it against your slit.

You felt your wetness seep onto his cock.

"STOP!" you screamed, your voice breaking the tense atmosphere, forcing him to halt his actions and look up at you.

He smiled at you. "Do you want me to stop, pet?"

You nodded frantically, desperation clouding your eyes. "Yes, I do."

"Tell me," he purred, his tone dripping with cruelty, "why should I stop?"

You scrambled for an excuse, your mind racing. "Let's do it in your place then," you stammered, your words rushed. "Please? I don't want anyone to see." Desperation clung to your voice as you pleaded, hoping against hope that he would agree to your request.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, pet. You know that won't work."

He pressed his cock against your pussy again.

You felt his tip slip inside you. "PLEASE! I'll be good, just please stop."

He smiled. "I like the sound of that."

He sighed, "Very well, little one." He swiftly pulled up his pants, adjusted his shirt, and retrieved his jacket, freeing you in the process. You winced as you flexed your arms, the restraints having taken their toll.

With a snap of a finger, he put your clothes back on, and you felt like a weight has been lifted off your chest. You couldn't believe he stopped. He looked at you. "Remember what I said, pet. You don't speak about this to anyone. I'll know if you do. Understand?"

You nodded.

"Good girl," he affirmed.

"Come," he motioned for you to follow him, and for a moment, you considered fleeing again, knowing full well that it branded you a coward. But the terror of Loki's power held you in check.

You didn't get far before he seized you once more. "Enough!" he bellowed, sending you crashing to the ground. Your body felt numb, the pain overwhelming. You begged through the agony, "Please."

"You brought this on yourself, pet," Loki's tone was icy, disappointment etched in his features. "I was going to take care of you, give everything you desired, and all I asked in return was your love and trust. And you broke it."

"Please, Loki. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

He shook his head, "No, pet. There is no going back. You have to pay the price for what you've done," he stated firmly, his grip unyielding.

Loki wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, "Sweet dreams my pet."

And then, everything faded into darkness.

When you woke up, you were on the bed, naked. The room was dark, and there was no sign of Loki. At least right now your arms and legs weren’t bounded. But still he had kidnapped you. "Fucking asshole!" You cursed inside your head.

Then you heard footsteps approaching outside, you pretended to fall asleep, hoping that he'd leave. "I know you're awake, my sweet." He chuckled, "Did you really think you could trick me, darling? You're such a naughty girl, aren't you? Tsk tsk. Such a bad girl."

You tried to fool the god of mischief, what an idiot you were. You opened your eyes and saw him staring at you. He sat down next to you and began caressing your body. He ran his hand up and down your legs.

You slapped his hand away, you hated him. How dare he touch you like that! Loki grabbed your wrist, "Don't try to stop me, little one." He threatened, his grip was tight. It hurt. "No, stop." You whimpered. You tried to struggle free, but he was too strong.

"Oh no, no, no, you're not going anywhere." He said as he pinned you down on the bed. "Are you ready to behave now, my sweet?"

You refused to respond, instead, you glared at him.

Loki shook his head and chuckled. "You are so beautiful, my sweet.”

You were getting tired of him calling you sweet and darling. "Shut up, Loki. Don’t fucking call me that, you bastard!"

He gave you a stern look. "Behave."

"Or what?" You challenged.

Loki leaned down and pressed his lips to your ear. "If you don't stop that right now, I'm going to have to punish you."

You glared up at him. "What, like you haven't already done that?"

Loki smirked, "Don't be a smartass, darling. I can make this a lot worse."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, sure."

Loki gripped your hair tightly and tugged your head back. "Are you sure you want to challenge me?"

You looked up at him defiantly. "Do your worst." You then saw him grinned, you realized you had made a big mistake.

"As you wish, little one." Loki said with a wicked grin. He got off the bed and started taking his clothes off. You knew what he was going to do, and it scared you.

He took off his shirt and threw it aside. You were confused at first, until Loki lifted his other hand and started waving it.

"What are you doing?"

"Just making sure you don't try to resist."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, I don't want you getting away." Loki smirked. He then started moving his hand up and down your body.

You squirmed and tried to push his hand away, but they felt frozen. "Let me go, you sick bastard!"

Loki gave you a wicked grin. "No, I don't think I will"

Loki forced his lips against yours, you tried to resist, but it was useless. You couldn't move. You tried to turn your head, but it was no use.

Loki forced his tongue into your mouth. He explored every inch of your mouth, tasting you. You could taste his breath. It was sweet, with a hint of mint. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you.

"Stop!" You yelled, "Please stop, Loki! I don't want to do this!

Loki ignored you. He kept kissing you, forcing his tongue down your throat. "I know you like it, darling."

You shook your head. Loki broke the kiss and smiled. "You're such a stubborn little thing, aren't you?"

"Fuck you." You spat.

“Why are you so impatient, my little pet?” Loki laughed. "Don’t worry, I’ll do it in a moment. Right now, I'm more concerned with teaching you a lesson."

You glared at him, you were so pissed off. He laughed again, “Such a pretty face, too.” He traced his finger along your jawline.

Then you watched Loki removed his pants, revealing his fully erect cock. He stroked himself slowly. You felt your body heat up. You couldn't believe it. He was making you hot.

"See something you like?" He grinned.

You blushed. You looked away. It had been awhile since you had sex with him or anyone else. You missed being fucked by him. You needed to feel his cock deep inside of you. But you knew this was wrong, you looked away from him.

"Look at me." He ordered.

You turned and looked at him. You watched as he continued to stroke his cock. "You betrayed me, Y/N." He climbed over you and straddled your hips, trapping your wrists with his hands, and pinned them above your head. "You hurt me. You have to be punished."

“You are hurting me too.”

“I don’t think so, pet. Deep down, you want this. You want me to force myself to you, you don’t think I know? I know your deepest darkest desire. The desire you try to deny. The desire for me to make you mine again. You want to be my pet again, don't you?"

He was right. You were afraid to admit it but you missed Loki. But you didn't want to admit it. You shook your head, “No! I don’t have such thing.” You knew it was a lie, deep down you wanted him to use you and force himself on you, forced you into submission, make you his again, like he had done many times before.

"Keep lying to yourself, pet. I know you more than you know yourself. Now, open your mouth and let me fuck it.”  He smirked and moved closer to you. His cock was inches away from your face. You moved your head away, but he grabbed your hair and pulled it. You winced in pain.

"Open up. Open wide and say ahh."

You refused to obey. "Don't be stubborn." You clenched your teeth together. "If you don't open your mouth, I'll fuck your throat. I'll make you gag and choke."

"You're sick."

"Maybe, but so are you, darling."

He grabbed your face, forced your mouth open. You kept them close together, "I'll fucking bite your dick off, I swear."

He was having none of it, he used his magic to make you couldn't move your jaw. Then he shoved his cock inside your mouth and forced his way in. He started to pump his hips and his cock went deep down your throat, hitting the back of your throat. He moaned, enjoying the feeling.

He pushed his cock deep into your throat, making you gag. You could feel his hard length against your tongue. His precum leaked onto your taste buds, sending shivers down your spine. He kept thrusting in and out of your mouth, deeper and deeper. Your eyes watered.

 You coughed, trying to catch your breath, but he was relentless. His hands gripped your hair tightly, his hips moved faster and harder, his cock sliding in and out of your throat.

You felt your body relax, your heart rate quickened, and your clit throbbed. You were getting turned on by this. You whimpered and felt a surge of excitement flow through your body. You couldn't believe it. You were excited at the thought of him taking you, forcing you, fucking you.

You were sick.

"This is all your fault." He said as he looked at you, enjoying the way your throat was stretched around him. "Such a good pet. Take it all, pet."

He grabbed your hair and forced his cock deeper into your mouth. You were struggling to breathe. He moaned louder as he felt his cock going deeper into your throat. He held his cock in your throat, watching you struggle to breathe. "Such a pretty face. I wonder how many people you've sucked off.”

You whimpered, feeling your body reacting to his words.

"Did you plan to suck that guy you were flirting with?" He thrusted his hips. You gagged and tears filled your eyes. "He could never make you feel this good." He moaned. His thrust became harder and deeper. You choked and gagged on his cock.

You cried, your body trembled. You were about to pass out, when he suddenly pulled his cock out and allowed you to breathe. You gasped, sucking in as much air as possible. You couldn't move, you were frozen. He then proceed to grab his cock and stroke it.

"Such a pretty sight, you are. And the view of your lips wrapped around my cock." He said, grinning. "Don't worry, my pet. I'm almost there. You're doing a great job. You're going to be rewarded for being so good for me. I'm going to give you what you want. What you need."

He grabbed your hair and slammed his cock deep again into your throat. Then his hand reached to your pussy. He put his finger in your pussy, you moaned as he touched your pussy. He smirked.  "That's a good girl, you are learning. Now, suck my cock."

You started sucking his cock. He started thrusting his cock deeper and harder into your throat. He moaned as you sucked his cock. He loved feeling your mouth on his cock.

"Mmmphh… stwop.” You tried to beg, but his cock was down your throat.

"Do not talk with your mouth full, darling. That is not polite."

You felt him tighten around your neck. His grip was firm.

"I am going to cum. Do not spit. Swallow every drop, and maybe I will reward you. But only if you're a good girl. Do you understand?"

"Mmmph." You tried to protest, but the god didn't listen. You couldn't do anything except suck his cock. Loki kept fucking your mouth until his seed spilled into your throat, you felt the warm liquid slide down your throat making you choke. Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed his seed. He pulled out and released your hands.

You coughed, and gasped for air. "Good girl. Very good girl." Loki patted your head.

You glared at him. You wanted him dead.

"Don't be like that, Y/N. You're supposed to be happy. This is what you wanted, remember? We're together again. Just like old times."

You looked away. "That was a long time ago."

Loki grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. "But it's not too late. We can have it again. We can have everything. We just have to work together."

"Work together?" You scoffed, "How can we work together? You lied to me!”

“We can talk later, my love. Right now, I need to be inside you.” He stroked his cock, he was still hard even after he came earlier. He spread your legs apart and grabbed a hold of his cock, aiming it towards your wet pussy.

"Now I'm going to fuck you so hard until you pass out. Until I cum deep inside of you and make you mine again. Then when you wake up, I'll fuck you again, and again, and again."

You felt him press his cock against your pussy, his head slid between your folds and penetrated you. "No, Loki, please, I'm sorry."

"It's too late for that."  He stroked down his hard cock even after he just came, he was hard again. He then forced himself inside of you. You screamed in agony. He was too big.

"Oh, stop your whining." Loki chuckled. "You're such a baby. It doesn't hurt that much."

His cock was big that it stretched your open, he didn’t give you time to adjust. You screamed, "You fucking asshole!"

"Watch your mouth, darling. I'm not a fan of that language." Loki slapped your pussy, it was red and swollen from his previous assault. He kept thrusting his hips, his cock pounded you over and over. Your whole body ached from him.

He was holding your waist down with one hand and pumping his hips in and out of your pussy. He continued to thrust in and out of you. He took his time and made sure he hit the spot that would make you scream and beg for more. He knew what you wanted, he knew your body and what made you tick.

You were biting your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan for him.

"Why don't you let me hear those beautiful moans, pet?" Loki purred, leaning his face in close to yours. "Don't hold back, you know you want to enjoy this."

"No..."

Loki grinned and snapped his hips hard against yours. "I know what you like, and I know you like this. It's why I keep doing this." He smiled wickedly. Loki picked up the pace. His cock hit the spot inside of you. "It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed, just let it all out."

You bit your lip and gripped his sheets, trying not to make a sound. "Darling, you're so stubborn, you're going to hurt yourself." Loki grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked on it, causing you to moan and look up at him.

"You're fucking psycho!"

Loki began pounding into you even harder. His hand gripped your throat, and you felt yourself grow weaker. fast. "Loki, please..." Your vision began to fade, and you started gasping for air.  “Stop…” Loki's fingers wrapped around your neck, he choked you.

He squeezed them together and pounding his cock into you. You screamed and he slapped your pussy again. He fucked you harder than you'd ever been fucked before. You were sobbing, begging him to stop. Tears ran down your face but he didn't slow down. He kept fucking you harder than before. Your breasts were bouncing wildly as he pounded into you.

You felt him hit a spot inside of you that caused a surge of pleasure to flow through your body.  "That's it, darling." Loki moaned, slamming his hips harder against yours. "Come on, you know you want to."

You felt your orgasm building. You tried to fight the urge, but you couldn't help yourself. He kept pounding into you, his cock rubbing against your g-spot.

"Don’t fight it. You can't resist, so just give in." Loki said thrusting harder and harder, until you were both a moaning, writhing mess. Your walls clenched around his cock, and you arched your back. You moaned loudly as he fucked you harder and faster.

You couldn't fight it anymore, you screamed in pleasure, feeling yourself reaching your peak.

"Fuck, yes! Come for me! Milk my cock, pet"

You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you. Loki didn't stop, he continued thrusting in and out of your pussy. Your body shook uncontrollably. You cried out again, screaming.

"Please, stop." You pleaded, panting.

Loki ignored you, he fucked you harder and harder, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you. "I'm going to fill you with my seed. You'll be leaking it out for days. Every time you sit down or move, you'll feel it dripping down your thighs. You'll be mine."

"Please, Loki! No! Pull out!" You begged, trying to push him off of you. But he was too strong. "Why are you doing this to me?" You cried.

"I'm not going to pull out." Loki's fingers wrapped around your neck, he choked you. "After you betrayed me, this is the least you deserve. I'm going to make you pregnant. You'll have a little monster running around. You won’t ever leave me again.”

"No! Loki, stop!" You sobbed, crying out. "I'll do anything! Please don't cum in me."

"It's too late, pet." Loki ignored your pleas, he continued thrusting hard. He rubbed your clit, "Cum with me, my sweet." He was rubbing it harder, making it hard for you to keep up with his thrusts.

You shook your head. Loki growled. "Now."

You gasped, "No! No!" You cried out, trying to pull away. You couldn't fight it anymore. You moaned loudly. Your whole body spasmed with your orgasm, your walls clenching tightly around him.

Loki groaned. You felt him got bigger inside you. He let out a long moan. "Take my cum."  He spilled his hot seed inside you. It filled you, filling you up, some of it spilling out. You could feel it filling your womb, stretching your belly. It was so warm.

He continued to fuck you through his orgasm, pushing more of his cum into you. "No! Please stop!"

Loki laughed, his cock was still hard and pushed his cock back into your pussy. "Oh, but we're not done yet. I'm not finished with you yet." He pushed himself deeper inside you. He was still coming. "This is just the beginning."

"You're fucking insane."

"Yes, I know." Loki was still pumping his cock in and out of you. "I'm going to train your body. You're going to crave me, my cock, and my cum. And every time you see me, you're going to want me to fuck you. You'll need me."

"No!" You cried.

"Yes, yes, you will. Because I'm the only one who can satisfy you." He was thrusting harder, deeper, his pace increasing.

You were afraid he might never stop. And he never did.

It had felt like hours. You lost count on how many times you had orgasmed. It was too much. The room was spinning, the pain and pleasure becoming too much. You were so sensitive, every touch sending you over the edge.

“Loki, please stop. I’m begging you.” You were exhausted, spent, and sore. You couldn’t take it anymore. But you couldn’t stop him, he was too strong and too weak. He kept fucking you over and over again until you were almost at the point of passing out. But he made sure you never did by using his magic to keep you awake.

"Look at your beautiful, stretched pussy. My seed is already filling you."

You whimpered, you could feel it. You could feel the weight of his cum inside you. He never pull out. He kept coming, and his cock kept spurting more and more. You didn’t think it was possible for anyone to have so much cum. He was fucking you again and again.

"You'll learn to love me. You'll learn to beg for me. You'll learn to come on command. You'll learn to obey me. You'll learn to pleasure me. You'll learn to worship me. Because that is how we are, my sweet."

It seemed like an eternity, but finally, he was done. He collapsed onto you, panting heavily. His cock remained buried inside your pussy, and you felt him softening inside you. Your pussy ached from the rough pounding he had given you.

"You are mine, my sweet. Now and forever." He said, giving you a possessive look.

You felt his cum slowly trickle out of you. Your belly was still swollen from the amount he had pumped into you. You had never felt so full. It was like you were a water balloon, and he had been filling you with water.

Loki kissed you deeply. You could barely fight him back, you were too weak. He smiled and ran his hand through your hair. "Now get some sleep, I'll be back to check on you later." Loki got up from the bed and walked away.

The door shut. You laid there, stunned and exhausted. You were still trying to process what had happened, but there was one thing you knew for sure. You were trapped. You were his prisoner.

He was not going to let you go. Ever.

"I hate you, Loki." You whispered.

And you knew he heard it.

E/N : I intentionally made her emotion sway back and forth, torn between desiring him yet hating his actions. They're both twisted in their own ways, perhaps that's why they complement each other.

Honestly, I'm not entirely content with how the story is going; I might rewrite or delete it later, I'm not sure. Nevertheless, thank you for reading!

Let me know if you enjoy dark fics too! I adore them and plan to write more.

[pedge-page]

Live a Little, Give a Little ... More [Part 2]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Live a Little Give a Little part 1

Summary: you've got one last stunt in you before you retire to have your baby--will your mystery Baby Daddy make a final appearance?

Warnings: Breeding kink, pregnancy, exhibition, groping, public sex, public teasing, dub con, manhandling, rape-esc situation that may be triggering, unprotected sex, creampie.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You keep waving to your camera even after it clicks off and stops recording. Leaning back in your streaming chair, you close your eyes. 

Well, you did exactly what you set out to do: gained a shit ton of views and earned a mega bonus from your subscribers, rating shooting up thanks to that little stunt you pulled a few months ago.

You peer down, drumming your fingers along the hefty bump that had grown in your belly since then. “Hope you’re a bit more responsible than me, kiddo,” you mumble, smiling softly as you stroke over with gentle fingers.

Getting pregnant was not exactly how you imagined achieving that feat.

In all honesty, the plan was never to fuck a stranger on a crowded train. You were on the pill, but STD and STIs were a thing, so the furthest you had genuinely planned with a few hand jobs and being groped by perverts. 

But the second you felt that man on you, felt his cock pulse in your legs, something else over took you. Your whole bodies shivers with excitement every time recalling that day. Trying to etch every single detail into your memory. His callused hands, the firm, broad chest and shoulders that easily could overpower you, his warm thick fingers dancing along your skin, the trace of his breath along the shell of your ear, each beautiful little grunt and groan echoing in your ear like a broken record. 

His massive fucking hung horse cock.

You’ve been fucked by big-dicked guys before. But to know how to use it so fucking well that you don’t need to be battered to a pulp just to feel it, is something that no man can compare to your handsome baby Daddy.

Slickness pools in your panties. At some point, your belly is going to be big enough that you won’t be able to touch yourself. But for now, as your hand dips into your underwear and gathers your arousal, you think about him. 

If he was here now, would he make you cum on his fingers before you could have his cock buried to the hilt in you? Tell you that you’re a naughty girl, so fertile and sweet for the taking? A cum hungry dumb slut who doesn’t know how to function without his seed filling her up at every conceivable moment. Make you watch yourself in the mirror cum like a whore from his touch as he promises to breed and brand you over and over again for the world to see. You bite your lips, feeling him hot on your skin, balls twitching with each pulse of his seed dumping safely into your waiting womb to take him.

The thoughts of the faceless, nameless man who impregnated you on a crowded train during rush hour brings you to orgasm much quicker than any toy or method you’ve tested. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, a slight grin tugging on your lips as you rub your pussy through her little quakes, desperate to feel complete again.

You come down from your high, sticky fingers tracing along your belly as you drift into your current situation, ironically brought on by your insatiable horny lust.

No, you didn’t intend to have sex with a stranger that day. And when you weighed the odds in the nano-second before he impaled you… I mean, even if you got an infection, so what, just this once? What OnlyFans streamer didn’t have a disease or two? (No, please don’t take that advice)

You got tested immediately afterwards, and thankfully everything else came back negative from your fun encounter.

It only took a few more weeks after that of peculiar symptoms to get tested for something else that, to you genuine surprise, was positive. 

The man must have super sperm to have blown past your supposedly unstoppable birth control, which hadn’t even failed you when you did that 5 creampie amateur gang bang porno last summer.  Maybe you were only an hour late in taking your dosage on time that one day, too drunk and more concerned about fingering him cum back into you, but still…

You went into shock for a solid week, not sure what to do. Sometimes even now you feel a little jolt in your tummy, and see your body changing, and it just keeps dawning on you that you’re actually about to have a whole ass child.

And you don’t know the father.

It’s both thrilling and horrifying shook up in a bottle of hormones and currently sitting on the edge of a cliff. You should scold yourself for how stupid you were, if only you actually regretted it.  Even if you’re about to be a single mother who cant explain a thing to your soon to be child about their daddy, you knew you were gonna love you baby. No doubts.

Besides, when you were more financially stable, you DID plan to have kids at some point. So what if it’s a little sooner than expected? Life is full of unexpected surprises! 

You decided after the baby is born, no more streaming. You were gonna get a more stable, (more cloth required) job and raise your precious kiddo on your own.

But a few teasing streams until then, just to milk those breeding, misogynistic, baby bump hungry men out there willing to throw money at you if you rubbed milk over your belly, would be worth those extra bucks before calling it quits altogether.

Still, it would be nice feel him just one more time…

-

Joel’s been watching your stream obsessively since that day you brazenly showed your pregnant belly to the world. He’s got notifications going off on his phone every time you upload something. 

Even with his cock in his hand, most of the time you just talk to your followers, answer their questions about your pregnancy so far, and about that day.

