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running-with-kn1ves · 1 year

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Can you make something for a yandere masochist? Smut please

A/N: Working on all the reqs in my inbox, I just don't have much time to write! No pressure but donations always help if yall want your requests written faster!

CW: Noncon/Dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, threats, Sub! Masochistic yandere, aggressive-ish reader, NSFW

Synopsis: You find yourself kidnapped by your shy boyfriend who claims he's going to "take care of you."

Word Count: 3000 -- Tags ^^: @moonlight-melanin

If someone had told you that your meek nerd of a boyfriend would be the one to ever kidnap you, you probably would have laughed in their face. Your boyfriend who trips over every sidewalk crack? Your boyfriend who needs your help opening a water bottle? Your boyfriend, who begs for you to wrap your hand around his neck and worships the ground you walk on, no matter how hard you protest?

No way in hell.

Except, the utter blasphemy that was such an idea, was true. It was only a few nights ago that you found yourself bound by your hands and feet to a familiar bed. Your boyfriend, Rex, vaguely explained that he was "protecting you", and "keeping you away from bad people!”

You came to the conclusion that the harm that he was supposedly protecting you from, was most likely your overly friendly coworkers and demanding job. Who knew a 9 to 5 could be so dangerous? Clearly your boyfriend. However, his ridiculous behavior didn’t falter no matter how many times you tried to convince him, no matter how many threats or bribes you threw his way.

Sometimes he’d be nearly swayed, but something in his mind always snapped back, telling you that its alright if you despise him, if you follow out with your threats; as long, as he got to keep you safe.

For how obedient and eager to please he was, you never realized how stubborn he could be. But unfortunately for what he had in stubbornness, he lacked in wit and authority. He always fell into your hands when it came to you offering physical affection as a secretive ploy to try and escape; not to mention, he wasn’t very good at keeping his hostages tied up.

By the third night of your capture, you managed to slip your moist hands out of the loose, steel handcuffs. Digging an old pen into the large hole of the chain cuff wrapped around your ankle, you wiggled it around to find that sweet spot that would release you. You were grateful for being able to reach the bedside drawer, finding a multitude of tools within it that helped you including the pen that was once yours, and some lotion that made your palms slick enough to slip out of the handcuffs. While you were grateful for their presence nearby, you didn’t want to know why they were close to the bed in the first place.

You continued to roughly wiggle the pen, not hearing any clicks or cracks within the lock that would signify your release. The chain around your ankle wouldn't budge at all. At some point along the way with all your jamming of it into the lock’s hole, the pen got stuck.

“No no no,” You whispered, trying to tug the pen out. You pulled as hard as you could, to no avail as ink began to stain your fingers.

Well, your kidnapper would certainly notice that.

You looked around, feeling incredibly anxious now that you were only halfway free, aware that it'd be unlikely that you got to keep this little escape trial to yourself. Though, the freedom of your hands made you feel more powerful than you had in days.

But the quick and excited footsteps outside of the bedroom door made your stomach sink. They drew closer, only stopping to fill the silence with a rapid knock to the door. Beads of sweat rolled down your neck as your dry mouth swallowed; with shaking fingers, you covered up your hands and feet under the bed comforter.

‘Just keep them under the blanket, and he won’t notice…’

The door opened shortly after the knock, not waiting for you to respond. In came your Rex, your boyfriend-slash-kidnapper. He clammed up with a tenseness as you scowled. You brought back your signature glare that you looked at him with during the days of your capture; he seemed to shrink into himself as you didn't break eye contact.

"Did… you like dinner? He asked, looking at your plate on the bedside table. Eyeing the plate with a frown, Rex shut the door behind him. He walked closer to your place on the bed, inspecting the plate.

"You've hardly eaten anything since…"

"Since you kidnapped me?"

He went silent. Avoiding your judgemental stare.

"You know I'm just trying to keep you safe…" He said meekly, not fond of your cold behavior.

"I don't want to talk, Rex. Just leave." You snarl.

Folding your arms you turn away and focus your attention on the setting sun outside the window, reminding you that once again you'll be here for another night… another day here when you wake up.

Rex sits down on the bed next to you, his mop of curly black hair covering his desperate face. He wouldn't be able to take it if you played the silent treatment with him-- even when you were angry like this, he'd rather suffer your wrath than hear the empty silence of his endless thoughts, keeping your sweet lips shut so tightly.

"Please," he gripped the blankets atop your legs, trying to find a place to touch you. "I'm just doing what a boyfriend should do, don’t you get that? Why can't you understand me?"

You continued to stay silent, hearing Rex gulp as he realized you were serious in keeping your mouth shut.

He began to grow antsy… there was a feeling of isolation in how he couldn't see all of your face as you kept your gaze to the window, how he couldn't even hold your hand or see your body beneath the mass of blanket.

"Come on, don’t be like that…”

Rex rolled his tongue over his teeth, gripping harder onto the sheets. His hand shakes as it reaches for yours, desperately hoping you wouldn’t tug away.

Once he feels your arm go limp, he wastes no time in bringing it up to his cheek, hoping to feel some sort of warmth from you. Rex presses his cheek into your fingers, finding a sliver of relief in how warm and tender you feel against him. He’s hardly had the luxury of such affection since you were huddled up in his apartment.

You don’t dare to look at the man, debating whether interrupting him or continuing to let him nuzzle would alert him faster on the fact that your handcuffs were gone.

You didn’t have much time to think when you suddenly felt him go still, a newfound grip on your hand. He squeezed with thick fingers, the lovelust gone from his touch.

You turn to look at Rex, finding that you could not see his eyes beneath his hair and shadowed glasses. He shifted from crushing your fingers to choking your wrist, panic setting into your body.

Rex looked up, far more quiet than you were expecting. You began to twist your arm, trying to pull it away as he bore into you. You knew the guy was odd when you first started dating, and was clearly deranged after this kidnapping fiasco-- but you never saw it clearer until now. His eyes seemed to sink into his skin as his face drained of all color. He looked almost sick, like someone hungry to hurt without any remorse. Rex’s blunt nails dug into your skin as you started to tug away roughly; his hunched body was like a feral animal ready to strike.

Seeing as he already found out about your escape attempt, you decided it wasn’t worth wasting this chance. Maybe you could knock him down a few before he managed to get you chained up again, giving you more time before he did who knows what.

“These arms are awfully bare.” His monotonous voice uttered.

Rex pressed on the bruises on your wrist of where the handcuffs dug into, his eyes glazing over as you grunted in pain. Still, you fought. You brought your other arm to try and pull off his fingers, only for Rex to shift on the bed and force himself upon you. His sharp knees dug into the sides of your thighs, pulling your other arm off of him as he laid them both beside your head, against the pillows. For being quite frail and shy, he had far more strength in his desperation than you expected. You could see that he was giving his all, only tearing up momentarily when your fingers scratch him or your elbow rams into his nose.

