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mountainsandmayhem · 2 months

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Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

Part Three (Spicy Version)

DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Soft Version)

Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 5.7k

CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of toys and a riding crop. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.

AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. This is the spicy version of the third part. I'd love to hear which part you liked best!

“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”

“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!”

“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?”

Your dad is silent for a while, a distorted higher pitched voice filters through before you hear your dad again, “It’s alright honey. She’s with Joel.” He lets out a deep sigh before adding, “I thought we skipped the rebellious phase with her.”

“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.

You squeeze your thighs together and nuzzle deeper into Joel’s throat. You know what you need, and it isn’t to cool off. He and your dad have been friends since the day he moved in down the street. You were seven and Sarah was eleven, you thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Wonder what she’d think of you now, cuddled up against her dad after he just edged the fuck out of you after spanking you in an alleyway. You’re lost in your thoughts as Joel talks with your parents for a while.

A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more.

“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.”

You squeeze his side, knowing he’s smirking about how frustrated and needy you truly are right now. He hangs up the phone and brings his lips to yours, kissing you harder this time. You moan into his mouth, hands roaming up his body to tangle in his hair.

Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me.

As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp and a small shiver racks his body. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much.

Got ya, you think to yourself.

He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago; deeper and more commanding. It reverberates through you - right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.”

The front door hasn’t even closed before Joel is hoisting you over his shoulder roughly, kicking the door closed as you squeal, his calloused hands gripping the back of your thighs as your stomach rests across his broad shoulder.

Fuck his ass looks good from this angle.

“You know I’m not done punishing you yet, right?” He growls, toeing off his boots and taking you to the basement.

When Sarah was old enough, she’d occasionally babysit you. You remember there being a locked room in the basement, she said she didn’t know what was in there, but you were obsessed with finding out. You asked Joel mercilessly what he was hiding back there and he never responded in more than a grunt or a sarcastic comment like “that’s where I lock up kids who don’t shut up.”

Joel grabs a key off the holder at the bottom of the stairs and heads straight for that mysterious locked door. The key scrapes against the door knob, you crane your neck to see as he flicks on the light.

Holy. Fucking. Shitballs. Joel Miller has a sex room.

“Watch your mouth,” he grumbles as he drops you onto the large metal framed bed.

Did I say that out loud?

He stalks away from you towards a large black cabinet, rolling the sleeves of his button up flannel to his elbows. It’s almost concerning how much that simple action turns you on. Maybe you should go back to church, your mom would be so proud.

You’re intrigued to look around, curious as to what else is around you in this large room, but everything about Joel’s presence draws you in. Freezes you in time. You belong to him, or so he implied when he said he was your Dom now.

He slides the door of the large black cabinet open just enough to reach in. Your curiosity is bubbling to the surface and just as you’re about to ask he looks at you darkly.

“Did you come on the drive home?”

Every bump on the drive home had you twitching. You tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you.

“No, Joel.” Your eyes dance around his hands, trying to see what he took out of the cabinet.

His jaw flexes, “It’s Mr Miller. Not Joel.” His chin juts towards the corner of the room across from him as he says, “go kneel in that corner. Face the wall and don’t move.”

You practically leap off the bed and scramble to the corner as Joel mumbles, “So fuckin’ eager,” under his breath.

On your way to the corner you see all sorts of ropes, chains, paddles and whips hanging from the walls. There's a large wooden x with cuffs leaning against another wall and beside the corner he’s told you to go to there’s a strange looking bench, almost like a gymnastics horse, that also has cuffs. You might be way in over your head here.

You kneel down in the corner, the carpet is soft and luxurious under your knees as you rest your bum down onto your heels.

“No, on your knees. Hands above your head on the wall.” Joel barks, making you jump and your pussy flutter. Joel opens and closes some more doors, you hear things being moved around and just as your hands start to go numb above you, you feel his heat at your back.

“I’m going to finish your punishment now little one,” he rasps. “Have you ever been a sub before?”

“N-no. Mr Miller. I’m sorry,” you voice trembles. Nervous and excited energy are battling inside you for first place.

“Don’t be sorry, babygirl. What do you say if you want me to stop?” His strong hands grip your hair, gathering it up in a low ponytail before tying a long ribbon around it.

“Umm..” you rack your brain. Before his sadistic little countdown he told you to say something if you wanted to stop.

“Cowboy,” you finally say, slightly uncertain until he hums a sultry ‘that’s right’ behind you, his hands grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it up and over your head.

The cool basement air hits your exposed skin and you find yourself arching your back towards Joel’s warm body. Your nipples turn to stiff peaks at the combination of the temperature shift and the anticipation of what’s coming next.

Your hands fall back to your sides as your shirt glides past your fingertips. Without missing a beat, Joel hits right below your shoulder blade gently with a riding crop. The sound of the soft black leather end against your skin is louder than the pain, but it still burns slightly as you gasp and your arms fly back up to the wall.

“Don’t be stupid, baby. The more you don’t listen, the more I will hurt you. And you are already here because you didn’t listen.” He trails the riding crop around the pink mark forming on your back. “Stand up, but keep your hands above you.”

You plant one white slip-on van on the carpet and drag the toe of the other as you stand, hands sliding up the red satin wallpaper that lines the room. The soft leather of the crop traces down the black strap of your lace bra, across the back band and then up the other strap.

“Use one hand and undo the clasp, sweet pea.” You drop your right hand and bring it behind your back. Popping the metal clasp open with a shaky thumb and forefinger. Before you can put your hand back, Joel grabs your wrist and places the crop in your fist before raising it back up above you. His rough fingers graze your back, goosebumps line your skin as your head falls forward and you hum out in pleasure.

His hands glide around to the front of your body and trail up, pushing under the cups of your bra to squeeze your tits. He stops dead as they land heavy in his palms.

“Holy fuck, drop the crop and take this bra off right now. Let me see them,” his voice is thick with arousal at what he’s found.

You do as he says, the crop hitting the soft carpet with a thud. You spin and let your bra fall from your arms. Showing him the golden barbells, and the thin golden hearts that surround each nipple.

Joel practically snarls as he dives in to kiss you, his tongue parting your lips and making room for him to devour you. “Are those healed?” He asks through the kiss.

“They’re sort of new,” you say into his mouth. “Six weeks ago.”

“Fuuuuck, you’re gonna kill me,” his hands hurry to the buttons on your shorts. He rips them down your legs, kneeling in front of you to slide off your shoes. His face is now level with your achy cunt. It’s been throbbing since he spanked you and now he’s so very close.

He stops to stare at it, then gently uses his thumbs to pull your soaked lips again. He clicks his tongue, “too bad you didn’t listen. She looks swollen and sooo wet,” his thumb barely grazes the wet flesh before he looks up at you as he sucks off the juices. “Mmm - and sweet. But bad girls don’t get rewards.” He lays a quick slap across your clit and you nearly collapse at the sensation.

The pain.

The heat.

The pleasure.

He smirks down at you as he stands. You crane your neck to look at him, gasping for breath as the pleasure ebbs between your legs.

“You like pain, don’t you?” He asks.

A sly closed lip smile crosses your face as you nod quietly. You do like pain, but you’ve never had someone as experienced as Joel before. He spanked you harder than you ever have been before, pushing and testing your limits. While you enjoyed it, and can’t fucking wait to do it again, you aren’t sure if you can handle all these whips, crops, canes and ropes.

Cowboy. Just say cowboy.

He steps away, leaving you completely bare in the corner. He stops at the foot of the bed, the things he’s pulled out of the cabinet rest flat on top of the sheets but you can’t make out what’s there. He slides his flannel off and drops it to the floor. You swallow hard at the way his tight shirt hugs his body, you swear you can see every muscle that lines his chest and abdomen through it. He doesn’t leave you guessing for long, one hand reaching behind himself, grabbing his shirt by the nape of the neck before peeling it from his hard body. You squeeze your thighs at the sight of him.

Joel Miller: Greek God.

He leans against the tall post at the foot of the bed, crossing his thick arms over his chest. His biceps bulge and suddenly you find it hard to breathe. He is fucking beautiful.

“Crawl to me, and bring the crop,” his voice is rough as he commands you.

You get onto your hands and knees and look over at the crop and then back towards Joel, looking up through your lashes. “Think about it for a second,” he says.

You bend down and pick the crop up with your teeth. “There’s my smart girl,” he praises as you crawl. You’re so wet that your thighs slide effortlessly against one another. You stop in front of him and he reaches down to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. He’s looking at you with an immense sense of pride, you’d do anything to have him look at you like that and when he throws in a warm ‘good girl’ you’re done for. His. His brat. His good girl. His submissive. Just his.

He takes the crop from your teeth and then walks behind you. “Arch your back,” he presses the leather end into your lower back, guiding you, teasing you, showing you what he wants and how he wants it.

“Spread your legs, babygirl,” he whispers, again gently pressing the crop to your inner thighs as you spread for him before he slowly drags the soft leather from your clit to your backside. You whimper at the much needed attention. “Good girl. See how much better it is when you listen.”

You relax your head, letting it fall as you moan. Close. So very close. The leather meets your chin next. “Eyes up, I need you to stay like this for me. Ok?”

“Yes Mr Miller,” you gasp, holding your head high, looking straight ahead at the metal bed frame that’s lined with hooks and rings. “Anything for you.”

The riding crop trails down your neck and spine as he walks back behind you. “That right, darlin’?” He says, almost afraid to admit how much those three little words have affected him. You. Offering him anything.

You let out an agreeable moan before he strikes you twice, each snap of the crop hitting the exactly same spot.

Joel Miller: Greek God and Accurate Riding Crop Sniper.

Ok, you’ll have to work on the name.

The sting takes a bit longer to turn into that pleasurable tingly heat that you love than when he spanked you. Keeping your back arched and head up is already proving to be a challenge, and then he traces your cunt and asshole again with the leather and you’re practically shaking. Closer. Much closer.

He does it again. Striking one cheek, then the other, quickly followed by a quick slap to the back of your thigh. You cry out in pain, until the leather slides over your soaked clit and the sounds turn downright pornographic.

“Why am I punishing you?” He demands, tapping your clit lightly and rapidly.

“I - mmmm - I didn’t q-quit,” you moan.

“Wrong,” he hits you again. Five quick, sharp snaps, alternating between ass cheeks. Then he slides up and down your folds again.

Pain

Pleasure.

Sparkling burning heat.

“M’gonna come,” you mumble and Joel pulls away. You cry out in protest as he lowers himself to the floor, a large warm hand gently rubbing your sore cheek.

“You come when I say,” his lips land on every spot he’s hit you, but not the spot you need him the most. “Now why am I punishing you?”

Your mind is mush, overrun by the overwhelming need to orgasm. You didn’t quit. He wants you to and you didn’t. That’s why he’s hitting you.

“I don’t know Mr Miller,” you whine. His hand trails up the soft skin of your inner thigh, your legs tremble under his touch and you fight against your shaking arms to keep your body how he wants it.

“No?” He says with a smirk. “On your elbows, forehead on the floor.”

“I’m sorry,” you say as you get into his new required position.

“You should be,” he stands and walks towards the bed. Leaving your ass up and on display. “You lied and snuck out, then after your spanking tonight you stayed at work for another two hours. You also used my marks to make money. You, my sweet girl, are a brat.” He’s practically growling by the time he finishes, settling himself behind you. “That’s why I’m punishing you.”

Deep down Joel knows he should stop. Not for the obvious reasons: best friend's daughter, twenty years younger, four years younger than his own daughter. But because he hasn’t had a real conversation with you yet about your hard and soft limits. Didn’t even ask if you wanted to be his sub. But your smooth little ass is up in the air, pussy glistening in the dim light of his sex room and nothing but your pleasure matters anymore.

You swallow hard, “I’m sorry for being a brat, Mr Miller.”

“I don’t think you are,” he says and you hear the distinct sound of a cap of lube opening behind you. “I think that you have enjoyed yourself so much that you’re going to be back on that corner waiting for an Uber to take you to work tonight. You want me to come after you. Because you are a little slut with a very greedy pussy.”

Something cool presses against your soaked entrance and you cry out as he continues, “so I’ll tell you what. You can go to work tonight, but you’ll have to do it my way,” slowly that cool something slides inside of you, filling you slightly but it’s not enough. “Fuck, practically sucked it in, babygirl.”

You can feel it, a hard ball that’s pushing right against your g spot, a slender piece staying outside your body for easy removal. “That is going to stay in until I take it out. It vibrates, and if you don’t behave…I will turn it on.”

His large, rough hands grip you by the hips and pull you back so your ass is flush against his body, his cock stiff as nails under his jeans. “It’s time to get some sleep, sweetheart. Get in the bed, please.”

“But…” you pout into the plush carpet. “Please, Mr Miller.”

“What did I say? Bad girls don’t get rewarded. Come on,” he taps your hip. “Bed.”

You stand up on shaky legs, thankful that the best is only two steps ahead of you. But the toy inside of you has you feeling like a powder keg on the edge of exploding. Joel pulls the covers back and climbs in with you, pulling you in to rest your head on his chest. His arm drapes around your body, the other resting behind his head.

“How are you feeling after tonight?” He whispers, using an app on his phone to turn the lights off.

“Horny,” you whisper, burying yourself deeper into his neck.

“I know. But you know I can’t make you come, right? I can’t reward you for this behaviour.” His lips fall to your hairline, two light lingering kisses melting you further into him.

“What can I do, Mr Miller?” The moment the last syllable of his name leaves your lips the vibrator comes to life inside of you. “Oh god - thank you. Thank you.” Your body twitches against his, your leg coming to drape across him as you subconsciously hump and grind into his hip.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks, holding you tighter against his strong body.

“Yes. Yes. Hnnnng, yes.” You grind harder, your arousal coating his hip and leg, your clit sliding along him with ease now. “Joel, please.”

Shit. He should punish you for calling him Joel but you’re so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart and he can’t hold back any longer. He’s let other subs go days without an orgasm, he’s gotten off to them begging and crying for relief. But you. You sound so damn sweet to his ears and he can’t stand to see you like this anymore.

He has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him.

“Please!” You cry between kisses.

His thick fingers sliding between your puffy folds before grabbing the end of the vibrator, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you.

“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better now,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing.

“Please. Please. Pleeeaase, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need it, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible.

“I know. Relax baby. Breathe.” He says between kisses down your sternum, his tongue tracing your curves. When he finally settles in between your thighs he swallows hard, he wants to dive right in, make you drench his face as you come. “Look at me, darlin’.”

His warm breath hits your pussy and you fight your hips from bucking up to his face as prop yourself up on an elbow and try to focus your eyesight on him. You didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on that you practically had tequila vision.

His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?”

You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips. He doesn’t want to ask permission, and next time he won’t. But right now he needs to know you’re ok with this.

“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?”

It starts to hit you that Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here.

“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin.

“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed.

Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure.

“No no baby girl, eyes on me.”

You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping.

Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure.

“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’.

He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.”

Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed until today. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, as all the air whooshes from your lungs.

“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars start to blur your vision, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure and you turn into a boneless, mumbling mess.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.”

You’re not sure if you’re screaming or not, all you hear and feel is Joel. Everything is Joel. Strong hands, deep gravel voice, warm vanilla smell. He’s everywhere and you never want it to stop.

“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking and slurping up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”

Almost immediately after your orgasm crests it becomes too much. You’re so overstimulated that it hurts and your moans of pleasure become cries of pain. You forget your name, where you are, you even forget your safe word. But Joel knows, he always knows.

He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”

You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time?

“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready.

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.”

So fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his bare chest are soaked. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.”

You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job,” he praises as you whimper at the loss of his fingers inside of you.

He crawls up your body, placing his strong forearms beside your head, moving any hair that has escaped the ribbon from your face. “I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”

“Fuck me,” you mumble.

He grins down at you. “That’s my little slut,” he says darkly, ripping his jeans and underwear off, kissing you hard and rough - just how you like it. His hard cock lands heavy on your clit and you cry out into his mouth. “You sure about this?” He says cockily.

“Fuck me, Mr Miller. Please. I need your -,” he slams deep inside you, hips flush against yours. He’s so deep you swear you can feel it behind your navel. The girth of him giving you a painful but pleasurable stretch, “oh god. I’m gonna come again.”

“Squeeze me, baby. Yell out. Show me what I do to you,” he hooks your knees in his elbows to get deeper. Hips grinding and slamming into yours. “So goddamn good. So tight. Give it to me, little one.”

The heat in your belly snaps as you come apart for him again. Every muscle goes limp and pliant as he folds you in half, knees practically behind your head like some sort of tantric pretzel. The walls of your pussy clamp down on his dick as cry out in pained moans. Before your orgasm has even tapered off he’s slipping out of you and flipping you around.

“Hands and knees, like you were on the floor.” He practically yells it at you, like a drill sergeant.

You don’t have the cognitive ability to even know what your arms or legs are, lying on your belly down in the puddle you created earlier.

“Can’t,” you moan before the sharp snap of the riding crop hits your ass. Adrenaline spikes as you start to find your arms, bringing them beside you to push up. Another three quick strikes hit your backside. “Fuck. Stop, Joel. Please.”