He sees the way your eyes glint, the corner of your lips curving into an unashamed smile as you retell details about him.

Sure, all the lonely fucks in the chat spam your inbox “that’s so hot”, “god I wish that were me,” “can I use your holes and breed you next? My bus departs in 30 mins ;)”

Honestly, who’s to say you aren’t pulling a total bluff? You’re a porn streamer; it’s your job to feed into men like his fantasies. Maybe you had fucked a dozen guys on the train that day, got pregnant from one of them, and only uploaded Joel’s session because it was the hottest? Maybe you were already pregnant, and you’re just spinning a scandalous story for your followers to hold on to? And who’s to say you don’t already have a cuck boyfriend or husband, who could have been filming or watching you two on the train that day from a different angle?

The thought of you belonging to another man, of the baby you “claim” to his being another’s makes his hand grip his cock tightly, teeth grinding down on one another while staring at your beautiful eyes and smile through the computer screen.

He drops a pool of spit on to his tip before sheathing it over with his hand, lubing his cock. You would usually end the stream with some tease:

“God, my breasts are just getting so sore,” you groan dramatically. You unbutton your blouse and reveal your naked cleavage. “Don’t even have any more bras because they’re getting so damn heavy!” You cup them and moan into the camera, relieving the ache while pinching your nipples. 

Joel licks his lips. He had gotten to know you (or the version of you on your stream) a lot more intimately thanks to discovering your blog. He spent hours studying every detail that he missed. Its one thing to have dumped his load into your exquisite pussy, but to be able to see your face, hear your unashamed moans, ogle your gorgeous breasts and body that he had been denied that day makes him yearn to have you one more time.

Your belly had grown just as quickly, drooping over your pelvis just a bit more than before. You’re not at full mast yet. He watches how you maneuver, maybe a little slower or more bulky than before. It fills him with pride, seeing how much you’re having to struggle with his child growing in you. At the very least, you can still reach to get a bulbous pink dildo in your cunt and flash the camera as you masturbate, crying out as you beg Daddy to breed you again.

Joel cups his balls with one hand while the other furiously works over his shaft. His stomach tenses, building towards his release with eyes transfixed on the way that little cunt still has enough room to fit that toy. He would know, you took him with very little prep. 

“That’s it baby, come on, Come for Daddy,” he groans.  Doesn’t care that he’s jerking off in a dark room by himself to a brightly lit screen of his baby momma that doesn’t even know him. Yet. 

You moan directly into the camera, mouth agape as you thrust the dildo in and out, hitting that sweet spot that has your eyes rolling. You spread your legs over the chair, and the skin strewn across your belly tightens as a gush of liquid squirts out of your pussy.

“Fuck Daddy, making my pussy squirt so fuckin good! M so full my cunt can’t hold all my naughty juices, too full with your cock and your cum and your baby!!”

Haggard groans rumble in his throat as his cock erupts into jets of white ribbons, shooting along the computer screen and covering your face as you smile and lick the dildo clean. He milks his sack of the last little spurts of cum before sighing and leaning back against the chair, dreaming about painting your womb white again with his next load. 

When you come down from your high, and the last of the generous tips come flowing in, you usually rub along your swollen tummy. Sometimes it’s subconscious, like you’re comforting your child, other times it’s for the show, twirling around and pushing it out to show everyone how big you’ve gotten. Your voice centers him back to reality.

“And before I forget, I have one final announcement: After our little baby is born, I will be retiring.” You smile softly, but there’s a sense of gratitude mixed with sadness. “I know! It’s been such a great journey, and I’ve never felt soooo good about something as amazing as this, and to share it all with you is more than I could have ever hoped. So as a final send off, I’m doing one last exhibition piece.”

Joel leans, ignoring the stain of his cum drying along his shirt and smudged into his laptop.

 “If you’re out there, Daddio, I want to meet you. Catch me in the same area, around the same time—and no I’m not going to tell you all exactly where on here!  If you’re there, you’ll know—and if not, I will be streaming the whole thing live this time so don’t miss out! Even if I can’t find my blessing baby daddy, I will certainly still be putting on a show for however many lucky bastards get to grope a pregnant, single slut like me!”

-

You stand along the train platform, anxiously glancing over your shoulder at the random passersby just trying to catch a commute. Some men have definitely eyed you in less than innocent ways already. It’s a cest pool of perverts today. 

You contemplate the biggest hiccup in your plan: You know the only chance you have to recognize him is from feeling his huge dick splitting you open again. Cinderella slipper style, if you will. You didn’t have a name, an address, any identifiable features—you wouldn’t even be able to recognize his face if it were right in front of you given that you never really saw more than a blurred partial reflection of it in the first place. That monster cock is the only thing that you’re betting your life on right now to find him.

But for the safety of your baby—you had 0 plans to fuck anybody today. And I mean it this time.

The wind from the train tunnels keeps riling up your frilly dress, the fabric now fitting a little more snug than it did before thanks to your baby on the way. There’s a sense of excitement mixed with disappointment steaming in your flip flops. No, you had no hope of actually finding him again. 

 But who’s to say you can’t still have a little fun, touch some dicks, get your tits squeezed and call it a successful career?

Rush hour got a bit crazy, and boy were the men just as in a hurry. You bit your lip and smiled at a man who brushed by you, his hand happily squeezing your little ass cheek through your dress. He seemed young, thin, definitely not your man, but his long fingers did feel nice, caressing your hips as he grinned to you as well. Swaying your chest in front of him, he peers over your cleavage. The two of you waited along the platform, the crowd shifting awkwardly around you waiting for the train. You twiddled your hair, angling your phone up so it could capture his hand gently caressing your lower belly. 

His eyes widen in surprise: your bump wasn’t entirely obvious under the skirt of the dress, still small enough to be concealed under baggy clothing but very obvious the moment you feel it or pull the fabric tight. You giggle as he eagerly stroked over your belly, and you can barely see the twinkle of a fantasy forming behind those eyes.

The train followed forward a little too soon, and the man got on without another glance at you. Probably his wedding ring might have had something to do with it, but no matter. You remained where you were.

When the cart rushed past again, the wind blowing your dress, you caught the eye of a group of two behind you. You winked at them, lifting your skirt scandalously to show off your bare ass and wiggle at them, before enticing them to follow you behind the stairwell. 

You propped your phone up quickly, conveniently cutting off from the neck up to disguise their faces before they too rounded the corner. One was a bit shorter, dark haired, maybe around 40s with a full beard. His hands were all wrong, not your guy, but you didn’t deter him as he stroked along your cheek and down your cleavage, pulling the fabric of the dress tight to see your swollen tits. 

The other man, tall and muscular under that tight shirt, blond and younger, pressed firmly along your back, the outline of his cock making you rub your ass along his crotch. You quickly reached behind you and stroked his stiff bulge while they pinched your nipple through your dress, held the weight of your pregnant belly and brushed their knuckles along your inner thigh. 

Their faces didn’t matter. Maybe they were your fans, maybe they were just some lucky pervs at the right place at the right time. Either of them could be your mystery man, while neither could be too. You try to brush off your disappointment with a flirty laugh, stroking both of them through their trousers as they breathed in your perfume and continued to touch your body. No, their cocks were all wrong. It didn’t feel this rigid or this plump, his tip was more bulbous than this, and the curvature is in the opposite direction.

You glanced at your camera, making sure you’re getting good angles of your pronounced body sandwiched between these two creeps. They didn’t say much, thankfully, and you didn’t care to talk. Your feed was blowing up, with them none the wiser at behind recorded.  It’s not until you peep again at the screen that you see a third man entering the frame behind you. 

The other guys shift uncomfortably at his intrusion, but you look up at lucky perv number three. You don’t bat an eye when he boldly put his hand between your thighs and slid up along your skin, thick digits grazing your wet folds. You hum contently. Oh, he’s here for the cake. You try not to go hazy, eying the cheeky bastard while being stimulated all over.

 His height was between the other two but that didn’t make him any less imposing. Broad around the shoulders with a bit of a soft tummy, but his denim shirt hugged those biceps so well. And he’s older too, much older due to the wrinkles under his brown eyes and the grays starting to take over in his curled hair and patchy beard—

Your brows furrow for a second, not enough time to process your thoughts before he’s shoving the other two men aside despite their protests and walking you back against the tiled wall, your bum resting on the metal bar there. His torso parts your legs perfectly, and you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. He only grins, something very knowing behind that look, a secret you feel left out from, and you’re about to call it all off until he rolls that massive THANG between his legs against your uncovered core.

You moan out in surprise, your head falls forward on his chest. He growls something out to the other guys, who end up scurrying away with their palms pressed on their crotches like scared dogs. 

“L-Look, mister,” you say, and fuck you should be trying to fight this harder. Especially with the jangle of his belt coming undone between you. You don’t want some stranger fucking you—again—that defeats the whole purpose of the tease! You could still shout for help, there’s plenty of other people just around the corner if he tries anything funny. And your baby, your health, your safety— “I don’t —I’m not in the mood for anything—penetrative. But I could satisfy you in other ways,” you huff, dragging your lower lip between your teeth.

He smirks again. His breath is warm, so close to your face you could almost kiss him. He feels so strong yet so soft, holding you securely against him, his hand cradling your belly while his tented cock pressed along your clit. Your hearts racing, beating wildly that you don’t doubt he can’t feel it against his own. Maybe he’s considering it, something willing yet still satisfying. You feel drunk off him despite only sampling the scent of him, not the taste quite yet.

He holds your gaze with his curved nose honing yours. Its intimate.

Familiar.

You should protest at least a little when he flips you around and bends you over. He’s got one hand protectively over your belly, making sure you don’t fall into the wall. You glance up, and the sight of your body positioned perfectly centered at your camera. Fuck—he knew where the camera was? Was he a fan watching your stream before he came over? Your shocked expression fills the screen as his torso and hips press against your ass, yellow dress flipped over your hips for his private view.

Your mind is reeling, unaware of the thick slap of his length against your folds—that jolts your attention. You know that cock…

He thrusts in all at once.  No voice escapes your parted lips to convey the cross eyed, fantastic, unbelievable, one in a million stretch that you had been missing for months, now filling you up to the brim and suffocating every available micro meter inside of you, and making you whole again. The same stretch, the one that’s making you cum on his cock right now, flooding your senes as arousal electrifies every nerve in your body.

The man behind you only chuckles, still getting the perfect view of your gaping mouth and furled brows reflected on the phone scream. he hisses lowly between his teeth as you continue to clench around his cock with your sweet wet little cunt. It’s like scanning a membership, and your body finally recognizes the owner of the shop. You pant harshly into the bar, walls convulsing over his thick length buried deep to your occupied womb.

The man that had placated your mind, your pussy and womb for the last 6 months, the man who left the best gift you’d ever received, the man right here in the flesh, that you had almost considered a dream were it not for the growing swell of his child in your womb occupying your delirium…

He leans over you, just enough so that only his lips are visible at the top of the screen, his voice ghosting along your ear: “Hi babygirl. Missed you. Looks like you have a little surprise for Daddy.” You feel his bear palms caress your swollen tummy.

Your lips curl into a delirious smile, lashes fluttering in blissful patterns of love as your entire being welcomes this man into the home he’s already carved out of you.

Even your baby nestled small in your womb wiggles excitedly at the recognition of her Daddy.

Neither of you look away from another as he begins thrusting into you, rocking your body back and forth along his member like the toy you’re so good at being.

He was amazing—no, better than before if it’s possible. Impossibly hard, long, thick and throbbing, all shoved up your pussy with desperate ruts, impaling your soaking pussy over and over again. You had to remind yourself, still lost like a love sick puppy in his eyes, that you were still in public, being fucked raw, pregnant, behind the stairwell of a crowded train station during rush hour. Nosy chatter echoed through the tunnel as the two of you humped against one another, partially clothed minus your genitals connected in a haze of passionate fucking. The phone in front of you is only forgotten, and you can only imagine the comments and tips blowing up at the fact that you’d actually found him.

Despite the openness, the vulnerability of your position, it feels far more intimate, just the two of you fucking to your hearts content. You’ll wonder later about the wondering eyes from trains beginning to enter the station and seeing the two of you in the blurred windows , but right now, you’d be ready to take his second bastard child right this second. 

Your handsome hero reaches past you and turns the recording off, flipping the phone down. If he’s going to have you again, really have you, it would be his own little private show. No camera. No show. He abruptly pulls out before spinning you around and nestling himself between your thighs again, his cock aligning to your entrance before sliding right back in. Right where he belongs.

“Oooooh shiiiit. Shit Momma, you’re so good at taking it,” he rasps into your neck. He presses a wet kiss along your throat, each thrust pushing you back but he holds you close and sucks you right into his grasp again. Your open lips hover over one another as he sets his pace again, his tip now kissing your cervix with each kiss of your pregnant belly to his naval.

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” He growls with an edge of desperation. “Tell me it’s mine.” Beads of sweat begin to form along the creases of his forehead, but he didn’t once consider slowing his pace. With the pay your ass jiggles at each slap of skin.

“It’s yours,” you cry. There’s no doubt. your heart screams with joy just as the knot in your stomach snaps. he grips your mouth with his strong hand as your head rolls in ecstasy, wailing out into his flesh with unfiltered moans.

Harsh breaths are forced out of his nose, his lips switching between a snarl and a grin as he nears his end. 

“Inside,” you hum into his ear.

He wasn’t planning on putting it anywhere else. With one final heave, he lifts you off the rail briefly, your weight balncing under his arms and your tiptoes on the ground as he bursts inside of you, painting your walls with his hot cream.

You both breathe in the polluted air. Distant echoes of the rafters rattling in the darkened caves ahead while footsteps rustle down the metal stairs behind the two of you. The breeze of the caverned tunnels cools the sweat along both your bodies. He hasn’t let go, still glued to you, holding you close as if you’d slip away.

You sit upright in his lap, trying to catch your breath. You survey one another, pupils blown wide yet calming. The two of you just giggle as your pants slowly sync together. His rough yet gentle fingertips stroke your cheek before brushing away the strands of messy hair that had covered your beautiful face, and for the first time, he can really get a full look at you in person.

“I’m Joel,” he says sweetly. He brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a gentle and long kiss, never once breaking eye contact with you.

You shake your head and laugh, offering your name to him as well.

Although, at this point, with his cock still impaled deep inside, his baby growing in your womb— its safe to say the two of you are well past such a redundant formality.

-----

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[steveshairychest]

At exactly 9pm every night, Steve's upstairs neighbour plays his guitar just as Steve is falling asleep. It wouldn't bother Steve if it was a sweet acoustic guitar, he's sure that sound would lull him to sleep, but it's not. It's an electric guitar that screams into the night for at least 3 hours. Sure, whoever it is, is really fucking good but he's causing Steve to lose sleep and it's been going on for weeks now.

It's the night before his big medical exam that Steve decides enough is enough. He needs some fucking sleep. He doesn't even bother putting a shirt on or changing out of his pyjama pants because he really wants the 40 year old man that no doubt lives above him to know just how sleep deprived he is. Steve thinks about knocking politely but decides to bang his fist on the door instead.

Instead of the bearded old retired rock star Steve was expecting to answer the door, a young dude with crazy curls and pouty lips pulls open the door. He's also wearing pyjamas, so Steve doesn't feel too out of place.

The way the guy openly looks Steve up and down causes him to shuffle awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Can I help you?" He drawls and leans against his door frame. Steve eyes are drawn to the tattoos that cover his arms and legs, and it takes the guy clearing his throat for Steve to remember he came here with a mission, not to oggle his apparently hot upstairs neighbour.

Steve folds his arms across his bare chest, trying to hide himself from the guys burning stare. "Uh, yeah, your guitar is really loud, like crazy loud. You play it at the exact time I go to bed every night. Could you maybe turn it down? I live directly below you." He awkwardly points at the floor and shrugs.

The guy, to Steve's shock, seems genuinely sorry when he pushes off the door frame with a soft frown pulling at his lips. "Shit, really? I'm so sorry, man. I'm used to the noise, so I kind of forget how loud it really is." He pulls a piece of hair in front of his face and then quickly drops it, a look of disbelief taking over his face. "I've been working on this song for weeks! Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

An embarrassed flush creeps onto Steve's cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck. "I thought you were going to be some scary old metalhead, so I kept chickening out." Steve realises how ridiculous that sounds. He should have just come up the first night it happened.

He laughs, and Steve is mesmerised by the way the laugh causes his whole face to light up and his nose to scrunch. He looks so different, so soft. He leans against the door frame again and gestures to himself. "I'm a metalhead. Are you saying I'm not scary?"

Steve snorts. "Your garfield pyjamas are absolutely terrifying."

He glances down at his pants and t-shirt and curses softly under his breath. "I forgot to put my scary pyjamas on."

Steve's face hurts from smiling so much. This isn't how he expected this encounter to go and he's so glad Robin called him and gave him the courage to actually do it. He would never have met the sweet metalhead upstairs if it wasn't for his best friend bribing him with free food in the morning.

Shit, he's got an exam in the morning.

"I've got an exam tomorrow, so I've gotta go. Thanks for being so understanding and not super scary." Steve gives him his best smile and turns to leave, but a hand shoots out to gently stop him. His hand is cold and rough and it takes every ounce of self-restraint not to shiver as he turns back around. "Yes?"

"Would you maybe, uh, like to come to my gig on Saturday? I'm going to play the song that's been keeping you up for the first time." He chews nervously on his bottom lip and hovers in his own doorway, almost like he'll slam the door if Steve reacts negatively to the offer. He grabs something from a small table just inside his door and holds it out to Steve; it's a flyer. "We play at 8."

Steve takes the flyer from his slightly shaky hands and briefly skims it, pretends to think about his answer even though he's already mentally deciding an outfit for the show. "I think I can make it. You have to buy me a drink to make up for all the nights you've kept me awake."

He beams and nods enthusiastically, his hair bouncing. "Yeah, yeah, of course! I'll see you on Saturday then. Oh, I'm Eddie, by the way."

"Steve." They shake hands briefly; the size of Eddie's hands causes Steve's brain to short circuit. This whole interaction has been so surreal. Was Satuday a date? A hangout? Who knows? He's just excited that he'll get to see Eddie again.

"I'll see you on Saturday." Steve says with a shy smile before waving and heading back towards the stairs down to his floor.

"Night, Steve." Eddie calls out.

"Night, Eddie."

For the first time in weeks, the apartment above him is silent when he crawls into bed, but instead of falling asleep like he planned, Steve lies awake trying to figure out what on earth he is going to wear to a metal gig 5 days away.

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART 8.5 (JOEL'S POV)

previous chapters | so after the last chapter there were SO many people who really wanted to understand joel's actions, and i thought instead of him simply explaining to reader what happened, why don't i just write a chapter entirely from his point of view instead? hopefully this answers some questions, enjoy! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: you're not the only one who has a busy weekend ahead of them. one text changes the trajectory of joel's relationship with you - for better or worse. (this is essentially chapter seven and eight from joel's pov) rating: 18+ explicit warnings for this chapter: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, discussions of child abandonment, mental health & cheating, alcohol, allusions to past sexual encounters between joel and his ex, brief flashbacks to smut from previous chapters word count: 13k ao3

He thinks about you so much more often than he should.

Your soft skin, your smile, your eyes, your hair, your little giggles, your shy and breathless whimpers.... your body, pliant and sweet beneath his touch, open and willing and waiting.

You're so perfect. You're so young.

He's never been with someone so much younger than him before. He's not sure you realize that. But that day on his doorstep when you'd wandered down the sidewalk looking like a bit of a lost puppy, that little frown line prominent between your eyebrows that he's come to adore, something clicked. You brought out a side of him he'd long since buried; he knew he had to have you. He just knew. Could feel it in the pit of his stomach when those gorgeous eyes had come to rest on him. Wide and innocent and sad. Something he saw there that made him pause.

He'd have had you that day if you'd let him, a fact that he's still grappling with. Long gone are the days where he'd meet a woman and take her home within a twenty four hour span - long gone are the days where he's so much as been interested in a woman he didn't know well enough, someone safe and secure and familiar. But he hoped you'd be back, almost knew you would, could see it in the way you shivered under his gaze, the way your eyes lingered on his face, on his fingers. He hadn't felt like being charming in a long time; he'd genuinely surprised himself with the flirtatious comments, the sly smiles, double meanings. But he couldn't help himself.

He'd wanted you so bad. The moment you'd disappeared down the street he'd gotten in the shower and fucked his fist for only a few minutes before coming all over the tiled wall at the very thought of you. He didn't even know your name but had already memorized the curves of your body, the shape of your lips, the smell of your skin when he'd gotten close enough. He'd practically limped back to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed in a heap, staring up at the ceiling with nothing but shock and confusion. Where the fuck had that come from?

He's such a dirty old man.

Old being the operative word. He turns fifty seven in a few months and the thought makes him feel physically ill. It's not that he necessarily hates the thought of getting older, of being one step closer to knocking on death's door, but more-so the fact that he's almost fifty seven and has almost nothing to show for it. His life is a mess, has been a mess for as long as he can remember.

But now... you.

You... full of life and eagerness and kindness. A soft and gentle angel in his bed, on his couch, in his kitchen. So shy and quiet, telling him what you think about, what you worry about. Letting him whisper the filthiest things in your ear while you whimper and moan, letting him touch you the way you deserve to be touched, the way you've never been touched before.

You bring something out in him he can't explain. He'd invited you inside that first day looking for a quick fuck and he admits it was a moment of weakness, the whole thing. He knows Sarah and Mish would kill him for even considering treating you that way, like an object, something to be conquered. The past version of himself who briefly felt that way about you makes him angry now.