Within the tussle Rex managed to find the handcuffs, of which you only hid underneath the blankets beside you. Every time you tried to heighten your knees to push him off, Rex pressed deeper, bruising your skin and making you bite your lip in frustration and pain. His loose clothes and your mess of blankets made it hard to find a grip in pushing him off.

Rex pulled the cuffs up, shakily and forcefully wrapping them upon your wrists. Pulling them over the bedpost, he watched as you struggled to get out of them. But he didn’t look down at you with a smirk or a sadistic grin-- Instead, it appeared to be relief.

Your boyfriend lowered himself to your chest as he went limp, his previous expression void of emotion except for stunned shock, shifted to a tired, nervous frown.

“I-I don’t do this because I want to, you know.” You burn holes into him with your glare, straining to pull the cuff chain over the bedpost as Rex sat on your torso. “You don’t give me a choice!”

His loose shirt showed the front of his collarbones and the elongated muscles in his neck, the male gulping as he looked guiltily down at your chest. You were sweating from the fear and strain against the tightened metal binds.

“Fuck off.” You grunt, continuing to tug and pull away from your tethers.

Rex seemed to get antsy at watching you try to struggle and claw at him. His hips twitched as he moved to sit on your legs, trying to keep you from kicking him off.

“But…If you keep pulling like that, your bruises will only get worse.”

“I don’t give a shit.” You snapped, hardly letting him finish. Spitting towards him you continued to fight; that only seemed to spur Rex on.

He wiggled against your hips, looking down away from you in embarrassment. the male beginning to hold your knees down, his legs wrapped around your left thigh.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us…” He huffed, laying his head down on your chest, and holding onto you.

“Rex!” You shout angrily at his innaction, trying to knee him as you pushed away from the headboard.

“I know, I know!” You could feel the hardness inbetween his legs press against your thigh. “You can hate me if you want, can hurt me if it makes you feel better,” He meekly bit his lip with a little grunt, hesitating for a moment before he pushed his hips against your thigh. “But I can’t let you leave.”

Seeing as your struggle didn’t impede his movements, Rex slowly rocked himself against you to apply pressure. He relished in how your knee came up to grace his crotch in a stinging pleasure. You may have done it in an attempt to push him off, but all it managed to do was further Rex’s desire for your brashness, and you.

“I’m yours…” He huffed, pushing his face into the warmth of your chest. His crotch aligned with your hip, adding a new sensation as he humped like a touch-starved, horny animal. “Im yours, I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m--ngh--”

Rex bit the collar of your shirt to stop from crying out, his moan muffled into your body as he rocked at a rhythm. In a mix of huffs he lifted his head to search for your eyes and lips. He reached up to collide his lips with yours, pressing his knee between your legs, spreading them just gently. His hands traveled down your chest slowly, hesitantly. He was always waiting for your next move, always soaking in every touch and taste of you that he could.

You pushed against his lips, turning and ripping your mouth away.

“I know you want to leave, but maybe I can change your mind,” He looked at you with lovestruck eyes, a growing pleasure within them. “Maybe make you feel good. I’m atleast good at that, right?” He shyly palmed at your crotch, determined and eager to make you cry out in the same desire he was swelling in.

He just wanted your eyes to be on him.

Rex continued to grind himself deeper into your upper thigh, wrapping his legs around your side. He released a little pant while traveling cold fingers down your chest, pulling up your shirt to expose your stomach. Reaching between your legs, he licked his lips in anticipation, cupping your sex with his hand ever so gently.

Shutting his lips he tried to suppress his evident moans, pushing his lips against yours as he begged for an ounce of affection. You in turn, bit his bottom lip in retaliation, pressing up against to get a good clench on his mouth. You hoped it’d be enough to get him off of you, but instead Rex pressed harder, grunting in pained pleasure as he welcomed the ache. The taste of blood was left in your mouth, Rex still leaving sloppy kisses along your nipping lips, drooling as he pushed his slick tongue in your mouth, rubbing it against yours. His glasses seemed to shift downward, making him look even more of a mess.

Even as you pulled at his hair from your restraint position, Rex let out a surprised yelping groan, humping harder into your leg at the newfound pain.

“Please, I promise to be good…” He begs between wet, one-sided kisses. “ I’ll do whatever you w…want…!” Rex hieghtened his voice with a desperate groan, showing he was close to his climax.

His frenzied pleas showed the familiar side of the boyfriend you remembered before he kidnapped you: quiet, clingy, and too infatuated for his own good.

You could feel a wet spot of leaked pre-cum on your thigh, Rex’s hand delving under your now unbuttoned pants.

He was quick to palm your crotch from beneath your underwear, gripping and massaging as he chased his own high, fixated on your scrunched up expression.

His slightly open mouth drooled against your shirt as he looked up at you, desperate for you to reciprocate some kind of affection or attention.

Rex’s expression showed he was completely enamored in the moment, with glazed over eyes and a eagerness in his thrusts as his mind solely focused on the pleasure between his weak thighs and getting something-- anything, from you.

“You’re disgusting.” You say bitterly, grabbing Rex’s hair in another attempt to get him off of you and ruin his high. However, that did neither.

Rex looked even more turned on, letting out painful moans at feeling you tug multiple times.

“Yes.. hah, please-- use me, do what you want--” You bit down on his shoulder as he pressed the rest of his weight down on you, leaning up to the feeling of your fingers tug. “I love you, ‘love you so much..”

You demand him to look at you with a tug of his black curls, a small line of blood staining your lips from the hard bite you gave.

Rex obeyed with pleasure-drunken fervor, drawing the end of his high as he witnessed his blood in your mouth.

A part of him would always be inside you.

Rex buried his head into your neck as he orgasmed, thrusting hard up against your leg like a rabbit during mating season. Letting out a continuation of unabashed moans, his teeth bit your T-shirt as cum spilled from his release.

In the moment, Rex had sped up his movements in pleasuring you, digging beneath your underwear to feel the heat of your sex against his hand, leaving you quite dazed yourself, You managed to hid your reaction quite well as Rex was too focused to notice, but now that seemed to shift as he began to relax.

Rex’s pulsing touch on your crotch slowled as his breathing regulated. Though it became more difficult for you to keep your mouth shut and your face straight as he repeatedly put his thumb against the right set of nerves.

Your boyfriend’s breath steadied as he watched you release a hitched sigh from your mouth, enjoying the way you looked at him with a dazed glare. Covered in sweat and cum, he was beginning to come down from the high he ached to feel once again.

“Oh…I’m sorry,” He panted, face flushed and glasses falling to the tip of his nose. “ Was s’pposed to be convincing you, but I got ahead of myself…”

Rex swallowed, adjusting his glasses with the tips of his finger. The male began to quickly fondle beneath your jeans once again, ignoring how you still pushed against the headboard and cried out in frustration. He was slow at first, trying to regain the rhythm; it didn’t take long for him to find that tempo that made your knees weak.

You felt a numbed pleasure stir between your thighs against your will, trying to toss and turn to make it go away.