He strikes you again. You most definitely do not want him to stop and you already know that he loves when you beg. “It huuuurts,” you gasp as you bring yourself up to your knees. Your all wobbly limbs, like a newborn giraffe, and panting breaths as he hits six quick strikes down your thigh. Crying out with each one, “I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Please just stop.”

“You should see how your pussy clenches with each hit, my little masochist,” he praises, moving to punish the other thigh in the same way he did the other one. “You could come from this, couldn’t you?”

“No. It hurts. I’m sorry, daddy.”

Joel stops. The word daddy suspended in the air between you. Fuck, it just slipped out. You’ve never said it to a man before and now you wish you could just crawl into a little hole and die alone.

“Oh babygirl,” he says proudly, coming up behind you and rubbing his dick up and down your wet pussy. “Do you like that? Calling me daddy?”

“It slipped out. I’m sorry Mr Miller,” you desperately want to bury your face in the pillows but you keep your head held high, just like he wants you too.

“Tell daddy to fuck you,” he says, his hand grabbing the base of your tied back hair.

“F-fuck me, daddy,” you say in the sweetest and most innocent sounding voice you can muster.

With one snap of his hips he’s fully inside of you, his hand pulls at your hair. You scalp tingling and burning, only adding to the pleasure building again in between your legs.

“You like it rough. Don’t you, little one?” You moan out in agreement, “like it when daddy fucks you this deep. Like it when daddy is in your belly. Don’t you?”

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” It’s like you’re a broken record, unable to come up with anything except moans, cries and ‘oh god’s’.

Joel’s hand moves from your hair to between your shoulder blades and pushes down. A silent command for you to rest your chest on the bed. You do as he says, “good fuckin girl. You want me to fuck you while I use the crop? Is that what you want my little pain slut?”

“Yes please, Mr Miller,” you gasp, hands fisting the sheets, muscles clenching as you prepare for what’s about to happen.

The pace at which he’s fucking you continues. He’s fast and rough, his balls slapping against your pussy with each trust. The crop hits the bottom of one of your feet first, then just to the right of your left shoulder blade.

“Not gonna stop until you use that safeword. Brats don’t get rewards,” He fucks up into you a few more times as he swats at the front of your thigh.

Blinding heat and pleasure start to course through you as you come again. “My little masochist,” he says again, pulling back to slap at your ass as you come on his cock. Tears blur your vision, you want to stop but you want to make him proud. You feel his dick getting harder, twitching slightly.

Just a few more minutes, you think to yourself. Until he strikes you harder than all the other times. The sound of leather on your skin fills your ears and you pull away from him, “COWBOY!!”

You collapse into the sheets as Joel turns away, unable to stop his orgasm and wanting to be respectful of your need to stop. He cums into the sheets with his hand, biting back your name from leaving his lips.

He turns to find you facedown, red and purple marks already forming. “Baby,” he whispers, his hand coming to caress your lower back. You flinch under his touch.

Fuck, I went to hard.

“Shhh, relax. It’s over now. Let me take care of you.” He sees you visibly melt into the mattress, and why wouldn’t you. His voice is soft and gentle as his fingers trail up and down your spine. “I’m so proud of you for using your safeword. Can you roll over for me?”

You do as he says, using any last ounce of energy to roll over. He shuffles himself to sit on the edge of the bed, lifting your upper body to help you prop up in some pillows, your eyelids are impossibly heavy. He reaches into the small mini fridge that’s disguised as a bedside table and takes out a bottle of water.

“I need you to drink this, honey. Then I will put some coconut oil on those marks. Ok?”

You open your eyes as he cracks the water. He looks wrecked. Beads of sweat line his hairline, curls sticking to his forehead, but fuck is he beautiful.

Joel Miller. Sex God.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he slides his boxers back up his leg, his still half hard cock pressing against the fabric.

You’re suddenly unable to stop from giggling. You feel giddy and drunk as you down the water and say, “I feel fucking amazing!”

Joel shakes his head and lets out a little laugh. “Good,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. He pulls makeup wipe out from the bedside drawer and wipes the mascara that’s run down your cheeks. Then he finds himself doing something he’s never done with his other subs. He grabs the coconut oil and reaches a hand out to help you off the bed.

“Let’s go get some sleep,” he says. Steading you and leading you up the stairs to his room. This is dangerous territory, but he needs to wake up with you. Cherish you. Care for you. Other subs always slept down here. Never in his room and rarely with him. But certainly never ever in his room.

You follow with shaky legs and nearly collapse onto his bed when you get there.

“Can we do that again?” You ask as he rubs oil on your tender backside.

“Fuck yes. But before we do that,” he taps your side and you roll over so he can oil your thigh. “You need to fill out some paperwork.”

You groan and he lets out a deep laugh. “I promise it’s fun paperwork. Hard and soft limits. Things you want to try.”

He looks up at you with adoration, mirroring the looks you’re giving him. He nods towards your pierced nipples, “I like those. Very sexy. As soon as they’re healed we are gonna have some fun.”

You blush, “thanks. You’re - umm, you’re actually the first person to see them.”

“That right?” He says proudly, lying down beside you and pulling you into his chest.

“I have an appointment at the piercer next week. Any requests?” You say teasingly as you nuzzle into his chest. Your appointment is to get a second hole in each ear lobe, but may as well have a little fun.

“Hmmm,” he hums, lips grazing your hairline with little kisses. “Belly button.”

“Oh, I was thinking of doing my clit.” You glance up at him through your eyelashes, bottom lip between your teeth.

“Fuck me, baby. You tryin’ to kill this old man? I’m gonna have to leave the goddamn continent while that heals.” He pulls you in tighter, pulling the blanket up around both of you. “Get some rest now, we have a big afternoon.”

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@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565@pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather@ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30

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pinguwrites · 6 months

Note

I want step dad cillian with needy/pervy reader who comes into his room one night and just starts grinding on his cock (over clothes😔) and he’s like no stop this is wrong but she keeps doing it and he keeps telling her to stop until he comes in his underwear🤭 and I’m debating writing it myself but your step dad cillian shit is fire so like,, if you’re taking requests,,,, I’m requesting that skdjsk. Anyway I love you bestie <3 lmk if you decide you don’t want to write it cause I’ll probably do it💀 (eventually..)

🥵 🥵 thankyouthankyouthankyou

A Father and a Lover ⸻ Cillian Murphy

pairing | cillian murphy x stepdaugher!reader

summary | Cillian Murphy is trying to be a good dad for you. It proves more difficult than he expected.

word count | 1.1k

Warnings: dub-con but cillian's lowkey into it, age-gap (reader's eighteen and cillian's late thirties/early fourties), stepcest, grinding, dd/lg kink, princess nickname, PROCEED WITH CAUTION — DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection of Cillian Murphy's actual life. This is completely separate and is not intended to harm him or his family in any way. DNI if you're a Yvonne hater. This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Cillian Murphy was trying his best to take care of you. He hadn’t expected your mother — his ex-wife — to up and skip town all those years ago, leaving you, a girl who was barely out of elementary school, vulnerable and in need of protection, in his arms, with no help, no money, no nothing.

He didn’t regret it at all, of course. At least, not anymore. The thought of you not in his life sent him into a spiraling panic, a desperate haze that could only be cured by your comforting touch. To think that he once looked into your eyes and felt a heavy weight of burden on his shoulders, killed him. If you hadn’t shown up — well, he was sure what he would have done.

As a child, you were easy to raise, and as a teenager, you never got into any sort of trouble. You passed your classes reasonably well and did the chores without complaint, you never smoked or did drugs or mess around with boys. No. You were daddy’s little girl. A good girl. A happy girl, content with her step-dad’s care.

It was only when you started to grow did things start to change. In his eyes, you were still his daughter, but there was something more — a dark lust hidden in the crevices of his mind that told him you were his in more ways than one.

Cillian had watched you grow all these years, but never like this. Not with your breasts big, nipples showing through the loose shirts you wore at home because he told you it was okay and that you were safe wearing those things around him. Not with your round ass that made you look like a woman, the ones men drooled over. Not with the way you still insisted on sitting on his lap, shifting around and claiming you were only doing so because you were uncomfortable, even though he knew you weren’t stupid and could tell what that was doing to him.

Cillian never wanted to hurt you, and he never would, but sometimes it was hard. And sometimes, things just happened. Like tonight, when you snuck into his room and made him cream through his pants.

+++

“Daddy?”

Your knock was light, just enough to get Cillian’s attention. He looked up from the book that he was reading and smiled, asking you to come in. He expected this, as you would ask to sleep with him most nights, but he didn’t expect you to be wearing just a bra and panties.

He cleared his throat, his cheeks dusted with a fine pink. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, trying not to focus on the fact that you were practically naked, clothing designed to accentuate your body.

“A little.” Your tone was fairly quiet. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Cillian’s heart warmed. “Yes, princess. C’mere.”

He held out his arms, to which you took them, letting him guide you to his side. You crawled underneath the blanket and cuddled up next to him. Your warmth spread over him like wildfire, beckoning him to pull you closer.

“Do you want me to read you a story?” he asked, looking down at you with a soft gaze in his eyes. He ignored the way your breasts were pressing up against him. He also ignored his erection, hot and heavy.

“No. I have something different in mind,” you said, a sly, innocent look on your face.

“Oh?”

"Mhm."

Despite Cillian's protests and his desperate attempts to push you off, you planted yourself firmly on his body, right on his cock. Cillian let out an involuntary groan, bucking his hips upwards for a moment. Shame flooded his body, and he stuttered trying to explain himself.

"P-princess, can you please get off?"

He didn't look you in the eye. He knew you must have felt his boner, you were sitting right on it!

"What's this, daddy?" you asked, rubbing yourself on him. "What's this hard thing?"

"You know what it is," Cillian hissed, his hands on your hips. "Don't play dumb."

You giggled. All Cillian wanted to do was smash his lips against yours, but no — he couldn't. He shouldn't. He had to control himself, for both your sake and his.

"I think I need a lesson."

Cillian sighed, trying to halt your movements, but it didn't work. You just kept rubbing against his hard thing as you so called it.

"Sometimes," he taught shakily, even though he knew you already knew this, "men get aroused. And when we do — which is normal and cannot be controlled — this happens."

"What's this?"

Cillian looked up at you desperately. "My, uh, penis."

"I like cock better."

Cillian was astounded. Why is it you were doing this to him? Was this some sort of test? Why were you being so vulgar? If he was in the right state of mind, he would have bent you over and given you a couple of smacks on the ass.

You know what? That's what he was going to do right now.

"Bend over my knees," he ordered weakly. "Now . . ."

"For saying 'cock'?" You grinned. You were grinning.

"For behaving like a slut," he clarified. "Do it . . . Please."

"Not today," you said, quickening your movements. You threw your head back. "Oh, this feels so nice — should've done it sooner. But you know, the law and all that. Didn't want you to get in trouble. Does it feel nice for you as well?"

"No," he lied, muscles tense, but then his resolve broke. "Fuck," he whimpered. "I'm trying to be a good father for you. M'trying so hard. I can't do this to you. I can't — fuck! I'm gonna come."

"Come for me, daddy," you egged on, humping him. "It's okay."

He threw his head back and let out a moan, his hot seed spurting out of him, restrained by his underwear and pants. It wet his clothing, leaving a damp patch, a reminder of what he just did.

You stopped, letting him recover. Almost like a switch had been turned off, you looked nervous, like you usually were. You looked like a good girl again.

"You alright?" you asked.

Cillian let out a sigh, relaxing himself. "Yeah . . . I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have let you." He felt miserable with himself. This would never last into the future. What would people think? He would be erasing himself as your father figure and replacing it as your lover. What would happen when you needed a dad to hug? What would happen if you two got into a big argument? What would happen if you saw him as both — a father and a lover? That would be disastrous. How were you two supposed to navigate a relationship like that?

"Don't be sorry."

You got off of him — a little late for that — and sat down beside him.

"I've just shown you my love. Don't regret it."

If possible, Cillian felt even worse. "I know. I know." He sighed. "I know."

But he didn't. He didn't know what to do at all.

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl @shroombloom-rry @meetmeatyourworst @mrkdvidal1989 @nela-cutie @madnessandobsession @bernelflo @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #fanfiction #pinguwrites

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alcinaslittlemaid · 4 months

Text

Naughty Little Lamb~

Pennywise 2017xFem!reader

•Warnings: Smutty smut, degradation, spanking (a lot), angry sex.. and much much more, Mild DD/LG (tiny bit) uses of pet names

(I’m not great at writing buts it’s the red hour 😳🌶️)

Come join the clown~

🎪🎈🤡

——————————

The hour was very late, you had struggled to get to sleep and Pennywise had gone out hunting. You felt a familiar throbbing in your underwear, by god you were missing him so much, your hand slipped down between your silky thighs and coating your fingers were your own sinuous juices.

You smirked and began pleasuring yourself, grabbing your vibrator imagining penny’s long slippery tongue slurping your insides out, your toes began to curl as you bucked your hips in submission, your mind travelling further, now imagining how smaller tentacles would slither out, gripping your thighs to keep you in place, long slimy tentacles restricting your movement, as his long, hard alien-like tentacle is forcible pushed into your tight hole, the ridges of his length hitting your clit as he completely ruins you.

Trying to get his entire length inside your tight, little cunt, you were getting close, finally going to be rid of your need for him (until tomorrow that is) you were almost riding your vibrator with pleasure

“Dooonnnt youuuu Dareeee~” that taunting voice in your head rang out like a bell you had recognised all too well

“Fuck…” you whined “Watch your mouth little slut” the voice growled, it’s raspy voice grunted in your ear as you slowly peeked up at the darkened side of your room, there…two golden orbs stared back at you, dark red circles rimmed it’s golden stare

“Oh my~ look at the filthy mess you’ve made, you dirty little slut” pennywise barked, stepping towards you “my! Dirty little sewer slut” he grinned before sitting down

“Come” he snapped patting his lap “But you said I couldn’t-“ you attempted a joke, but the state he gave you was stern, cold and deadly

“I said…COME!” He snapped, before dragging you roughly over his knee, your ass now presented to him like his next meal on a silver platter “Ah! Ow your hurting me! Penny what the fu-“ you were soon cut off by his to clawed fingers “Good little girls should be seen and not heard” his fingers were almost in your throat, you hadn’t a clue what was happening.

“You’ve been such a naughty, filthy little lamb Y/N” he teased before hiking your skirt up higher, his tentacles keeping you tightly in place as his hand slowly lifted behind your rear

“Now, we’re gonna play a little game~” he began, you shook your head at his silly games, but he was having none of it

“your gonna count every time I spank that little ass” he continued “and if you mess up or miss a number, they’re gonna restart and be even harsher…got it?” He hissed, you squealed and tried to squirm out of his grasp

“Ohhhh you wanna play hide and seek? Okay! If hide and I don’t find you in under 2 minutes I won’t punish you! We can doooo whatever you want~” he had crossed his fingers behind his back while saying that. You nodded and took off running, trying to find a hiding place he hasn’t seen yet, meanwhile the clown began to the countdown to your demise

“1…..2……3”

“Shit” you winced

“4…..5….6”

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

“7……8….9…”

You finally found a spot, sliding into it and shutting the door behind you ever so silently, you sunk beneath the piles of sheets and bedding

“10! Ready or not little bunny! Mr wolf is coming to find you hahahah” He cackled maniacally and began searching for you, his boots thudding against the ground in desperation. This was horrifying, he could do anything to you…you could hear doors opening and the disappointed sigh when you weren’t there “Oh my little lamb you are clever..” He then opened the door to your linen cupboard “but not clever enough- oh! Oh fuck where on earth is that little girl?” He slammed the door shut and began walking away…or so you thought

As soon as you heard a door downstairs creak open, you poked your head out and began sneaking back to your bedroom thinking you had won.

You were suddenly pinned to the ground by his clawed glove “You! You are so gullible…you think I couldn’t smell that throbbing, aching slit? Hahaha oh little one, you fell for the oldest trick in the book! You are a fly in my spider web” he giggled maniacally in pure pleasure, before dragging you back to the bedroom, a thread of drool trailing behind and a sinful, sadistic look in his eye.

@sootrootdoot

@pennywise-fucker

End of part 1🎈

Lemme know what y’all think and I’ll write the next part!!