Because now he really wants you. Not just a fuck - he wants you. He thinks about you all the fucking time and it scares the shit out of him. What started as something dirty and frivolous quickly turned into something tender and sweet the moment you told him you were a virgin, and he doesn't know how to handle it. You're so fucking lovely but so fucking sad and unsure, full of apprehension, regrets, insecurities, things he sees in himself. You remind him so much of himself at that age and he just wants to take care of you, be the person for you that he didn't have.

But you're so fucking young.

He tries to push the feelings down. He's purposely distant to you, especially during the week. You send him sweet little messages, tell him about your day, ask him about his. He stares at them for so long without answering them, and when he does answer his replies are short and vague. Because how can he say what he really wants to say? I think about you so much, angel. I want you to be mine. I don't want you to chase after any college boys or have any college boys chasin' after you. I wanna be your first and I wanna be your only.

How can he put you in that position? You're having fun, you're learning things, but there's absolutely no way you see any sort of future with him. The fact that he can already see one with you is the biggest red flag in itself - what the fuck is wrong with him?

But you're just so fucking sweet. So lovely. So gorgeous. He wants you in his bed and he wants you to stay there. He knows he'll be the first person to ever fuck you and that thought is enough to keep him going, yet he can't help but want more. But it's so selfish - you're young and bright-eyed and pretty and perfect, the promise of an incredible future ahead of you. And he's just... him.

He's old. He's grumpy. He's washed up. Became a father in high school. Got married. Got divorced. Has had more failed relationships than successful ones. Has been working the same job since he was twenty years old, a job he fucking hates. Loathes it with his entire being. Still doing the same work for the majority of his life with almost no breaks, no stops. He knows he should retire, should have done it years ago, but he's afraid.

He's always been fucking terrified of change. Earlier this year he'd moved into a new neighborhood. He'd gotten sick of the house he'd once shared with Mish, then Mish and Sarah, then just Sarah - the one she'd lived in sporadically 'til she was twenty six and finally felt financially stable enough to go out on her own. He'd stayed there about ten more years out of convenience, had another failed relationship with a woman who deserved far better than what he could give her, then finally pulled the plug and got something new for himself a few hours away, hoping it'd change his perspective. He'd picked a place with privacy, good acoustics, thought maybe he'd play his guitar more - focus on his music and slowly phase himself out of the contracting business.

But months later, he's still working it. The thought of being unemployed after working this hard his entire life, just ending up sad and alone in this new house, still not even properly furnished or decorated, makes him want to throw up. What the fuck would he do with all that free time? He's always wondered exactly how he'd spend it, how life could be enjoyable without the structure of his livelihood, but then he shakes it off and just keeps going because he knows the alternative has to be worse. But now... you.

You - who if you truly knew what a fucking failure he is, the boring bag of bones he pretends he's not when he's with you - would leave his bed and never come back.

You - who if you found out about his ex wife, his daughter, both of whom live adventurous and exciting lives while he's done nothing but stay still in the comforts of familiarity - would probably find him beyond pathetic.

You - who can do so much better.

He just knows that it can't last.

--

He gets the text from Sarah on Wednesday morning:

Hey Dad!! Me and Mom are doing our annual road trip, thought we'd stop down there for a bit and have a look at your new house!!

He tries not to notice the excitement of seeing his daughter being slightly dulled by the promise of being accompanied by her mother. In a way it makes him sad, because he loves Mish, has loved her since he was seventeen years old. He cares deeply about her and has always wanted nothing but the best for her, has always enjoyed her visits in the past - for more than one reason. But now...

No. He has to shake the thought away before he freaks himself out.

Kiddo!!!! That's exciting, when were you thinkin?

We'll be there by Friday afternoon!! Sorry for the short notice but we weren't sure if it'd be possible til today. We're actually trying to stick to a schedule this time believe it or not.

That's ok, you know it doesn't matter to me. Wanna see you any time. Miss you a lot.

Aw Dad I miss you too, I can't wait to see you!!! We'll text when we're getting close. Gonna check into a motel that night and we'll be leaving again the next morning, gotta stay on track.

He almost offers his guest room. Almost. But then thinks better of it.

Sounds good kiddo, see you then :)

Mish texts him later that afternoon. He'd been expecting it, knew she would want to double check that the visit was alright, but her name popping up in his notifications sends a jab of anxiety to the pit of his stomach. It's one thing for Sarah to visit on her own, but both of them together always adds a... different layer to the situation. A layer that needs addressing. A layer that he'd usually have more than a little excitement for, some anticipation - but not this time.

Sarah's got me roadtrippin again

She loves to make you suffer.

Don't I know it

He can't help but chuckle to himself, but his smile fades quickly as soon as the next message comes in:

Gonna be stopping by on Friday. You good for our usual?

He stalls.

Thought you were still with Elvis.

ALVIN. And no that's over

Sorry about that.

Like hell you are

He purposely doesn't answer her question, and she doesn't send anything else. The anxiety doesn't go away though - it spreads throughout his body until he's an absolute mess, shaky hands and ringing ears at the job site as he tries to stay focused, but ultimately fails to. His crew flits here and there around him without much direction and they end up going overtime, leading to an angry call from the boss, a call that leaves his hands clenched into fists by the time he gets to the bar with the crew. Fuck. This. Job.

He drinks too much, tries to calm himself, keep his thoughts steady. He pretends he doesn't know why he's feeling like this, pushes down all the reasons he wishes Sarah was traveling by herself this time. But deep down, he knows.

He gets a ride home with one of his buddies, limbs aching in a way that they haven't for a while. He always has days like this, days where the physical labor catches up to his aging body and reminds him that he really shouldn't be doing this job anymore, but somehow it's worse this time; the mental load from Mish's texts are giving him a discomfort he can't really describe.

He remembers only as he crosses the threshold that he promised he'd call you. Shit.

He does, but he can't remember much of what he said the next morning, only that he vented a bit. He hopes with every bone in his body that he didn't mention Mish, that his complaints focused solely on work.

Your texts that afternoon from the church bathroom prove this to be the case, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you agree to come see him that night. He knows he'll feel calm in your company, that the anxiety will ebb away in your presence.

He tries not to think about the implications of that.

God, he's fucked.

--

You had a horrible day.

You show up on his doorstep with tears shining in your eyes and that soft little line furrowed deep between your brows, the line he adores, wants to smooth with his thumb. He pulls you in close and breathes you in and finds that the anxiety, the worry, the uncertainty, all of it disappears in your embrace. You tell him you don't want to do anything, just want to be with him.

You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that to him.

He lays you in his bed and holds you for a while, listens as you tell him about what happened, confide in him. You tell him more about your upbringing and your family, your school years and friends, the pressure and scrutiny you've felt suffocated by your whole life. And god if you're not describing him. You have no idea how fucking similar the two of you are, how much he wants to wrap you up and protect you from the world and from all the people who threaten to dull the light in your eyes. Don't become like me, he wants to whisper, you deserve so much better.

He could listen to you talk for hours. That soft voice lulls him into a state of nirvana he's never experienced, body practically going numb with how in tune it is with your words, like he's become some kind of plant absorbing all your emotions, thoughts, feelings, as you bare yourself to him. You're so lovely. Please never stop talking.

It all culminates in the removal of your crucifix. He barely even thinks about it, just knows exactly what he has to do to calm you, to make you feel better, to steal back some of those worries from you and lock them away for a little bit where they can't hurt you. It's the least he can do. He wants to do it.

It's a gesture he doesn't fully realize the importance of, the magnitude - not yet, anyway.

He backtracks while you shower. It's just sex. This is not going any further than you showing her how it's done, preparing her for the real world, for the future men who actually stand a chance with her. The thought makes him dig his nails deep into his duvet as he settles under the sheets and takes a deep breath. She's not yours. She doesn't want you the way she thinks she does. She doesn't know the real you.

He can't help but picture you in his shower, standing naked under the hot water, in the exact spot he's gotten himself off to your very image. His dick twitches in his pajama pants and he has to adjust himself, cursing softly at his dirty thoughts and reminding himself that nothing is happening tonight, that you don't want to. He's not even disappointed, doesn't care that the sexting from earlier isn't coming to fruition tonight; just laying with you is enough for him. And he hates himself because he knows exactly what that means.

His phone vibrates while he's waiting and he picks it up from the nightstand - a text from Sarah:

Gettin closer! We should be there tomorrow, probably late afternoon. Do you work Fridays?

Yep, he wants to say, Monday to Friday, every week of my entire life since before you were born, but of course he doesn't. Would never.

I do but I'll be back around 5:30 or so. I'll give you a call when I'm home.

Sounds good!!!

Also:

An image comes in and he taps it, squinting his eyes to figure out exactly what he's looking at. He can make out Sarah and Mish sitting atop some statue of a bull they must have encountered outside a gas station. Sarah's arm is thrown back as she poses with her signature killer smile, while Mish grips the bullhorns and sticks her tongue out, braids peeking out from under a cowboy hat. There's something about it that's familiar, something he can't quite place as his eyes strain without the aid of his glasses - the ones he never wears. He pushes his phone away from his eyes, brings it back and hopes to bring the image into focus a little bit.

Oh. It's his hat.

And fuck, if he doesn't know how that makes him feel.

"You need glasses," he hears you say softly, and he looks up from the image of his daughter and ex wife to see you standing at the edge of the bed, clad in nothing but a towel.

He locks his phone and hopes you weren't standing there too long.

--

He doesn't know how to tell you that he won't be able to see you tonight.

He spends the morning in complete and utter bliss, waking up to your bashful request to give him a blowjob. You're so fucking sweet, even when asking for something so filthy. Your mouth is soft and warm around his cock and he feels like he's died and gone to heaven, wants desperately to spill inside and watch you swallow but knows it's not the right time, not yet.

He wonders what your face would look like covered in his come.

Dirty. Old. Man.

You burn his breakfast and furiously apologize, cursing under your breath as you soak the freshly burnt pan under the faucet and frown at your failure. But he doesn't view it as a failure; for him it's just another thing to add to the mental list of reasons he thinks you're adorable.

You ride his thigh. He makes you come, the most beautiful little sounds escaping your lips as you ride it out. He loves how that little worry line between your brows always returns when he's making you feel good, like he really is taking some of that worry away and replacing it with pleasure. He only wants to see that line when he's making you come. He never wants to see you sad again like you'd been last night, just wants to hold you in his arms and protect you from the world.

But then it's time to go and he still hasn't told you about tonight. He does not want to lie to you. He refuses to. But what else can he say? Just that he'll be out late? What if you ask him why? And god, it's not like he's gonna do anything. He's not gonna entertain Mish's offer, not this time. He shouldn't. He won't.

You save him the trouble. Your friend from college is visiting, a girl named Tasha - she's taking you out for the first time ever. He supposes that makes things much easier; no explaining or giving excuses, no revealing things he's not ready to reveal. He dodged a bullet.

Right?

So why does he still feel like such a prick?

--

He gets home from work and calls Sarah, just like he said he would. He only has a short window of time to do a bit of sprucing - fluff the couch pillows a bit, do a quick wipe down of the bathroom - before the doorbell is ringing and he's jogging to the door with excitement coursing through his veins. The anxiety has dulled at the mere promise of seeing his daughter on the other side of that door.

"DAD!" she squeals excitedly as he thrusts it open, and he's immediately enveloped in the warmth of Sarah's embrace, sweet and familiar.

"Kiddo," he breathes into her hair, feeling tears prick in his eyes like they always do, "Missed ya."

"Missed you too," she says into his shoulder, muffled and quiet, "So much, Dad, you have no idea."

They have their moment together, eyes closed as they sway on the spot and smile tearfully - it's been almost a year since her last visit. It didn't used to feel as palpable, those long periods of time between seeing each other, but as he's gotten older he finds that he misses her a lot; his little pal, not so little anymore. Thirty eight now, a full blown woman with a loving husband and a freshly solid career as an author, the life he always wanted for her.

"How're things?" he asks softly, "You doin' okay? Need any money?"

She laughs, "Things are good. I'm good, I promise."

"How's Jude, he good?"

"He's great, and the book's been doin' really well."

"I'm so happy to hear that, kiddo, really. Happy for both of you."

"Thanks, Dad," she murmurs, sniffling a little bit, "Couldn't have done it without you, hope you know that."

And then she's pulling away, wiping the tears from her eyes and waving to the purple convertible behind her, gesturing for Mish to get out of the car.

Here we go.

She steps out and god, she's gorgeous. Age has done nothing but enhance her beauty. She's never not been the most stunning woman in a room, soft skin a glowing deep umber, supple long legs and playful smile and those dark brown - almost black - eyes that practically sparkle when she looks at him. Like the way she's looking at him now... fuck.

"Hey," she says with a sly grin, shutting the car door behind her and making her way up the front steps.

"Hey," he echoes back, "How was the drive?"

"Long," she groans, reaching him and going in for a hug. It's nowhere near as long or as intimate as Sarah's, but the feeling of her body against his feels just as familiar and comforting. It's so easy to fall back into their rhythm. Too easy. "You been good?" she asks as they part.

He nods quickly, "Yeah, you?"

"Can't complain," she replies with a smile.

"Oh please," Sarah scoffs beside her, "All you've done is complain," she looks to Joel with a grimace, "Alvin's out of the picture."

"Sarah," Mish admonishes quickly, brows narrowing.

"Yeah, I heard somethin' about that," he says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "Uh - that's too bad, Mish. He was, um... he was a good guy."

"No, he wasn't," she sighs, rolling her eyes and giving Sarah another look, "But that's a conversation for another time, right?"

Sarah puts her hands up in defense, "Sorry, sorry, my bad. We've been in the car too fuckin' long," she peeks past him with a curious expression on her face, "Can we come in? I wanna see your new house."

He shows them around, though there's not much to see, something which Mish points out almost immediately.

"Where's the character?" she asks, raising an eyebrow as she assesses the living room, "Like where's your stuff, Joel?"

"There's not even pictures of us anywhere," Sarah adds with a frown, scanning one of the bookshelves, "It's like we don't even exist."

He grimaces, hands on his hips, "I know, I'm sorry. I still have a few boxes up in the guest room but," he sighs, "You know me, I hate gettin' emotional over shit from the past. And half those boxes got your old school stuff, and-"

"Your Dad's a sentimental guy," Mish interjects with a soft smile, giving him those eyes again, "It's okay, we'll unpack 'em for you."

He scoffs, "We ain't got time for that, Mish."

"I always have time to be sentimental," her smile grows wider and she throws him a wink - his heart stutters.

"Well I always have time for a movie marathon," Sarah suddenly says, turning from the shelves with an array of DVDs in her hands, "Whaddaya say, Dad? Curtis and Viper? After the bar?"

He cocks an eyebrow, "The bar?"

"Oh? Didn't you hear? We're takin' you out, cowboy," Mish says with a smirk, "Or - I guess you're takin' us out. Whatever, either way we're goin' for dinner and drinks like the well adjusted wholesome family we are."

"And then we're gonna eat too much junk food and pass out on the couch like the good old days," Sarah adds, tossing the DVDs onto the coffee table, "Miller family fun."

"And do I get any say in this?"

They both turn to him at the same time with almost the same expression on their faces, and he knows he's already lost.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

--

They have dinner at their favorite chain, practically inhale their burgers and fries as Sarah and Mish catch Joel up on the trip so far, where they've been, what they've seen. He's grateful that the conversation is still on them by the time they get the check and start heading to the bar; he really doesn't want to answer any questions about himself tonight unless he has to.

The bar is louder than usual, much more packed than he's ever seen it. He grumbles this to Sarah and Mish but they just roll their eyes and order their drinks, cozying up together on their barstools and laughing hysterically over things that certainly aren't that funny. They're exhausted from their road trip and he can tell, tries to urge them to head back to the house after about fifteen minutes of being at the bar, but they resist.

"I like this place better than your old joint," Mish calls to him over the chatter, "Smells better too."

"Am I supposed to say thank you?" he calls back with a grin, and she just rolls her eyes and orders him another whiskey.

They don't stay too long, just enough for the girls to get their fill and toss back a few beers, continuing to tell Joel about their trip. Sarah scrolls through the pictures on her phone and shows him the tourist traps, the stops they've made here and there, the food they've eaten. Mish chimes in every so often to add her own anecdotes, bouncing off Sarah's stories naturally like she always has.

He loves how easy it feels to be with them, how comfortable, how safe. He's missed them so much. He wishes things could just stay like this for the rest of the night, simple and light, but every so often he catches Mish looking at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes searching his for something in particular, and he remembers there's still something they haven't addressed.

"Oh my god, Mom," Sarah suddenly says with wide eyes, pointing toward the front of the bar, "Do you see that girl's hat?"

"Where?"

"Those girls over there, look at that purple cowboy hat. Fuuuck, we should be wearing ours!"

Joel rolls his eyes, not bothering to look in the direction Sarah's pointing to and instead focusing on his whiskey, trying to think of ways he can get them out of this bar. Curtis & Viper is suddenly calling his name.

"They're still in the car if you wanna grab 'em," Mish says with a laugh, tossing Sarah the keys, "If you can walk straight."

"Oh please, I've had one beer. We're not all lightweights in this family, ya know," she presses a kiss to her mother's cheek before sliding past to head back to the front of the bar.

"Well, now that we have a moment alone..." she leans forward a bit on her elbow, hand cupping her chin as she tilts her head, "You didn't answer my question the other day, cowboy."

Here it is, the conversation he's been dreading, the one thing he's been putting off talking about the most. And why has he been dreading it? Why has he been filled with so much discomfort and anxiety at the thought of telling Mish that even though he's technically single, he can't be with her this time? It's not like she'd be angry with him, like she'd misunderstand or throw a fit over it. So why can't he just say it?

He knows why. It's because he doesn't want to tell Mish about you. It's because the second he says no, she'll see right through him; she'll know. She'll know immediately that there's somebody else, and she'll clock his feelings - the feelings he's been forcing himself to bury - and then he'll have to confront them, what they really mean.

And as usual, he's terrified.

He plays dumb, "What question?"

She inches the stool forward with a smirk, eyeing him pointedly as he feels her bare leg touch his jeans, slowly drifting up and down along his calf. Fuck. She tilts her head, eyes falling to his lips and then going back up to meet his gaze.

"Playin' coy, are we?" she asks softly, "Need me to say it out loud, huh?"

He feels goosebumps rise all over his arms at the sound of her voice like that, low and sultry; it's the voice she reserves just for these private moments together, fully aware of the effect she has over him.

"You gonna fuck me, cowboy?" she continues, eyes falling to his lips again, "Huh? You been missin' me in your bed?"

Fuck.

He doesn't say anything, just watches as her face moves a little closer to his, the hint of his favorite sly smile puling at the corner of her mouth. She assesses him quietly, gaze raking over his features.

"You're shy tonight, aren't you?" she says, fluttering her lashes, "You need me to take care of you, baby boy? You need your mommy?"

Only Mish could get away with saying something like that to him. He can't help but let a grin cross his own face as he shakes his head at the words, feeling his cheeks flush. He's still unsure what to say, what to think, how to feel. Under any other circumstance they would already be fucking in a bathroom stall at this point, and in a few seconds she's gonna realize that and wonder why the fuck he won't give in.

She kisses him then. Softly.

And it's right. It's so fucking right in all the ways it's always been. Her mouth is warm, lips plump and wet and sweet against his, capturing his bottom lip between hers in that seductive fashion she's oh so good at. Without any thought, as if on instinct, his hand comes up to cup her face, holding her there for a moment as he breathes her in. He realizes how easy it would be to just fall back into this rhythm, this old habit they've been indulging themselves in for years. It just feels so right.

But it's also so fucking wrong.

It's wrong. It's so wrong. This is not the mouth he wants to be kissing. For years, he's always found comfort and safety in Mish's kiss, never once felt like what they were doing was incorrect or some kind of mistake. But now it's like every fiber of his being is telling him to stop. To pull away. To end this as soon as possible.

So he does.

He takes a deep breath as they separate, pulls back from her on his stool a bit and takes another sip of whiskey. No, this can't happen. It's not going to happen. But he's gonna have to tell her that, otherwise she'll take the next step and he's not sure he'll be able to reign it in after that. The thought of her naked body underneath him in his bed is admittedly a tantalizing offer, the thought of being inside her again after so many years apart...

But she won't be the first naked woman in that bed. In that house. Someone else has already staked their claim, regardless of whether what he shares with you is real or not. And that thought is what pulls him out of it.

"Sarah's right," he says with a smile, "You are a lightweight."

She cocks her brow, "You think I'm drunk?"

He chuckles and takes another sip, "I think you're only here for one night and we should be spendin' that one night with our daughter."

She doesn't say anything for a second, just watches him thoughtfully until he finally meets her gaze again.

"Joel Miller, are you gettin' laid?"

He almost chokes on his whiskey, unable to stop himself from snorting as he shakes his head and peers at her with that fond look he's always given her, the one that lets her know that despite everything, he fucking adores her. She leans a bit closer, tilting her head a bit more with intrigue.

"Seriously, you seein' anyone?" she seems genuinely interested, eyes alight with curiosity, "You got someone new?"

Before he can say anything - before he even really knows what to say - Sarah has reappeared at the bar, hats in hand. He looks down at them and raises an eyebrow as Mish grabs hers, or rather his, the ratty old brown one he used to wear sometimes in the eighties. She grins and winks as if to say yeah, I stole it, so what?

"Okay well, purple cowboy hat girl is currently holding her friend's hair while she throws up on the sidewalk," Sarah sighs, placing her own atop her head.