But Rex held you still, planting his weight down on your chest and stroking your heat with skill. He had touched himself so many times to pictures and thoughts of you, but he never imagined this. Even as you scrunched up your face in frustration and annoyance, he saw your teeth scrape at your lip, your hips twitching and your groans drawing out longer than before.

You desperately clawed at your restraints, avoiding Rex’s hot and heavy stare, of which was so entranced in watching your sweet face change every time a wave of pleasure overcame you. You felt so defeated in the fact that he could tell you were feeling the effects of his touch, how you weren’t completely focused on the idea of escape anymore.

“M’gonna make you feel so good,” Rex grinned, hazed with the afterglow of his pleasureful release and soaking up the look of undesired arousal in your eyes.

“Just promise not to give your pleasure, your pain, to anyone else…”

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rad-batson · 1 year

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Here’s some more about the game :D for your reading pleasure @portal-to-oblivion (Based on this post)

Freestyle Checkers: A Tim and Damian Special OR “How can we make talking to people a competition?”

They are sneaky. They are underhanded. They will do anything to win.

Originally, this was a ploy to get Bruce to ban them from the galas. Over the coming months, however, they begin to enjoy attending. A little too much.

Tim starts a conga line and convinces everyone on his team to join before marching them to Damian’s side.

Damian subtly moves the tables just an inch or two to the right all night until the whole room has switched seating arrangements.

After a particularly eventful game, Bruce now requires them both to empty their pockets and walk through a metal detector before entering the ballroom.

Tim uses his role as company heir to befriend everyone on his team and then introduce them to one another. He accidentally started a coup once.

Damian uses his puppy eyes to woo the guests into doing his bidding and avoid punishment.

He also sets fire to the curtains.

They are repeatedly caught giving death glares to each other from across the ballroom…but that’s normal. What’s not normal is the two giving death glares to a seemingly random guest at the same time. (She was only going to say hello to Maxine. Why does she feel like she’s in mortal danger?)

Tim spikes the punch with a hint of laxatives so everybody sticks to the bathrooms on Damian’s side.

Several games in, Damian finds a loophole in the rules. Even if the pieces can’t know they’re in a game, that doesn’t mean others can’t. He pays several catering staff to form a physical barrier between certain guests and places. Tim is livid and demands the loophole be written out.

Damian, after stealing a woman’s expensive watch: “Oh, I think I saw it at table seven! Here, let me take you there :)”

Tim makes a kid cry at table 20 so everyone will avoid that side of the room.

Tim: “To the left now, y’all! Left again! Right foot two stomps! Keep going left!”

Every other batfamily member has joined the game at least once, both as a piece AND as a player. On a particularly boring night, it was Tim v. Damian v. Steph v. Jason v. Duke. Every attendee was an unwilling participant. Including Bruce.

Damian is the reason death threats are no longer allowed for the game.

Tim: “Oh, you don’t want to talk to Nicole. Did you hear what she said about Leandra last night? The drama!”

Damian, tugging a guest’s arm: “Hey, is your blue Mercedes parked outside?” Guest: “Oh, hi sweetie :) Yes, why do you ask?” Damian: “It exploded.”

Damian studies the attendance sheet, makes a mental list of who eats what kind of dessert according to previous galas, then chooses all the guests who he knows like chocolate. Suddenly, there’s a surprise chocolate fountain on Tim’s side!

Tim studies the attendance sheet then figures out their addresses, hacks into their Facebook, stalks their Friends list, makes a chart of who is on good and bad terms, then chooses his team based on that.

Both of the above methods listed fail spectacularly

Damian: “So…I win.” Tim: “Damian, this is a hostage situation.” Damian: “But they’re lined up on your side. I win.” Tim: You know, I’m starting to think you set this up.”

He did.

During one particular night, a Wayne benefactor figures out what’s going on and tries to expose them so they team up, completely ruin his public reputation, and get him banned from all future galas to preserve the game.

No matter how hard he tries, Bruce cannot stop them from playing.

#batfamily #tim drake #damian wayne #batbros #batfam #bruce wayne #batman #incorrect batfamily quotes #dc #dc robin #red robin #robin damian #dc universe #damian al ghul

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stormhearty · 29 days

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✨ pairings: eris x reader

🔮 preview: (Y/N) Vanserra was cunning, ambitious, and confident, all wrapped in a beauty that could rival Lady Autumn’s. For forty-nine years, she had been hidden away, in Autumn Court, much like a diamond, waiting for the day she could come out and shine. And so, when the threat of a Death-God loomed over Prythian and Beron slowly became a concern, (Y/N) uses her beauty and intelligence for a ploy bigger than herself — one that included sitting her husband down on the Autumn throne, Eris Vanserra.

📣 trigger warnings: Inner Circle bashing (I love the IC guys, but we’re in Autumn Court territory now)

🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 5.6k+

💜 masterlist | series masterlist + notes: I thank my lovely nonnie from here for suggesting a Roxana-inspired reader from the manwha, How to Protect the Heroine’s Older Brother! I loved Roxana as a character and I found it very difficult (as many of you know, whom I’ve talked to about this story) to write a character who is cunning and intelligent as my character reference. This series was a beast to write (and I am still writing the other parts of it, so please do be patient) — I wanted it to stay canon as much as possible, but also give a story that would reveal the mysterious nature of Autumn Court. Please do give feedback about the first part of this series! I would love to hear your opinions and thoughts for the next part!

And I thank both @prythianpages & @thesunloveschips for their amazing help with this first part (I apologize to them profusely at times for bothering them)

“Be my eyes, be my ears. Be the wallflower that lurks in the breeze. Be the viper that stings all my enemies. We shall become one, to conquer our shared destiny.”

The burn of the bargain tattoo seared onto your skin, a ring of fire that surrounded your left ring finger. It took you a moment to look at it, admiring the dark ink that stained your skin before much larger hands enveloped yours. Looking up, you stared at familiar amber hues as he slipped the golden band on that finger, hiding the tattoo. Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your knuckles his smirk widening slightly.

“You will be my secret, (Y/N)… My weapon within the walls of Autumn Court…”

“Do you know who she is, Az?” his High Lord’s voice echoed in his head as hazel eyes focused on the female that seemed to have garnered many lingering gazes.

“I unfortunately do not, Rhys… My shadows do not whisper anything about her. I—-” there was hesitancy in his words, “I didn’t even know she existed.”

The Spymaster was stumped, to say the least.

In his centuries of being Night Court’s Spymaster, wielding shadows to his very will, Azriel had every confidence that he knew everything that happened in Prythian. Nothing was able to pass him nor his shadows — he knew all the intel, the gossip. He knew everything that might be deemed a threat to his court and used that knowledge to his advantage.

But it seemed like something slipped, because there was something… more like someone, that passed his shadows; and that was you who was on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir.

Azriel felt like he should have known you, should have heard the whisper of your existence at least. You were accompanying the Autumn Heir to Winter Solstice, for Mother’s sake! How could someone as vital as you slip passed his shadows.

He waited, waited for those slivers of darkness to whisper something… anything about you. Even just your name, the Spymaster would have been pleased to know.