#pennywise fluff #it pennywise #pennywise art #pennywise the clown #pennywise x you #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #pennywise #it 2017 #smut #slashers #slasher smut #pennywise smut #slut4pennywise #clownfucker #pennywise the dancing clown #it fandom #it chapter one #JesterWrites

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hoseoksluna · 11 days

Text

BERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. hobi)

genre: angst, tiny fluff, itty bitty smut

word count: 6.0k

summary: your ex-boyfriend shouldn't have this much influence over you when you have a new man, should he?

playlist: berries / pinterest board: berries

warnings: depression, daddy issues, use of titles, oc has dirty thoughts about hobi (do we blame her? no, we do not), slowburn, implied sex, dd/lg, soft argument

note: this took every last bit of my strength, so i had to split it up. i'm sorry if this is a piece of absolute shit, but as you all know work this week squeezed everything out of me and i'm so exhausted that i'm not even sure if this is worth posting. i struggled a lot with this fic, rewrote it multiple times, and i'm so very happy that it's finished. i hope you all enjoy the start of a new series, this time a slowburn that will have more parts, more depth and everything. and surprise! it features hobi, my beautiful husband. it was my first time writing about him and he's missing so terribly from my soul that it was one of the reasons why i struggled so much. i wish it weren't like this for my first time with him, but oh well. i hope you, guys, enjoy. please, let me know what you think. <3

The satiny material of your cream-colored dress must be the one and the same that these sculptures had worn centuries ago. You can almost imagine the softness kissing your fingerprint instead of the cool stone as you graze your touch against each and every immortalized angel of loveliness. You’re stirred by a sense of poignancy—that you’re alive and they’re not and yet you believe that as you stare at them, feel what they’ve been through the more you study their eternal expressions, they stare right back with their eternally tender eyes, see right through you, through your heart, know its contents. You wish you were in their place instead; you’re sure they would’ve handled your cursed life better than you can.

Or you wish you were as stony as them.

But you’re an opulent fountain of emotions that are anything but gentle.

This thought distracts your attention from the way your feet ache in the boots you chose to wear to impress your date. Thigh high, with black knee socks underneath to keep you warm from the cruel breath of autumn. Hoseok is carrying your trenchcoat as you’re adventuring on your own in this art museum and that’s the only sliver of kindness he’s shown you this very morning.

The only compliment you’ve received from him was a nonverbal one. An up and down look with a smirk creeping in when he picked you up at your apartment. No hug, no caress. You felt so small—and awkward a little bit, comparison rushing in. Not in the form of a wave of the sea, but in the form of a snake, its thick body tightening around your throat. An ouroboros, which made you regret going out on a date so soon.

It hasn’t even been a month since you’ve become a single girl again, learning how to walk in this new, harsh reality, your legs wobbly, weak and too, too heavy. And the lack of comfortable physical contact made you see your ex-boyfriend before your own eyes, the memory of how he acted at the beginning of your first date. The way he picked you up into his arms due to his excitement of being with you and carried you inside his car. He put on your seatbelt for you. Drove carefully. Held your hand as he led you to the restaurant he picked for you. Even during the walk after while you talked about the stars and you couldn’t help but tell him that his eyes were filled with them.

Hoseok did neither of those things. He had asked you where you wanted to go and you’ve wanted to visit the museum for quite a while, so you suggested it. He had agreed, no sort of enthusiasm evident in his voice muffled by the phone call. And you’ve barely exchanged a few words during the half an hour of your time spent here, let alone led an entire conversation. You should’ve heeded the warning when it was right in front of you.

Hoseok is certainly not of the artistic kind.

Looks quite bored as you turn your head to look at him, your coat dangling from his arm so terribly devastatingly. And when you focus your gaze to your right, where a dark wine-tinged room, with golden frames of paintings, awaits you and where you’ve longed to go the moment you stepped a foot inside this grand building, a distaste pools on your tongue, your former aesthetic elation ruined.

You’re surprised he didn’t stand you up.

You don’t even want to take pictures. As a matter of fact, you want to go home. But you can’t. Can’t ravage your only possibility and means of forgetting the person you still love. Can’t really encourage Hoseok to leave your life, not when you’re the type of person that doesn’t find love upon every corner you turn to.

This is your only chance. And he’s the only man you’ll conceivably have in your life for quite some time.

You walk up to him and take your coat from his arm. His eyes deepen on you, in fact they haven’t strayed from you during the entire half an hour—and that bothers you. If your ex-boyfriend were here, he’d share the beauty with you. Make you laugh so hard that the sound would echo around the vast room. Perhaps give life to the sculptures and they would laugh along, too.

Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, sinks ever so slowly and you can’t bear it. You need to leave. Take this date elsewhere, hope for betterment to grace you—to have but a fragment of pity for you.

“You hungry?” you ask, softly, willing your voice to be smooth and not divulge the brassy storm of your emotions to him. Hoseok doesn’t know anything about you. Doesn’t know that you yearn for another person to be standing in his place. “Did you have breakfast?”

Hoseok needed the date to be in the early hours. Said he had a meeting in the afternoon. Would be working on a project with his colleagues until the late hours. You didn’t mind, not really, in fact it animated you—brought briskness into the sadness of your headspace, knowing it was rainy and cloudy outside. Perfect weather for the influence of the arts. That is, until you realized that it was a grave mistake to take a businessman to a museum; that you dragged a heathen to a church.

Hoseok shifts his weight on each foot, his shoulders swaying with the movement, and he licks his lip, bringing your attention to them. Small, but full—you wonder what they would feel like against yours. Wonder if he’d be gentle with you or violent. If he’d stroke your hair or grip it; fondle the ribbon you’re wearing in a half up do or untie it, entirely. Use it for another means like your ex-boyfriend invariably did.

Your distaste grows, but not for Hoseok. It grows like poison ivy for yourself and your tendency to compare him with someone he doesn’t deserve to be juxtaposed with.

Guilt blossoms in your sternum, the leaves of that poison ivy. Pretty to the eye, but deadly for the body. Just like you. You’re too baneful for such a pretty man like Hoseok. You’d do well to respect his boundaries and abstain from physical contact, prevent red rashes from marring his skin.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Hoseok says, just as softly, rubbing the nape of his neck, the black cloth of his dress shirt taut over his arms—a pretty sight, one that could be hanging in the wine-tinged room for generations to gawk upon. “Truth be told, I was too nervous.”

A brief smile adorns his slender face and you melt, the poison ivy scratching you raw. Your heart picks up its rhythm, flattery clothing it in a protective layer and you pout, your hand itching to graze his forearm. But a hidden fight rises in you, an army of darkness ready with their bows, their arrows shooting thoughts into your brain about how little you’re worthy of such kindness and favor.

Though when Hoseok blushes upon seeing your tender expression, it gives you some sort of strength to stand tall against those demons. Despite the fact you don’t understand it, you don’t question it either and you cling to it, sensing its freedom speaking to you in a foreign language. A yearning forms in you, one you haven’t yet had the possibility of meeting. A yearning to learn its syntax and vocabulary. And when you give in to it, the poison ivy in you lessens.

This is good.

You reciprocate his smile and you coo. Find it the easiest thing in the world. And because you’re so grateful for what he’s unwittingly done for you, you decide to share your truth with him as well.

“Let’s go eat, then.” Your eyes crinkle and you’d bet light flickers in them, for your whole body does, you sense it. A warm light enlarges on its axis, taking a hold of the heaviness you felt. “There’s no need to be nervous. It’s what I told myself when I was getting ready. My stomach hurt and believe it or not when I told myself these words, it stopped.”

Hoseok chuckles, his arm slapping back to his side, but you notice that it trembles. You’re so touched by it that you become angry at yourself, self-hatred clashing with that warmth. You misinterpreted him so unfairly and what’s more, you wallowed in your brokenness and your heartbreak, when Hoseok had been nervous and timid the whole time, which now sheds light on his lack of closeness with you.

You’re despicable. And the awareness of it transforms into that snake tightening around your throat again. Only this time, you welcome it. Long for it to take your life. It’s the least you deserve.

But you’re not letting yourself loll in the bed of your horrendous emotions. No, you lift your hand and you caress his arm, the one that quakes. And amidst the sepulchral attention of the sculptures, you’re a witness to that trembling’s halt, to Hoseok’s visible tranquility, and you want to weep.

You know if you were to gaze at the eternal angels of beauty, you’d see stony tears appear on their ivory cheeks, too.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles and you curl your brows in confusion, not knowing what he’s apologizing for. Hoseok opens his mouth again to speak, but he pauses, sloshing the words in his mouth. You feel so bad that a craving to better yourself overcomes your entire being. “I’m sorry for being such a buzzkill. If you wanna explore this place more, we can. I saw you looking at the room with the paintings.”

He tilts his head in the direction of the aforementioned room, but you care very little about it as of now. You’d much rather take this elsewhere and get to know him better, so you don’t make the mistake of distorting him again. You’re not very keen on forcing a heathen to pray, either, however you do appreciate his willingness and attentiveness. Carry those things into your jarred heart, fold them inside its chambers, the edge pieces to the puzzle of his personality.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, taking it one step further and hooking your arm around his. Hoseok sighs, his shyness slowly breaking apart as he clasps his hand over yours and if you could dissolve any more, now would be the perfect time for it. His hold is strong and steady—and it creates something stable within you, an orchard of fruit trees, pink and green, and bushes of berries, a safe place you want to rest in; lay down your brokenness and woes in. “You’re good. No need to apologize.”

His blush deepens at the reassurance and he smiles, softly, running his thumb over your knuckles. And the gratefulness you feel due to the fact he’s touching you, it is the rain that freshens up the apples and cherries hanging on the twigs of those trees, guiding it into full bloom. You focus on it—focus on the thick, cottony material of his dress shirt as you rub his forearm in response. You want to acknowledge yourself with the unspoken parts of him like these, remember them, allow them to heal you and crack the plaster over your heart.

And there you hear it. The crumble as Hoseok leans in and presses a chaste peck onto your cheek, lingering there for a second more, inhaling your sandalwood scent. And his smile widens as he looks down on you at such close proximity, erasing your touch-starvation once and for all. It’s your turn to blush now and you feel an inkling to shy away from his gaze, but you stifle it back. Curl your mouth in a smile—your heart thumping louder amidst the orchard now that it has more space to function in.

“No, I really want to apologize. It’s been too long since I’ve been on a date and you’re so stunning that I’ve forgotten my game, so I can’t help but to be nervous. I don’t know how to act around you,” he says, mutedly, punctuating his sentence with a breathy laugh, glimmering eyes flicking to the lining of your silky neckline just below your collarbones, tracing the miniature cherub hung up on your dainty necklace plated in gold, motionless against your dress. Your own heart grows wings and momentum in its place, fluttering in haste to move closer to him. He bores his gaze back into yours, letting it stay there. “Art isn’t really my thing, but you look like you belong here. Look like all those angels around.” He nods at your necklace. “And like that angel, too. Can I take a picture of you?”

You’re so taken aback that you don’t have time to respond. Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his dress pants, he withdraws from you and gently ushers you in the direction of the closest angel, your trenchcoat slung over his arm again, vibrating with life. He positions you how he likes—right in front of the immense sculpture, your head turned slightly to the side so the wisps of your white ribbon in your hair can be seen. His touch grounds you, tells your bloodstream, your organs that everything is okay, repeats it a little louder to your headspace—all before war could be declared with you.

Hoseok, the prince of peace.

The prince that crouches to the dirty floor so the vastness of the angel’s wings can fit in the shot. Yours, too. You think you’ve grown a pair of your own, alongside your heart, now that your shared honesty brought you closer.

You struggle to hold back your sob, to stop the corners of your mouth from rounding, your chin from quivering—all because the lightness that you sense wrapping over your heart is one you haven’t felt in a really long time. You feel taken care of, feel like you can depend on him, and while you can’t explain why you feel that way, you consider that such an immense blessing, regardless. So much that your eyes wet for the camera, but you don’t mind. Let that be captured in the memory—the mending that occurred. And let that be safe with him.

You smile and the flash goes off, which causes you to burst into giggles, your liquid softness forgotten, and run to him, your palm covering his phone camera so nobody sees his defiance. You look around to make sure no employee is in sight before you face him, cheeks warm, heart warm, wings warm, body warm. Hoseok quirks a brow, confused, gaping up at you from his position, and you take a deep breath to halt another inrush of laughter.

“You can’t take pictures with flash here. They’ll throw us out,” you whisper-shout, your giggles escaping your tightened mouth. His own forms into an ‘O’, fingers clicking on his screen, presumably turning off the automatic flash.

“I didn’t know,” he whisper-shouts back, mouth stretched in a lopsided grin. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid.” You shake your head, shoulders still shaking with the last of your giggles. He probably didn’t have a phone back then, which makes it even funnier. He inspects his settings again to make sure it’s all good before his hand finds your thigh and pushes you back. “Okay, I turned it off. Go back to the angel.”

It’s your whole body that flutters now, not just your heart, both pairs of wings unfurling, and when you retrace your steps, you still feel the heat of his touch—half on the fabric of your dress, half on your bare skin. And as you smile more naturally for the picture this time, greed kisses your core. A greed for more of his touch; on the same place as well as elsewhere.

A twinkle of where he could possibly touch you flashes before your eyes and it’s all your focal point consists of when you turn your head to your former position the way he wanted it and he praises you for it: “Good, good.”

Your muscles clench as you imagine his hand going underneath the fabric, exploring what’s hidden in there for him. The words of praise he would utter at the discovery of your private flesh. Your ears must be red. Such a twist of events you didn’t expect. A meek form of demureness creeps in, enveloping you in a feminine sensuality and you’ve missed feeling this way. Missed feeling pretty and alluring for yourself first, then for a man second. Missed being the center of your attention like this, of someone else’s as well.

You’ve always loved it. Perhaps due to the fact that you very seldom have it—so when it does come, it changes your life and you attach your being to it.

You didn’t anticipate going home with Hoseok, especially not on the first date. But because you’re being fed, you don’t really care about being proper. You want to go home with him and so you simply shall.

Can’t let the opportunity run away from you.

And so you arch your back a little bit more, look up at the angel and give her your silent thanks, your hair flowing around your form when you flick your gaze back to Hoseok to see him concentrated on the task, his smooth features gravely serious. Your stomach flips.

“Now from the back,” he instructs without lifting his eyes off of the screen of his phone. “Just like you were.”

A breath lodges in your throat, the double meaning burning the poison ivy down to ashes and you swallow it, let your stomach acid consume it until there’s nothing left of it, until all that your body carries is nothing but the lightness and the seductiveness that Hoseok gracefully gave you, the comfortable heft of the wings that grew because of him.

It’s those things that drive forth your following words with the world’s ease, unabashedly.

“You want it from the back?”

Hoseok’s mouth parts and the look he exchanges with you should chill your blood, but it doesn’t. If anything, it boils it. The heat that wafts off it pools in your core before ascending to your imaginary wings, leaving them dripping with sweat and the dew of titillation. Hoseok’s eyes narrow, shadowed by the furrow of his brows, encouraging it all the more.

There is it—the heady energy shift, permeated with the sweetest of berry juices, stemming from lust, from the orchard he planted in you. Strengthening your allure, steeling you from head to toe. You submit to it; kneel into it, notionally. Your elation raises from the dead—and you grin.

“Behave.”

A pulse in your private parts. The lengthening of your expression of delight. Your wings, your muscles clench and the same winged creatures soar to your heart from your stomach, squeezing the beating flesh. You swivel on your heels, the hem of your dress rippling, exposing more of your tender skin, the ribbon in your hair following suit.

Hoseok sucks in a breath. Your cheeks ache from the joy’s strain and it is utterly exhilarating to you.

“Yes, sir.”

Hoseok coos his approval and you can’t take it anymore. You let him take a few more pictures as you move around, dancing in your own way, running your fingers through your hair, trying to distract yourself from the throbbing between your legs, but to no avail. And when you sigh and face him head-on, Hoseok is already on his feet, walking towards you with a reappearing lopsided grin that forces the butterflies gnawing at your heart to go absolutely rampant.

You’re done for. You need to take him home. You’re not even curious about how the pictures came out—you can always look at them later.

Hoseok seems to know about your neediness because when he crosses the distance, he cups your chin. Makes you look up at him. And his smirk deepens while your heart increases in size, wings flitting at the special attention.

“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, caressing your skin with his thumb. Your eyes round and the heat you feel is sweltering underneath your clothes. All the more reason for him to take them off. “The pictures are great. Wanna see?”

Biting your lip, you shake your head, briefly. “What I want is to make you breakfast,” you say, mirroring his tone, hoping he gets the hint.

Hoseok waggles your chin, humming. “Oh, yeah?”

Fuck. If his scolding already didn’t make you submissive, then his response and his actions have. You wet your mouth, teeth instinctively sinking back in, and only nod. Hoseok opens your coat and covers your shoulders in its warmth, pressing the cotton twill fabric against your sternum.

“Thank you, sir.”

A fond sound pours out of him and the fact that he likes to be called by that title heightens the pulse between your legs. “Let’s go.”

He leads you towards the exit with a hand on the small of your back and you’re so happy to be touched at last that with a final look at the angels, you send out your silent love and goodbye to them, thank them one last time for the kindness you received because of them, one that you so ferociously sought after and longed for.

They seem to bow to you, happy to be of service, and you smile so profoundly that you feel as though nothing could stain your joy and mar it all over again. They wouldn’t allow that to happen—and a tendril of hope burst open within you like sunlight tearing through clouds, one that is suffused with the notion that Hoseok would stand in the way, side by side with those sculptures, too.

And he does when you swivel your head back and catch a glance of someone you know.

A piercing on the side of his brow, unchanged from the last time you saw him. Round eyes, murky. Ashen complexion that used to bloom with vibrant tints. Full, soft-toned mouth, ever so stuck in that pout, one you used to kiss until it bruised.

Your bloodstream doesn’t cease its flow. Not until you notice the person beside him.