Joel and Mish groan simultaneously, "Been there," they both say at the same time, catching each other's eye before Joel turns his attention back to his drink, almost gone now. She doesn't ask him anything else, but he knows this conversation is far from over.

--

Sarah drops them off at his place, promising to be back in a bit with the much anticipated junk food - no point in them all going together. Joel almost tells her not to go, his heart in his throat as he and Mish climb out of the car. He can't believe how desperate he suddenly is to not be alone with her. But he can't bring himself to say anything.

Coward.

She walks into the house first, almost like she's leading him into the lion's den. There's no escaping her questions now, no more running away from the inevitable. He has to tell her before it's too late. The front door closes behind them and they stand frozen for a moment, not speaking, not even really looking at each other. He could cut the tension with a knife.

"So how 'bout showin' me those boxes?" she finally asks, turning to give him a smile.

They make their way up the stairs to the guest room, Joel's anxiety reaching new levels when they pass by his bedroom. He not so subtly grabs the knob and pulls the door closed, tries to pretend he doesn't notice Mish eyeing him as he does it.

The guest room is still pretty bare bones, only a bed and dresser occupying the space, along with about half a dozen cardboard boxes. He's been meaning to do it up for when Sarah comes to stay, do some decorating, but he's never been good at that kind of stuff - Mish and Sarah were always the creative ones.

They crouch on the floor together and Joel watches as Mish pops open the first box, digging her hand inside and immediately coming out with a framed photo of Sarah's kindergarten graduation.

"Aw, look," she murmurs, thumbing the glass lightly and turning it toward him, "Little bean."

"She was so excited you came," he says with a smile, "It was all she talked about for months."

Mish smiles back sadly, eyeing the photograph one more time before placing it on the floor. She reaches in again and comes out with another framed photo, this one of an even younger Sarah being pushed on a swing by Joel. She's probably almost two, chubby legs poking out through the holes of the swing as she giggles in wonder, Joel standing behind, squinting against the sun.

"I've always loved this one," she says quietly, showing it to him, "Always wanted a copy to keep."

"We can make that happen," he takes it from her and looks down at it himself, feeling a mixture of emotions flutter in his heart at his much younger self - freshly twenty - pushing his little girl. He'd been on his own for a while at that point; he can see the tiredness in his expression, the loneliness.

"Still mad I missed all that," she murmurs, sitting back on her heels and sighing deeply, "Hate myself so much sometimes."

He's not sure what to say, just puts the picture back down and reaches in for another one - Sarah's high school graduation this time. It's a backyard photo, one taken at the barbecue they'd had with about thirty people all crammed into one frame. There are smiles all around, beer bottles raised, and Sarah in the center wearing that beautiful purple dress she'd spent almost a year working on. Mish and Joel stand on either side of her, frozen in a moment of laughter.

What the camera didn't catch was that behind that purple dress, they were holding hands.

"What a party that was, huh?" Mish glances up at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes sparkling with nostalgia, "You remember?"

He smiles softly, "I remember."

--

The arrangement started in '03.

They hadn't seen each other in about three years when she showed up on his doorstep in the summer of '96. She'd been in and out of their lives before then, usually called every other week to check in and talk to Sarah but rarely ever showed her face. Sarah barely knew her but had a love for her that burned so deep that Joel couldn't say half the things he wanted to. Couldn't tell his daughter that her mother was unpredictable and unreliable, that she'd disappeared for almost two years after Sarah had been born, hadn't checked in once, had only begun to show up again in 1988 when Sarah was almost three. And then one day the calls just stopped coming and he had no other choice but to tell her the truth. She was only eight.

Mish showing up again out of the blue when Sarah was eleven was not something they could have ever predicted. He was angry. She was sorry. She'd been to a facility, had been seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist for a solid chunk of time and was on medication. Sarah slapped her across the face and sprinted barefoot down the street until her toes were bloody and she couldn't run anymore. Joel found her and cradled her in his arms like he'd done when she was a baby, promised he'd make Mish go away if that's what Sarah wanted.

It was not what she wanted. She wanted a mom. She wanted her mom. She wanted them to be together.

After that, all they could do was try and heal.

And Mish tried. She did. She was ready. Joel was willing to listen. Sarah forgave, slowly. By Christmas of '97 they were living together again. They'd put their wedding rings back on.

But it couldn't last.

"Maybe this just isn't meant to work," she'd whispered to him tearfully on their back patio on a rainy day in March of '98, head in her hands, "I'm better in some ways but worse in others. I'm not meant for this kinda life, Joel. I just can't stay still anymore."

"Maybe we aren't meant to work," he'd told her firmly, "But Sarah needs you, Michelle. You can't just keep coming back into her life and then disappearing. If you do, you're never gonna see her again."

"I know," she'd whispered, quiet and scared, "I know, Joel. And I won't, I'll never do that to her ever again. But I just..." she'd hung her head, tears streaming down her face, "I just don't know what to do."

He'd suddenly felt a flash of deja vu, a reminder of a moment similar to this one twelve years earlier, when he'd held her just like this while she'd cried in his arms, hopelessness raking through both their trembling forms in the downpour.

"They'll kill me, Joel. They're gonna kill me. How am I supposed to be a mom? This can't be real. This isn't happening. What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, Mish. But I'm with you, okay? I'm not goin' anywhere. You got me. I don't care what they think, what they wanna do. It's just you and me, you hear me?"

"You and me, Joel. Just you and me."

She left Joel and the life they'd cultivated in the year since she came back, but she didn't leave Sarah, not this time. She kept up with regular visits, called often, tried her best to be a mother in the only ways she knew how. Eventually Joel stopped worrying she'd disappear again, and she didn't. Sarah and Mish's relationship wasn't an easy one, especially during those first few years of being reconnected, but eventually they were mother and daughter again. The way it always should have been. They'd go on adventures together, road trips and concerts and trips to amusement parks, everything they could to make up for lost time.

As for she and Joel, they became friends. For the first time in a long time they talked again, really talked. They got to know each other from scratch without the pressures of trying to be people they weren't; she'd come to stay every so often and she'd be more than welcome in their home, a reassuring presence to Sarah and a comforting one for him. There were times he almost kissed her again, almost embraced her the way they used to embrace, but then he'd remind himself that they didn't work. Couldn't work. He'd push the feelings down and love her from a distance, the only way he could.

She came to stay for Sarah's graduation in '03. They had a big party, invited everyone they knew, got very drunk. The inevitable finally happened, something they'd been skirting around for the past few years every time they saw each other, the attraction and tension building and building the longer they went without admitting that they still wanted one another. They'd been through the ringer together and came out the other side and still looked at each other like they had in high school. It was only a matter of time.

They fucked all night and into the morning.

"Oh my god," he'd groaned into her ear, naked bodies splayed against each other in bed, entwined together for the first time in almost seven years, "I missed that. Jesus fuck, I missed that."

It was only meant to be that one time, a celebration of some sort that happened unexpectedly but never again. That was the case until she came back in '06, still single, still beautiful, and he couldn't help himself. They both couldn't help themselves.

The arrangement was simple: whenever they reunited with each other and they were both single, both wanted it, they'd have sex.

It worked. And it was good, so fucking good. Every time. They were wild with it, felt younger than they'd ever been whenever they were tangled up in Joel's bed, on the couch, in the shower. They tried new things together and had more fun than they'd ever had when they were actually in a relationship. Each time it was like they were playing pretend; pretending for a short while that their everyday problems didn't exist, nothing else existed but them. Just them - just this moment.

The last time he saw Mish was four years ago. He'd been fresh out of his last relationship, the only relationship that had really meant something to him since his marriage. Tess was lovely, beautiful and funny and exactly the person he'd needed after those tumultuous years with Mish; someone calm and collected, stable and secure. They were just friends first, for a while, but eventually developed a sexual relationship that was only ever meant to be casual. After about a year she'd confessed her feelings and he'd thought, what the hell, I might as well try. Unfortunately, his what the hell attitude had been a steady feature of their entire relationship, and he'd never been able to fully be what she'd needed.

It was his fault it ended, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling heartbroken over it. And when Sarah and Mish had visited she'd dressed his wounds in the only way she really knew how - sex. The sex was always good with Mish, regardless of the situation. It was always what they needed. But it could only ever be sex because their personalities were never meant to blend; she was flighty and wild and needed space - he was steady and serious and enjoyed the comforts of home. And those early years were something he'd never get back, something he still blamed her for, and she knew it. It could never work, as much as they may have tried early on.

She'd been on the cusp of a new relationship, this guy Alvin who she'd met in Philadelphia, but nothing was set in stone yet and she wanted Joel to feel good.

"Nothing else matters right now," she'd whispered in the darkness of their old bedroom, the one he'd shared with her countless times over the past twenty years, "It's just you and me, Joel. It's always been you and me."

"You and me, Mish," he'd repeated, hands firm against her bare back as she slowly began to ride him, "Just us, just you and me."

--

He's still staring at the picture of their younger selves when her hand slowly comes down to touch one of his. He swallows tightly, feels her eyes on him, senses her moving closer.

"Mish," he whispers; an acknowledgement? A warning?

He feels a finger on his chin, tilting his head up to meet her gaze, and then she's kissing him again. It's different than it was at the bar, much less soft, less reserved. She moans into his mouth as the picture falls to the floor, pushes him down so he's laying flat and then throws a leg over his thighs. She situates herself in his lap in the span of about five seconds and he barely has any time to register what's even happening.

But when he does... he's not happy.

"Stop," he mumbles against her mouth, bringing his hands down to grab her hips and carefully pull her off of him. Her brows furrow in confusion as he slides her away and sits back up, kneels and then stands with a groan. His fucking knees.

"Why?" she asks, peering up at him from the floor.

"'Cause... 'cause nothin'," he lies, shaking his head and sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, wincing as his bones crack from being on the floor in such an odd position, "Nothin', I'm just tired."

She follows him up from the floor and onto the bed, seats herself beside him and leans in to mouth gently against his neck, hot and wet, "That's okay, baby. I can do all the work."

"I said no, Mish," he repeats, standing up again and walking away from the bed, "I don't want to."

"Why?" she repeats, adamant now.

He splutters, kicking his feet and not meeting her gaze, "Sarah'll be back soon, there's no time."

"Time has never been an issue before, you know that more than anybody."

"I just don't want you right now, alright?" it comes out much louder and angrier than he'd intended, "Jesus Christ, Mish."

That stops her short, the room plunging into silence as she stares at him from her place on the edge of the bed. Her lips begin to tremble, hands coming to wring together in her lap uncomfortably. She shakes her head slowly, tears welling in her wide eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice shaky, "I'm sorry, Joel."

God dammit. He hadn't meant to make her cry.

With a sigh he walks back over to the bed, sitting down beside her again - but not as close this time. She continues to stare forward, still tugging at her hands as tears slowly start to make their way down her cheeks. He feels a familiar pang of pity in his heart, the urge to comfort her like he always has, hold her close and kiss her softly. But he doesn't do that; instead, he places a hand on hers to halt her movements, squeezes them gently.

"You wanna know why it didn't work out with Alvin, Joel?" she asks quietly.

"Why?"

She takes a shaky breath, "He had a wife. A fuckin' wife and three kids. Young kids, still in school, still livin' at home."

"Jesus," he mutters.

"And you wanna know how I found out? Because one night he was sayin' her name when he was fuckin' me; Sharon. Fuckin' Sharon. Repeatin' it over and over without even realizing. And then he had the audacity to act like he didn't know what the hell I was talkin' about." The tears are flowing steadily now, staining her cheeks and dripping down onto their locked hands, "I did some diggin', found out his real name, found his whole other life. I've been a fuckin' mistress for four years and had no clue."

"Michelle..." he breathes.

"Don't call me that," she snaps, turning her face away from him and trying to reign the tears back in but failing miserably, voice coming out in sobs now, "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me? I get that I'm a shitty person. I know I fucked up a lot in my life. I mean, maybe I don't deserve love, 'cause why the hell can't I fuckin' find it? Why does nobody want me?"

"Stop," he says firmly, squeezing her hands tighter, "Don't say shit like that, don't think that way."

"But it's true," she cries, pulling her hands away and bringing them up to her face, "I just needed to be wanted again, Joel. Just for a night, and now you don't even want me."

"That's- that's not true, Mish, come on."

"You literally just said the words two minutes ago," she's suddenly inconsolable, tears streaming down her face as she sobs beside him, "You don't want me, no one wants me."

His arms come up to wrap around her, pull her close to him as she cries harder. He doesn't know what the fuck to do, how to be what she needs without being what she needs. It's an impossible position to be in; how can he just walk out the door and leave her sitting there like this? Leave her so sad, so broken?

"Joel, I need this," she whispers, peering up at him through her wet lashes and leaning her head forward to rest against his shoulder, "Please. I need you."

God. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the fuck is he supposed to do? How the fuck can he say no when she's looking at him like that, begging for him?

"Please," she repeats, turning her head and pressing a wet kiss to the skin of his collarbone, "Please, Joel, please," her kisses slowly move up to his neck, warm and safe and familiar. His eyes start to close, lips parting as she keeps going, "It's just us, it's you and me."

Just us, you and me.

"Stay here," he finally breathes, thumbing the skin of her hip reassuringly, "Just - just stay here, okay? I'll be right back."

He finds himself thirty seconds later just standing in his bedroom, unmoving, unsure, thoughts going a mile a minute. He breathes in and out slowly, tries to calm the anxiety threatening to burst through the seams of his very being. What the fuck am I doing? What the actual fuck am I doing right now?

He goes through the motions without really feeling or understanding them. Goes to the bathroom and relieves himself, splashes cold water on his face and stares at his reflection for too long. Heads back to his bedroom and just stands there again, heart pounding. She's waiting for him. Time is passing and he's just standing there.

"Joel?" he hears her call out, voice still thick with tears.

He does not want her to follow him in here. He does not want to have sex in this bed.

With shaky steps he walks over to his nightstand and tugs it open, sees the box of condoms. Stares at them. Stares at them so long that she calls out again.

"Joel? You comin'?"

He feels like he's underwater, ears ringing as his hand trembles on the handle of the drawer, itching to just slam it closed again. What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?

And then he sees it.

He'd completely forgotten it was there, has been doing his best this entire night to not think about you that he's already managed to forget what happened last night. But he remembers now. He reaches down, hand suddenly completely steady, and pulls the gold chain to entwine around his fingers. It's like he's touching you in a way, feeling you, sensing you - your tears, your sadness, your anger, your insecurities - all wrapped up in this one little cross.

He thumbs it carefully, eyes softening, anxiety ebbing away as the seconds pass. He pictures your lovely face this morning, all sleepy and pretty and perfect in the glow of the early sunrise, the way your hair framed your face, the way you bit your lip shyly when you told him what was on your mind.

He hears footsteps in the hall, knows she's coming, but he doesn't care. Just keeps standing there with his hand curled around your crucifix and warmth filling his chest.

He hears the door open, hears her step inside.

"I can't," he says softly, before she can speak.

Silence. Then -

"What's that?"

"It's..." he closes his fist around the crucifix and then shuts the drawer slowly, still looking down at it. When he finally brings his head up he sees Mish standing near the side of the bed, looking at him with confusion in her eyes.

He swallows tightly, "There's someone else, Mish."

He watches the realization dawn on her face, the confusion fading and acceptance flooding her features. She nods slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears still trickling down her cheeks. "You coulda just said that," she breathes, closing her eyes, "Why didn't you just say?"

He doesn't reply, doesn't know what to say. Or rather, knows what to say but can't say it because then it'll make it real. And he's still so fucking scared for it to be real.

Mish slowly walks forward and sits on the edge of the bed, taking a few steadying breaths to calm herself. "Feel like a fuckin' idiot," she mumbles; she seems okay now, nowhere near as hysterical as she'd been before.

"You're not an idiot," he murmurs. God, he should have just fucking told her. He should have said something.

"So, who is she?" she asks quietly.

"She's..." he swallows again, taking a seat on the other side of the bed, facing the opposite direction, "She's a girl I met a little while ago." A few weeks ago, he mentally corrects. Almost a month. Barely any time at all.

She clocks that. "Girl? Or woman?"

"....Girl."

"How old?"

"Twenty one."

"Jesus," he's not sure what she's thinking when he can't see her face, not sure if she's angry or disgusted or just surprised, "I mean, wow. That's... that's young, Joel."

"I know."

"Never known you to go even ten years lower."

"I know."

Silence again. He's waiting for her to ask the question, the one he knows is coming, the one he's been dreading every since he got that text from Sarah on Wednesday. The one that will force him to admit what he's so desperately been trying to bury.

"So... is it just sex? Or is it..." she trails off for a few seconds, "Is it more?"

There it is.

"I don't know," he murmurs, putting his face in his hands and hunching over the side of the bed with a groan, "I don't know what it is but she's... she's in my head, ya know? She's everywhere, can't stop fuckin' thinkin' about her." The crucifix digs into his cheek, probably making an imprint in his skin, "She's so fuckin' young but, God, Mish, she's so fuckin' sweet. I wanna... I wanna take care of her, ya know? But-" he feels the tears flooding his eyes, tries to swallow his feelings as best he can, "I'm just.. I can't..."

"You're in over your head," she acknowledges softly, "You don't know what you're doin'."

"I don't."

"And that scares the fuck outta you, huh?"

"Pretty much."

They don't say anything else for a few moments, both absorbing the revelation in silence and neither really knowing what else to say about it. This night has gone in a direction that neither were prepared for and he's not sure they'll be able to fix it before Sarah gets back. Which reminds him...

"You'd think Sarah woulda been back by now."

Mish snorts, a welcome sound in the middle of so much tension. He turns around to look at her, finds her doing the exact same thing.

"I told her to give us forty five minutes to an hour, tops," she says with a half smile.

Of course she did.

--

Mish decides to get a cab back to the motel she and Sarah booked. He doesn't argue. He knows it's for the best, knows there will be another, better conversation some time in the future and that despite everything, they'll see each other again.

"She's lucky to have you," she tells him softly at the front door, wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. He can hear the sincerity in her words, knows she means it. "You'll take care of her, Joel. Like you take care of everyone."

He just closes his eyes, pulls her in closer and lets the tears fall.

--

Sarah gets back with the food, doesn't question where Mish is; she must have texted her and told her she wouldn't be here. There's no awkwardness or questions, just the same old familiarity and love as Sarah pops the first DVD into the ancient player they've had forever and settles in beside him on the couch. They only half-watch it, continuously getting distracted by each other's dumb commentary and random anecdotes about the past. This is what he wanted tonight to be. Just this.

He tries his best to be present with Sarah, but by the time they're halfway through the second film he can't stop thinking about you. He'd spent so much of today trying to push thoughts of you away and now your face is suddenly all he can see whenever he blinks, your soft giggles and whimpers echoing in his ears. He wonders what you're doing, if you're having a nice time with your friend, if you're being careful like he'd told you to be. You'd said this was your first time going out and he just hopes you're safe. Your crucifix sits reassuringly in the pocket of his jeans, almost like a part of you is still here with him.

He excuses himself to use the bathroom and sends you a quick text:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

He feels the urge to press a kiss to his phone and wonders when the hell he got so damn soft. He can practically hear Mish's voice telling him you've always been soft, dummy. She'd be right.

--

They both wake up the next morning still snuggled up on the couch, Sarah on one end and him on the other. He yawns and stretches, groans when he feels a searing pain in his lower back; fuck, he shouldn't have slept on the couch.

"Old man," Sarah mocks quietly with a glint in her eye, and he playfully slaps her leg.

He checks his phone when Sarah heads to the bathroom, hopes maybe you'll have replied to him when you got in last night, but there's nothing there. He frowns but lets logic soothe him, reminding himself that you were probably too tired when you got back and fell asleep right away. He sends you another text, just to be sure:

You get home ok? Let me know x

He'll see you soon for your lesson anyway.

After breakfast he walks Sarah out onto the front step, hand holding hers tightly, almost afraid to let go. She smiles up at him sadly and squeezes back, a silent promise.

"I'll visit again real soon, Dad," she says quietly, "Sooner than last time. I'll bring Jude too, y'all can watch football together."

He smiles with watery eyes, "I'm countin' on it, kiddo."

"You're not lonely, are you?" she suddenly asks, expression one of love and concern, "You got people here, right?"

Your face crosses his mind again, your lovely smile, that little line between your brows, "I'm not lonely," he reassures her softly, "Promise."

He means it.

They hug each other tenderly, basking in one last moment together before they inevitably have to pull away. She walks to her car and turns back with one final wave, tears glistening in her eyes. He waves back and then heads back inside the house quickly before she can see what a mess he is, hands coming up to cover his eyes on the other side of the door as he pulls himself together.

And then, just like that, he's alone again.

--

You don't show up to your lesson.

His first thought is that you're still asleep, probably hungover from last night and desperately in need of some rest. He doesn't blame you, has had more bad hangovers than he can even count. He checks in with you anyway, hoping he'll hear back soon when you wake up.

Another hour passes; he's already cleaned up the kitchen, vacuumed up the popcorn lining the couch and living room floor, rearranged the DVDs, and suddenly the boxes upstairs in the guest room are calling his name. Anything to make the time pass, anything to distract himself from the fact that he still hasn't heard from you.

He texts you again after two hours, after he's finished unpacking two boxes. He just sends some question marks this time. It's around noon now and he keeps trying to convince himself that you're just sleeping, probably still passed out in bed with leftover alcohol buzzing through your veins. The thought makes him wish he was there with you, taking care of you, bringing you glasses of water and cuddling with you until you feel better.