But nothing.

His shadows lazily moved underneath him, not a care in the world about the female that seemed to have warped his mind in chaos.

You had become an enigma to the Spymaster.

And it was something he would go to the ends of the world to unravel.

He continued silently observing you from his position next to his High Lord on the dias, watching as you pressed yourself close to the Heir side, your hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, leading you through the throughs of people that packed themselves into the grand ballroom. He watched as your rouge dress, a stark contrast to the endless sea of black and blue, swayed around you — like a fire that danced in the darkness of the night. Even Eris stood out in his regality in a similar shade of rouge, Autumn Court colors seeping out from every inch of him.

The two of you maneuvered through the halls like flames blazing through the darkness — and Azriel was worried that you would burn his home down.

And when he watched you lean up to the Heir, whispering something into his ear before a boisterous laugh escaped the Autumn Heir, he sent his shadows across the floor, motioning them to listen in — and all the Spymaster hoped was to get a tidbit of anything relating to you; even just the sound of your voice would have been better than nothing.

However, hazel hues watched as his shadows retreated quickly as they had flocked. And it was only then did Azriel had seen it.

A barrier.

One that was so powerful and so thick that his shadows couldn’t even penetrate. He watched as the tendrils of darkness slithered away, retreating back to their master, hearing their cries of pain as they had attempted to break through the barrier.

That was the reason no one knew of your existence — why Azriel never heard of you, why his shadows never picked up your name.

You were a secret — Autumn Court’s well-kept secret.

The shimmer of the barrier caught the corner of your eye, watching it reflect different colors under the dim lighting. You raised a brow, eyes darting around before noticing the lonesome shadow retreating back to its master. You watched as that lonesome shadow slither through the crowd, slithering back to the Spymaster’s side.

“Did that bastard just —-”

You fought back a chuckle, gently squeezing Eris’ forearm — a silent confirmation about the attempted attack from the Night Court Spymaster. You felt him stiffen underneath your touch and you didn’t need to look to know that the Heir was pissed.

Beneath his mask of well-practiced composure, you felt his body thrum with rage and fire — it swirled and bubbled underneath his skin, radiating up to your palm that rested in the crook of his elbow.

Eris had always been quite overprotective over you, thus the millennial old barrier that had kept your existence a secret from all of Prythian — including from the nosy Spymaster of Night Court.

You were not surprised by the Shadowsinger’s actions — curiosity killed the cat, as many would say. And who wouldn’t be curious about you, the female that hung on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir? You had expected something similar to happen, but it seemed that the Spymaster sending his shadows to investigate you did not sit well with Eris.

No one dared to attack you while in his presence.

“Eris…”

The whisper of his name from your lips paused the rage that bubbled from the Heir — amber hues glancing your way. A delicate smile tugged onto your features, another melodic hum escaping your lips as you reached up and caressed his forearm — a gesture that showed you were perfectly unharmed — the barrier had done its job, keeping you safe. It was a gesture that always seemed to calm Eris down — especially when it came to your safety, a silent confirmation you were safe. You felt that bubble of rage and fire simmer, the Heir calming underneath your touch, and felt his hand slip on top of your own, his thumb gently caressing the gold band on your ring finger— a tall tell sign that he was holding himself back from confronting the Spymaster.

“Ah, Eris!”

Annoyance rolled off from the calm of Eris’ demeanor and you fought all urge to tease the male as you watched from the corner of your eye Keir making his way to the two of you, behind him his daughters in tow.

With a well-practiced smile, Eris gave a bow of his head towards the Steward, you mimicking his actions as surprise tugged on the Steward’s features, his steps paused to a halt at the sight of you at Eris’ side.

“Ah, Keir, pleasure to see you again. I thank you for inviting me to such festivities…” Eris greeted the male with a light smirk tugged onto his features — the normal look of arrogance from the Autumn Heir.

Keir had stiffened at the sound of his name, without any lordship from the Heir, as he bit back a reply with a strained smile, “Of course, Lord Eris. We are indeed partners… I had wanted to introduce you to my daughters—-” the male gestured to his side as his daughters gave a bow, their cheeks pink with a light rose color, evident even in the dim lighting.

You bit back a laugh, glancing up at Eris to watch that smile twitch at the corner of his lips — the annoyance very evident despite his mask of pleasantry.

“Unfortunately…” The Autumn Heir had cut off the Steward, giving the ladies a bow of his head. Eris, no matter what was taught to be a gentleman, especially to females. His mother taught him that. “I do not need a partner tonight for the dance… As you can see, I do have a lovely lady on my arm, and it would be such a shame to ignore her presence… don’t you think, Keir?”

A pleased smile tugged at the edge of your lips at the quip — not only did the Steward ignore greeting you, he had ignored the fact that you… without needing to be announced, would be the one accompanying the Heir for the evening’s festivities. And yet, there he was attempting to set up partnership with one of his daughters.

Keir’s eyes shifted from the Heir to you, his hues shaking as he looked at you.

“My apologizes… my lady, I was not informed that the Autumn Heir would be bringing a partner with him tonight—-”

“—-She has been with me the whole night, Keir… and she has not stepped away from my side. I would think, with your… keen eyesight, it would make it clear that I did not need a partner tonight.”

“—- Ah, yes… I apologize…” the stutter was evident in his tone as he quietly shooed away his daughters, watching longing gazes at the Eris before moving through the crowd. Keir straightened up and gave you a formal smile, before clearing his throat, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady —- before the festivities start…” What a quick change of subject, “My High Lord would like to speak to you…. if you do not mind following me…”

And with that the Steward turned around, his cape bellowing behind him as he maneuvered his way through the crowd… towards the dias where the Inner Circle had perched themselves for the night.

You watched as Eris rolled his eyes, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips, while you let out an airy laugh, bracing yourself on his arm as you leaned up, your breath against his chin, “Tired of being the most eligible bachelor, Autumn Heir?” you teased him.

It had always amused you on how many marriage proposals Eris had throughout the time you were together, and how many he had thrown those letters into the hearth of your shared bedroom at Autumn Court. You had always teased him about it, much to his own dismay after being with you for several millennials — you always found something to tease him about.

Eris raised a brow, turning his head so that your breaths intermingled, “I had not been a bachelor for centuries, my butterfly… It pains me to pretend that I am every time I step outside Autumn Court.”

You gazed up at him, staring in those amber hues through your lush lashes, “Well… tonight we’ll make that clear, once and for all, won’t we?”

A wide smirk tugged onto his lips, as he let out a satisfied sound before straightening up and guiding you through the crowd, steps behind the Steward to the dias. The two of you were a perfect picture of Lord and Lady, graceful and regal in every way.

Pull… pull… pull…

Eyes snapped towards the dias, your body going ridged for a few moments as you felt the familiar magnetic tug — the call of the blade. Eris paused in mid-step, feeling you go still, his head snapping towards you as eyes betrayed his indifferent expression — worry pooling at its depths. No words needed to be communicated between the two of you, you had known each other for centuries… you were honed into each other’s emotions, habits, gestures… you two could read each other so easily, despite the mask you have learned to put on for centuries.