A girl with an aura so cataclysmic that it forces you to stop dead in your tracks. An August night storm personified, obnoxiously sweet-smelling of the past summer that you spent with her companion. The hollow, funereal scent of a meadow doused in petrichor—she walks with it, her hands intertwined before her in a clasp.

You wished for him to be in Hoseok’s place so ardently that he appeared. And now that you contemplate him, the lack of distance between him and the girl, it makes you regret that you ever did.

Because, unknowingly, it drenched you in gasoline and his presence is a lighter, hers the hand that has flicked it to life and now serenely holds it against your skin, waiting until the flames, little by little, devour you whole.

And the job is finished when both of their heads whirl, meeting your livid stare.

And Jungkook, too, stops dead in his tracks.

“Do you know him?” Hoseok asks and you find it strange that you can hear him when all you can see is red.

And the red fades into the matching black shirt that Jungkook is wearing, into his bluntly pained mien; into the strands of his date’s short hair and her scrunched up brows as she regards you with a strong aversion that makes you scoff. And the same red weakens when Hoseok turns your attention to him by playing with the ends of your ribbon, grazing them before twirling them around his finger.

A breath of fresh air, he is.

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know whether to tell him the truth or come up with something that won’t devastate what you have currently going on with him. But if you lie to him, you’ll stumble into a dead end you’d much rather stay clear of. You’d see it before your eyes once you do take him home and it would ruin the newness he brought up with you, preventing it from taking root in you.

Devastation awaits you in either case. Both you and Hoseok.

Cursed, your life is. Doomed, absolutely fucking doomed.

What would the angels do in your place?

Seeking their wisdom behind you, it is not in them that you find your answer, but in the passing pair dressed in black, making their way over to the dark-wined room. He’s pretending he didn’t see you at all, walking away from you without saying a word, despite the fact you broke up on good terms.

You worshiped him in this very building almost on your knees and he dismissed you as if you meant nothing to him, caring for the feelings of his date, instead.

Peculiarly, the sentiments Hoseok installed in you, both of the passionate and the soft kind, turn that fire blue and it becomes the driving force that guides you to act without a single thought spared.

“Yeah, I do know him. Do you mind if I quickly say hi to him?”

The corner of Hoseok’s mouth curls and he caresses your hair down your back one last time. “Go, I’ll get the car ready.”

Such a confident, strong man, broken out of the confines of his former timidness. Not possessive, nor insecure—letting you do what you want. Respectful of your personal life that doesn’t include him just yet. And for that very reason it will—as soon as you’re done putting out that fire in you.

It’s not only you that has gone through a change upon this hour and it strikes your awe, enough for you to lean in and peck his cheek, just like he did to you.

Hoseok makes a sound of endearment, pivots on his feet to leave you to it, but you grab a hold of his hand. Have a need to say something to him.

His brows rise at the attention and you brush your hand across his knuckles, mimicking his previous actions, having learned them, intimately.

“Thank you, Hoseok. Really,” you say with a smile that could magnetically pull the sunlight out of its hiding place behind the clouds and bathe this bizarre room in light. You squeeze his hand.

A swirl of shyness flushes his face in rose pink and he shakes his head. “No need to thank me,” he assures, reciprocating the smile. “And call me Hobi. You can save Hoseok for later.”

Your jaw falls open and Hoseok chuckles, warmly, deepening the pulse between your legs until a wet spot adorns your panties beneath your dress, one that you look forward to showing him at the aforementioned time.

He pivots again and you watch his tall, lean figure leave. Back muscles clothed in black, straining against the fabric. He must’ve undergone his military service.

A beautiful man. You can’t wait to taste him. Taste that manliness.

Loosening a breath, you turn around to search for your ex-boyfriend. And much to your dismay, he’s appreciating the angel sculpture—the very one and only Hoseok took your pictures with. Fire licks at your every nerve ending, but then you notice that his date is nowhere in sight.

A perfect opportunity to do what you want to do.

Pulling out your phone out of your little purse, you look for his name in the history of your calls and tap on it, placing the device against your ear, your hoop earrings clashing against the screen. You watch him palm his pocket as the vibration disturbs his aesthetic pleasure and he casts a long glance at your name filling up his screen. Doesn’t comb his gaze through his surroundings. No, he seems to be transfixed by the twist of events and when he swipes his finger to accept the call, his stare begins to dig a hole into the dirty, marble floor.

Doesn’t say anything.

You scoff, fury grazing your fire. “You’re pretending not to know me? That’s low.” His pout rounds and the tip of his shoe traces the edges of the ruination he’s caused. Remains silent. “Who’s your little girlfriend? I thought you’d introduce me. Where is she, anyways?”

It’s him who scoffs now and he flicks his gaze towards the face of the angel. It’s like he’s staring right at you. “You shouldn’t be doing this, little one.”

The too familiar pet name brings agony to your heart and you would break had Hoseok not given you his strength, if the dependability of him waiting for you outside wasn’t real. And the allure and the lightness in you, perhaps the very love of the sculptures encompassing you—all of those things only vivify your solidity. You have no reason to break, you’re safe.

“Well, I think you should be a good Daddy and meet me right there in the red room,” you seethe, glad for the anger to be lingering in you, for the utterance of the title leaving you unscathed. You’re just giving him a taste of his own poison, nothing else.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair and sighs, clenching his jaw. “Don’t call me that.”

You chuckle, enlivened by the provocation. “I can do whatever I want. Besides, you started it.”

He grits his teeth. “Not when you’re talking to me, you can’t.”

Your fire rises in overwhelming waves, your curt response ready on your tongue, but Jungkook hangs up, making you shut your mouth, instantly.

You hate him for that; hate him with the entirety of your being.

What has happened to your friendship? To the sweet, weeping Jungkook who broke up with you because he didn’t want to cause you any more pain with the state of his mental health, who has been dealing with depression for so long that he’s reached a point of no return, a lightless room with no windows, where all he saw was you, and he didn’t want you to be a victim of such unhealthy attachment. So he bid you goodbye, hugged you until you couldn’t breathe and let you go.

Three weeks ago.

You haven’t seen him or heard from him since until now. Until you’ve found someone else and moved on with your life. That’s just your luck.

And now the person you’re gazing at, it’s not the same one that wept against your chest. Yes, he might have been strict with you during intimate times, teased you with his fatherliness during the day even—but that invariably was imbued with the mellowness of love.

Try as you may while his words ring in your headspace, you cannot unearth any trace of that same mellowness in it. Only bitterness, coldness and a profound darkness.

Jungkook pockets his phone and, leaving both of his hands there, sunk deeply, he walks over to the wine-tinged room, his frown obscuring the place in gloom. Murky clouds, personified. A perfect match to the storm of his companion. Bile lodges inside your throat.

You follow after him, your feet aching terribly in your boots, but it serves as some kind of alleviation to the tautness of your emotions, of your confusion, disgust and offence. Makes you feel better—because once you see Jungkook ogling a certain painting of a woman beaming at him softly, dressed in flowers, blues and greens as the redness akin to your fire burns in her background, the agony tries to slither its way inside your heart, but fails.

You’re a locked orchard.

Jungkook senses your presence and he swivels, biting the inside of his cheek, pierced brow quirking. There’s a strain to his shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbles as he takes in your appearance. The creaminess of your short, silky dress, the darker shade of the same color of your trenchcoat slung loosely over your shoulders, exposing your brown, leather, high-heeled boots, your matching purse clutched in both of your hands as you strut towards him. Calm, all of a sudden. It does nothing to you, nothing whatsoever—your heart momentarily attached to Hoseok.

“I thought you’d already left,” he murmurs, tipping up his chin. Begins to sway back and forth on the balls of his feet, the carmine hues of the room swathing him in a deeper shade of darkness. “Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you?”

You don’t bother to correct him. It’s none of his business who Hobi is to you, not when he treated you like a stranger.

“We were about to leave, but then I saw your actions,” you say, quite monotonously, your calmness as disturbing as it is triumphant. You yourself even wonder at it. “What the fuck was that?”

A smirk. “Glad to know I still have some kind of effect on you.”

You scrunch up your brows, distaste once again pooling in your mouth. “Trust me, I would’ve done this with anyone I know. You’re not special.”

His smirk widens. “So, you’re not jealous?” He rubs the side of his jaw, staring at you, intently, and disgust comes over you like a splash of a wave, soaking you in cold sweat.

He did it for that very reason—to make you jealous. Walked right past you, just to get a rise out of you. As much as you loved him half an hour ago, that affection turns into dust within you, sprinkling the fruit trees and the berry brushes with its gray smithereens, poisoning them.

Ouroboros, all over again. Full circle. Anger covers your disgust.

A voice echoes within the room. Airy and light, as feminine as it is otherworldly, and you know, without a doubt, who it belongs to. It doesn’t suit her, not in the slightest.

“There you are,” your ex-boyfriend’s companion trails off, the clapping of her flat shoes halting. “Who are you?”

You only turn your head to the side, signaling to her that you’ve heard her question, because you fix your stare back at Jungkook as you answer it. “It’s not something you should trouble yourself with. Can you give us a minute?”

You don’t hear any movement, so she must be stubbornly staying where she is. All right, she can join the conversation for all you care.

When you turn your head back around, you catch stars oozing from Jungkook’s eyes, a conveyance of adornment painting his face in gentle colors that could never be associated with this room. There it is, the face you know, so resplendent of the one you last saw. And it grazes your anger, whispers to it that it was a mistake, a game of pretense, because you’re reverently acknowledged with his soul—you know who he is. While it may explain his fucked-up behavior, you don’t soften. Not at the hint of familiarity. Not even at the hushed hint of your deduction telling you that the reason why he unmasked himself was because you chose him and didn’t run away when his companion spoiled your short time together.

You don’t soften because you simply don’t want to.

You don’t want to give in to any means of getting close to him.

The chapter is finished. You shouldn’t have called him. You should’ve left with Hobi.

You don’t wish to keep him waiting long, nor do you wish to keep sprawling in your mistake. You pivot, ready to leave, but Jungkook captures your hand. Desirousness palpitates in his eyes as if he, too, needed to tell you something of urgency.

You’ll hear him out, but that’s the end of it.

“Can I see you later?” he asks, pupils growing in size until they absorb his chocolate irises, his grip over your hand tight and heated. A wind blows in your orchard, sweeping away all the darkened smithereens left by the bane, freshening you up.

You don’t really think that’s a good idea.

“I won’t have time for you later, I’ll be with Hoseok.”

To Hobi, you won’t lie, but the same can’t be applied to Jungkook.

His breath hitches in his throat, disappointment weighing him down, the thought of you being intimate with someone who is not him causing his posture to slouch even more.

But he surprises you with the words he says next.

“I’ll wait, then. Let me know when you’re alone.”

And you surprise yourself even more when you nod, turning on your heel and scurrying off to meet Hobi outside.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

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lxstfathier · 10 months

Note

PLEASEEEE WRITE SOFTDOM!WILLIAM AFTON PUTTING BRATTY!READER IN HER PLACEEEE (daddy kink, oral, nd degradation if ur comfy) (≧∇≦）

Omg yesss, i love that kind of stuff, let’s gooo! <3

Attention

William Afton x Reader

Warnings: dd/lg, oral sex (m! receiving), degradation, implied age-gap, cockwarming.

A/N: i really loved writing this, its so kinky but cute, thanks for the request anon. also, english is not my first language, so i apologize for any errors, but i hope y’all like it! 💗

You shouldn’t have done that. You should have listened to him when he told you to quit that bratty attitude. You shouldn’t have been running around and messing with his stuff while he fixed some details on his springlock suit. You shouldn’t have rolled your eyes at him.

But now it’s too late.

William grabs you by the arm, digging his long fingers into your soft skin and shoving you aggressively into the nearest wall as a pained gasp escapes your lips.

“What’s going on inside that dumb brain of yours, huh? why are you suddenly acting like a fucking brat?” he asks with a stern tone in his voice, clearly fed up with your shit.

“I- I’m sorry, daddy” you apologize, looking up at him with big doe eyes, casually dropping that misbehavior.

“I don’t need your apologies. I asked you a question.”

You don’t know exactly what to answer. It’s not like you are usually a brat, but today you feel kinda… ignored. You are more than starved of attention and touch. The only thing you want is to spend time with William, kissing his stubbly jaw or sit on his lap, but he’s been working on that spring bonnie suit all damn day.

“I- uh- i don’t know, i just got bored” you murmur, too shy to express your own feelings. “And- and i need attention”.

“Yeah? does my little bunny need attention?” he says, almost mocking. “Then beg for it like the needy whore you are.”

And before you know it, William is forcing you to your knees in a way that will surely leave bruises for the next day. But you don’t care, not when he’s finally giving you some of his precious time.

“Please daddy” you plead in a high pitched voice, pouting your lips while running your hands over his thighs, noticing the bulge starting to grow on his crotch. “Play with me.”

“Stupid slut” William says through gritted teeth. “Can’t even go a day without being used like a fucking toy.”

Letting out a devilish smirk, he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants, just enough to reveal his cock, fully hard already. And you can’t help but lick your lips at the beautiful sight, feeling your pussy tingle with arousal.

Not wanting to waste a single second, you eagerly take his length in your small hands, pumping it a few times before leaning in to kiss the pink tip and run your tongue over the prominent veins, earning a deep grunt from the depths of his chest.

“Don’t tease me, bunny” William growls, forcefully grabbing a fistful of your hair on his right hand, guiding his big cock into your mouth.

You try your best to take him, wrapping your lips around it, but when he hits the back of your throat and starts thrusting, it’s impossible not to gag and drool.

Tears start streaming down your face, digging your nails in his pants while he slides in and out at a fast pace, fucking your throat as if you were a doll, not even caring if you choke. It’s a punishment after all, it isn’t meant to please you.

“Are you crying?” William mocks you again. “Come on, isn’t this what you wanted? huh? you were acting up all day just to make me riled up and now you don’t want it?. Aw, too bad, bunny, cause you’re gonna take it… i don’t care if you like it or not.”

You look up at him, searching for his -usually tender- blue eyes. But that ocean color is almost completely gone, covered by his dark pupils, dilated with lust and hunger, without a single trace of kindness or compassion.

William keeps pushing you down on his length, enjoying the warm slickness of your mouth, cursing under his breath. And it’s not long until you feel his muscles tense and his cock twitch, finally releasing all of his hot cum on your tongue, milking him dry, not wasting a single drop of his salty seed.

He thrusts sloppily a few times to ride out his orgasm, and then pulls out, with a nasty string of spit still connecting you both.

“I’m sorry for neglecting you all day, my little bunny” he says, returning to his lovely demeanor, caressing your cheek and cleaning the mess of saliva and cum running down your chin. “How about you come sit on my cock for a while and when i’m done then we can have some fun, hm?.”

You just nod, unable to talk much due to the rough throat fucking he just gave you, but really liking the idea. So William helps you get on your feet again, taking you with him, sitting on the chair in front of the desk and patting his lap as an invitation for you to sit on him.

The only piece of clothing you’re wearing is an oversized pink shirt, so it’s really easy for you to straddle his lap and sink down his half-hard cock, whimpering as he fills your soaked sensitive cunt.

“That’s it, good girl” William coos, groping your soft ass, more than happy to be buried inside your tight hole.

You smile, giving him a little peck on the lips, and then let him continue what he was doing.

William keeps fixing some loose screws on the ears of the spring bonnie suit, and you rest your head on his shoulder, tracing your fingers on the seams of his tie, soon falling asleep while smelling his masculine cologne and the faint scent of cigarettes.

#my first william fic yayyy!! <3 #william afton x reader #william afton smut #william afton fanfic #fnaf fanfic #five night at freddy’s fanfiction #fnaf smut

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slvtforfiction · 6 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet

☆ Colby Brock X Reader

☆ Smut

☆ Masterlist

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

A = Aftercare

(what they’re like after sex)

Tell me this man isn’t good at aftercare and I’ll fight you. He is the besttt,makes sure you’re cleaned up and comfortable,talks to you about what happened and what you did/didn’t like and will give you the best cuddles.

B = Body part

(their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part on himself is definitely his v line,knows you stare and cross your legs just at the sight of it.

His favourite body part on you is your wrists,tying up his little baby <3

C = Cum

(anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves making a mess,doesn’t mind coming inside of you but loves to see the mess you and him have made together.

D = Dirty secret

(pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Stalks your instagram to get off,will I elaborate? No.

E = Experience

(how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows exactly what he’s doing,knows where very sensitive part of you is,he’s experienced a Ohhh to know exactly how to get anyone off.

F = Favorite position

(this goes without saying)

His favourite position is definitely doggy,loves to shove your face into the pillow and ram into your gentle body <3

G = Goofy

(are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I definitely think he’s more serious,thinks there’s a time and a place for humour and sex is not one of them.

H = Hair

(how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He definitely trims and he might shave occasionally but he doesn’t care and neither do you.

Loves to see a woman with hair tbh.

I = Intimacy

(how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is romantic is some aspects especially if he’s being gentle with you but is usually rough and callous with you especially after a bad day.

J = Jack off

(masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t really Jack off because he knows he can find you and tease you until your begging for him on top of you <3

K = Kink

(one or more of their kinks)

Degrading- He is the best man when it comes to calling you his ‘slut’ or other things like ‘cum white’ etc.