It's mid afternoon when he starts to question whether or not you even got home. He knows you're not home home, that you'd gone to an Airbnb with your friend for the weekend, but he has no idea where it is and if you're even there. What if something happened on the night out? What if you got lost or got too fucked up to figure out how to get back? What if someone you didn't know took you back with them?

He feels sick to his stomach. This time he does the only rational thing he feels he can do - he calls you. He sits on the edge of his bed, toes tapping against the hardwood floor as he waits for you to pick up, but you don't. It goes to voicemail. He hangs up and tries again. Same thing.

He texts you again, but something tells him you won't be reading them any time soon.

--

He leaves the house to clear his head, anxiously tapping on the wheel as he drives around the neighborhood. He passes by your parents' house a few times, eyeing the property and trying his best to see past the ridiculous fence they have blocking off the place. He makes out a police car in the driveway and almost has a panic attack before he remembers that your father is a cop and that's just the vehicle he drives.

He calls and texts you a few more times as the evening comes around. He pours himself some whiskey and tries to calm himself down, breathes in and out, practices the exercises he's had to depend on throughout most of his life. He's always had an anxiety problem, has been on and off medication for it for years. He briefly considers popping an Ativan before realizing that he probably shouldn't mix it with alcohol.

The alcohol messes with his head a bit as darkness falls. He starts to wonder if maybe you did get back safe, just with someone else, someone new. Maybe you met someone, had a connection, took them home and let them be the one to fuck you for the first time. Maybe the reason you're not reaching out is because you're afraid of what he'll say, afraid he'll be angry.

While the thought makes him feel sick and sad, he's even sicker and sadder about not knowing where the fuck you are. He sends you a text to reiterate this, hoping you'll read it and understand:

Just a text is all I need honey. I promise. If you're not feeling this anymore that's okay. Just wanna know you got home safe last night.

He's already unpacked all the boxes, peppered photographs and music memorabilia all over his house as the day came to a close, and now he has nothing else to do but just sit and wait. So he waits. And waits. And waits.

You still don't reply.

He calls you over and over again, wondering what the fuck he's going to do. He can't in good conscious just let this go on, just stop contacting you and let you come back to him on your own. What if something bad really did happen? What if you're really fucked up somewhere? What if someone took advantage of you? He can't just sit idly by and wait.

He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, feels tears sting his eyes every time he comes up with a new concept as to where you are, what could have happened. All he wants is to have you here with him, warm and soft in his bed, close in all the ways he needs you.

I don't know what to do angel. Can't stop thinking about you. Wish you were here in my arms. Please be safe.

He's scaring himself the longer he thinks about where you could be, knows he has to take action. He decides that if he still hasn't heard from you by tomorrow morning, he'll tell somebody. Whether it be the police or your parents, it doesn't really matter - they're one and the same.

He sends you one last text before the whiskey puts him to sleep:

Please.

--

The doorbell wakes him up. At first he thinks maybe he's hearing things, especially when he tiredly unlocks his phone and sees that it's three in the morning, but then it rings again. And again. Over and over like someone is pressing the button repeatedly. He sits up in bed with a jolt and swings his legs over the side, heart racing as he practically sprints down the stairs.

He turns on the light, squinting with tired and bleary eyes through the frosted glass along the side of the door. He can make out something pink and his eyes widen. He grabs the handle and tugs the door open, only for his body to immediately collide with someone else's, a beautiful girl in a pink dress.

It's you. His beautiful girl. His angel. Standing there almost completely unable to hold yourself upright as you lean against him, arms coming up to wrap around his middle. He holds you close, momentarily frozen in shock.

"Are you okay?"

You're so out of it. He takes you to the couch and you can barely open your eyes, can barely get words out as you flop drunkenly against the cushions. He can't tell if you're drunk or high or both, trying his best to get your attention, desperately asking what you took, where you've been. It's terrifying to see you like this, so completely not yourself, loose and uninhibited in the worst way. You tell him you came here with Tasha and he waves her inside, hoping she can help shed some light on what the fuck happened to you.

Tasha is something else. She stands her ground, doesn't back down when he clearly tries to intimidate her, consistently tries to get past him and reach for you despite his attempts to block her. He's angry, so fucking angry that she could let this happen to you. How long have you been like this? How long has this "night out" been going on? Did it turn into a fucking bender?

"She knows what you've been doing, you asshole." The words mean nothing to him, he has no idea what the fuck she's even talking about. They're clearly both wasted - you more than her - and have somehow wound up at his house at three in the morning by some miraculous volition. He's not letting you leave with her, that's for sure.

Then you say the same thing to him and he's beyond confused, waiting to be let in on whatever sick fucking joke is being played on him right now. What do they think he's been doing? What do they think they know? What have their intoxicated brains convinced themselves of?

And then the other shoe drops.

"We saw you kiss someone else."

That feeling he'd had yesterday - that sensation of being underwater - returns in full force. He stares at you; not Tasha, you. Because as soon as she says it your eyes tear away from him to stare at the floor, lips trembling in sadness, hands shaking beneath Tasha's arms. He can see it in your expression, in your body language despite the alcohol - you're fucking heartbroken. You can't even look at him.

He tries to explain but the words aren't coming out right; he's sure he sounds absolutely pathetic as he just stands there in the middle of the living room, stumbling over his words like the absolute fool he is. You still don't look at him. You don't say anything, and it kills him.

That's when he realizes that Tasha is not the one in the wrong here. It's him. He's the one who deserves to be shouted at, intimidated, made to feel small. He's the one who fucked up. It's him.

And then - if the situation hadn't already been bad enough - Tasha informs him that you'd seen Sarah leaving this morning. His eyes go wide, heart racing like a steam engine in his chest as he shakes his head and wonders how the fuck this could be happening right now. The past few days he's been so unsure about letting you know the real him, didn't know if he'd ever be able to tell you - and now he has no choice. No choice but to drop a bomb on you in this sad and drunken state, otherwise leave you believing that he's been doing god knows what with god knows who.

"That was my daughter."

You register the words and finally look at him, and his heart swells three sizes in his chest when your gazes meet. Just for a moment you don't look as sad, don't look as broken. You peer into his eyes and he thinks for a moment that maybe you see him, really see him, for the first time. It's both terrifying and incredible and he doesn't know how he manages to get the words out, but he does.

He knows now what he has to do.

He has to tell you. He has to tell you everything.

Tasha apologizes and helps you back out to the cab. He watches her place you carefully inside, watches as you turn your head to look out the back window, still peering at him with that look on your face that he can't really explain. He stands and waits until you've disappeared down the street before going back inside, where he immediately collapses onto the couch, exhausted.

He reaches inside his pocket and tugs out your crucifix, brings it up to his neck with trembling hands and manages to latch it around his neck. He palms the cross, presses it into the bare skin at his collarbone.

She's safe, he thinks to himself, she's safe and that's all that matters.

--

In the morning, as soon as he wakes up, he sends you a text:

I'm so sorry. Words can't even describe how fucking ashamed and embarrassed I am. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you. I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I want to tell you everything, if you'll let me. I hope you're feeling okay today, angel. Drink lots of water, stay with Tasha. Text me whenever you're ready.

He wants to cry, thinking about how much he hurt you. He wouldn't blame you for wanting this to just be over now, to move on and pretend like you never even met him that day on his front step. He feels so fucking ashamed of himself, angry for not telling Mish the truth from the beginning, horrified that you'd seen him in a moment of weakness like that, a moment of cowardice.

The crucifix stays on his neck throughout his shower and breakfast. He's never been one to wear jewelry, and god knows he's never been one to wear jewelry with religious imagery, but somehow it calms him to have it on, soothes him. His anxiety feels better despite the circumstances, and he's grateful.

His phone buzzes around eleven and the force at which he picks it up almost sends it flying across the room. His brow furrows when he sees a text from an unknown number:

hey it's tasha. sorry about last night. that was a shitshow. she's awake and feeling better, just wanted you to know.

She didn't have to do that and he knows it.

Thank you. I'm glad she has you. I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you, I was just really worried about her.

that's ok. i know you're a good guy. she knows it too.

Do you, though? Do you really still think of him as being someone you can trust, someone you can talk to? Someone you can give yourself to completely?

i'm gonna send you the address of the airbnb. i think you should come talk to her.

The address follows and he puts it into his maps app; it's not too far, he can make it there in about forty minutes.

Thank you so much Tasha

text when ur here, i'll let you in.

--

He sits in his truck for a lot longer than he needs to after pulling up to the house. He knows he has to tell you everything now, that you're going to want answers and that he'll give them to you. But he's made a discovery in the past twelve hours that has his head reeling:

He wants to tell you. He wants you to know all about him. Suddenly, he doesn't mind that he's old and washed up and pathetic. He wants you to know that, wants you to see the real him, who he really is. The unpretty, uncharming reality of his mediocre life. He isn't sure that you'll want it, that you'll want him, but what he's sure of is that he's tired of pretending.

What Mish had said on Friday night - "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me?" - it had resonated with him in a way he hadn't been expecting. He knows that feeling, has been feeling it for years without actually saying it aloud because admitting it was too painful, too scary.

He's been putting on a front for his entire life. First, to his parents, then to Mish, then Sarah, then the select few women who'd come in and out of his life, then Tess, and now you. And he's tired. He's so fucking tired of pretending to be someone else. For the first time in a long time, he actually wants to be him.

I'm here.

Tasha opens the door to let him inside. The house is pretty cozy, probably one of the more inexpensive ones you both could find. He notes the leftover snacks littering the table and couch, the empty wine glasses. He hopes you had fun here, at least for a little while. Before he fucking ruined it.

"She's asleep," Tasha says, closing the door behind him and ushering him inside, "I wanna talk to you for a sec, before you go in."

He nods and she gestures toward the couch for him to sit. He takes his place on the edge, knees together as he looks up at her and waits for her to speak.

"I'm her best friend," she says firmly, hands on her hips - she means business, "I've known her for three years now and I know her better than anyone."

He nods slowly.

"She's really coming into herself right now," Tasha continues, "She's making big discoveries, figuring out who she is and what she wants. You know that."

"I do."

"And... well, we both know that what she wants most is you."

He swallows then, feels his heart begin to pound, clenching his fists at his knees.

"This thing with your ex, is it over?"

"Yes," he says immediately, "She'll always be my daughter's mother, she'll always be my friend, but that part of our relationship is over."

"And you mean that?"

"I mean it."

She assesses him and slowly nods, then curls her finger and urges him to stand back up. He does, suddenly towering over her in the small living room.

"First door on the left," she tells him, then walks to the front door, "I'll give you some space."

She's gone before he has the chance to thank her.

He slowly makes his way down the hallway, step by step. He reaches the door, heart pounding in his chest as he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the promises he made to himself flood through his mind. His past, his present, and his future... the future he sees with you.

He touches his pocket, feels for your crucifix.

I can do this, he thinks to himself. For her, I can do this.

[fire-lizard-ro]

Ohoho Sunday thoughts you say? >:D this is loosely based on the prior ask? But I was just thinking how Sunday would probably try (keyword try) to remain pure and abstain from s*x before marriage, yknow? But when he finally does have you as his own, all bets are off. Angel boi is horny and wants you :( in his mind: it’s pure and simple yet beautiful lovemaking between two souls :( and in my love deprived ass I would melt because I know he’d be big on giving and receiving praise fjgjgjgj even would enjoy the idea of extending the Family if you were down for it (whether or not you could, he enjoys the idea of it) ((also he likes control so))

And don’t get me staarttteddd on his sweet aftercare and pillow talk D: oml you’d quite literally be on cloud nine!! He is too tho :) and he cannot help himself from just being so sweet and genuine orz

ohhHHHHH- Y e s I like this quite a bit. Need this to take a break from the angst I’ve been cookin up with a certain someone (you know who you are OTL).

Fair warning y’all are gonna end up seeing me write a fic about him that is blatantly blasphemous with religious themes (pretends like I’m not already working on one like that with Argenti).

Anyways- Back to this.

Thank you so much for the ask~ I love Sunday so much. <333333

CW: possessive behavior, cumming inside, fluff!!! (crazy I know how very almost off brand of me-), maybe some blasphemous thoughts? (idk that they count with aeons but hey-), marking, breeding kink (he’s saying it regardless of whether you are able to have children or not bc regardless it’s h o t -), praise

Reader gender: gender neutral (I tried not to say anything that would be too telling about what sex the reader is so please read it as such! I don’t think I said anything that was like that-)

So going off the last ask, we’re going to assume that he likes you enough to feel great affection for you. Enough to want you. To feel his own carnal desires rear their head even before you’ve married. It manifests in his seemingly innocent yet wandering hands. A hand on your waist as he passes by you. His hands drifting dangerously low when you hug. Leaning in close to talk to you. Lips making their way down from your forehead to your cheek to the corner of your lips. The placement of his kiss making its way to your lips slowly with every goodbye kiss.

But at some point, he can’t really stop himself from at least using those pretty hands of his on you- Along with that silver tongue and sinful mouth. He’ll make you feel so incredibly good, plunging his long fingers into you and taking you into his mouth. He’s lick and suck at you and even slide his tongue inside you. Perhaps the taste of you would be enough to tide him over until you were properly his- Married to him. It would have to be enough because you deserved to have a perfect wedding and perfect wedding night.

But aeons that doesn’t stop him from pleasuring you with what he can before then in order to hopefully keep himself in line. Even as his cock aches with the need to have you, he’ll just hold you down and whisper sweet promises in your ear. Even if you beg him, he won’t. Just wait for him baby just a little longer-

But after the ceremony is over and the afterparty is done and the guests all leave-

Oh dear. You’re finally left alone with your hungry fian- husband. You’re finally left alone with your absolutely famished husband. And you’re on the menu.

It begins like how many of your other encounters of sexual nature begin.

Sweet kisses that make it seem like he wants to swallow you whole.  Gentle hands taking in the feel of you in his arms. Trailing kisses down your throat, eyes closed in ecstasy because you were finally his now. He can have you with no regrets. All that waiting was for this moment. When he could finally have you wholly. And that makes this moment in the warm light of the bedside lamp and the cooler shades of the moon all the sweeter.

Wetted fingers stretching you in preparation for something larger, taking their time in their task despite knowing you well by then. Because even if this was to get you ready to become one with him- He’s wants to draw as much pleasure from you as possible. This is a special night for the two of you. One he will cherish completely and one he wants to make perfect for you. His arm would be holding him up, cradled behind your head for you to lean on while he molds himself to your side. Even as you whine and roll your hips into the curl of his fingers inside you, pressing on that special spot inside you, he kisses your cheeks gently with soothing words. “Good… very good, my love. Just a little more- I want you to finish on my fingers first. Can you do that for me, my sweet? I know you can-”

Just as he gives you your first orgasm of the night, he takes your lips once more while gently coaxing your through the waves of pleasure. He’s so soft, guiding you through the dance even while your mind goes blank for a bit as he watches your expression. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”

It’s then that he kisses you almost chastely before beginning his journey down your body to have his prize. The prize being whatever he’s managed to pull from you. He’d lick it from your body in broad strokes as though he were tasting honey dribbled over your form, caressing your every curve as he went.

Sunday would dribble lube over himself, a hand slathering the viscous substance over his cock in pumping motions. It was almost erotic watching him. The way he'd squeeze just a little at the top and you would watch his hardness twitch and drool between his fingers. But when you look up, the angelic man would only be looking at you. Gazing lovingly- longingly at you.

That's how it always was. Ever since meeting, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. You were simply radiant to him. Unlike anything or anyone else he'd ever seen.

Leaning over you to settle himself between your legs, Sunday would give you another kiss before asking if you were ready. While waiting for your answer, he'd go back to nip and lick at your neck. He wanted to mark you for all to see- You were his. His lover, his spouse, his soulmate. His. No one else's. He would love and care for you in every way, he'd think to himself.

And no- Don't just nod at him. "I need to hear you say it, dove. Please? For me, my dear?" Once you'd given him your clear consent, he'd bring you into a deep kiss while lining himself up with your stretched out, wet entrance. He can't even bring himself to tease you a little. Though the thought crossed his mind, he knew he'd been waiting far too long for this.

Once he was in the proper place, he'd rest his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing in each other's air while he looks down at where the two of you would be connected, fingers drifting to fondle you in order to distract from any possible pain you may feel with a gentle hum.

As Sunday would finally push in, cockhead popping inside, he'd gasp against your lips with twitching hips he had to force still. "Are you alright, love?" Taking a moment for himself to regain his composure and steel himself, he'd hide away in the crook of your neck to breathe in your scent and feel your pulse beneath his soft lips. Once you were ready it would be but a slow rock of his hips, moving gently inside you, to eventually sheath himself completely inside. As he worked himself into your tightness, Sunday would whisper sweet words into your ears in a whisper, as though the words were only for the two of you despite no one else being around- The words would come in between kisses while he rubbed a hand up and down your side to comfort you, the hand occasionally straying to rub your sex or pluck at your nipples to distract you from the strain of this part of the night.

Once bottomed out, your ass resting in the cradle of his hips with his body covering yours, he would ask you if you're alright and give you time to adjust. It's all praises here, the man telling you just how good you are for him and saying that you're doing wonderfully. After some time passes and you rock your hips against his to test your comfort, a small moan would be startled out of him before it devolves into a chuckle. "Are you ready, my love?"

It'd start with hip just grinding into you, firm but slow and accompanied by a pleasured sigh from him. He'd hold back none of his sounds because he wanted you to know how good you made him feel. Then he'd pull out only just a bit before thrusting himself back in. At some point he had begun to properly fuck you, the push and pull like the rocking of a boat on a gentle sea. This was making love. And after angling his hips, he found your sweet spot he'd only ever touched with those pretty fingers of his.

It'd be a struggle to not lose himself in you. In your all-consuming presence and the pleasure you gave him- In the love you showed him as you reached up to bring him close with a whimper of his name. It was like hearing the gospel fall from your lips. And they might as well have been. For now you were his everything. His god, his true Harmony. Were you to say it, it would be so. And right now, you were telling him that it felt good and asking him to keep going. So, he would.

With teeth gently marking all the places he'd been, his darkened eyes would watch the way you arch your back and moan to the heavens (they were yours anyways). Sunday is something that knows how to hide its teeth and disguise itself in the form of a man. He was careful to dull his claws so he would not hurt you when he held you close. Careful to veil the violence that was part of him, showing in his eyes, when he was with you. But he was a beast who knew the taste of blood. And yet you, his pure and lovely dove, loved him and accepted him. You said he was a good man and that you loved him. You were his truth. So, it must be so.

He wanted to claim you so wholly that none could ever deny that you both belonged to one another. That none could mistake that you were his deity and him your humble and devout servant who worshiped you here in the temple of your bed, giving you his offerings in pleasure, loyalty, and love. That brought another idea to mind of just how he could claim you and show you his deepest love.

"I want to breed you, my love. To carry on the family and mark you inside with my cum. Would that be alright? Do you want that as well, dove?"

He would speed up now, thinking about how he could have a family with you. How lovely you would look with a child tottering around behind you. He would make it happen no matter what so long as you wanted it as well. When you agree, he'd smile so wide his face hurt and shower you with kisses. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, my love my heart my everything-"

He can hardly fathom how he'd lived without you before.

Touching and kissing you all over he drove the two of you to your peak, the both of you moaning and whining against each other's lips as you kissed through the high. His hips continued to rock into yours to prolong the waves of pleasure that washed over you before slowing to a stop when you both became overstimulated.

"Thank you, love. You did so well- So very good for me. I love you so much," he'd praise and declare between kisses that he planted all over- Everywhere he could reach while wrapped up in your arms and holding you so close you wondered if the two of you could fuse together. "I love you, too," you'd mumble against his lips as he came back to them for a proper kiss. The chaste peck turning into a sensuous slide of lips, unhurried and full of undeniable love.

Even when he withdrew from your now cum-filled hole and began to clean you up, he would praise you and ask you how you felt while pressing kisses every place he touched. Once everything was done and he'd had you drink water, he'd lay down and pull you to lay on his chest. While stroking your back and pressing a kiss to your hair, he'd bid you goodnight and say yet another "I love you" before quietly humming to help you drift asleep.

Hopefully that was to your liking~ I had fun writing it! Thank you for the idea and for letting me write more about Sunday! <333

Feel free to send in another request if you want, hehe.

[amymbona]

No wishing bad stuff to anyone but imagine that Patrick Zweig is after an injury, like a really fucking bad one, and his lower half doesn't work properly. There was something wrong with his spine and spinal cord and has to spend like half a year bound to a wheelchair, needing a 24/7 assistance. And you're a good, young medic, specializing on people like Patrick, providing them care. So it's only natural that you move to his place to assist him fully.

He hates you at first, fucking despises you, because you're all smile and sunshine. He's so pissed at the positive energy you bring, how you keep taking care of him and being all nice and kind. Every other meal you cook, Patrick just pushes the bowl down the table and lets it shatter. Each time you attempt to excercise with him, he keeps complaining and not putting his whole effort in - even though he fucking should - and then, ironically, gets anger when there's no progress. Obviously, he can't stand up within days. But Patrick Zweig is an impatient man.

He hates everything and everyone, hates the whole fucking world and he hates you the most. Stupid, naive girl. If you were a magician, oh, maybe he'd buy you that vintage moped you keep babbling about to get you to heal him. But you're not. You're just a girl who never shuts up, keeps banking him stupidly sweet pies and gently touching his legs every day at four in the afternoon in his small house gym (not that he can really feel it). You wash him too, you hold his hand when he's in pain even though Patrick would love nothing more than to twist your wrist so hard that you'd cry. He wishes it was you who could cry instead.