Your eyes shifted from each member of the Inner Circle, trying to find where the magic pull was coming from, landing on the velvet box that was in the lithe hands of a familiar fae — the eldest Made Archeron sister, Nesta. You felt your magic flicker underneath your skin, answering the pull from that velvet box. You knew that the blade was in that box — the whole reason why you had decided to accompany Eris to the Winter Solstice, stepping out of Autumn Court into the wider world of Prythian, risking your identity, and exposing your person to the Night Court. That box, that blade was your sole reason.

Regaining your composure, you pressed yourself against Eris’ arm, placing your hand on top of his own as you silently motioned him to continue moving forward. The Autumn Heir hesitated, but when he glanced into your eyes and saw the resolution in them, he couldn’t argue. He gently squeezed your hand and started to move forward again before leaning down, pressing a kiss on the side of your head to whisper, “Did you find it? The blade?”

You glanced up at him and just gave him a light smirk, gently squeezing his hand. Another laugh escaped him, drawing attention towards the two before he pressed another kiss on your cheek, “You are magnificent, my butterfly…”

The Autumn wind blew a chilled breeze through the large windows of the Forest House. The sky was still in orange, red, and yellow hues as the moon started to peak over the horizon — the seasonal courts never saw true nightfall, the skies still glittering with their court colors. It had just grown dark enough for sleep to fall on its inhabitants.

Slipping onto the large balcony of your shared bedroom, you pressed your hands against the cool marble railing as you watched a monarch butterfly flutter down from the skies. Magic wrapped its fragile wings as you allowed it to gently perch on your left eye, a sigh escaping your lips as you closed your eyes — allowing its magic to seep into you. Visions passed behind your eyes, your all-seeing gaze shifting from Autumn Court, zipping through the seasonal courts and into the depths of one particular solar court — Night Court.

A rusty hammer struck metal, sparks of light flying into the air as the loud ring echoed in your ears. You watched delicate, yet calloused fingers grip the hilt of a forged blade — a power from those very hands seeping into the metal, one that mimicked the ancient Cauldron, which was lost. The blade breathed fire, one so similar to your own that you felt it pulse, no… push against steel — calling out to you, as if it knew you were waiting, watching from afar.

Shifting your gaze from the mysterious Made blade, your eyes wandered to those fingers, traveling up their arm to their features — the eldest Made Archeron sister. You had heard of the eldest sister of the High Lady of Night, once a human, doused in Cauldron power that made her into fae. Her powers were unknown to all, and yet — here she was, creating a weapon from her unknown powers.

“It looks like she isn’t quite as lovely as the winds have whispered…” you murmured, mirth in your tone as you continued to watch the vision unfold before your eyes.

“Who isn’t as lovely?”

Arms wrapped around your middle, large sturdy hands pressing you against a much sturdier front. Another sigh escaped your lips, eyes fluttering open, breaking the connection of magic as you watched the butterfly disappear in a waft of red and orange mist. Your hand raised, swirling the colors in the air before it dissipated. Twisting your neck, you glanced up at the Autumn Heir, his features illuminated by the colorful autumn sky.

You had always thought he looked ethereal.

His complexion glowed something dark that always stirred something inside of you. How his auburn hair beautifully framed his chiseled features and how his amber hues glowed — his innate fire burning through those irises.

Those amber eyes caught your own, his brow raising as his question was left in the air. A chuckle was pulled out of you at his look, “The eldest Made Archeron…”

Eris’ brows scrunched in confusion, as your comment did little to answer his question. He knew that there was much more hidden behind your simple words about the Made fae, much more than you were willing to tell him without him prodding you more. You lifted a hand to gently smooth Eris’ brows, a feeble attempt at a distraction — for both you and him.

“What did your butterflies show you, (Y/N)?”

Eris was able to read you so easily, no matter how many walls you had put up, the Autumn Heir was able to see right through them. He had learned how to read you for centuries, ever since the two of you were children — ever since that fateful day.

You felt him grasp your hand, tugging it away from his face, giving your palm a caress, causing a sigh to escape your lips.

“She forged a blade that breathed fire, one similar to our own… I do not know the purpose of said blade, but I am quite sure it has to do with that bloody bargain you made with that High Lord…”

It was no secret to Eris that you had despised that bargain between the High Lord of Night — a bargain to help him claim the Autumn throne from his father. You understood that it was under stressful circumstances — the looming doom of war with Hybern, needing allies during the war. However, you had known that Eris didn’t need that bargain, not with anyone within the Forest House walls, especially not with pesky Night Court bats — not when he had you to help with the coup within Autumn wards.

You needed no help from overgrown bats with what you had promised Eris all those millennials ago.

“(Y/N)…” he called your name, pulling you from your thoughts. Eris held your waist and turned you in his arms, pushing you against that marble railing, forcing you to look up at him.

Raising a brow, you tilted your head up at him.

“If they made a blade for us… then we’ll use it — take advantage of it,” he asserted, “Let’s play into their little game for now. Make them think they’re on higher ground, that they have control — but when in reality, we’ve always known. And you never know…” A smirk tugged on his lips as he leaned down, his breath brushing against the apples of your cheeks, “That blade might be useful for our plan…”

A light, airy chuckle escaped your lips, “You’re asking me, Eris… out of all things… to act dumb in front of those bats?” amusement laced in your tone.

He chuckled as well, pressing his lips against your cheek, “I’m asking you, my butterfly… is to act dumb with me. We do better everything together, right?”

You hummed, eyes fluttering close, your lashes brushing against his cheeks. Your arms slid up his more muscular ones, hidden beneath his sleeping tunic, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him, “Then that means, Autumn Heir… you will have to bring me to that Winter Solstice ball if you want me to act with you.”

Eris froze underneath your touch at the mention of Winter Solstice. He had mentioned it a few times to you in the past several weeks — especially when Keir kept sending secret correspondence, begging him to join the festivities. The correspondences had annoyed Eris completely, any chance the Heir had was to verbalize his annoyance to you about it — and you had been very amused to hear it each time. You were to let him go on his own to the Court of Nightmares — it was something you didn’t need to be a part of. You could remain in Autumn, continue to secretly monitor his father and brothers, gain followers, and be the wallflower that you have always acted as.

But, with this newfound information and the idea of the Night Court using the bargain against Eris, you knew you couldn’t just be passive with the invitation.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at Eris who had a conflicting look — you knew why he had been so hesitant.

You had never stepped outside of Autumn Court — no one knew of your existence outside of the Court. Despite being in Autumn Court for millennials, Prythian didn't know, the other Courts didn’t know of you. And yet, you were willing to sacrifice your identity, your role in his bigger plan to gain something as simple as a blade that a Cauldron Made Fae made.

Eris didn’t like the idea, it didn’t sit well in his thoughts.