Daddy- Tbh man has a daddy kink,convince me otherwise.

Bondage- Loves to tie you up and see you helpless underneath him whilst you moan his name <3

Praise- He doesn’t praise you a lot but usually mixes it in whilst degrading you ‘pretty little whore’ etc.

Dom- He’s said it before tbf and he meant it,man’s got daddy dom energy,prove me wrong.

Spanking- Definitely the type of guy to spank you with his belt/hand especially if he thinks you deserve punishment.

Dd/lg- Daddy dom energy,loves seeing his little girl underneath him,moaning out his name <3

Edging/Teasing- I could write a novel with how much he loves to tease the shit out of you,pulling you to the edge only to let you down. Especially if he’s horny as well,his way of expressing it is by teasing you.

Choking- Loves his hand wrapped around your neck,seeing how small it is In his hands as he fucks into you.

L = Location

(favorite places to do the do)

Loves shower sex,like mans is feral for it,he loves being able to hold up your body in the shower as you lose control of your legs.

M = Motivation

(what turns them on, gets them going)

Sit in his lap. That’s it.

But really he loves everything you do,like even simple everyday thing will get him going.

N = No

(something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Wouldn’t actually want to hurt you,if he’s degrading you he wouldn’t say anything that would actually stick with you and hurt you.

O = Oral

(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Both,he loves face fucking you but also loves to see you sitting on his face while he eats you like a three course meal.

He’s skilled asf,knows exactly what he’s doing and where to put his tongue.

P = Pace

(are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I feel like he’s definitely more fast and rough rather than anything else,even if he’s had a bad day he would fuck you senseless to make himself feel better.

Q = Quickie

(their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves a good quickie especially if you have to be somewhere,he’ll send you out of the apartment with cum looking at your thighs.

R = Risk

(are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves taking risks with you. Will someone hear you? He’s the type of person to say ‘let’s find out’.

He likes experimenting with you to see if either of you have a new kink to discover together and when he discovers another one of your kinks? He’s feral.

S = Stamina

(how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He could go all night without breaks,especially if he’s using his tongue. His jaw is tired? Doesn’t matter he will soldier through it.

T = Toys

(do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Has a box of toys under his bed. Will not elaborate.

He would definitely use all of them on you at least once to see what gets you going.

U = Unfair

(how much they like to tease)

He would tease you all night just to see you get desperate enough to grind on thin air.

Hates it when you tease him though,if he notices you teasing him he will fuck you until you’re begging for more,no mercy.

V = Volume

(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not particularly loud,a few grunts and groans here and there but is usually quiet so he can hear your pretty moans <3

W = Wild card

(a random headcanon for the character)

Face fucking. Adores it.

X = X-ray

(let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s 6inches,7 when hard and he knows how to use it. He knows that he’s big but will still whisper in your ear about how you can take it.

ABS. That’s it 🙏

Y = Yearning

(how high is their sex drive?)

Man could fuck you every day of the week if you asked him to.

His sex drive is usually 4 times a week but would definitely be more if you asked him for it.

Z = Zzz

(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s not falling asleep until you’ve both had a full debrief,cuddled and you have gone to sleep yourself.

It’s more of a comfort thing for him to know that you’re okay and alright with everything that’s happened and that you’re happy and comfortable afterwards.

#spotify #smut #song #romance #cute #fluff #colby brock smut #sam and colby #sam and colby fluff #colby brock #sam colby and friends #sam golbach #sam and kat #colby smut #colby brock x reader #colby x reader

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wayfayrr · 5 months

Text

By your side from day one <3

finally set aside some time to finish off wilds turn for being self aware, the smartest one who found a way to get out without breaking your tv and getting the glass shards of screen everywhere. I'll be back on requests and such soon though!! <3

[masterlist]

“Come on [name], you can’t be serious about missing out on plans just to talk to someone you don’t even know is real.”

“You say like I would want to go clubbing tonight either way, besides he’s said he’s just been working up the courage to video call.”

“And you trust that?”

They’ve got enough of a conscious to look a bit ashamed when I look at them, I know they’re worried for me but of all the things to be so worked up about this seems harmless.

“What if I told you that he was messaging me and telling me to stop talking to you.”

“Can you show me the proof.”

“Well… no. he deleted them immediately afterwards.”

Are they just jealous? This is so unlike them that it’s offputting. I know they can get a little worked up when I get close to other people but accusing my online friend - accusing wild - of threatening them? It’s petty and childish. Are they afraid I’ll replace them or something?

“Okay, alright. This isn’t going to make me cut him off you know?”

“[name]...”

“Reach out when you don’t feel like senselessly trying to cut me off from others. I’ll see you around.”

Hopefully, it’s sooner rather than later, but if they don’t? It’s their own fault they thought they would need to sabotage my other relationships to get closer to me. They even have the audacity to call out after me as I’m leaving, still trying to warn me about him, like they can’t accept I would dare get close to anyone else. Not like it doesn’t feel awful potentially losing a friend like this, but what can I really do?

The trip home seems to pass in a blur, until I’m already collapsed onto my couch with a familiar notif going off on my phone. Opening it proves it is exactly what I expected it to be, a message from him, asking me how my day has gone showing me more care than nearly every other person in my life ever has. Not expecting me to drop everything on a dime for him, even if recently he’s been getting more possessive in his messages like he wants to be serious when I’ve never seen his face.

- I’ve been decent, met up with a friend. Not much really, you? -

- Had to do chores for someone I don’t like >:( wanna get away from everything tbh -

- why not just up and leave? -

- I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been planning something -

Seems like the possessive streak has worn off now then, so I don’t have to worry about mentioning friends again. There isn’t even a reason he should be possessive of me though, unless he’s got a secret crush or something. Which I hope he doesn’t, he’s been speaking to me for barely a couple of weeks.

- You free to call tonight? It’s been a while. -

- I’m good rn if you are. I’ll just grab my headphones - one sec -

- :DD perf perf -

Honestly a call will be nice, I can just zone out for a bit, play some games and chat. It’s the perfect way to destress after everything that happened earlier, I still can’t believe they threw away our friendship over something so small. Maybe I should just block their number and drop them even if they do try and apologise, I don’t really need people like that in my life.

“So then love, any plans for tonight?”

“I thought you said you were gonna drop calling me that?”

“It’s silly and you didn’t answer my question anyway.”

“Nah not really. I’m just loading up breath of the wild, been a bit since I’ve -”

“Oh shit.”

Has wild been link this whole time, wait - how did he get access to the internet, HOW IS HE SENTIENT?

He’s just sitting in his hateno house, holding the sheikah slate like a phone and silently, through the switch anyway, talking. The look of horror on his face is gut-wrenching though.

“You - you…”

“Oh - uh - I mean. Come on love it’s not that bad is it? I - I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

“I don’t think I want to deal with this right now… I’m sorry I just.”

The look of horror and shame shifted terrifyingly fast when he noticed me moving to turn off the switch, replacing itself with fear and anger before he steeled himself, and presses his hand against the slate’s screen?

…

He - he’s reached through my phone to grab onto my wrist.

“No, don’t turn me off, I can’t go back to being just a voice. Please”

“How… how are you DOING THIS?”

“That… Isn’t what matters right now.”

His grip feels so nervous, he looks it too - which makes sense, I would probably be petrified if I lost my body just because I was trapped in a game. I can’t turn him off that would be cruel… he deserves better than that.

It instantly lightened as I moved to sit back down, a sigh of relief echoing through both my tv speakers and my phone, as he let go the second I sat with his hand retreating through my unbroken phone.

“Okay, you promise you won’t try to turn me off?”

“I won’t if you’ll explain.”

“That - that’s fair, I can do that for you love and - if I told you that I think I’ve figured out a way to get out? Would you let me live with you?”

“So that’s why you were so forward abou- yes you can. When you’ve explained everything. And made it certain you’re not planning to kill me because you’re scared of me sending you back.”

The reverb’s stopped now, which makes talking a lot more pleasant and less like he’s trying to intimidate me now, not that I blame him for it if I was about to condemn him back to that hellscape. I just, I really hope he isn’t trying to get out just to kill me, I don’t think I would ever be able to get over my childhood crush wanting to kill me even if he has every right to want that.

“What- No no I don’t - why - why would you think I would ever want to even hurt you let alone KILL. I - love I. I love you. That’s why I’m doing all of this - I - I.”

He’s crying. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t do anything like that - it’s within his right to - but he’s link, he’s the hero, the protagonist who was stuck to my side through it all. I know I shouldn’t have said that it wasn’t meant to be cruel but it was careless enough to hurt him.

“I’m sorry, I came on to strong, you - you have every right to be scared of me. I promise though love I - I will never hurt you ever.”

“I know… I just panicked. You can explain now I won’t overreact again I swear. Or if you’d prefer -”

“If I would prefer..?”

“Why not get out first, then explain?”

Lighting up a firework in my face would have been less blinding than his smile in that moment, it’s such a sweet smile - a genuine one too. Meaning that I said the right thing, that I’m doing the right thing by giving him this chance.

Hopefully, I won’t regret it.

“Really? You’ll let me do that?”

“I think it’s a good idea, it’ll be easier to talk to you as well. Just - how are you going to go this?”

“Um, oh, well uh, I think I could possibly make your switch into a mock version of a warp medallion? Then link my slate to it and just well”

“That makes sense, you can go ahead then, shouldn’t take long right?”

“No, no it won’t.”

A couple of seconds was all the wait it needed for him to stumble out of the blue lights and right onto me, clearly disorientated by the shift into reality. Probably not as bad as any of the 2d links would have struggled to be fair to him. It was an even shorter wait for him to jump onto me and cling even tighter than a koala could ever hope to, nuzzling up against my neck like it’s the only - because - it’s the only real touch he’s ever felt.

“So you want to explain then?”

“Could we wait? That took much more effort than I thought. I just want to rest a bit if that’s alright.”

“As soon as you’re rested enough to. You going to sleep for a bit then?”

“No I still want to talk, just about something less taxing?”

Seems like he’s more dodging the topic than anything, which is fine I can get him to talk about it later, there really isn’t a rush for anything. It’s fine. Besides he’s like an excited kid that’s staying up way past his bedtime right now, where’s the harm in staying like this for a bit?

“Mind if I ask why you’re so determined to call me ‘love’ then?”

“Because you’re everything to me, my light, my love, my life - you’ve been with me through everything. From when I woke to killing ganon and you didn’t abandon me there. You’ve shown me your favourite cities, stuck with me when you had the choice to choose others because you said I am you favourite, so really? How could I not love you?”

“You were aware even in Mariokart?”

His giggle is sweet, he’s so charming right now, especially with how unaware of it he is. It’s so earnest and unfiltered, just so raw, I could go the rest of my life with that being the only thing I ever hear again. Compared to how he acted in cutscenes as well? He’s happy. Tired but happy.

“Oh before I forget, You should be expecting a delivery actually!”

“What.”

“I’ve been wanting to get out of the game for a while so I ordered some things to try make myself more appealing to you.”

“Like what? Link you didn't need to do anything like that.”

He just shrugged, seems like I won’t be getting an answer to that till whatever arrives whenever it does. Seems he really wasn’t lying about being tired though, he’s already starting to fall asleep laying against me like this. Thankfully he’s light enough to move to a more comfortable position, although theres nothing I can do about how tightly he’s holding me and truthfully? There’s nothing I want to do about it.

“Y’know I think I could get used to this.”

“Yo’ will I pr’mise, I’ll make you addicted to m’.”

“Well that isn’t ominous at all… and you’re already asleep.”

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #yandere link #lu wild #lu wild x reader #botw x reader #botw link x reader #moss✦writes #botw link #tloz #self aware au #self aware tloz

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sweetpinkchampagne · 7 months

Text

sinful I

18+ readers only please lovelies!! (this is for a reason please listen<3)

little synopsis: the reader is tonys daughter (he had her young, canon doesnt exist) theres tension between you and stephen, an obvious age gap keeping you from eachother (26, 40). theyre 'trapped' in an elevator together and the tension crumbles.

pronouns: female pronouns are used

relationship: fem reader x stephen strange not established relationship

note: i do not know what possessed me to write this shit, i will not apologise. i love you <333

warnings: defined age gap, stephen being possessive, controlling smut, dd/lg kind offf, petnames

you could always tell when stephen strange was in a room you were in without even looking. he was the type of man who had one of those commanding prescenses, maybe it was his ego you thought to yourself. either way, for weeks you had continuously been trying to block him out of the forefront of your mind. but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't shake his presence. it was like he was a part of your subconscious, a part of you that you never wanted to acknowledge.

you knew that you had to find a way to cope with his presence or it was going to drive you crazy. you had to find a way to remove him from your thoughts. you had to find a way to make him go away. you could swear he knew how infatuated you were with him, how you’d drift off in meetings with thoughts of him racing through your mind. you wanted to wipe that god awful smirk off his face, and the way he looked at you like a starving wolf. that look terrified you, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip. fucking Christ.

he was 40 years old. the thick grey streaks that run through his tousled hair becoming prominent. he carried himself with authority, his body language conveying strength and confidence. his eyes were sharp and focused, his expression serious and determined. you shook him out of your thoughts, standing in the empty elevator, holding a binder you were supposed to speak about at an avengers meeting. something important about presenting to the government. it was an important event, not the type of meeting you’d show up to in your training gear. your eyes met his shiny leather dress shoes. shit.

“stark.” he confidently spoke in his baritone voice nodding at you, his scarred hand extending to hold the elevator open before he stepped in silently, standing tantilizingly close to you. closer than any other coworker would.

“oh. good morning, stephen.” you spoke back softly, anxiously tapping your foot. it wasn’t the meeting you were anticipating. you were met with silence as he pushed the button to go to the floor of the meeting you were both attending. the elevator slowly went up.

“you seem nervous, stark.” he looked straight ahead, not making eye contact with you.

“just not a public speaker, that's all.” you managed to squeak out. you could tell he was smirking, that sick bastard knew what he was doing. you couldnt. you were only 26, and here you stood head over heels for some magical doctor who’s ego towers over him. suddenly the sound of clanging pipes could be heard followed by a deafening screeching. the elevator came to a halt, but the doors stayed closed. stephen scoffed and hit the ‘open door’ button. nothing. he chuckled under his breath.

“we can miss this meeting. oh please no.” you started pressing the button as you panicked.

“oh come on darling, it’s not as if this is the worst situation in the world, is it?” he stood facing you. darling. get fucked.

“i don’t know what game you’re playing, strange. now could you just portal us out of here?” you checked your watch. “we’re 7 minutes late.”

“i don’t have my sling ring on me, not exactly something you bring to an all-important government meeting, now is it?” you sighed, that sarcastic attitude would be the death of you.

“why don’t we just sit tight, mm? nobody is going to come save you, they’re all busily writing notes on something some superfical united nations member has to say.” he stared into your eyes, clearly unbothered. you nodded, what else could you do? you were stuck. slowly backing against the metal back panel of the elevator, you slowly slid down in defeat, sitting on the cold metal with your legs stretched out. he did the same.

“wouldn’t want to dirty that suit.” you mumbled, annoyed that you were here, stuck with the last person you’d want to be in a confined space with.

“wouldn’t want to dirty that pretty little dress. oh. that’s right, daddy will just buy you a new one, won't he?” te bit back. being tony’s daughter had its perks, but many people mistook you for a spoiled brat.

“what, you tight on money or something, strange? need me to spot you? buy you lunch?” you scoffed. he laughed, loosening his tie and sighing from relief. you crossed your legs in response, he's almost your fathers age, why are you pressing your thighs together? jesus - you thought to yourself.

she looked over at him, his collar was turned up on one side after he loosened his tie. you leaned over the cold metal floors and reached him.

“oh here. let me fix this for you.” you whispered, stumbling as you ended up straddling him as you fixed his collar, his hot breath fanning your face as you were inches away from eachother.

“hi darling..” he whispered seductively. you were burning red, your mouth slightly parted as you sat there flushed and frozen.

“dont get all shy on me now, hm?�� he laughed, his scarred fingers reaching to trace the side of your jaw.

“stephen.. we can’t. it would be wrong. this is sinful” you whispered against his lips.

“then why does it feel so right? i see the way you look at me. the way your breath hitches in your throat when i walk in front of you. the way you stumble over your words when you speak to me. tell me this is wrong one more time, and I’ll leave. we'll stop.” he stated, looking at your lips and then gazing back into your eyes. you kept your eyes on him and your heart raced. you knew that what you were doing was wrong, but you couldn't help it.

you wanted to stay. he was hypnotizing, it was cruel. you launched closer into his embrace, kissing him passionately as if he was the last man you’d ever kiss. he groaned softly into your mouth in shock but quickly moved one hand up the side of your hips and the other was holding the side of your cheek. you felt a warmth spread through your body as his lips moved against yours, and you felt yourself getting lost in the moment. you pulled away reluctantly, your heart still pounding as your eyes met his.

he lingered there for a moment, and then his lips curved into a knowing smile as he slowly pulled away. he was aware of your attraction and you were both enjoying it. he rested both of his hands on your lower back, holding your hips as you were sitting in the same position. he slowly moved you forward, rocking you, the friction was you were grinding on him creating warmth and longing to be touched. you were inexperienced, shy. no man had ever made you feel like this and you couldnt help but softly moan into his ear and he moved you. he did all the work, picking up the pace and praising you.