Patrick is genuinely at his fucking worst. He's lost all hope of ever healing even though his prognosis is not that bad at all. But Patrick is a drama queen, he's a bitch, a menace and all the other words, but you never dare say that to his face. Not until he throws a childish fucking tantrum at lunch one day, throwing his glass in your direction and almost hitting you in the head. This time, you don't reach out to hold him, to drive him to his room, you don't even smile.

Instead, you yell at him. For the first time ever, your voice raises. Significantly. You yell at him for good ten minutes, calling him every name under the sun, calling him out for his constant complaining and childish behaviour. He's a grown man, for god's sake, you tell him while standing up and slamming your delicate hands on the table. And then, as you walk around the table, you say you're not gonna leave him, but you won't accept his behaviour either. He hears you cry later that day.

Ever since this encounter, he doesn't dare say a single word against you, against this treatment. It's evident you're angry with him, mainly from the harsh way you keep handling him suddenly. No more nice girl. You keep twisting his ankles, bending his knees the way he used to bend girls during sex, completely silent with a single crease between your brows. At one point, you really push too hard, so hard that Patrick gets a cramp in his calf - the first distinct hint of regaining the lost feeling - but he never tells you, not when you're pissed at him. That night, he cries in his room.

One day when you go out, as one of your colleagues offers to look after Patrick for the afternoon, you're wearing the prettiest floral dress. And at that exact moment, Patrick's dick twitches, he gets fucking hard the sight of you. As if magically regaining all the feeling in his cock. Your colleague is terrible, by the way, absolutely unable to care for Patrick the same way you do. When you come home in the evening, Patrick tells you that you're really pretty. As the time goes on, he begins thinking you might be his guardian angel.

[restinslices]

How do you think earth realm boys would be like around their crush?

Haven’t made moodboards for them so this is all I got rn

Johnny Cage

He would be incredibly shy 

^ That's something I would say if I lost it 

Am I suffering from lack of sleep? Yes. Have I lost the plot? No. 

Johnny is a huge flirt. He was flirting with Kitana and he hardly knew her 

And I'm pretty sure a lot of his MK1 intros is just him flirting or being a little shit 

So with that being said it’s obvious to everyone 

It’s obvious at least that he finds you attractive. The problem would be trying to figure out whether he’s just being Johnny or if he actually likes you 

Which would be difficult 

He flirts, he makes sly jokes, he says how much you should be with him and that he could totally handle you, how great you’d be together and a whole bunch of other shit

Like I said though, the main problem would be knowing if he’s joking or not 

But I think if you simply asked “dude, are you joking?” He’d say “no” immediately 

But Johnny’s eyes tend to wander so you wouldn’t be wrong for being hesitant 

It’d be dogshit if you were just his distraction for the month 

You’d know he’s serious though because he keeps going for months 

Obviously you’ve encountered other attractive people but he doesn’t seem to care about them and his eyes are always on you 

A model could walk by and he’d be too busy pulling your chair to notice 

That’s how you’d know he’s serious. It’s been months and he’s still focused on you? 

Whether or not you share those same feelings is a different story 

Kenshi Takahashi 

Probably one of the hardest to tell 

Idk if this is a headcanon I made up or if it’s canon but I feel like Kenshi is good at hiding certain emotions 

If it’s an emotional moment then yeah, it could slip but this is something more casual 

He wouldn’t say anything but he’d do things for you 

You’d mention you haven’t had time to cook because you’ve been busy and he’d offer to help with whatever 

He’d ask your opinion on stuff first as well 

As friends he makes sure you’re included but it’s even more so if he has a crush (this is not correct English but I cannot think of how else to put this)

One of the other guys would make some joke about him being in love and he’d look at them in a way that would let them know they were right 

Kenshi is not 10 so trying to blackmail him won’t work 

His eyes are always on you and even though he knows he shouldn’t be jealous of other people that are close to you, he can’t help it 

There’s two voices in his head. One says “just tell them”, the other says “you’re gonna mess up your friendship”

So he’d continue to be a little butler lowkey until he actually felt like he had to get a move on 

If someone showed genuine romantic interest in you, then he’d start moving 

He’s either gonna be stereotypically sweet and get flowers and shit or he’s just gonna ask you out at a random time 

Like I said, whether or not you accept his invitation is up to you 

Dude is probably tense as fuck the entire time he’s asking 

Kung Lao

Similar to Johnny 

Kung Lao has such an inflated sense of self, you not liking him makes no sense to him 

Does that mean he just tells you right away though? No

There’s lots of things that make no sense and happen anyway so he plays it safe 

And by safe I mean he is incredibly obvious but doesn’t just straight up tell you 

Lots of flirting and lingering looks 

He does a lot of extra shit then looks to see if you saw it 

It’s like when a kid does a cartwheel then looks to make sure their parents saw them 

He also straight up asks for compliments 

“That was a really good kick, right?”

Sure Kung Lao

He likes compliments way better from you now

He kinda acts the same because everyone knows he has a big head but the flirting makes it obvious 

And Raiden definitely knows. Kung Lao told him because why wouldn’t he?

Anyone joking about stealing you away bothers him a lot more than he’d like to admit 

He’s both “I’m Kung Lao. You have no chance” and “but what if they do have a chance?”

Admits his feelings way sooner than Kenshi 

Probably does it extremely casual too just to rip the bandaid off 

You’re standing next to each other and he’s like “we should go on a date on Friday”

Well since you asked so nicely-

Who’s turning down Kung Lao? Let’s be fr for a second 

Raiden

Doesn’t he like Kitana and it was incredibly subtle? I only found out because of intros 

So with that being said, I think it would be difficult to tell 

He’d act the same way he does as your friend 

I think his fear of messing up your friendship would be higher than everyone else 

So he doesn’t say anything 

In a different post I said he’d give you produce as a gift and I think that’s still the same here 

He’s gonna still have the hookup so food is a frequent gift he gives you to show his affection 

He also offers to do tasks for you 

When it comes to training, he’s probably noticeably softer towards you 

His excuse is “oh, I didn’t notice I was doing that”

It’s a terrible lie 

Everyone at some point finds out because he’s constantly staring at you and is soft towards you 

Raiden is a pretty calm person but he’d actually strangle Kung Lao if he said anything. He’d get a toddler’s grip 

You’d probably find out about it from the other guys instead of him 

And you’d think they’re just fucking around like they always do 

Raiden still refuses to confess. He doesn’t wanna confess then lose you completely 

And tbh he’d probably take so long, you’d get into other relationships and he’d just watch 

Finally though after 279373 years he’d confess which would free him from his emotions and Kung Lao harassing him 

Liu Kang

I think there’d be two stages to this 

The first stage is “I’ll just ignore it”

During this stage he’ll try to ignore his feelings for you because bullshit comes after Liu Kang constantly and dragging you into that is something he definitely doesn’t wanna do 

There’s a good chance you were in the previous timeline and you died horribly so he wants to stay away so he doesn’t fuck up this new life for you 

During this time he’d compliment you on your skills and be a lot more patient with you when it comes to you screwing up (which is something everyone does)

He either involves you in a lot of missions of sidelines you so you won’t be hurt 

Which is kinda shitty because that means he’s sending other people into dangerous situations 

Soon after this stage, he enters the second stage 

This stage is the “fuck it” stage 

Liu Kang does not have a good history when it comes to romance 

He was way too slow and lost Kitana (multiple times I think. I don’t remember what happened in the dlc in MK11) and now in this timeline, Kitana has no memory of them and has no feelings for him. Then he saw his Kitana but they can’t be together. 

Because of this he realizes that he has to start moving quicker and prioritizing his happiness 

So he just asks 

It’s better to hear “no” than to always wonder what could’ve been 

But bitch who is turning down Liu Kang? Don’t be stupid 

He’d probably take you to a secluded spot and say how he feels and ask you to go on a date with him 

It seems like it came out of nowhere but if you review what’s happened between you two, it’ll start to make sense 

[penvisions]

unexpected bloom {joel miller x reader}

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: A single flower and a chance encounter brings color to your life.

Word Count: 965

Warnings: none really, fleeting sexual content, allusions to adult content, kissing, fluff, pre-outbreak / no outbreak au

A/N: this was done to try and shake some writer's block, as a part of the 'flora and fauna' writing challenge by @morallyinept

ao3 link || navigation || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

A single flower.

That’s how it all started.

And you thanked every lucky star in the universe as you felt the heat of the body you now curled around as you slowly woke from your slumber. The broad back your front was pressed to was bare, skin on skin in the most intimate of ways that turned from barely conscious and sensual to wide awake and desperate.

Grunts fall from the man’s full lips as he presses his hands to the backs of your thighs, his hips moving against yours in a steady rhythm. Your own fingers tangled almost painfully with his as they hold you in the position he’s found you like the best. The one that punches the most wonton and guttural sounds from deep in your chest as he brings you to the shattering crest of pleasure over and over again. His curls may be graying, his hands weathered and callous, his back aching and sore. But he always seemed to find his youth when you smiled at him over the rim of your mug or trailed a hand over his broad shoulders.

He had certainly found his youth when you had approached him in front of your workplace to compliment the flowers he had been contracted to plant all along the buildings entrance. Enough so that he hadn’t even thought of how completely sappy and unfounded his plucking of a single one to deliver to your desk with a handwritten note had been until well after he had done it. The nervous panic setting in once he was back in the safety of his home and the deed had been mentioned by a tittering Sarah as she recounted her first day as an intern in the very same building.

Of how she had giggled and fawned over the move he had made without much thought beyond how you had to be prettier than all the flowers he had been dealing with. He felt embarrassment flood him, his fork suddenly clinking between his teeth and his ears tipped pink as he watched his daughter rave about how romantic and sweet it had been for someone to do that. How no one seems to care about stuff like that anymore and all she gets are text messages she doesn’t even know how to respond to their so dry and unoriginal. He puts aside his embarrassment to tell her that if she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t have to engage. That she deserves only the best because she is the best. His whole world in the most perfect package right across the table from him.

She pauses, her own ears tinging as she smiles brightly before teasing him for being such a dad.

But he takes it in stride, because that seems to be his whole purpose in life. To be her dad, to be the one person she could rely on for anything and everything. But that since she had graduated from her university program and moved from their home into a dorm to get the full experience and now an apartment with her friend Ellie while they worked internships, he didn’t get much of a chance to be that.

His newfound purpose was to be your boyfriend.

Something he took just as much pride in because you were perfect too.

He had taken you another single flower the following day after Sarah’s gushing of how lucky you were and how excited you had been to find the first on your desk. How your eyes kept falling on the gift he had left throughout the day. One each day until your schedules had aligned and he could take you out on a proper date. The once single flowers had turned into bouquets, his once written words became spoken affections. You had smiled so gorgeously and laughed so genuinely that he had fallen even deeper in his feelings for you. The ones you returned with bashful and then teasing words. Wit sharp and endearing as time ticked by.

Something you reminisced on as he laid beside you now, both panting for air. Skin sticky with sweat and hands idly wandering over each other.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” He rumbles, seeing the way your gaze is both focused and faint. Not wanting him to worry, you press a kiss to his damp temple, rolling over to lay half over him. His arms come to rest on your lower back, anchoring you to him.

“Thinkin’ about flowers,” You grin, teeth catching the sunlight peeking through the thick curtains. Resting your chin atop folded hands over his chest.

“We need to plant some for the season, before it’s too hot.” He touches the tip of his nose to yours, causing your face to wrinkle as you scrunch against the tickle of his moustache across your lips.

“Let’s get peonies.”

“Anythin’ for you, you know that.”

“I think…I think I want those for my bouquet too.” Your eyes trail from his handsome face to the ring that sits on your finger. Warm from your skin, from his.

“Yeah?” His eyes soften as he watches you admire the jewelry. He had been so nervous when he begun to plan his proposal, the whole thing thrown out the window one morning when you had peered at him through the open window of his truck as he dropped you off at work. The words had burst from his chest in one solid breath, shocking you both. Another step with you that felt so natural he had done it without thinking. But it paid off, because here you were with him still.

And to think, he had almost turned down the job for worry of embarrassing his daughter at her first job.

“Yeah.” You pressed the single word to his lips.

[2mny-glockis]

Kiss of life >ᵥ_ᵥ<

Trafalgar Water D. Law x single mother!fem reader

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"Mr. Law?" You called out to him, breaking him out of his train of thought. "I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" you asked ever so softly, careful not to startle him any further. "N-no. What did you need, (y/n)?" he responded, his voice a tad gruffer than usual. "Monkey D. Luffy is here waiting for you," you informed him. Law sighed, remembering that he had just seen Luffy yesterday when Luffy had claimed that he had heart problems.(he was fine) "What does he want now?" he groaned, his annoyance evident."He apparently needs to get another check up." you replied, letting out a soft chuckle at Law's visibly annoyed expression. He rose from his seat, making his way towards the door.

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"Also," you said, handing him some papers, "I'm going to leave work early today. It's my daughter's birthday, and I still have a few things to get for her!" Sometimes he forgot that you had a child. With a warm smile, you wave goodbye and disappeared before he could respond.

You and Law had been coworkers at the same hospital for around three years now, with him as a cardiologist and you as a nurse under his wing. Over time, it became evident to many of the people in your firm that Law might have a little crush on you. His subtle glances and occasional nervous stammers whenever you spoke to him didn't go unnoticed by your colleagues.

For example, one day, Law and a few other doctors and nurses were cleaning up for the day. They talked about many things during this time, but it soon turned into a big conversation about Law's love life. "I have many other things to focus on," he would say, rejecting the topic as a whole.  "Like (y/n)?" Shachi teased playfully, causing Law's face to flush crimson in response. His attempt to hide his feelings was evident to everyone present, causing a wave of amused glances exchanged between the staff. Despite his efforts to maintain a professional demeanor, it was clear that his thoughts often strayed to you, his nurse colleague, in ways he couldn't understand.

There have been times when Law has seen you outside of work. Like this one time when you and your daughter were out grocery shopping, and you needed help getting something from the top shelf. You kindly asked the tallest person you saw for assistance, and you instantly recognized the black-haired man.

"Excuse me?" You tapped the man's shoulder. "Hi, can yo—oh, hi, Mr. Law!" you exclaimed, your face lighting up with excitement as you recognized your coworker. Law turned towards you, his expression softening into a small smile as he took in your presence. "Hello," he greeted.

During this little encounter, Law was introduced to your little girl, Amora, who stood beside you, clutching onto your hand. She looked up at Law with wide, curious eyes. "Hi, Mr. Law!" she greeted with a toothy grin, her enthusiasm contagious. Law couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through him at the sight of her, his usually reserved demeanor softening. "Hello, Amora," he replied warmly, crouching down to her level to meet her gaze.

After a few minutes of more conversation, you suggested that Law could come back to your place. At first, he hesitated, thinking that he might be intruding or burdening you, but you insisted with that tooth rotting smile. "It's no trouble at all," you reassured him. You had been carrying the conversation from the walk to the store all the way to your home, but eventually there was a moment of silence between the two of you.

“…”

"You look really good today, (y/n)," Law remarked, his head turned away from you, his words tinged with a hint of shyness. "I've been meaning to say that." "Aren't you so sweet, Law!" you exclaimed, a soft smile gracing your lips. He couldn't help but admire how genuinely captivating your smile was. "I just bought this dress, actually!" "Well, I think it looks pretty on you," Law replied.

Law couldn’t understand why he felt this way. From your pretty eyes to your relationship with your daughter, he loved every part of it. He loved every part of you. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to give up on you like your baby daddy did. In his eyes, you were perfect.

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>ᵥ_ᵥ<- sorry how rushed the ending is😣 also I’m thinking about starting a taglist lemme know if I should 😚

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[margotw10bis]

Crashing On Crush. JJK 4 [m]

crush!Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut; series; romance; angst

Words: 4.9k

Synopsis: What happens when your first encounter with your crush is Jungkook seeing your ass?

Warnings: alcohol consumption; protected sex; oral sex (f. receiving); praising kink; mention of passed harassment

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Jungkook left a few minutes after because he had to wake up early the next morning. You were disappointed because after sharing such an intimate moment, you would have liked him to stay. You have felt so close to him. And you had the feeling that your connection disappeared with his absence. You have felt so alive, and the next moment you are completely alone, and not so much alive. It was kind of terrifying how your mood changed because of him: you were beyond clouds when he was next to you, and completely in the darkness when he left. This emotional rollercoaster made you cried that night. You were too lost in your own feelings. You felt closer to him and at the same time so far away.

The whole next day, you kept making mistakes at work, your brain overthinking the last night. You were thinking about Jungkook and wondering if he were thinking about you too. The possibility of it not being the case and of you being just another girl he had fun with squeezed your heart.

That's why, heading out of the art gallery, you thought like you could finally breathe. The pure fresh air of Seoul filled your lungs like it was your very first breathing. That's when you saw him, leaning against his black Mercedes.

Jungkook smiles at you when he notices you. A genuine smile, that makes you smile equally. A pure wave of happiness wraps your body and you wish you could jump in his arms. Once again, a little word with huge meaning starting with 'L' pops in your mind and warms your heart.

"What are you doing here?" You ask him, trying to not sound as cheerful as you are

"To see you"

The simple but so sweet respond attacks your heart. It should be illegal to be such a flirt.

"I was thinking I could cook for you"

"Oh, you know how to cook?" You tease him

"Are you questioning my cooking skills?" He replies, a brow lifting up suspiciously

Jungkook's smile is so pretty. When he smiles, he looks like the happiest man alive and, oddly, seeing him happy makes you happy too. You realize that you want to make him happy.

"Prove me wrong then" You say, opening his car door.

———

You didn't know what to expect from Jungkook's apartment but it surely looks like him: a big living room with a huge TV screen, a large black leather couch, some paintings on the walls ; a modern open kitchen and a dark wood diner table making the transition between the cooking area and the living room. You see some photos of him, his family and his friends. It's like Jungkook has brought all his memories from his brain and materialized it into his place. You feel good here, at peace, like in a cocoon, protected from the outside world. It's the same feeling that when he wraps his arms around your frame.

As Jungkook washes his hands with soap in the kitchen sink, he speaks up:

"Do you want some ramyeon?"

You immediately burst into laugher and Jungkook follows you.

"I mean, real ramyeon but if you want that, I will love it too"

"Real ramyeon is okay" You say, blushing

Jungkook starts boiling water in a saucepan and grabs two packs of Shin Ramyun, the less spicy ones after you told him that you were sensitive. It doesn't take long for the noodles to be ready and you two sit down at the dinner table.

The conversation goes smoothly. You talk about you two, your childhoods, the things you like and don't like. You just get to know each other. Despite being unlabeled, it looks like the beginning of a relationship. Few memories of how it started with your ex-boyfriends come back to you and you realize that what you are leaving now with Jungkook is like that, but way better because you get along on so many things. You laugh at the same jokes, you are upset about the same things, you care about the same subjects. However, you don't want to rush things. It's been a long time since you were in a relationship and you want to take your time. You don't have to put a name on what you and Jungkook are.

"Do you have nicknames?" You ask him at some point

"Actually, I have a lot of them: JK, Kook, Kookie" He pauses and a sparkle of playfulness brightens his doe eyes "Daddy..."

"Jungkook!" You blush and choke at the same time, which makes him laugh.

"You can call me whatever you want"

"What's your favorite nickname? And don't say Daddy" You ask him, genuinely wanting to call him by a name he likes

Jungkook takes the time to think and then, gets a tiny closer to you. When he talks back, his voice is way deeper and you feel a change in the air around you.

"Call me yours"

You don't understand what happens next because in just one second, your lips are on Jungkook's. He grabs your waist to pull you closer, basically putting you on his laps. Your hands are in his smooth, long hair. Your kiss is messy, eager and your panties gets quickly soaked. Then, Jungkook pulls you up and leans you on the table, the tableware pushed aside carelessly. The cold and hard material in your back contrast with the fire in your body and the softness of Jungkook's lips on your neck. His hands struggle to unbutton your pale yellow blouse and he is too impatient to wait. With a sharp movement, he pulls over both sides, causing all the little buttons to pop and fall around you.

"Jungkook!" You scold him

"I'll buy you a new one"

He even seems amused and kisses your breasts. It's enough for you to forget about the ripped clothes. Jungkook sneaks a hand on your back and undoes your bra. He quickly takes off both your messed up blouse and your bra. Then, he cups your boobs with his large and warm palms and takes the time to admire your picked nipples - caused by the cold air on your burning skin and your horniness. His mouth dives onto your nipples and he rolls his tongue around it, sucks on it and gently bites it. The simulation of this sensitive zone causes you to moan his name. You tell him to take off his shirt - honestly, who will say no to sneak on his perfect body?

You flick his firm chest and abs. He is way too handsome with no shirt on. But Jungkook doesn't give you too much time to enjoy the show because he unzips your black slacks and slides them down with your panties. Completely naked, you feel his glaze on you and you blush when he licks his lips, ready to eat you out.

"You are so beautiful" He whispers before he kneels down to kiss your pussy.

A choked whimper escapes your mouth. Feeling Jungkook's lips on you, and especially on your wet pussy, is electrifying. A wave of arousal washes over your body. He eats you out like a starved man. You feel your juice mixed with his saliva dripping down to your ass and your pussy clenches on nothing until Jungkook hears your silenced prayers and enters you with two fingers.