Reaching up, you pressed your thumb between his brows, smoothing the skin there, “You will get wrinkles at this point, Eris…” you mumbled, eyes focusing on the skin there before catching his gaze, “I have done everything I can here, Eris…” your words were cryptic, you knew Eris would understand — you couldn’t risk it, not when the walls, trees, the winds in Autumn would listen and give away your plan.

“… I have asked you to use me, Eris. All those millennials ago, on that day… so use me. Make me the weapon I made myself into. I can't help you now if I'm in Autumn —-”

Sure, you had been the one to limit your influence solely on Autumn Court, but if Prythian called, then you are willing to step into the larger world.

Your eyes showed your determination, your willingness to devote your entirety to him as you've done for years.

A reluctant sigh escaped his lips as he forcibly pressed his lips on your forehead, “Alright. I will bring you… but you must remain by my side the whole night. No one will rip you away from me..”

An amused chuckle escaped your chest, leaning up to press your lips against his pulse, “So overprotective, Autumn Heir. It sounds like you're too fond of me…”

You felt Eris shake his head at your teasing, tugging you closer before maneuvering you back into your shared room for the night.

The bellow of Keir’s introduction pulled you out of your thoughts, watching the older male give a sweeping bow — overdramatic and with flair — his words of congratulations echoing throughout the large ballroom, the citizens echoing the same sentiments. As the elder male stepped aside, you stepped up along with the Autumn Heir, giving an elegant curtsy, while Eris gave a regal bow at his waist.

“And allow me to extend our congratulations, High Lady of Night, on behalf of my father and the entirety of Autumn Court…” Eris bellowed, his voice of regality, “A Fae child being conceived, what a miraculous announcement to give during Winter Solstice…”

You drowned out the conversation between Eris and the High Lord, barely focusing on the pageantry between them. It was rare for you to be so out of focus on the situation. Normally, you were in tune with your surroundings, focused on the now; however, all you and your magic could focus on was the call of the blade that thrummed inside that velvet box. You watched as lithe fingers grip the box tighter, and your eyes shifted to the eldest Archeron sister

“—- Before you go, Eris…” your delicate ears perked up, eyes shifting back to the High Lord who waved his hand allowing a dark wind to carry that velvet box through the air, handing it into Eris’ awaiting hand, “I offer you a gift, a solstice gift. A friendly token… between a High Lord to a future High Lord…”

Eris’ gripped the box tight in his large hand as you felt the muscles underneath regal clothes grow taunt.

A quip, from the High Lord. A disguised reminder of the bargain between the two of them.

Gently squeezing Eris’ forearm, you urged him to open the box, to ignore the jab from the older male. You felt those muscles relax underneath your squeeze, his mask of indifference returning onto his features as he opened the velvet box.

Inside that box, laid on plush pillows, was an ornate dagger — it was roughly the size of the Heir’s forearm, its handle weaved from iron as if it was cloth, an intricate design of wood and fire etched onto the metal.

One that was similar to the vision that you had seen weeks ago.

Eris picked up the blade by its serpentine handle, raising it, and watched the silver and jewels shine in the dim lighting. It was a beautiful blade — much more than you had seen in that vision. From the corner of your eye, the two of you locked gazes a light smirk tugging on his lips before the air around him flickers.

Eris’ magic throbbed in the air, as you watched flames appear around the blade — surprised screams echoed around you, as all eyes were on the pair of you — the center of attention. Eyes glanced at the Inner Circle, watching the guard dogs step in front of their masters to protect them, your keen gaze watching how the Captain pulled the eldest sister in his arms. A curious brow raised before you gazed back at Eris as he poured his power into that blade, disappearing into the silver in a flash of bright light.

A groan escaped the Autumn Heir, his head tilting back, a long breath escaping grinning lips. It took a moment’s breath before he regained his composure, rolling his shoulders back before his gaze returned to the blade, turning the blade in his hand as the metal changed, the color from a simple silver to a dark black — an obsidian color that swallowed up the light. A mixture of auburn and saffron tinted the onyx-colored blade, changing the way the light hit it — a blade mimicked a dark fire, swirling underneath the dim light.

Eris flipped the blade, holding it by the blade as he turned his body, facing you and staring at you with those brightly colored hues — flame and light within those irises — handling the blade to you, a nudge of his chin, gesturing you to take the blade.

A light chuckle escaped your lips, fighting the urge for your knees to buckle at the look on the Heir’s features — it was an alluring look on him, the power that raged in his eyes, in his veins — as your gaze shifted down the column of his throat and followed the patterns of his auburn suit to the blade in his hand. With lithe fingers, you grasped the hilt and you felt a shiver run up your spine — the mix of Eris’ power along with the power that already surged through the metal, Nesta’s power — no… the Cauldron’s power — was intoxicating. The call and pull of the magic that pulsed in the blade was strong and you felt your own magic answer the call, causing you to tilt your head slightly as you stared down at the blade, your magic pulsing underneath your skin.

What a dangerous weapon… You thought as you shifted slightly out of Eris’ hold to move the slit on your skirt, where an empty sheath was strapped onto your leg, sliding the blade into its new home — a perfect fit.

“I had been meaning to ask…” The High Lord’s voice reached your delicate ears as you glanced up, fingers trailing up your thigh before pressing yourself close to the Autumn Heir again.

“Who are you?”

Eris gently squeezed your waist, as you stepped out of his hold and you gave a sweeping curtsy, one as dramatic as Kier’s earlier.

“Late introductions, I apologize, High Lord of Night…” your tone had mirth and sarcasm tied underneath a layer of elegance and regality, “My name is (Y/N)… (Y/N) Vanserra.”

You glanced up at the High Lord through your lashes, watching his façade of arrogance and boredom shift into surprise — his face showing his thoughts:

Vanserra? Beron does not have any daughters.

Nor did he take up a second wife.

Vanserra? On the arm of the Autumn Heir…

Bright violet hues glanced between you and the Autumn Heir that stood behind you, before locking onto your gaze — your colored hues staring into violet hues. In defiance, you tilted your head up, as you straightened from your curtsy.

And that’s when you felt it — those tendrils of his powers creep near your mind, you couldn’t help but frown, your body stiffening, your hand gripping your gown tighter.

In your entire lifespan, you have never encountered a Daemati — especially one as strong as the High Lord; you had thought that the barrier would protect you from such intrusion of your mind, but it seemed, even that was futile against the power of a High Lord Daemanti.

Not breaking your eye connection with the High Lord, your eyes glowed an eerie ruby hue as you focused on that tether, that connection that he forged between your minds, to those coils of darkness that invaded your mind.

How. Dare. He.

And with a flick of your wrist, your mind grew walls of flame, surrounded by fire hounds who growled and attacked those shadows — successfully pushing him out of your mind. You heard a faint yell from the High Lord, and you saw his hands sear with flames, his hands combusting as he frantically tried to pat it down on his leathers. However, the feeling of lightheadedness started to cloud your mind, and you teetered on your heels before you felt Eris’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing your back against his chest. Eyes pinched close, panting, fighting off the heaviness you felt throughout your body.