“that feels good, huh baby? oh fuck. keep making those pretty noises for me. anyone ever made you feel like this?” he groaned, watching you sinfully as you rocked your lips back and forth against his lap. you closed you eyes in embarrassment. the answer was no. you shook your head gently, rocking against him, mewling.

"atta girl" he groaned in your ear.

“oh stephen..shit.” you moaned, louder than before. he grabbed your waist, stopping you.

“keep moving, and i won't be able to stop. at least let me be a gentlemen” he scooped you up and slid his sling ring out of his coat pocket.

“you dirty liar!” you scoffed in his arms as he opened a portal.

“oh come on sweetheart, you know i always have it on me.” he chuckled, walking through the portal. you were in his bedroom. the dark oak panelled walls of the sanctum were glossy and rich. the 4 post bed was the star of the room, overshadowing everything else. he laid you down on the bed. part of you expected him to be sweet and gentle with you, caring almost. tt was almost as if he could read your mind.

“i’m bad for you baby. i want to be selfish with you, i’ve wanted this for so long.” he said as he threw his suit jacket to the floor and the clinging of his unbuckling belt made you whine.

"be a good girl for me, yeah baby?" you were about to lie on your stomach so he could unzip your dress, but without hesitation he knelt straddling you. He placed his scarred hands on the neckline of your dress and ripped it down the middle as if it was paper.

#doctor strange #doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange x you #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange smut

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ask-crossing-timelines-au · 2 months

Note

Karkat: let shit really hit you and cry like a wiggler

At least he has calmed down a little bit

(HAPPY 4/13!! Hope you like the update :DD i work really hard on it :3 its also the first year anniversary of this blog .3.!! Time passes so fast huh! I''l do a little dynamic before the day ends jeje)

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#homestuck #crossing timelines au #karkat vantas #feferi peixes #eridan ampora #sollux captor #pesterquest #ask #blog update #hs karkat #hs feferi #hs eridan #hs sollux #4/13

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mountainsandmayhem · 2 months

Text

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

Part Three (Soft Version)

DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 4.7k

CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of a collar, use of toys. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.

AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. I was in my feels when I wrote this, so this is the sweeter version of the two. I'd love to hear which version you preferred!

“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”

“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!”

“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?”

“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.

A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more.

“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.”

Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me.

As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much.

Got ya, you think to yourself.

He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago. Deeper, more commanding, and it reverberates through you, right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.”

Joel’s front door has barely closed before he’s pushing you up against the wall, caged in by his arms and strong chest.

Every bump on the drive home had you twitching, you tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you.

“Did you come on the drive home?” He says coldly, lips pressing against your neck, hitting that sweet soft spot just below your ear.

“No, Joel,” you whine.

His teeth graze your throat and you cry out, “It’s Mr Miller, don’t make me remind you again.”

Your hands scramble for purchase as your knees start to give out, wrapping around the open flannel shirt he’s wearing over a fitted black t-shirt.

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I don’t…” you trail off, you aren’t sure if you should say you’ve never been a sub before, at least not to someone this experienced. You don’t want him to stop, you love what happened tonight and you want him to show you and teach you what this all means. But even more so, you trust him to teach you.

Joel stops kissing you, hands coming to your waist and lifting you so your eye level. When you wrap your legs around his trim waist you gasp out in a mix of pleasure and pain. Your poor cunt is begging for relief but you can’t barely stand your clit to be touched. His eyes look at you with concern.

I deserve to go to hell if she tells me she’s a virgin. Fuck, you were so stupid when it comes to her.

“I need you to finish that sentence, babygirl. You don’t what?”

Your cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, so shy compared to that bratty girl who told him to kiss his ass. Joel has the gut sinking feeling that you might have him wrapped around your little finger already.

Dangerous.

Very very dangerous.

Not to mention stupid.

“I’ve just..” you start, he brings his hands to cup your face, moving a few strands of stray hairs that are stuck to your lips. “I haven’t had a Dom before. I don’t know what to do or what to call you.”

Cute, Joel thinks to himself, she’s so fucking cute right now.

“Well babygirl, when we are playing like this you do what I tell you, and if you don’t like what I tell you, you use the safe word. Do you remember it?”

You nod, biting your lip as you whisper, “Cowboy.”

His face lights up with pride and in that moment you realize you’ll do anything to have him look at you like that again. And when he throws in a gravelly, ‘good girl’, any inhibitions you had go out the window. You are a good girl, you want to be his good girl…forever.

He continues, “And when we are playing you call me Mr Miller. Otherwise, you can call me whatever you’d like.” He places a light kiss on the tip of your nose and you melt a little more into him and the wall behind you. “Do you have any other questions, baby?”

Do you know what it does to me when you call me baby?

Or kiss my nose or forehead like you have?

Can you spank me again?

Can you make me come?

Can I suck your dick?

How do you feel about anal?

“Umm,” you press your lips together, eyes taking in every little bit of his face, trying to memorize this moment. “How will I know when we are playing and when we aren’t?”

Fuck, if this girl lets me put a collar on her I’m going to come in my pants and then propose.

“There’s my smart girl,” he praises, his coffee and caramel coloured eyes washing over you. “We can have a symbol, something I give you when we play. And when you’re wearing it you’re mine.” His voice sounds full of passion all of a sudden, each work almost sears itself onto your heart.

Your heart is pounding at what he’s implied and you’re almost sure he can hear it. “What kind of symbol?”

He puts you down and then gets on one knee to untie your shoes and help you slip them off. His warm fingertips trail up your legs as he stands before taking your hand in his. With his large palm encasing yours, suddenly you feel safe and loved, your pussy flutters at the promise of him taking care of you in a way that only he can. You know you’re going to be ruined for all other men.

He leads you to his bedroom and it’s nothing like you remember when you’d play hide and seek while Sarah babysat you. Gone is the old wooden furniture and mismatched bedding. Replaced with a black metal bed frame, along with matching bedside tables and dresser, and the fluffiest white sheets you’ve ever seen. You so badly want to just sink in and get naked with Joel. It looks like it would be like getting fucked on a cloud or cotton candy and those thoughts are only solidified when he tells you to sit before he heads to the closet doors.

He slides the barn door of his large walk-in closet open. The room seems to wrap you up in Joel’s scent, warm and spicy with a hint of vanilla. As he walks into the closet he toes off his boots and then slides his flannel off, placing it on a hanger. It might be your very neglected pussy talking, but you swear you can see every muscle in his body underneath that shirt and you unconsciously spread your legs a little bit. He reaches up above the clothing and pulls out a black box with a lock on it and then looks at you mischievously as he pads back over to you.

“Sometimes,” he says gently, “A dom will give their sub a collar. When it’s on, we’re playing. You belongs to me. When it’s off, we can just act how we normally would.”

A collar, definitely not sure how you feel about that. You don’t want to be like a dog with a black leather collar around your neck. He slides the numbers to enter the combination and then flicks the clasp open.

To your surprise, he pulls out a dainty golden chain. It almost looks like a bunch of yellow paper clips strung together, and there’s a tiny lock pendant on the end. He runs the thin links through his fingers before looking over at you.

“You don’t have to do this, I can just take you home and we can go back to how things were. Ultimately, you always have the choice.” If a stranger could see the way he was looking at you right now, they’d never be able to tell he was capable of the spanking he gave you earlier.

“You’ll stop if I say ‘cowboy’?” You say, voice cracking, nervous and excited energy fighting for first place.

“Always, babygirl. I’m here to dominate you, but I’m also here to take care of you. A good dom will always take of their sub.”

“Then I want to. Please, Mr Miller. Make me yours.”

He almost growls as he pulls you to your feet. You squeal as he hoists you over his shoulder, his hands strong on the back of your thighs as he carries you to the floor-length mirror at the end of his closet. He stands behind you as he works the clasp, placing the thin gold collar around your neck and then doing it up. He’s so close that you can feel his cock harden at the sight of you as he officially makes you as his for the first time. Joel's thick fingers trace along the rings, he thumbs the little lock pendant before he grips your throat just below your jawline. He applies pressure to your pulse point as his now black eyes come to meet yours in the reflection and brings his lips to your ear.

With a growling, rough whisper he says, “You have five seconds to get naked and lay in my bed with your legs spread as wide as you can.”

The instant his hand releases, you sprint to his bed, stripping your clothes as you go. He counts to five with authority and after what happened his truck, and now this, you’re sure you’re never going to be able to count without getting turned on ever again.

“Such an eager little thing, aren’t you?”

Desperate to hear him praise you, you lay on your back, planting your feet on the bed before letting your knees fall open.

“Straighten your legs and put your hands above your head.” You position your body how he says, even though you’re completely exposed to him his eyes stay locked on yours. “This is how I want you when we start playing. Exactly how you are now.”

He grabs another box from his closet and places it on the foot of the bed, eyes travelling up your toned legs, “I’m going to show you what you’ll be going to work with inside of you tomorrow if you decide to stay there. I haven’t forgotten that you were a brat tonight.”

He opens the box and pulls out a black U-shaped piece of silicone and lays it on your belly. “Do you know what this….”

He stops mid-sentence, eyes lighting up as they rake over your tits. They dance from each nipple, taking in the tiny barbell and the thin hearts that encompass each one. “You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”

“I like pain,” you whisper, throat going dry at the admission.

“My little masochist,” he hums. “As I was saying, do you know that is?” He nods his head towards the little toy.

You shake your head, “No, Mr Miller.”

“That goes inside your gorgeous pussy. One part pushes on your g spot, the other on your clit. I have the remote.” He holds up a small plastic remote with a few shiny buttons.

“Oh,” you moan, your lips forming in the shape of the word, nipples getting harder at the thought.

“I will keep it turned on low enough that you will not come. In fact, it might be more like torture than pleasure.” His eyes are sparkling at the thought of you squirming for hours.

“But I don’t want to quit,” you whine. You’re a glutton for punishment and you know Joel will dish it out.

“How long is your shift?” He says, picking up the toy, the graze of his fingers along your belly sends an electric current through your body.

“Four hours,” your voice is husky with need.

“I’m going to get some lube and then put this toy inside of you now, babygirl. We’ll see how long you can last. Is that okay?”

“Of course, Mr Miller.” You try to sound confident but in the bright lights of his room, you can see how dark and serious he looks.

He lubes up the toy and then swipes some lube through your folds. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud high pitched moan when he hits your clit.

Fuck. I’m gonna come with the tiniest vibration and it’s probably going to hurt.

“So wet. So swollen. My poor girl,” he says mockingly, he’s loving that you’ve been suffering and on edge since the minute you saw him in that alleyway.

The toy slides in and the pressure just from the silicone alone sends the air whooshing out of your lungs. You’re gasping for breath, your clit feels like it’s being zapped with electricity and you immediately slam your thighs together and start to whimper.

A small, almost evil sounding chuckle comes from Joel as he holds up the remote. “Ready?”

“No,” you gasp, rolling onto your belly. “I can’t. Please don’t.”

“Are you going to quit?”

You cry out in frustration into one of his fluffy pillows and then whisper a sad, “no.”

The vibrator comes to life and the most intense mix of pain and pleasure floods your body. He’s right, the sensation isn’t enough to make you come, just enough so that you know it’s there. You bury your face deeper in the pillows, curling yourself into the fetal position, back towards Joel, as you try to breathe normally.

Joel strips down to his boxers before shutting off the lights. He slips into the sheets, covering you up along the way. “Good night, baby girl.”

“What?” You gasp. “Mr Miller. I….oh god…I c-can’t. It’s on.”

“You may as well get used to it. You’re going to work with it in tomorrow. No more talking. Go to sleep.”

Joel lays on his back, one arm behind his head, the other palm spread out on his chest. You flip around to face him, the early morning sun lighting his profile. There’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep, you shift your legs around.

Maybe if they’re spread I won’t feel the vibration as much.

That doesn’t seem to work so instead you squeeze them together. More pressure might make you come and then you can finally get some rest. Joel looks over at you as you jerk around silently.

“Come here,” he says, patting his chest. You cuddle into him, one leg draping over his warm body. The arm behind his head wraps around your naked body. He feels so soft but hard against you. You can’t help but hump against his hip bone. You’re right on the edge. So close to tipping over it and coming. So very close.

“Baby, it hasn’t even been four minutes, how are you going to last four hours?” He’s taunting you, trying to get you to beg. “You’re pathetic.”

You can feel sweat breaking out across your body. This is torture, was right. You hate that he was right, but you hate even more how much he’s loving it.

“Please,” you whisper.

He pulls back to be able to look into your eyes. “What are you going to do for me if I make you come?”

“Anything. Just. Please, Mr Miller.” You grind yourself into him harder, you’re so close that it’s almost unbearable.

“Quit your job, baby girl.” He demands again. “I’ll tell your parents you’re going to work for me.”

You start to pant as the pressure in your lower belly increases, you can feel wetness pooling inside of you, begging to be released. “I can’t take your money. Oh god - please - I ca-can’t. Hnnnnng. P-please.”

A tear runs down your cheek and you’re not even sure why you’re crying, probably out of frustration.

“You can. I’ll pay you to help around the house,” he holds up a hand, almost like he knows exactly what you’re doing today. “Not for the sex you’re guaranteed to get if you quit and come here.” He wipes the tear away and hikes his leg up to increase the pressure that’s already on the verge of making you pass out.

Stars start to blur your vision as you whisper, “ok. I’ll quit.”

Joel has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him.

“Please!” You cry between kisses.

His thick fingers slide between your puffy folds and the toy, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you.

“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing.

“Please. Please. Please, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible.

His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?”

You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips.

“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?”

His words from earlier echo through you. Ultimately, you always have the choice.

Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here. You are not a burden to him.

“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Cowboy,” you hum, never taking your eyes away from his blown out obsidian gaze.

“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed. Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. “No no baby girl, eyes on me.”

You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping. Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure.

“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’.

He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.”

Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, he knows he should punish you for not calling him Mr Miller but you look so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart.

“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars blur your vision again, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.”

“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”

He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”

You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time?

“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready.

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.”

There she goes again, being so fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his t-shirt a soaked, he’ll need to change things before you both get some sleep. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.”

You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job. Made a huge mess. I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”

Every bone and muscle in your body seems to have dissolved and all you can muster is a weak smile and a little whimper of thanks. “I need to get you cleaned up. Stay here.”

Stay here? I have no bones. Where else will go?

The sound of running water coaxes your eyes to close. The mattress shifts under Joel’s weight as he sits beside you, lightly trailing his finger down the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to carry you to the shower. Ok?”

You let out an agreeable hum as he scoops you into his arms. His warm naked chest pressed against you. He walks into the shower with you, the steam warming your skin. He places you on your feet and guides you under the water with him. Water is hitting you from all angles. You open your eyes to see 3 showerheads in his large, modern glass shower. A large rainfall one above the two of you, then two down the wall. The bundle of fresh eucalyptus hanging from one head fills the shower with a fresh scent.

His fingers fumble with the clasp of your collar behind you, “how are you feeling after what happened tonight?”

You smile at the white and black tiled wall as the collar slides off your neck and into Joel’s hands. “Mmm - like I’m not gonna quit my job so we can do it again.”

“Don’t think I won’t put this on again right now and make you regret that.”

You giggle and press your body back into Joel’s. He’s completely naked behind you and you have the sudden urge to taste him. As you spin around and get to your knees he stops you, “don’t interrupt my aftercare, please.”

“Your what?”

He grabs the soap and a fresh wash cloth and starts to work it to lather. “I told you, it’s my job to take care of you.” It’s too early to admit it to you, but aftercare is Joel’s favourite part. He’s grumpy and rough on the outside, but he loves the tender moments after playing with his subs. Especially you, and that’s something he won’t even admit to himself yet.

He runs the soft cloth over your arms and chest, using extra caution not to catch on your nipple piercings. I like these,” he says, eyes memorizing every inch of the skin he’s washing.

“Thanks, you’re actually the first person to see them.”

“That right?” He moves the cloth down your stomach before kneeling in front of you and washing your legs. “You know what I think you should pierce next?”

“I have an appointment next week for something,” you tease. It’s not a lie, you have an appointment to get a second hole in each earlobe, but may as well play with him a little.

“Oh? Don’t tease an old man like that, baby girl. What new surprise am I gonna find?” He brings the cloth up and down your other leg.

“What do you want to find?”

His hands grip your hips and he spins you around. You have a small bruise forming on your one ass cheek and his cock jumps at the sight. “Belly button,” he says.

“Oh?” You say with surprise as he stands behind you and scrubs your back. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and add, “I was thinking of doing my clit.”

Joel’s hands come to his heart as he moans. “Fuck me, baby girl. I’d have to leave the god damn continent until it healed.”

You laugh as he brings his lips to yours. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you aren’t wearing a collar. But he’s kissing you and washing your body. Does this mean that Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, might have the same sort of feelings that you have? Or is this just what he does with his subs after dehydrating them with his fingers and tongue.