"Oh my god!" You exclaim at the sudden and delightful stretch

"I love how tight you are, babe"

You barely hear his voice because his mouth is glued to your clit but the pet name drives you crazy. You're losing your head, trying to grip the corner of the table not to lose your sanity under these perfect tongue flicks. Jungkook enhances the pace of his fingers, hitting your g-spot every time. You can't take it any longer and you feel your orgasm building up in your body so fast that you can't even tell Jungkook - not that he needs you to speak because your walls around his fingers getting tighter tell enough. You scream his name when you reach your climax, spams of pleasure all over your body.

You look literally fucked up and it's what Jungkook wanted. Seeing and even feeling your pleasure makes him horny. He can feel his hard cock completely squeezed in his pants, it's uncomfortable. You naked is a view he wishes to see everyday. At this thought, he can't help but caressing his dick through the fabric of his clothes and he kisses your inner thighs, he even bites them gently. The contact of his teeth on your sensitive skin makes you flinch. He knows damn well how to use his pretty mouth... He ends up sucking on your inner thigh skin to leave a mark. He loves thinking that you're his, even if it's just for a moment. His possessiveness doesn't just turn him on, it does the same to you. Someway, you are proud he wants you the same way you want him, and you do want to be his. And you want him to be yours.

You are out of breathe, slowly reaching down on Earth after being beyond clouds. You don't think straight and that's why your mouth speaks without consulting your brain.

"I want you" You hear your raspy post-orgasm voice says

Jungkook kisses you, some of your juice mixing in your mouth with your and his salivas. He leaves you just a few seconds and comes back with a metallic square packet in his hand.

"Are you sure?" He asks you

"Yes"

You have no doubt. You want Jungkook. You want to feel the closest you can, you want to feel him in you.

He kisses you, more gently than before, almost in a romantic way, before taking off his pants and underwear. The sight cuts your breathe: his cock is already hard. You can't deny that a new wave of wetness shakes your pussy. You wonder how stretching will his thick length be, you know he will fill you completely.

He puts the condom on, and gives himself a few pumps before placing his body closer to yours, right between your opened legs. The few seconds you have to wait to feel him are like torture. The emptiness of your pussy and the beautiful view of his hard cock so close to you makes you shiver in an impatient horniness. You're losing your mind, but it's even worse when Jungkook takes his length and slides upon your dripping pussy. You moan and then whine in pleasure when you feel it rubbing your swollen clit, causing a spam in all your body. His hard cock on your sensitive bud is the most delightful thing in the whole world.

"Jungkook, please" You beg

Once again, you don't know how much you are turning him on with your plea. "What a good girl", he thinks when he finally enters you. Slowly. Making you feel each inch stretching you and causing your mouth to open. It's so big, painful. It's so good. You don't really know if it's his cock or the realization of him filling you up but you are, once again, on the edge of your orgasm. However, you want this delightful sin to last as long as possible. That's why, when he is deep inside you, all his thick dick swallowed by your cunt, you put a hand on his firm abs to stop him from moving. You need to control yourself and take deep breathes. He is standing up, having the greatest view of your entire perfect body. Even though his position makes him dominant, on the inside, you are shaking everything in Jungkook. You could ask him anything, he would say 'yes'.

"You're so good" Jungkook says in a raspy voice before pecking you, this small gesture squeezes your heart with sweetness

When you begin to whimper from the lack of the now needed sliding, Jungkook gets the message and starts bumping. He begins quite slow but enhances the pace at each single bang. Your breasts bounces at the same rhythm and it's a call for him to grab your boob with his tattooed hand. His skin is even hotter than yours and the feeling is so damn good. His touch is like a delicious burn on your skin. His left hand keeps you in place while he penetrates you again and again. He enters you with all his length each time, hitting your g-spot. The pace is the perfect one: just providing the good amount of pain before it's unbearable. But what is unbearable is the arousal growing even bigger in your body.

"Oh my fucking god!"

"You're taking me so good, Y/N. So fucking perfect"

His head spins by the amount of pleasure. It's the pleasure of stretching your tight pussy but also of being the one in you. He keeps telling to himself how beautiful you are and how perfect your pussy feels around his cock, just like you were made for him. He wants each pounding to remind you that, at this moment, you're his and he's yours. There is nothing in the world but your two bodies being one.

He leans down to kiss you messily. You grab his hair and moan his name in his mouth. How can you survive so much pleasure? It's not just his perfect cock, Jungkook exactly knows how to move. He seems to know what you like, what you want and he gives it to you at the exact right time. That's why it's the best, best, best sex in your life.

"Are you so wet just for me?" His voice is full of cockiness and it makes you crazy, even his possessiveness creates a wave of arousal between your legs and makes your walls clench around him. "Answer me" He orders, giving a slap on the side of your ass, tightening your pussy even more and Jungkook mentally notes that you like that.

"Yes! Yes!" You repeat the only words you manage to say

"You're such a good girl" You can hear his smirk in his breathless voice, and it's fucking hot

You are so close, his cock stretching and pounding your dripping cunt. Jungkook feels your pussy clenching and he smirks. His inked hand leaves your breast to rub your clit, tightening your walls even more. It begins to be hard for him to enter you smoothly when you're so tight.

"Oh my god, Jungkook!" You moan, fighting to keep your eyes open just to see his face full of horniness and his messy-fuck hair sticked on his forehead. He is so perfect, so handsome. His puffy lips are slightly open and you swear that when he looks into your eyes, you can see his soul for a second.

"So fucking tight" He says with his jaws clenched, trying to not cum before you "Cum for me, babe. Cum around my cock"

His puzzling possessiveness towards you pushes him to fuck you harder. Eyes closed by the overwhelming wave of arousal, you have no idea that Jungkook is still watching you. So beautiful with your face torn by pleasure. He wishes to be the only one to witness it, the only one to provide you such an orgasm. And in fact, you've never cummed this hard. You get choked up, unable to make any noise, when you feel the most alive than you've ever felt - you don't even know if you're still on Earth - but Jungkook keeps fucking you through your orgasm. The overstimulation is almost too painful. Almost.

"Please, please" You groan

You don't know if it's for him to stop, to continue or to urge him to feel how good cumming right now is. Anyway, just a few poundings are enough for Jungkook after your little begging to fill the condom.

You are both panting and sweaty. Jungkook almost collapses on you and your burning skins melt into each other's. You feel so... overwhelmed. You don't even know what you're feeling right now except that you want to feel him closer. Not physically because you can't be closer than that - especially when Jungkook is still inside you - but emotionally. Your shaky hands - caused by the orgasms or your emotion - caresses his sticky hair. Jungkook throws his strong arms around you and rests his head on your breast, listening to your pounding heart. The feeling of your fingers playing with his black strands is soothing, he likes it. No, he loves it. He has never felt like this, in complete peace. He knows he is where he is to be.

You're happy Jungkook can't see your face because two big tears escape your eyes for an indeterminate reason. Well, actually, deep down, you know the reason but you're not ready to accept it just yet. Thankfully, you have time to dry your eyes before Jungkook lifts his pretty head and kisses you. A real, beautiful, perfect kiss. A kiss that says everything, every truth of the world and even more. Or is it your imagination because of your foggy post-amazing-orgasm brain?

Jungkook straightens up slowly and pulls out from you. The void between your legs is unpleasant, like a piece of you is missing. He grabs your hand to help to get off the table. Your weak and shaky legs abandon you but Jungkook's quick reflexes prevent you from hitting the ground.

"Wooh, easy cowboy" He laughs, kissing your temples

Why does he have to be so cute right now? Your legs are not the only part of your body to be weak at this moment: your heart is too. And his bunny smile, his adorable doe eyes and his scrunched nose are a huge threat.

You try to push this thoughts away and concentrate on stabilizing yourself. When you feel like you won't directly drop, you carefully let go of Jungkook's support.

"I should go take a shower" You say with a still raspy voice

"Sure, I'll give you a towel. And a t-shirt" He tells you playfully, glancing at your yellow once blouse.

You try to clean yourself quickly to give way to Jungkook but you still take the time to appreciate the smell of his body wash. It's not the usual strong and manly scent but a sophisticate amber and lemony fragrance. You realize it's perfect for Jungkook: mannish but soft at the same time. Okay, your brain is definitely not working well if you think his body wash is a mirror for his personality...

Out of the bathroom with the clean oversize black t-shirt and a pair of boxers that Jungkook gave you, you see him cleaning the diner table dressed only with his underwear. The mesmerizing view makes you blush. You don't say anything to enjoy the show a little longer. But Jungkook eventually notices you and gives you a genuine smile.

"You can choose a movie while I go shower, if you want"

He says that so naturally. Does that mean he expects you to stay over? Not that you complain but last time he left, so you kind of supposed you'd have to leave too. You are in fact really happy to stay and to spend more time with Jungkook after this intimate moment. Does he feel like something changed too? It was not only the sex but the few minutes after, while you were pressed against each other. You know what aftercare is but it was more than that.

———

"What are you doing this weekend?" Jungkook asks you

The movie has been going on for almost a hour now. You were surprised - but so happy - when Jungkook sat next to you and pulled closer, his arm around your shoulders. The fact that you smelled the same kind of made your heart beat faster. Silly, you thought. It was so good that you didn't want to think it was anything more than after-sex moment because if Jungkook decided to not see you again, you knew it would hurt you.

But now, he is asking for this weekend. So maybe, just maybe, he wants to see you again. Maybe to start something more serious?

"I have a thing Saturday. But I'm free Friday night and Sunday" You try to control your smile. "What about you?"

"I was thinking we could go to the Lotte aquarium. Have you been there?"

"Never" You answer, remembering that Suzi and you always talked about visiting it but always ended up doing something else. "I'd love to go"

You bite your lower lip to prevent you from asking "Is it a date?".

"Great" Jungkook smiles at you with his cute bunny smile, relieved that you agreed to go out with him. "What are your plans for Saturday, if it's okay for me to ask?"

"One of my friends is graduating from high school"

"You have young friends!" He jokes

"Yah, I'm not that old! You, on the other hand, can't say the same" You tease and he looks falsely offended

"Come on, Y/N, I'm like three years older"

You don't really think before kissing Jungkook. It's only when you pull your lips apart that you realize that you got carried away by the flirty situation and that you might have crossed a line.

Seeing the panic in your eyes, Jungkook reassures you by kissing you. Himself can't get enough of your pretty lips. Being with you, watching a movie, having you in his arms seems so natural to him. As it's always have been like that. He doesn't know why, and he doesn't even try to understand. He just wants to enjoy it.

And he does. All night. You sleeping in his bed is a blessing, almost a dream. That's why he wraps your body with an arm: he makes sure that you won't disappear. He can't deny that this fear comes with old demons that he tries to push away.

———

"Jongseob!" You scream your friend's name like a proud mom

He is wearing his high school uniform and, something unusual, he has styled his caramel hair - and yes, he has been punished for dying his hair. However, you can't yell at him when he is this cute.

"Noona!"

He immediately jumps at you and you notice that he has grown since the last time you saw him a few month ago.

"I'm so, so proud of you" You tell him, hugging him tightly. "I have something for you"

Jongseob grabs the bag you hand him and takes a look. His almond eyes sparkles and his lovely smile gets bigger. He looks genuinely happy to discover the new video game he told you about and a full box of donuts from your favorite coffee shop.

You are moved to see him happy. It's a drastic change from your first encounter and each time you think about it, your heart is painfully squeezed. It was three years ago. Suzi had sent you a text to tell you that she would be late. Grumbling, you decided to start shopping for the weekend party without her. You were strolling in Myeongdong when you heard some strange noises coming from a narrowed alley. A small group of high schoolers were having fun. Or that's what you thought at first. But watching carefully, you noticed that four of them were, indeed having fun from bullying a younger boy. You felt panicked, sad and angry. You didn't think a second before rushing toward them and yelling at them. They might have think you were crazy.

"If you touch him again, I swear to God that I will make you regret being born" You told them

It was not really your threat but the fading amusement that made them leave. When you turned around, you saw this scared but cute boy. You hugged him tightly and told him that he'd never be alone again. After that, you both sat at your now favorite coffee and you payed him a donut. Since then, Jongseob is like your little brother. You really, purely love each other. And you are so, so proud of him: he is more confident now and he graduates with special mention.

You can see in Jongseob's eyes that he is also thinking about your first encounter. Both of you have watery eyes now. He's never told you that he thinks you're his guardian angel. You helped him so much that he made a promise to himself: he will work hard and will give everything you want. He will take care of you the same way you took care of him. You're the person who knows him the most, like a big sister, his Noona.

You let him go join his classmates and you sit on the bleachers to follow the graduation. Pride brightens your eyes and warms your heart. When the headmaster calls 'Kim Jongseob', he stands up, takes his diploma and looks for you in the crowd. When his eyes meet yours, he waves at you with his certificate, a perfect sign of success after all he's been through.

"Noona, I'm not a kid anymore" Jongseob complains when you hand him a hot chocolate

You roll your eyes. After the ceremony, you invited him at the coffee shop and ordered the usual: a hot chocolate for Jongseob, a latte for you and two glazed lemon donuts - you told him to bring back home the ones you gave him earlier.

"Yah! It's not because you're not in high school anymore that you can't drink hot chocolate. Come on, I know you love it"

With a sigh, Jongseob gives up the protest and takes a sip. The sweet flavor makes him forget why he wanted anything else.

"I'm so proud of you"

"Stop! You said that a hundred times today"

"I know but it's true"

You can't control your emotion. Like you said earlier, you look like a proud mom and you are not going to be sorry for that. Moreover, you know that Jongseob is secretly happy to know how you feel about him, his own parents are not very supportive.

Jongseob's phone rings and he immediately jumps on it. He reads the text, blushes and answers. You squint and wait for him to put down the device. Jongseob notices the suspicious and amused expression on your face.

"What?" He asks, blushing harder

"Don't you have something to tell me?" You take a sip of your latte, trying to act detached while you're dying to know all the details

"There is this girl, Jiwon, she is so pretty and nice. We-we talk, that's all"

"You like her?"

"I-I think"

Jongseob is too cute when he is shy. He is a good guy, you have no doubt that Jiwon will see it too. You are also happy that he found someone, a friend, to talk to. After being bullied, it was hard for him to trust other people and you were the only one he talked to. But you have noticed a slight change in him: he is more open to others and, even if they can't be described as 'friends', he spends some time with them.

"What about you, Noona?"

"There is this guy, Jungkook, he is so pretty and nice" You tease him and Jongseob gently slaps your arm to make you stop. "I'm kidding! But for real, there is a guy. I don't really know what we are"

Actually, you are glad to talk about Jungkook to someone. You know you can talk to Suzi but she is too implicated so Jongseob can help you see things differently, especially when he doesn't know Jungkook.

"What would you like you two to be?"

It's a simple question. And yet, you never thought about it. When you're with Jungkook, you feel so good. He makes you happy, alive and it's more than just sex. The physical attraction you've had for him for months became something deeper when you started spending time with him. It's also scary how such a short time was enough for your heart and your brain to be full of Jungkook.

"I... want him" You whisper "I feel alive when I'm with him. I don't know how to explain but I want to be with him"

"What are you wanting for?"

You look at Jongseob with a surprised and confused look. He looks so confident - you don't know that it's thank to you that he can be.

"Go tell him. You have nothing to loose. And honestly, if this Jungkook guy doesn't want to be with you, he sucks"

Jongseob's cute smile gives you courage. He gives you a 'go girl!' look. You grab you bag, kiss Jongseob on his chubby cheek and waves him goodbye.

———

The bus ride allowed you to organize your speech. You feel so fucking stressed. Your heart beats loudly in your chest. You know that it's not easy to lay yourself bare and confess your feelings but you also know that you shared something real with Jungkook. You can't be the only one to feel this way, he must feel it too.

You arrive at the closest bus stop to Jungkook's. You place your hand on your crazy beating heart and take a deep breathe. It's okay, nothing can go wrong. You walk to his building and you are surprised to see him, standing up next to his Mercedes. You are ready to call him out but you throat goes dry when you see a girl hugging him.

What the hell?

You are close enough to hear them talking. But this can't be happening. It's all a misunderstanding, like in movies. The girl took him for someone else, or Jungkook is going to push her away. But no. The ground is opening under your feet, swallowing you. However, it's even more painful when you hear what they are saying.

"Kookie, I need you" The girl says in Jungkook's chest

"I'm here, I'm not leaving you"

Each word coming from his mouth is a dragger in your broken heart.

He wraps his arms around the fragile girl's body, an awful reminder that he's done the exact same thing to you just a few days ago.

"I love you" She says

Please, don't. Don't say it.

"I love you too"

previous ← 4 → next

[anantaru]

Random thought: Straight up obsessed with the idea of possessive Dottore, like bro's like. Let me just grab your hips when a man gets too close and feel so insecure later that he fucks u dumb and obedient. (Maybe even give u a collar to wear with a matching vial to his earring)

cw. possessive, toxic, fem! reader

in the general rule of how things were processing, one might say to not ever get fooled by dottore's awfully precise, calculated ways and intrigues of pulling you towards his menacing grasp.

to say, that the doctor harbored any special, deep feelings, or, a close connection to you, was too early to deduct yourself, but you can see how he was behaving whenever someone would give you attention, sugar coated affirmations that he for one, never threw your way.

what will follow next, and this never changes, is that after removing you from an encounter, dottore won't speak much nor say anything important, he rather closes his palm around your wrist, jaw clenched, his digits twisting over you strongly, the grasp stone-cold to walk you towards his room.

was he genuinely mad? irritated? or both for that matter.

further action, he makes you undress yourself, the silver, with sapphire stones bedazzled choker taking his attention once you're fully bare, splayed out on the bed, legs parted as he slants into the bed. the choker in question was unquestionably similar to his earring, and if one didn't know any better, they might think that it was crafted side by side.

his weight on top of you wasn't scary, you were aware of how feared dottore was by his peers, often more alarmed than by his dangerous enemies, yet when he begins to plant wet kisses on your neck, you immediately welcome him, and so does your body.

he bites your ear, quite fond of doing so, "how come.." he whispers, lips crushed on your skin as he lines himself up with your cunt, "you always find yourself in such situations?" and you were aware of what he was referring too, wondering if dottore thought you intentionally let other people flirt with you, shower you kindly with sweet praises, and your mind ponders vividly, on the brink of deciding if you really did do it on purpose, so you could for once, see dottore show any kind of emotions— or his insecurity? you wouldn't dare to question him on that, but it does pervade your heart with a warm perception.

still, before you know it, his hips jerk up into your core, and your whole body goes tense when he drags his cock in and out of you, shallow thrusts and putting his pleasure first, your fingertips stretched out and digging into his pale back. you pull yourself tight to him and your hole splits effortlessly with the strength of his thrusts. dottore groans to feel you tense further, then let go, and doing it again, you're so soft and firm as he fucks you, especially tonight he notices how sensitive he was.

"feels good?" he suddenly asks, with a voice that was more menacing then kind as his hands wander down the whole of your body until he was gripping the cheeks of your ass, fisting the mounds of flesh to drag you into his cock and push you into the mattress afterwards.

"y-yeah.." — "it always does." you continue;

dottore groans when you said it the way you did— fully submitted and in a haze as he drops to his elbows at your half-broken, needy noises, his chest suddenly crushing against your own when your erected nipples welcome the strong rubs of skin colliding on skin.

you buck your hips up, unravelling under the strong pressure of his cock pistoling into you, stretching you and sending vast ripples of shockwaves into your trembling flesh. dottore grinds faster against you, each tight and deep circle of his hips making the press of his weight on top of you less intimidating and more natural as if you were not fucking, but actually making love to each other.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[queenshelby]

The Basement (Part Two)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, CNC, Anal, Rough, Derogation

Four weeks after you signed the contract, you arrived at Cillian's house which, at least from the outside, looked like every other house on that street.

You were greeted by a woman named Mandy who took your bag and gestured for you to come inside.

"You brought clothes, that's sweet," she chuckled, raising an eyebrow as she led you into the house and you simply nodded shyly, feeling slightly intimidated by the thirty something year old woman. 

"You know, you won't need them sweetie, so maybe leave them in the spare room for now," she then said, indicating a small room off the hallway.

Feeling like you had no choice, you quietly dropped your bag on the floor and followed Mandy down the corridor. The rich scent of expensive perfume filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of exotic spices wafting from somewhere deeper within the house.

"Uhm, may I ask who you are? I didn't expect anyone but Cillian to be here," you said hesitantly, trying to get more information about your circumstances.

"Oh! That's right, you don't know me yet, do you?" Mandy replied coyly, winking at you. "I'm Mandy, a friend of Cillian's and I'm going to look after you for the next two weeks," she added cheerfully before taking your hand and leading you downstairs to the basement.

"Where is Cillian?" you asked Mandy as your heart pounded wildly against your chest. You couldn't help but feel anxious about what was coming next; the prospect of being trapped in this home for two whole weeks was terrifying but also strangely arousing.

"He's out at the moment, but will be back in a few hours," Mandy stated. "He asked me to get you ready for when he returns," she added, leading you down a winding staircase until you reached a dark but spacious room, containing a big, beautiful bed with chains, a leather chair, and a mirror on each wall. There was also a spa bath and small ensuite and whilst the room was nicely decorated, the sight of your windowless surroundings made your stomach churn nervously.

"What do you mean ' getting me ready'?" you then ought to ask, swallowing hard and Mandy smiled kindly at you. Her tone was soothing, almost maternal.

"Well, for starters, I will talk you through what you can expect from your stay here and then he has asked me to restrain you for your first encounter with him, just to make things more interesting," Mandy explained, reaching out to stroke your cheek gently. You flinched away instinctively — Mandy chuckled softly.

"You read the contract before signing it, didn't you?" Mandy asked, cocking her head slightly to one side, her brow furrowed in concern. The question hung between you—a loaded gun aimed straight at your guilt. Your eyes darted toward the corner of the room, avoiding any confrontation with the older woman.