It had been simple enough, you had thought, to push the High Lord’s power from your mind — but it seemed you had used too much power, in such a quick second that your delicate stature was giving up. Your mind grew hazy, spots of darkness appeared in your vision and you fought every urge to just pass out right there that you barely noticed the commotion that surrounded you.

Feeling Eris’ grip on you tighten as you heard him growl, “Did you just try to get into my wife’s head, Rhysand?! How fucking dare you!”

That had fully ticked off the Autumn Heir. Not only did the Spymaster attempt to attack you from afar, but now the High Lord tried to invade your mind. Two attempts at your life were too much for one night for Eris — and he threw his well-practiced self-control out the window.

Shrieks from the onlookers reached your ears as you peeked an eye open, noticing a bright light that illuminated the dark room. Heat radiated onto your skin, feeling Eris bring you closer to him, protecting you from the ring of fire that surrounded the both of you, separating the two of you from the Inner Circle. Blinking the haziness from your mind, you watched through the flames as the General and Shadowsinger stood in front of the High Lord and Lady, weapons drawn against the two of you.

“Eris…” you breathed out, grasping his Autumn colored suit, “Calm down…”

His head whipped towards you, that fiery gaze staring down at you, “But he tried to invade your mind, (Y/N)…”

A confirmed hum escaped your throat, straightening yourself in his hold, “I know… But I got him out. That’s all that mattered… And don’t blame the barrier,” you panted, blinking away the spots at the corner of your eyes, “His power is immune to it I guess…”

You stared up at him, your scarlet hues dimming back to your normal colored ones. Amber hues stared into them, assessing your condition, hesitation marred his features.

“Bring down the flames, Eris….” you softly commanded him.

His eyes flickered between you and the Inner Circle before he followed that command, the ring of fire flickering until it had gone out. You did not bother to appear composed — you could appear fragile — play into the heartstrings of the citizens of Hewn City.

The High Lord of Night Court attempted to invade the mind of Autumn Court Heir’s wife.

Word would spread throughout all of Prythian — sympathy and pity would be whispered your way while scrutinizing words would be thrown towards the High Lord.

Even if you despise showing such vulnerability to anyone let alone the Inner Circle, you can use it to your advantage.

You pressed yourself closer to Eris, playing the soft wife that just got attacked by a High Lord. Eris’ arms wrapped around you, as he bared his teeth against the Inner Circle.

“You attempt to attack my wife in your Court, Rhysand, and yet you have your dogs try to protect you? We have not laid a finger against you nor your Court, and you have weapons drawn against us,” anger vibrated in Eris’ tone. He knew how to play your games, he knew exactly how to play them with you — and yet the anger, the fury that lurked in his features were genuine, “You have no damn right to try to lurk in our heads, even if you are a High Lord.”

The General and the Spymaster shifted in their stance, their eyes foggy before stepping aside to reveal Rhysand, cradling his now scarred hands — that was what he got for trying to attack you in front of his people.

“…I…”

“I do not accept your apology if you ever were to have one, High Lord…” surprise tugging onto his features at your declaration, “Myself and my husband arrived on Night Court soil as guests, and yet we are treated as enemies. I have done nothing to you to cause you to try to invade my mind.”

Whispers surrounded you, words of ill-intent for their High Lord reaching your sensitive ears.

She’s right. They have done nothing to them, and yet he tried to hurt her.

The Autumn Heir had every right to act the way he did. It was to protect his wife from Rhysand.

I never did like him… He has trapped us here in the Mountain while he and his people live in Valeris.

He’s nothing but a hypocrite. He says that he welcomes all, but he hurts others as he sees fit.

You fought back a smirk, staring at the High Lord as his features flickered — his mind racing on trying how to turn the situation back to his favor. But you knew, both of you knew, it was too late for him to do anything.

Things have turned in your favor, much like you had hoped.

“I have no need to stay for the festivities any longer, Rhysand. You have attacked my wife twice in one night, your Shadowsinger earlier tonight and now you. I do not feel safe within the walls of your Court and I do not feel safe for my wife’s safety either…”

With a growl escaping his throat, he gently maneuvered you into his arms, lifting you bridal style, turning on his heels as he stepped out of the Court of Nightmares, the crowd parting to make way for him as flames surrounded the both of you. You felt him pause mid-step, and you glanced up at him with a raise of your brow. Eris looked down at you, his face contemplating for a moment before he looked over his shoulder, back at Rhysand.

“—-And the bargain between us is over High Lord… Especially after tonight. No one dares to hurt my wife in my presence.”

The Autumn Heir winnowed the both of you out of Night Court in a flash of fire and light.

And back into the depths of Autumn Court.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages @strangelygreat

🕯️Series Tag List: @imma-too-many-fandoms @assriels @kiarathace

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #autumn court #( .series : bleeding crowns )

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sarahowritesostucky · 18 days

Text

Happy Little Family

📖"Taking Back What's His"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6170

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: You try one last, desperate ploy to escape, but it doesn't exactly work out. And James hasn't come alone. The next time you wake up, you're a long way from home.

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" pchelka = "little bee"

2. Taking Back What's His

(Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

He says something to you, after. Words that might as well be in his native Russian, for how well you take them in. But they're soft, and reassuring—he’s pleased. His body weight moves off the bed.

When you finally open your eyes and blink up at the ceiling, it’s the softest baby pink all around the edges, like smoke curling into your vision. It’s nice, peaceful. Feels good-all-over in that way that painkillers do. You haven’t experienced it since the last time you had sex with an alpha.

Which James unfortunately seems to have figured out was with him, almost two years ago.

“Oh, kotenok, You haven’t been fucking anybody.”

You’re still in the afterglow, mind muzzy, all of your previous panic and fear blunted near to the point of erasure with how nice it feels to float, when you hear James’ pleased chuckle from where he’s getting dressed. He comes back and leans over you. “Hey Sweetheart. Feeling good?”

You frown at him, though it takes a concerted effort to make any expression of displeasure. You want him to know you aren’t happy, that this state he’s fucked you into isn’t real. You want to slap that smug fucking look right off his face. All you manage to come up with is a pouty little “no" that makes James laugh.

“Come here.” He fixes your dress, then helps you up off the bed. He seems to be checking to make sure you’re steady on your feet before he lets you stand on your own. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He knows you too well, knows how intense it can be for you, how strongly you react to him. You avoid his knowing gaze. You’re not completely useless like this. You can still remember everything that’s going on, can still remember June. “Please,” you say again, trying to change the tone of your voice. “Let me give her to Hilde.”

James rolls his eyes. “Right, right. Your friend across the street.”

“Please James?” You look up at him, pink edges all around his face, so pretty. Goddamn him. “She’ll be safe there.”

Again, something passes through his eyes too quickly for you to identify. It might be annoyance. He sighs, and the look, whatever it was, is gone. “Sure thing, Doll. Babies need a lot of stuff. You might as well pack up what she needs.”