“Stay in the warm water while I change the sheets. I’ll be back,” you look over your shoulder to finally take in his naked body. His back is lined with corded muscle, water droplets filling the dips and grooves of his sculpted body. It looks like you could bounce your whole fucking bank account off his round ass.

Am I salivating. I feel like I’m salivating.

He wraps a white bath sheet around his waist before you get to see his front - as much as you loved being taken care of earlier you should have looked down. You run some shampoo and conditioner through your hair, rinsing it out just as Joel comes back, now in a pair of fitted boxer briefs. He holds up a towel for you, and after turning off the water you pad over to him for him to wrap you up and gently dry you off.

“Thank you, Mr Miller,” you say instinctively.

He smiles softly at you as he dries every inch of your skin. “Go lay down, babygirl. I’ll get some lotion and then you need to get some sleep.”

When you walk out to his bed there’s a t-shirt and a bottle of water on the pillow for you.

Fuck. I’m in love.

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather@ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30

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localkiss · 3 months

Text

Princess Sprinkles!

Vendetta Chris Redfield x fem reader!

cw: dd/lg, creampie, squirting (guys idk how squirting feels like....), multiple orgasms (reader), fingering, pet names, praise kink, oral fixation (reader obv), light mentions of breeding, soft dom!Chris!!, afab terms used, size kink ish.., Chris being silly, Chris being a lil mean one time, and some fluff :3 !! — Lmk if I missed anything.

wc: 2005 !! (🤭 birth year go crazyy LOL!)

notes: if you don't like ddlg just um. Idk don't read 💀!! I fr try not to make the reader teeny tiny but like dude Chris is huge asf.. size kink go brrr 🧎🏻‍♀️! I'll be making reader a lil squishy from now on bc I'm not skinny either ☝🏻.Also I used to watch the Bratz babyz movie on repeat sm that the disc got ruined 😭😭 soo.. yes that part is directly from yours truly! Not proof read 😵‍💫

tags: @argreion, @rigorwhoring bc ily guys 😇!!

"Daddy!" You squeal as soon as Chris picks you up and spins you around. Making your fluffy mini pleated skirt twirl upwards.

Chris hoists your pretty body over his shoulders and pats you on the butt, practically skipping towards your shared bedroom. It looks like someone dumped all the squishmallows possible into the master bedroom. He can't help but think of you every time he sees a stuffed animal. Shits rooted in his brain. Stuffies = his angel!

Yeah, he might have to fight with them to make room for himself, but he wouldn't trade it for any other way. He doesn't actually fight them, knowing you'd throw a hissy fit and say "Hate daddy! Forever 'n ever!" Chris's heart shatters like glass whenever you say that.

He's grown softer because of you and those little threats of yours make his heart drop down to the core of the Earth. Would he admit it to team Alpha? No. Never in a million years. But they've got eyes and ears, they're not Patrick Star. Dumb and living under a rock.

Lately he's been covered in hickeys and cute little doodles that're supposed to be like tattoos by yours truly. Goes to work and gets teased by his squad, telling him how you've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger. How much you've changed him, for the better. He always shrugs them off, putting them back to work.

You for sure made Chris cut back on smoking a fuck ton. Constantly crying about how the stench will ruin your stuffies and the coat the walls of the house with a film. You're right, that's for sure. And the fact that second hand smoke is even worse is what clicks it into his head for him. His baby. His sweetheart, could end up dying because of his stupid ass habits.

Chris has lost too many of his men because of his habits. Too many good men. You are his savior. He pounds away the guilt into your needy little cunt. Constantly craving him. Needing him. Loving him. Honest to God, he needs that more than anything in this lifetime.

"Sweetheart," he sighs and sets you down onto the bed. "I missed you. Whatcha been up to?"

"Slept 'n colored and um... Ate some snackies, watch movie, 'n had lotsa juice!" You mumble, eyes glancing around the entire room. Using your hands to talk, as your words get slurred when you're in this state of mind.

Chris presses a faint kiss to your temple and noses down to the underside of your ear. Carefully holding the back of your head with his hand. He gives you more kisses and blows raspberries into your ear, making you squeal and swat at him.

"That's good baby. Glad you had a productive day." Chris smiles at you lovingly.

Your heart then swoons, making you feel all mushy inside. Praise gets him everything from you. Just like you crying out for daddy gets you everything from him!

He lazily starts to unbuckle his belt, pulling it through the loops. Setting it down on the bedside table with a thud. He starts to undo his fly, pushing his pants all the way down, kicking out of them.

Only dressed in his boxers and shirt, he engulfs you with a hug. Nuzzling into your neck, feeling your hands grab ahold of his shirt.

"Daddy?"

"Just recharging honey, hold on." His voice is deep and gruffy, sending chills up your spine.

You lay there, body buzzing with warmth as his figure presses you into the mattress. His hips shift and move against yours, causing you to gasp.

Thighs squeezing against his fit waist and he sighs into your neck. "Daddy's not charge. He excited..." Your fingers tug on his shirt and he sits up.

"Off?" Pointing to his shirt and you clumsily remove your own shirt and skirt. Now both of you are only in your underwear. Well, you still have your white thigh highs on, but still.

He presses your thighs up to your chest and settles in the middle as best as he can. Feeling his skin on your skin feels like heaven. Makes your panties wet, which he's noticed but doesn't want to say anything about it. Knowing you get all shy and embarrassed when he points things out like that. He likes it. Thinks it's cute that you want skin ship.

"So pretty baby," he pushes his hips forward. His cock catching onto your clit with each slow roll. "Pretty pussy, pretty tits. Pretty girl. My pretty girl."

Chris leans back and gets rid of his boxers. Pulling your panties up to slip his cock between your folds. Laying back down on top of you. Humping you instead of fucking you.

You can't complain, his tip his pressing against your clit nicely. Your hips rolling up to meet his and his dick slips inside.

He bottoms out immediately with a growl. "Baby. Did I say you could put it in?" Chastising you with a rough thrust, acting like it's your fault his dick slipped inside of your tiny hole.

"Daddy, didn't mean to. Not m'fault," you whine out, kicking your legs.

"S'okay. Daddy will make it all better." Chris presses a kiss to your forehead and acts like he's going to pull it out. Only to harshly thrust it back into you. "Fuck, princess. She's not wanting to let me go. You hear her crying for me?"

Moaning, you dig your nails into his back, "Daddy, daddy, never leave," you start babbling already.

He groans and rabbits his hips, making the bed rock against the wall.

"Wait, daddy, stuffies no want look, turn," you try to speak as he continues to fuck you like he hates you.

"Shit, okay baby. Hold on," he grunts and turns them around as best as he can. "Better now?"

You nod and go in for a kiss and he meets you halfway. Drooling into your mouth and your tongues swirl together before you suck on his. Moaning as he drives himself deeper inside of you. Squelching sounds and skin on skin echoing in the bedroom. Surely you guys won't get a noise complaint this time!

He spits into your mouth and smears it all over your lips with his thumb, pushing it into your mouth. Who needs a pacifier when you've got daddy's thumb?

Watching your eyes flutter shut and your lips wrapping around his thumb, it sets him off. His other hand driving down between you both and rubbing harshly at your puffy nub.

Biting down, you furrow your eyebrows. Breathing quickly and moaning softly. "Close," you hum around his digit. Sucking on it as you get closer and closer.

Chris's dick hits a special spot inside of you and your body shakes underneath him. Pussy trying to push out his cock as a clear liquid shoots out of you.

"Goddamn, baby, squirting on me, mmhh—fuck..." His hips falter and he dumps his cum inside of you. Resting his body on you, burying you into the bed. Making sure his cum never leaves you.

Chris pulls his thumb out of your mouth and kisses you feverishly. "Putting a baby in you, s'that alright princess?" Your pussy agrees by clenching around his thickness.

But he's acting like you've got a choice, since he's already done the deed. He pulls you up into his arms and you guys slowly make your way to the bath. Still connected and full.

Keeping you in his arms, he reaches down to turn on the water and put in the plug. You giggle and some of his cum starts to spurt out and drip down his balls. He settles in the tub with you on his lap, grabbing the soap to fill it with bubbles.

Chris slowly lifts you off of his length and sets you between his legs. Back pressed against his hairy chest. While his cum dribbles out of you.

His fingers make their way down to your sensitive cunt and slowly dips them inside. "Shh, I know baby," pressing soft kisses to your cheek as you whine and claw weakly at his forearms. The other one is keeping you pressed against him.

"Daddy's helping you baby," he starts to curl his fingers and your legs shake. Clearly overstimulated from earlier. But Chris starts to be a bit greedy, smacking his palm against your pretty little pearl.

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, he coaxes you into another orgasm. With the disguise of helping you get his cum out. If anything, he's trying to fuck it back into. Serious about putting a mini him or you inside of your tummy.

"Baby, almost there. Y'got it princess.. mmh.. cum one more time for daddy? Promise I'll clean you up and get us some donuts with sprinkles on 'em, just the way you like." Man, he's even bribing you! Daddy knows what you really want right now. So you whimper in response.

"Daddy, mmhhff... Daddy oh god! Please, please, please!" Your heels dig into the tub as the water fills it. His lips sucking and biting into your neck is what makes you cream around his digits.

Body convulsing and breath raggedy and higher as you come down from your second high of the night. Chris grabs your face and kisses you all over, mumbling praises into your skin. "Good girl, daddy's so proud of you."

Then, he takes his time washing you off, letting you play with the rubber duckies and splashing water onto him. Putting bubbles on his beard and making one for yourself.

"I daddy! See?" You pout and furrow your eyebrows, taking a drag of an imaginary cigarette. Chris rolls his brown eyes and takes the imaginary cigarette and puts it out.

"Babies can't do that stuff, remember? Only daddies can do that, silly baby girl." He wipes the bubbles off of your face and his, nibbling on your earlobe. Making chewing noises, "Om nom nom, my baby tastes so yummy!"

You squeal and press your face into your shoulder. "Daddy! Got wash so we can eat nummy donut! Donut sprinkle!"

He hums and gets to work. Gently washing your back and hair as you wash your front side and down to your toes. Chris hauls you up and he turns on the shower to wash your hair and his. God knows he needs this shower after training his new squad mates today.

Chris washes his own figure as you cup the water in your tiny hands and splash it up in the air. Watching you pretend you have powers as the water runs down your arms and to the tips of your fingers.

"Alright princess. Let's go get some sprinkled donuts," he pats your heart shaped ass with a chuckle. Wrapping you in a fuzzy towel, he gets to work drying you off. It reminds you of that Bratz babyz movie. Sure reminds him of it too. From how often you guys watched it, the CD stopped working and you threw a fit.

So of course, he bought a couple more, just in case. It's not like he doesn't have the money for it. So why not keep his baby sated with something so simple as a 2000s movie? He even bought you some Bratz dolls and monster high ones. Likes how you squeal and jump around in excitement every time he buys you something so simple as a doll. Makes him happy.

"Princess sprinkles and daddy sprinkles! Getting donut sprinkles! Sprinkles, sprinkles, sprinkles!" You laugh as he puts on your blue matching cinnamoroll pajamas that he spent fifty dollars on. Worth it in his opinion. Looks so cute on you, he can't help but press kisses all over your cheeks.

"Alright, alright, princess sprinkles. Let's go get in the car. Daddy'll buy you all the chocolate sprinkled donuts there is at the bakery." Chris's heart thumps in his chest. Yeah, there's a sprinkled shaped hole with a sprinkle version of you in his heart.

#resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #chris redfield smut #chris redfield x reader #chris resident evil #resident evil chris #chris smut #chris redfield #resident evil vendetta #resident evil fanfiction #fanfiction #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy smut #localkiss

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the-common-cowgirl · 7 months

Text

Greater of Two Evils -Part 3

Summary: When you’re unable to share your brother’s happiness, you end up in the hospital. All hope is lost when the greater of the two evils in your life comes to your “rescue.”

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen/Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Modern AU, Non-Con/Dub-Con (heavier on non-con), Physical Violence to Reader (choking, manhandling), Mentions of injuries to reader, Feelings of hopelessness, Elitism, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Proximity, Breeding/Pregnancy Kink, Non-Consensual Arranged/Fabricated Relationship, Dom vibes, Rough/Painful sex, Unprotected sex

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Quick reminder that this is a dark fic! Reading dark fics in a modern setting can feel more real so please, read the warnings carefully before reading further!

Masterlist

A week passed with no so little as a text from Aemond. With your current condition, you weren’t sure if the silence on his end was a good thing or not. Sure, you looked up other options. A way out. A way to terminate the pregnancy… but then Aemond’s words loomed over you like a dark cloud. Coming back to you all at once, the second you even thought about escaping him.

“-your entire family and most of all, your brother is ruined. I have my finger on the trigger right now.”

What could you do? What should you do? Aemond hadn’t contacted you in over a week. Maybe he just wanted to scare you and leave? Forget about you. Oh Gods, you hoped he had forgotten about you.

Your brother nearly pranced into the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a drink. From your vantage point on the couch, he looked happy, giddy. You tried to hide further behind your laptop, pretending to be busy with the schoolwork you should be doing and not stressing over anything.

Don’t give him a reason to be suspicious of you.

“Hey! Wanna hear some great news?” He interrupted your act at homework.

You sighed and shut your laptop on your lap, looking up to your brother with thinly veiled disdain. “Sure.”

If he noticed your discontent, he did not speak on it. “That trade deal, last week, remember? I was trying to get through parliament? It passed!” He smiled widely toward you, as if that was a reason you should be ecstatic too.

Your lips formed a crooked smile, trying to hide the fact that you did not care nor did you see the reason you should. “Huh, that’s great.” Then you remembered, a week expired memory of Aemond telling you that he blocked the trade deal flashed in your memory and your blood ran cold.

Why did it pass? What did he want now? Was I wishfully thinking this was over?

Your brother’s smile faltered, “Shouldn’t you be excited? That’s a win for us.”

He snapped you out of your spiraling dread. “Us?” You looked up to your brother, slight anger rising in your heart though you were too afraid to show it.

He nodded, moving closer to you, towering over you on the couch. “Look at what I’m doing for this family. Be grateful for my sacrifices. Do you know how many nights I stayed up past midnight trying to speak to my connections in parliament to get the trade deal to pass? Do you know what this means for us? For me?”

He speaks of sacrifices as if he was the sacrificial lamb I am.

You narrowed your eyes up at him, feeling emboldened by the anger bubbling up inside you. Your brother had no clue what it was like to sacrifice…anything. So he lost sleep? So what. You lost your sense of self, your dignity, your freedom. And again, all he lost was sleep.

“Honestly, I don’t care what a trade deal means for you. I don’t care how it’ll boost your standing in the company.” Your brother looked shocked at your words, you continued to glare up at him. “Because you don’t give a shit about me. I lost all respect for you when I realized you had none for me.”

Your brother stuttered, looking shocked. “I’ve given you everything. I love you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You have a fucked up way of showing it-”

Before you could realize what had happened, your brother grabbed your wrist and painfully jerked you up to your feet, although, you were not prepared to stand and lost your footing once he let you go, falling to the group, hitting your head on the glass coffee table and shattering it underneath you. Your laptop that was on your lap fell amidst the shuffle and your weight landed on the top of it.

Once you realized what happened, you felt blood trickling down your head, wrist, forearm. Your brother paid no attention, leaning over you, so close to your face as he spat angrily, “You are nothing without me.” He grabbed the already bruising wrist and jerked your body closer, scraping along the glass. “No one in this family is anything without me. Never forget that.” His voice was low, possessive, demonic. He shoved your wrist away and walked from the scene he had caused.

You were left in the living room, trying to make sense of what happened and what you should do. You looked at the wrist he had grabbed, now turning purple and swollen. You felt the blood falling from your head to the white, fur rug that was underneath the shattered coffee table’s frame. You went through the motions numbly, standing up, grabbing your phone, laptop, walking into your bedroom and grabbing your wallet, stuffing those three belongings in your school bag and walked out the door.

You knew you needed to seek medical attention, feeling the faint sting of your wrist breaking the absolute numbness you felt, and alongside that stinging, you began to feel dizzy. You called an Uber, thankful the driver didn’t ask questions or speak as you stared ahead after directing him to Sunspear Foundation Hospital. You only answered the questions they needed to know, the nurses, remaining quiet when three nurses came in and asked you if you were in a domestic abuse situation, asking if you knew you were pregnant from the mandatory pregnancy test you had to take upon arrival. When the social worker came in, she asked if you were safe at home.

Were you? No. Did you tell them the truth? No.

A nurse knocked on the door, the sting in your wrist still painful as you were denied all pain killers due to your condition, instead, you moved to sit up, using the non-swollen wrist. “Come in,” you said meekly.

She stepped in, just barely, trepidation in her proximity. “Uh miss? I have a visitor here for you-”

You furrowed your brows at her, wondering who would even know you’re here-

Aemond appeared from behind the nurse and moved to thank her before shutting the door to your room and looking down at your bandaged self lying in a hospital gown. His remaining eye was hard to read, he was hard to read. He set you on edge and given what had just happened, you knew the monitor connected to your finger sensed your pulse quicken.