"Yeah, I did," you finally admitted, mustering all of your courage. 

"Good, then you should know what is about to happen," Mandy said, patting your shoulder reassuringly. "So, how about you undress sweetie, so that I can apply the restraints properly?"

With a weak nod, you began to unbutton your shirt while Mandy turned around. It felt strange to undress while someone else watched, especially since you knew what would happen once you were completely nude.

As you slipped off your shirt and pants, leaving only your underwear on, Mandy cleared her throat loudly before turning to face you again.

"Very nice, darling," she murmured, looking you over appreciatively. "Are you comfortable with wearing nothing at all?" Mandy asked, her voice softening. "If not, we can cover you up with a robe, if you prefer."

She seemed genuinely concerned about your comfort, which struck you as odd considering the circumstances. However, there was something oddly comforting about her gentle, patient manner. It made you trust her enough to respond honestly.

"No, I guess I'm okay with being naked," you managed to say weakly. "It feels weird, though."

You could see Mandy smile at your response, her expression warm and understanding. "It does, doesn't it?" Mandy responded sympathetically. "But I guess it makes things easier access wise," she then told you while you began to remove your bra and panties, leaving behind the stark reality of your vulnerability.

Mandy's gaze wandered across your body, taking in every curve and line. "Beautiful," she whispered under her breath. "You have such stunning curves, no wonder Cills took an interest in you."

The compliment left you feeling both flattered and embarrassed. "Thank you," you muttered awkwardly, averting your gaze to the ground.

"Now, please put your wrists behind your back," Mandy instructed in a soothing voice. You hesitated for a second before complying, apprehensive about what would happen next. You clumsily interlocked your fingers, feeling the cold metal touch your skin as Mandy attached the first chain. "How tight is this supposed to be?" you whimpered, squirming uncomfortably.

"Just right," Mandy answered confidently, tightening the chain further.

"A bit uncomfortable, but not too much." You tried to relax your shoulders, but the cold metal digging into your flesh made it impossible, which was something Mandy ought to ignore.

"Now lets talk about the particulars, shall we?" Mandy started, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. "Cillian asked me to go over some details with you so that you know exactly what to expect during your stay," she explained, her tone warm and friendly. "The first thing is that you'll be staying in this room for the entirety of your stay, unless he decides otherwise. All meals will be delivered to you and the bathroom is equipped with everything you might need, including fresh towels and toiletries."

You glanced around the room, noting the luxurious amenities.

"Now let me tell you what is expected of you, little one," Mandy spoke in a calming voice, her hands resting on your shoulders. "Cillian will come down here four or five times a day, to... entertain himself with you. This includes intercourse and anything else he wants to do. Anything he asks for, you do. No questions asked."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing larger by the second.

"Occasionally, he asks me to join in or hold you down for him," Mandy added casually, checking the chain's tension. "He will like to watch you struggle a bit and I can guarantee you that you will become rather sore after the first few days. But it's all part of the fun, isn't it?" Mandy said, patting your bare leg gently.

"Now you consented to him ejaculating inside you and the doctor has given you a depo shot two weeks ago to make sure you don't get pregnant. You also consented to anal sex and you agreed to him having sex while you are asleep, for which sleeping pills were prescribed to you, correct?" Mandy asked, her voice matter-of-fact.

"Uh-huh," you croaked, nodding feebly. Your throat constricted painfully, your breathing shallow and ragged.

"Good," Mandy nodded approvingly, patting your knee. 

She paused, her tone turning softer. "Also, you understood that you are forbidden to masturbate or play with yourself, yes?"

"Yes," you managed to utter, blushing profusely.

"Good," Mandy said, patting your knee affectionately. "Now I will let you relax. Cillian should be here soon," she reassured you and you gave Mandy a weak smile, nodding in agreement.

The thought of enduring countless sexual encounters with Cillian, without any chance of escape or even self-pleasure, terrified you. Yet, a strange sense of anticipation began to wash over you. What kind of person would choose to endure such humiliation willingly?

The thoughts swirled in your mind, creating a whirlpool of confusion and doubt. You tried to rationalize what lay ahead, grasping at straws to justify your decision. Was it curiosity, perhaps? Or was it the lure of his fame that enticed you into this predicament? Regardless of the reason, you found yourself submerged in a sea of desperation as you faced the inevitable truth. You sighed heavily, casting a longing glance at the door, willing it to swing open and reveal the object of your fascination.

As the minutes ticked by, your impatience grew, gnawing at your insides like a ravenous beast. You were chained to the bed, naked, and time seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into eternity until, suddenly, the door creaked open.

"Alright, little one," Cillian murmured, stepping into the room as he shut the door behind him. His presence sent a shiver down your spine, the mere sound of his voice causing your heartbeat to race.

"I can see that you have settled in nicely," Cillian said, his voice husky, as he walked closer to the bed. His eyes, bright blue, held a hint of excitement as they scanned your body.

You nodded silently, your throat constricting. Words failed you, replaced by a tumultuous mix of emotions. Fear, anticipation, shame, and arousal swirled within you, creating a whirlwind of sensations.

"Why don't you turn onto your stomach for me?" Cillian suggested, his voice calm and confident.

Your heart raced, but you managed to roll onto your belly, facing away from him while the chains twisted tighter, the rope tangling up at the bedhead.

"Perfect," Cillian murmured, running his fingers along your spine while caressing your upper thigh.

His touch sent goosebumps dancing up your arms, and you shivered involuntarily.

"Now tell me," Cillian prodded, his voice dripping with wicked intent. "Have you ever had anal before?"

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible.

"N-no, I haven't," you stammered, your heart hammering against your ribs. 

"And yet you agreed to it," Cillian murmured, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. "This should be interesting, then," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"Please," you whimpered, the word escaping your lips like a plea for mercy. "Just don't hurt me when you put it in there," you begged and Cillian's laughter echoed in the room, filling the space with an unsettling energy.

"Don't worry," he soothed, stroking your back gently. "I promise to be gentle. At least at first," Cillian murmured, his fingers trailing up and down your spine.

"You're trembling," he observed, pausing to brush loose strands of hair away from your neck. "Is it because you're scared?"

'A little,' you manage to squeak out, your breath hitching in your throat.

Perhaps it's the thought of the unknown, or the realization that you're bound to a stranger, powerless to escape his whims. Cillian smiles, his teeth white and perfect, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Don't be, I will ease you into it," he assures you, placing a warm hand on your back. "I might fuck your pussy a little bit first, that should loosen you up," Cillian said, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants, revealing his erect cock.

"And while I fuck your little pussy, I might start stretching your asshole with my finger," he continued, moving onto the bed.

"We'll see how that goes," he teased, crawling up behind you.

You gasped, the sensation of his throbbing member rubbing against your hip sending a jolt of anticipation rippling through your body. You could feel your juices pooling between your legs, soaking the thin mattress beneath you.

"Let's see how much you can handle," Cillian murmured, guiding his cock towards your entrance.

You braced yourself, your muscles tensing as you waited for the entry. He pushed, his length sliding effortlessly into your wet heat. Your moan echoed in the silent room, a muffled cry of pleasure reverberating off the walls.

"That's it," Cillian growled, each thrust driving deep within you. "Fuck, you are so tight," he groaned, his hips moving rhythmically, pistoning in and out of you. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your muscles quivering with desire.

"Good girl," Cillian purred, his grip tightening possessively as he thrust deeper. "Take it all, baby. Show me how much you want it."

You moaned, your voice hoarse and desperate while Cillian groaned, his pace quickening.

"You're so wet, so hot," he moaned before pulling out of you abruptly.

"What are you doing?" you cried out, your voice cracking with frustration.

"Shhh, little one," Cillian murmured, stroking your back soothingly. "Relax, I'm just preparing you for what's to come," he said, kneeling between your legs, pulling you onto your knees so that your chain hands were resting on the bedhead.

He then thrusted in to your pussy again, harder than before, ramming into you like a jackhammer.

"That's it," he growled, his voice laced with lust. The room was filled with the sounds of your grunts and the slap of flesh meeting flesh.

"Now I will spread your ass cheeks apart. alright?," Cillian murmured, his voice laced with anticipation and you gasped, your body stiffening in anticipation. "So that I can see your little virgin hole back there," Cillian he then told you, squeezing your cheeks apart roughly.

You winced, your body protesting as he rubbed your asshole with his index finger, coating it with your pussy juice, making it slippery.

He then pressed his fingertip against your sphincter, applying gentle pressure. 

You flinched, your body resisting the invasion. 

"Relax," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "I'm just getting ready to stretch you out," he told you as he slid his finger into your rear, breaching the barrier with a gentle pop. 

You gasped, a wave of discomfort washing over you.

"That's it," Cillian purred, his voice laced with anticipation.

"I'm just testing the waters," he said, adding another finger, widening the gap. "Can you feel it spreading wider?" he murmured, his voice husky with lust.

"It hurts," you whined, squirming beneath him.

"I know, baby," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Just breathe through it," he said, pressing a firm kiss to your collarbone. "You're doing great," he praised, his voice laced with adoration.

You inhaled deeply, letting out a shaky sigh as you adjusted to the intrusion.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Now, lean forward onto your elbows," he instructed, slipping his fingers out of you.

"I want to prepare you for my cock," he said, stroking your back soothingly.

Without hesitation, you complied, leaning forward onto your elbows, presenting your sore little hole to him.

"Good girl," he cooed, kissing your back. "This might feel a little cold now," he warned, lubing himself up with a generous amount of K-Y Jelly. He then positioned himself behind you, his hard cock pointing directly at your ass.

You shuddered, bracing yourself for the impending invasion. He grabbed your hips tightly, holding you steady as he rested the tip of his cock against your opening.

"It's going to hurt a little," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "But remember, it's all part of the experience," he reminded you, his words a whisper against your ear.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, he thrust forward, the head of his cock breaching your entrance.

"Oh god fuck, you are too big," you screamed, your muscles spasming in shock.

"Shhhh, baby," he murmured, his voice softening. "Just breathe through it," he repeated, pressing a tender kiss to your exposed neck. "You're doing great," he praised, his voice thick with adoration.

Cillian continued to work his cock into your rear, inch by excruciating inch. His rhythmic, deliberate movements felt as though he was carefully sculpting you, carving his path deeper and deeper.

"It hurts," you yelped, your voice breaking. "Fuck!" you spat, squirming beneath him. 

"Shhh, baby," Cillian cooed, his voice thick with lust. "This is what you wanted, right?" His words were meant to taunt you, but they served a different purpose altogether.

"You wanted me to use you," Cillian murmured, his voice soft and soothing as he pushed all the way into your rear.

"To claim you, own you, and fuck you however I wish."

You whimpered, your muscles clenching involuntarily. Every push sent a sharp pain shooting through you, but it was accompanied by a growing sense of fullness which felt strangely satisfying.

"Tell me what you think about me using you like this, Y/N," Cillian breathed into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck.

The command, so blunt and demanding, left you stunned, unable to form coherent words.

"Come on, little one," Cillian urged, his voice softening. "Tell me how it feels."

You struggled to find the words, your voice cracking as you forced out a reply.

"It feels strange," you croaked, your breath hitching in your throat. "Fucked up, actually."

Cillian chuckled quietly, his warm breath fanning your neck. "I bet it does," he murmured, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. 

"What else?" he asked, his voice husky with lust.

Cillian's question hung heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the depth of your surrender. You squirmed, feeling his erection pulsating inside you, filling you up in ways you never imagined possible.

"It feels dirty," you confessed, your voice breaking. "Like I'm just your toy," you said as your voice trembled, a quiet whine echoing in the room. 

Cillian laughed, his voice deep and rich with satisfaction. "Exactly," he replied, his tone laden with triumph as he thrusted into you again, hard and fast.

You gasped, your body responding despite the agony coursing through you.

"You're mine now," he proclaimed, his voice echoing with confidence. "My little toy."

The words stung, yet there was a bizarre sense of satisfaction in knowing that you belonged to him, body and soul.

"Oh god, why am I enjoying this?" you asked, your voice strained and desperate as the pain increased. "Why do I crave more?" you asked out loud, confused by your emotions. 

Cillian smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, clearly you like being dominated, controlled, and used," he said. His words cut deep, but there was a strange allure in the idea that you were a natural slave.

You felt ashamed, disgusted, and utterly helpless as you accepted the truth. You were indeed a natural slave, thriving under the control and domination of others.

"I think you enjoy it even though it hurts, don't you?" he asked, his manhood relentlessly plunging into your ass. With each brutal thrust, you could feel your resistance melting away as the intense pleasure consumed you.

"No, I don't," you lied, your voice cracking. But deep down, you knew he was right. You did enjoy it - the roughness, the pain, the complete submission to his desires. It was liberating, freeing you from the constraints of societal norms and expectations.

"You're a liar," he growled, his fingers gripping your hips tightly. "Admit it, you love being dominated and controlled."

"Oh god," you panted, feeling your insides tighten around his massive shaft. 

Cillian chuckled, his voice deep and dark as he pulled out slightly, before slamming back into you, sending a jolt of pain through your core.

"Your ass is going to be so sore after this," he gloated, his cock thrusting mercilessly into you. "It's going to hurt a lot actually," he teased, grinning wickedly while you moaned at the sheer thought of it all. 

"And guess what? I won't let you cum until you've earned it so the pain will be even worse," Cillian said, his voice dripping with wicked delight. "You'll beg and plead for release, but it won't come until I say so."

You shivered, the prospect of endless torture exciting you beyond measure. This is what you signed up for, you reminded yourself. A man who possessed the ability to dominate and control you completely. The idea thrilled you, sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Now, I need you to hold nice and still for me while I fill your little hole with my seed," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Are you ready for me to mark you as mine?"

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. As Cillian withdrew his cock, you felt a sense of loss, a void forming within you that only his presence could fill.

"Put your face down in the pillow," Cillian ordered, his voice commanding. "I'm going to slide in deep now, baby," he said, positioning himself behind you once more.

"I want to feel you squeezing my cock with your tight little channel, begging to be marked with my seed."

You could hear the hunger in his voice, a palpable force that resonated loudly through the room. The thought of being claimed, owned, and possessed by him excited you beyond belief. You moaned softly, arching your back in anticipation.

He rammed his cock back into your now gaping rear with such force that it hurt, causing you to scream out in pain.

"Ah! Fuck!" you yelled as tears welled up in your eyes from the intense penetration.

"Good girl, let me hear those pretty little screams of yours!" Cillian roared, his words punctuated by the forceful thrusts of his cock. 

You grimaced, biting on the edge of the pillow to muffle your cries. "Ow! Ah!" you groaned, your voice muffled and shaky. Despite the mounting pain, you couldn't help but revel in the sensation of being thoroughly taken by someone so unrelenting.

"Here it comes, baby," Cillian rumbled, the words vibrating against your skin as, with a final, triumphant thrust, he surged into you, filling you to the brim with his seed.

You cried out, the sudden influx of warmth overwhelming you.

"There we go," Cillian murmured, a satisfied grin playing across his lips. "Now tell me, how does it feel?" he asked while withdrawing his cock slowly, causing your gaping hole to shrink almost instantly.

"It burns," you whispered, your voice quivering as you felt his hot semen leak out of you, staining the bedding beneath you. "But I loved it," you admitted, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

"I knew you would," Cillian chuckled, his voice dripping with pride. "Now you're mine."

You flinched, a wave of dread washing over you. Now that it was done, the reality of your situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

"What happens now?" you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling.

"It's simple, really," Cillian replied nonchalantly, his voice laced with amusement. "I'll continue to use you as I please, whenever I please. And you'll learn to accept your new role as my pet," he explained before giving you a quick wink and untying you from the bed. 

[the0doreslover]

For the first time, part II | t.n

Theodore found himself strangely preoccupied with thoughts of you after that short encounter. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about you that intrigued him so much. Every time he saw you around the school, he felt his heart race a bit faster. He found himself looking forward to breakfast just to catch a glimpse of you, and he often caught himself daydreaming about what it would be like to have a conversation with you that extended beyond a few words.

Days turned into weeks, and Theodore's curiosity about you only grew. He discovered from his friends, Blaise and Pansy, that you were known for the way you were quite the mystery, always appearing out of nowhere and disappearing just as quickly. Theodore was captivated by your enigmatic presence.

One day, as the weather started to shift towards autumn, Theodore found himself walking alone in the courtyard after class. Lost in thought, he was startled when he heard your voice behind him.

“Lost again Nott?”

Turning around, Theodore saw you leaning against a nearby tree, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. He chuckled, surprised by how comfortable he felt around you despite barely knowing you.

"I suppose I have a tendency to wander," he replied, his lips curving into a small smile.

You pushed yourself off the tree and took a step closer. "Well, I must admit, I'm intrigued. You don’t look at me with disgust like the other slytherins… it’s nice”

"Is that so?" Theodore raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious about your perspective.

"Yeah. You're quiet, but you don't exude the same air of superiority that most of your housemates do."

He shrugged, leaning against the tree now. "I find that whole superiority thing a bit tiresome, to be honest."

You nodded in agreement. "Me too. So, what do you do when you're not wandering, Mr. Nott?"

Theodore chuckled. "Well, I enjoy spending time in the library, reading and researching various subjects. And I have a penchant for painting."

"Painting, huh? I wouldn't have pegged you as the artistic type."

He smirked. "Appearances can be deceiving, don't you think?"

You laughed, the sound light and pleasant. "Touché. Well, maybe you can show me some of your paintings someday."

"I'd like that," he admitted, feeling a warmth spread through him at the thought. "And maybe this time Hermione won't drag you away from me," he laughed.

As the conversation continued, Theodore found himself opening up to you in a way he hadn't with others. Your easygoing nature and genuine interest in him put him at ease. It was a feeling he wasn't used to, but one he welcomed wholeheartedly.

Little did he know that this conversation marked the beginning of a deep and unexpected connection between the two of you.

Over the following weeks, you and Theodore's friendship blossomed into something more profound. Your witty banter and shared interests formed a strong foundation, and the mysterious air that surrounded you only intrigued him further.

As the months flowed by, the bond between Theodore and you deepened. Each passing day seemed to lock in the connection you shared, an unspoken understanding. The initial curiosity that had drawn you two together evolved into something more profound—an undeniable closeness.

Conversations that once centered around casual topics soon dived into the depths of your hopes and dreams. Theodore found himself sharing his aspirations with you, discussing his fascination with magic's intricacies and the fervor he felt for painting. And you, in turn, bared your soul, revealing your desire for adventure, a hunger to explore.

One serene evening, with the sun casting its last rays across the Hogwarts grounds, you and Theodore stood by the Black Lake. The water flowed, reflecting the fading light, while a gentle breeze tousled your hair, intertwining it with the sweet scent of blooming flowers.

“i haven’t drink anything for weeks” you said looking at the boy who looked almost painted

“i’m glad” he smiled

“i think… we should play shot trivia” you said hopefully

“absolutely not… for all i know you could end up at the hufflepuff table with cedric diggory”

you both laughed

"Have you ever wondered about your path after Hogwarts?" you asked, your gaze lingering on the horizon.

Theodore leaned against a nearby tree, a thoughtful expression playing on his features.

"I've given it thought. Continuing my studies, perhaps looking into obscure branches of magic, and certainly nurturing my love for painting."

Turning to him, a playful grin tugged at your lips.

"So, a wizard with a penchant for artistry? Quite the intriguing combination."

A soft chuckle escaped him. "Appearances can indeed be deceptive. And what about you? What do you envision for your post-Hogwarts days?"

A wistful sigh escaped your lips, and your gaze grew distant. "I've always been more captivated by the present than the future. Yet, I can't help but entertain the idea of traveling."

Theodore nodded in agreement. "That sounds like an awe-inspiring adventure."

Silence settled between you, and Theodore felt a surge of courage, a yearning to confess the feelings that he could no longer suppress.

"Y/n," he began, his voice tender, "there's something I've been wanting to share with you."

Turning toward him, curiosity lit up your eyes.

"What is it, Theo?"

Taking a deep breath, he traced intricate patterns on the tree's bark, the words forming in his mind.

"Every moment spent with you has shaped my life in ways I never even realised till recent. From the minute you sat next to me at the Slytherin table, I haven't been able to think of any name but yours."

Your eyes widened, and the world seemed to still. Then, a smile bloomed across your face. "Theodore Nott, are you implying that you have a crush on me?"

He smirked, his cheeks warming. "I suppose you could say that."

Your grin widened, and you stepped closer, a playful glint in your eyes. "You know, Theodore, I've been secretly hoping you'd say that."

He blinked, amusement filling his eyes. "You were?"

Your nod was accompanied by an unwavering gaze. "Absolutely... I've been feeling the same way too."

Relief and contentment surged through him, and a genuine smile graced his lips. "Really?"

A playful smile accompanied your response. "Definitely. I guess we've been dancing around these feelings for quite a while, haven't we?"

Theodore chuckled, his nerves giving way to a sense of reassurance. "Seems that way."

Reaching out, you gently took his hand in yours, your fingers intertwining with an easy familiarity.

"So, what's the next chapter, Mr. Nott?"

Theodore stared at your face, the way the sun hit it in just the right way made heat rush to his face. In that heart-stirring moment, he leaned in, his heartbeat echoing the anticipation in his chest. He pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your lips.

"I say we travel around the world, I'll draw you in every country we visit."

"Promise?" you asked.

"Promise," he confirmed before placing another sweet kiss on your lips.

“so still a no to shot trivia?”

“still a no”

“okay just checking”