He glanced up to the rising numbers and decided then, to sit down next to you. Eye raking over your bandages without even a hint to what he was thinking, feeling. Being near him set you on edge. And the question you didn’t need answering popped in your mind.

How did he know I was here.

In theory, you knew. You knew he was well connected. You knew he had eyes on you. You knew that he always knew what you were up to. But here? Even at a hospital you couldn’t escape his eye.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was even, cold, deep. It terrified you.

“Um-” You began, for some reason wanting to protect your brother. It was unfortunately second-nature for you at this point.

“Don’t fucking ‘um’ me. Was it that wastrel you consider a sibling?” His voice was no longer even, it had an edge to it. It reminded you of the movies, when the man who loved the woman saw her hurt and was ready to kill for her given the word. It would have been romantic….if it wasn’t Aemond.

“Yeah,” you croaked, moving your uninjured hand to your bandaged wrist to play with the bindings. “He- He didn’t mean-”

“I don’t fucking care if he meant to or not, you’re not allowed there again.”

You looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time in a week. He was still in his suit. It looked like he had just come out of a parliament session. His hair was pulled into a low ponytail behind his head, only a few strands had been pulled out. His tie looked like it had been previously tight, now loose. He looked like he was slightly disheveled, not a usual look for him.

Did he drive all the way from King’s Landing once he found out I was in the hospital? Did he care about me? Was he worried?

You shook those ideas from your head as quickly as they came. Aemond was not a man to care about anything.

He’s worse than your brother. He’s another shark. You’re just another small fish in his pond.

“Do you hear me?” His voice cut through your thoughts, you hadn’t realized he had been talking. Blame it on blood loss or sleep deprivation at this point. Blame your attention span and your wild thoughts on both please. Blame both on anything but a sound mind. “You’re staying at my flat in Dorne until the wedding.”

You furrowed your brows, “No I’m not. I’m going home.” Blame your boldness on both too. Your heart sank as you realized what you had said, now growing anxious at the reparations you would pay for speaking back.

His eye remained neutral. “I’m not letting you go back there. Not after what he did to you.”

Why do you even care?

“Besides, It’ll give me more time to see you-” He tried to reach his hand up to grasp your uninjured one but there was another knock at the door. You told whomever it was to come in and Aemond’s embrace left your hand thankful as the doctor stepped into the room. She explained you had a sprained wrist, along with other minor cuts that would heal hopefully without scars thankfully to her using medical glue instead of stitches.

Finally, she smiled at the two of you as if you were a happy couple, giddy with joy at the prospect of a child. Maybe Aemond was…. But she told you that she went ahead and scheduled your follow up with a midwife in three days from now. “I know it’s a bit early for you to see them, but given the events of today, I’d like you to get started on your appointments with the prenatal care providers to ensure that both you and baby,” she pointed to your flat stomach underneath the hospital gown, it made you want to hurl, “are alright.”

She stood and shook your uninjured hand, then Aemond’s as he thanked her happily. She informed you both that the discharge nurse would be around quickly and you could leave then get some “much needed rest.” Dread pooled in your stomach as you realized you wouldn’t be able to rest where you were going, into the jowls of the beast.

The discharge nurse was quick, Aemond was quicker to help you out of your hospital gown (thankfully not bare to him as you kept your underwear and bra on), and he diligently, like an obedient and sweet partner, led you through the hospital, out into the warm night to where his black sports car sat parked. Even like a gentleman, he opened the door for you to sit. His engine roared to life, you glanced into the backseat, remembering the position he had you in a week ago on that leather fabric.

On top, pretending I was in charge, much like right now. Though, I’m never in charge right? It’s only the facade.

His flat was fifteen or so minutes from the hospital, maybe five from your brother's. It was big and spacious, much like your brother’s expensive flat. But where your brother had the flat furnished bright and modern, Aemond had his furnished dark, old academia style. It screamed “Old Money” and you nearly laughed at how drastically different Aemond and your brother were while also sharing a single central attribute; they were both terrible people.

“You are sleeping in here tonight,” Aemond walked through a doorway to a bedroom, assuming you would follow… and you did. You looked around the dark bedroom, a King sized bed in the middle topped with dark coverings. There was a bathroom and walk-in closet off of it. It was a master suite. It was Aemond’s room. He deposited your school bag beside the bed. “I see you didn’t bring anything but a broken laptop and your wallet. You’ll need clothes.”

You fidgeted with your clothes you had on now. They were comfortable, you could sleep in them but Aemond walked into the closet, turning on the light and stifled through his clothes. You knew he wasn’t going to give you space. He’d force you to sleep in the same bed with him in his own clothes. He owned you. He knew you were too scared to say one simple word: ‘no.’

He walked out of the closet with a large T-shirt. It had a band’s name on it. “Here,” he offered and you took it.

That was it… a t-shirt.

“In the morning, we can order you more clothes for here but for now, you can sleep in this.”

“Clothes for here.” He’s serious about me staying.

A chill ran up your spine, uneasiness rose in your throat.

Just for tonight, you told yourself. He can’t hold me captive.

You looked over at Aemond who disappeared into the bathroom. From your vantage point, you could see him stripping his fine clothes in the wall length mirror and folding his clothes and setting them atop the hamper. You thanked the Gods he kept his dark boxers on.

Or can he? Fuck. What will he do if I don’t stay?

The word stay echoed in your mind, remembering the time in your childhood where you were teaching your Northern Riverlands Waterdog to stay. He was one, you were nine. He’s dead now… he stayed, obediently; as you commanded… in the Riverlands until his death. Was that your fate with Aemond? Pliant? Agreeable? Quiet? Like an obedient hound?

As Aemond emerged back into the bedroom, towering over you, you gulped your fear down and the truth of it all came bubbling up.

If I don’t change, if I dont stick up for myself… that answer is yes.

“Are you going to change?” Aemond asked, breaking you from your haze. You looked up to him, briefly wondering if he heard your thoughts until you remembered the t-shirt you were grasping for dear life in your uninjured hand.

“Uh…yeah.” You stepped past him, making your way to the bathroom. You shut the door behind you, breathing a sigh of relief that Aemond allowed you to have privacy to change. You pulled your shirt off as quickly as you could with a sprained wrist, wincing slightly as the soft fabric of your shirt drug along some of the wounds that were bandaged. Your shorts came off easier. You kept your underwear and bra on and managed to get into his shirt. The shirt was large, you swam in it, however, it barely reached past your bottom and anxiety crept up your neck as you realized how much skin you were going to bare to his prying eye.

Slowly unlocking the door and stepping out of the bathroom, Aemond was already sitting in the bed, his legs hidden underneath the dark covers as his back rested against the headboard. He looked over to you, eye raking up and down your body as you stared ahead to the place next to him where he intended you to sleep. Your words to yourself came flooding back into your mind.

If I don’t change, nothing will.

“I don’t feel comfortable sleeping in your bed tonight.” You mustered up all the courage you could possess, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him. He only scoffed and threw the coverings over his legs off. Standing up and striding toward you like a predator and you, prey. You felt the urge to cower given the happenings of today but you fought the urge. Before you knew what was happening though, Aemond grabbed around your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder. You kicked against his stomach to no avail, tried hitting his back until you remembered your wrist was sprained and sharp jolts of pain shot up your arm. You croaked in pain, trying to grab your wrist instinctively but before you could grasp it, Aemond threw you into the soft plushness of the bed: where he intended you to sleep.

He moved to hover over you but you kicked up at him angrily. He dodged your foot, grabbing it mid-kick and gripped your ankle tightly, mirroring your brother several hours ago, yet not as harsh. He glared down at you, and you up at him. Emboldened by your fear, fueled by courage you were forcing. You wanted to spit in his face; you had half a mind to do it. Aemond glanced down, an idea flashing across his features and before you could act to defend yourself he reached down and ripped your lacy bikini bottom underwear from your core, exposing you now that the shirt was bunched up around your waist. He let go of your leg and stepped two paces backward, eye still drawn on you as he held your torn underwear in one hand. “Consider that your punishment for thinking, even for a second, I’d let you out of my sight.” Making you sleep without underwear as a punishment; what did that mean for you?

You scoffed and pulled the dark comforter over your lower half to cover yourself and Aemond started walking around the bed toward his side. “Seems like an easy thing to do considering you’re lacking half,” you mumble as you turn on your side, back to Aemond and pull the covers all the way to your neck.

“What did you say?”

Your blood runs cold, you hadn’t realized he had heard your snark but he did…and his tone was dangerous.

You feel the bed dip a split second before you feel his hand roughly grab your shoulder to pull you onto your back and face him. All your courage and anger wiped from you as you stare up, wide-eyed at his expression; one akin to hatred.

“What. Did. You. Just. Say.” He grits out between clenched teeth. You think momentarily that he might slap or punch you as a hand behind his head slowly raises but that notion in your head dissipates as the hand closes around your neck; constricting oxygen and blood flow. You reach up to remove his hand with your injured and uninjured hands, clawing at him but he does not move. Your head starts becoming light.

“I was going to be a gentleman tonight, give you the rest you so deserve… but it seems you’re in need of a lesson.”

You can barely register the words as your vision starts to become blurry. Just as you’re certain you’re about to pass out, Aemond releases your throat. You cough, sputtering up and drooling as your eyes glaze over in tears. You run a hand along your throat and the skin is painful to the touch. You’re unaware of Aemond as you try to recover your body from the blood and oxygen loss to your brain. You feel dizzy still, the feeling is not ebbing. Absent-mindedly, you try to sit up in search of a deeper breath and Aemond takes advantage of your upright position to rip his shirt off you, unclasping your bra and throwing it behind him, into the void of the room.

You feel his hands on your breasts and realize he’s still kneeling on the bed in front of you, slotted between your legs covered by the comforter still. You move to push his hands away from you but he grabs your wrists in one hand and pushes you against the bed.

“Be a good girl and take your punishment willingly. I might even give you some rest tonight if you’re good.” His fiery breath is on the shell of your ear and your eyes are screwed shut in pain as his grip on your sprained wrist sends jolts of torture through your body. You squeal hoarsely at it and he takes notice, releasing your wrists. “Keep your wrists above your head and that won’t happen again.” You nod without hesitation, thankful for the pain to begin to fade.

Aemond’s hand engulfs your right breast. You feel him kneading it in his large palm, then flicking his tongue against your nipple until it stiffens to a peak. His tongue is nice, soft and warm. Maybe if you thought about that, softness, you’d enjoy it - what’s to come. He moves to the other breast, repeating the action until both of your breasts appear to his liking. He sits back, marveling at your bare chest. “Open your eyes.”

You can’t do it, can’t obey. Your eyes remain screwed shut.

You hear him scoff, most likely rolling his eye as you feel him move just beneath the covers to the apex of your thighs and slapping you harshly on your bare center. You whimper and give in, opening your eyes. He’s clad only in his boxers, just as he was before he choked you but for some reason, seeing Aemond towering over you in only his boxers makes fear gnaw on your nerves. You look up from the tent in his boxers to his face. His remaining pupil is black now; he looks like a demon, here to steal your soul.

“I am going to fuck you,” he says simply, slipping out of his boxers and discharding them beside the bed. “You’re going to thank me for servicing you so well, understood?” You look down to the ruddy tip, leaking of precum, straining hard against his own skin; like a caged beast.

“Understood?” His tone was one of a teacher or a parent after scolding a child. You looked up to him and nodded; unsure if you didn’t want it at all or wanted him to shove that glorious cock into you.

No, no you definitely don’t want that.

“You’ll also thank me for giving you my lineage.” He moved the comforter from your lower half, exposing your entire body to him. “Not every woman gets to carry a Targaryen in their womb. You should be honored.” He slotted himself between your legs, bending them at the knee and spitting down to your core. This would have been a hot, passionate coupling if he hadn’t been Aemond and if he hadn’t just said what he did.

You pushed the back of your head deeper into the pillows, wanting to escape this hellscape as you slowly came to your senses. Everything came back to that fucking thing.

He ran the rigid edges of his cock along your pussy, up to your clit. It sent sparks along your belly but died before they could ignite anywhere else. Your fire was burnt out, any semblance of arousal died the second he reminded you that he put his semen inside of you and that it unfortunately took root.

His aching cock caught along your entrance and he pushed against your rejecting walls. You knew he was well endowed, the biggest you’d ever taken, but gods, you hadn’t realized just how large his cock was until you didn’t want it. Maybe the fact your walls tried to push him out made him seem larger than he was but you nearly screamed when the head of him pressed harshly against the wall of your cervix.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling out slightly, only to push into your refusing cunt again. You whimpered against his second push. His body fell to encompass your own, burying his head into the skin of your neck, breathing his flames against your artery.

“You should really give in to me. It’ll make it a lot easier for you-”

“Why,” you bit out against his ear without much breath, “you’re going to fuck me anyways. Why do you care?”

Aemond raised, just enough for you to see his smirk and eye over your pained expression. “You’re absolutely right.”

His hips snapped harshly against you, stealing the breath from your lungs. You felt cramping begin in your abdomen from how harshly he had begun to take you. “Gentle-” you pleaded as you screwed your eyes shut and pushed his chest with your uninjured hand. “Please.”

You heard him huff above you, “Why? Like you said, I’m going to fuck you anyway. Why should I be gentle for you when this,” He accentuated that word with a thrust that made your whole body freeze in pain. Your muscles when taut and he half-moaned. “This is what I want. How I need it. How I like it.”

You pushed harder against the smooth, solid planes of his chest, “I- I’m carrying your child-” It was the first time you said it out loud, first time you admitted to yourself the truth you couldn’t bear. Now, more than ever, felt like a great time to make it an excuse. “Please- be gentle with me.”

Your voice was so small, cracked with emotion as tears began to form in your scrunched waterline… but it got the message across.

Aemond stopped completely, still nestled inside of you. He felt your walls ease as he ran a hand up the curves of your body, stopping with his hand cradled along your ribcage. Your eyes softened until you felt the urge to look up at him through your tears. His expression was soft, contemplating over your nude figure.

He leaned down, taking your breast in his mouth, groping at the base near your sternum gently. You felt another hand more to your clit, gentle pressure moving along the pearl.

His sudden change surprised you but nothing caught you off guard more when his head moved up from your breast to your face and kissed your parted lips hungrily. Tongue slipping past your lips. It was awkward, you didn’t kiss him back, still shocked at his sudden change.

He pulled from your mouth, rutting gently now into your walls that had begun accepting him with his ministrations. “I’m sorry,” he kissed your neck, “you’re my delicate river. I do need to be careful with you.”

You furrowed your brows, looking sideways at him. Scared to speak but also so confused, “I’m not yours, Aemond.”

He smiled and kissed you again, hand moving down to your stomach. “You’re carrying a part of me inside of you. I’m with you, always. How are you not mine?”

You turned your head away, trying to escape the gnawing pleasure that was now betraying your body. Aemond moved his head to your hair; silver locks intertwining with the falsely dark locks of your own dyed head. “You’re so perfect. You always have been, haven't you?”

He angled his hips to brush against your spot, you felt your body betraying you, allowing him into your most intimate part now with grace and fever. Your walls relaxed completely, growing wetter and wetter. You felt your heartbeat quicken, perspiration began to pool on your forehead.

“C’mon sweet girl,” he tweaked with your nipple, “give in to me.”

“You’re a monster,” you breathed quickly between the pants you were trying to conceal.

“Y’know you love it. Even if I am.”

“You are.”

He hummed to himself, rising up and hitching one of your legs over his shoulder, reaching deeper than before. Still playing with your clit as his thrusts became quicker but still gentle. “Then what does that make you then, huh?” He smirked from above you, “Because gods- the way your cunt is starting to clench around me, I know you’re liking my cock, loving it. You love this extension of me, you wanton whore.” His words were brash, harsh…but he spoke in reverence. “Gods-” he moaned, “and I’ll teach you to not just love this extension of me, but all of me.”

You felt your peak nearing but not being able to reach the summit as his bed-room talk was absolutely insane. “I’ll never love you.”

Your breasts bounced along with his thrusts, he smiled down at them in reverie before his lone eye met yours. “Keep telling yourself that, my beautiful river. See who wins.”

He pinched your clit harshly and thrusted up into you with a gentle fever that had you tumbling over the edge. You saw stars as your back arched off of the bed. Body and mind betraying you as you gave in to him. Your cunt clamping down on his member and your blissed out expression, along with a half-scream you weren’t aware you made had him toppling over the edge, hips faltering in their pistoning as he shot his load against your already seeded womb.

Panting, he laid gently atop you, caging you in with his sweaty body as he came down from his high. His hand came up to caress your hair. He began planting sweet, chaste kisses on the side of your face. No, no they would have been sweet if they weren’t from Aemond but your mind dissociated as his softening cock still laid within you, his lips on your face, his hand in your hair…his child in your womb.

You kept thinking about what he called you, during the act.

“My beautiful river.”

At least he saw you for what you were. Your roots, your homeland, your personality.

A river flows, leaves where and who it once was, changes course, cuts through the land unapologetically.

You took a deep breath, staring into the abyss of Aemond’s dark room.

Be a river.

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