You nod tearfully, going to your closet to grab a bag. He follows close behind, sending a clear message that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sights while you do this. James isn’t stupid, you’ll give him that.

In the nursery, June is happy to see you and wants you to pick her up. You talk to her in a sweet, placating voice as you go around the room grabbing different things that she’ll need and stuffing them in the bag. At this point you know to be grateful for the haze. Even as it tapers off, it’s blunting the sorrow that you know would otherwise have you sobbing and your voice clogging with tears. This way at least, you’re able to keep June thinking everything is alright. This way she isn’t scared.

It’s when you’re crouched beside the changing table, stuffing diapers into the bag with James behind you that you get the idea: Downstairs: the kitchen: in the drawer. Your gun.

You stop moving long enough that James notices. “What’re you doing? Come on.”

You stand back up. Yes. You have to do it. This is the only chance you have at getting out of this and not losing June. You lick your lips nervously before turning back around to face him. “I … have to get her bottles and stuff from downstairs,” you say, hoping that the lingering post-coital haze is enough to keep your true intentions off your face. Your eyes flick up to James, who’s squinting at your tits.

“Bottle?” He starts to smirk, and you glare at him.

“Yes. Asshole. I won’t exactly be around to feed her, now will I?”

His face softens at that and he gives you an apologetic look. “Right. Well go on, then.”

You move for the hallway, realize he’s not following you, and turn back in confusion. He’s beside the crib, holding his hand out for June to touch. Your heart leaps from your spot in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m waiting right here until you come back upstairs,” he says, his message clear.

Your pulse picks up, but you force yourself to nod. You’re useless without that gun. You have to get to it. He narrows his eyes at you while June giggles and reaches for his wiggling fingers. “No games.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and turn and head for the stairs.

It’s pure torture to move at a casual speed, especially as your mind is clearing and the fearful emotions returning. In the downstairs hallway, you check once over your shoulder that James hasn’t followed you, then pick up your pace, hurrying into the kitchen and heading straight for the drawer where you keep the gun.

Your eyes tear up as you maneuver past the digital lock that you installed for nothing. June’s still crawling. She never even got old enough to toddle over here. You press the code into the keypad, cringing when it does its quiet little two-tone ‘beep’ at being unlocked. You wait, heart in your throat until you hear the mechanism moving, then rip open the drawer.

Your heart stops and your brain freezes and all you can think is: No. No, no no—

“Looking for this?”

You whirl around, and there he is: standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the sink as he holds your only weapon in his hands.

His face is relaxed, Goddamn him, as he pretends to ignore your horror and instead holds the gun up to flippantly inspect it. “I have to say, Doll, I’m impressed. I would’ve expected some puny girl gun. Ruger, Derringer. But this?” He turns the Skorpion in his hands, and chuckles softly when he sees the cartridge. “Jesus. You really wanted to blow a hole in somebody, didn’t you?” His eyes finally drag up to you, the hand he’s holding the gun with dropping down by his side as he starts walking over, slowly, step by step, eyes boring into you with a growing anger.

Oh shit. Dread curls in your gut but you’re frozen. Bolting now wouldn’t even get you to the staircase. He presses in close, pinning you against the countertop. He brings the gun up and nudges your jaw with it, leaning in and breathing in your face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it, vorishka?”[little thief]

He’s taunting you with your own failure, and you can’t stop the whimper that breaks from your throat at having your one and only plan foiled so pathetically easily. “James,” you plead, “I didn’t—”

“Shh sh sh. None of that, now.” He’s speaking softly, sweetly, but he’s furious. He drags his lips over your cheek and the barrel of the gun you stole from him over the other. “So what was the plan? How were you going to kill me with my own gun? Pop upstairs and shoot up the nursery?”

“N-no.”

“Ah. Right. You’re smarter than that. You would’ve waited for me to come down and see what the fuck was taking you so long, or put it in the duffle and waited until we dropped the whelp off at the neighbors. Is that it?"

You sniffle and nod, angry at him for being such an all-knowing asshole. “You can’t hold that against me,” you say, trying to defend yourself.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can’t blame you for that.” Your shoulders start to relax, that is until he pulls back to glare at you and holds the gun to you again, this time pointing it right underneath your chin. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “But do you know what I can hold against you, Little thief?” Your face pinches in fear, sure that you’re about to be shot, and he digs the muzzle cruelly into your skin, forcing you to look at him. “The fact that that pup up there is ten months old, and I’ve never even fucking seen her.”

Your eyes widen as you realize: he knows. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he beats you to it.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s mine?”

“James,”

“All this time!” he hisses, hurt lancing through his features. “You kept her from me! What gives you the right?”

“I—I didn’t—”

He growls and pushes away from you, several steps back, glaring. “Nothing, is the answer you’re looking for. You had no right to do that.”

You try to edge to the side, but freeze when he straightens his arm and points the gun right at you. “James, wait …”

He aims it at your face, but then lowers it for a center mass shot, which is what really convinces you you’re about to die. “Say goodbye, mamochka,” he says, with steely eyes and his finger curling over the trigger.

It’s a submachine gun that fires in three shot bursts, or fully automatic. Either way, you know you’re about to be riddled with bullets, so you start to hyperventilate. It’s an embarrassing reaction, but at least you have the dignity of knowing what your last words on this earth would’ve been. “Don’t hurt her,” you gasp.

His eyes fill with rage and he pulls the trigger.

… Nothing happens, but you’re bracing so hard that it takes you a full two or three seconds to realize it. Then, when you do realize it, and you see James standing there looking grim but completely unsurprised that you haven’t been shot, all of the breath rushes out of your lungs. You feel like you’re about to faint, which is apparently what he’s waiting for.

He ejects the empty magazine, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you?” He takes a step forward, but pauses when you flinch back. “What the hell have you convinced yourself that I am?”

You step back again when he moves. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, don’t,” he whispers, mocking you. “Don’t what? Don’t take back what’s mine? The mother of my pup? A pup I didn’t get to see grow or come into this world?” Your breath hitches with emotion and he doesn’t miss it, the bastard. “Yeah,” he says darkly. “You robbed me of that. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry.” He leers up and down your body in its flimsy sundress. “I’ll be putting another one in you real soon.”

You see red. Fury sweeps through you and stings your eyes, roars in your ears. You grab the nearest thing to you, which is the edge of the utensils crock on the counter. It spills over and your hand closes around the handle of the meat mallet. You cry out and swing at him, wanting to smash his smug fucking face to smithereens.

“Woah-ho, easy there.” He laughs and takes a surprised step back, as though you’re nothing but a tantruming child. “Stop being so dramatic.”

You growl and lunge for him again, but cut off in a shriek as someone suddenly grabs you from behind. The meat mallet clatters to the floor as you’re hauled back against the hard body of another man. One big arm wraps around your middle, and the other holds a cloth up at your face, pressing it over your mouth. “Mmph!” you yell out, muffled, and get a huge inhale of chlorine-like smell into your lungs for your trouble. You hold your breath and thrash, but it’s less than useless. The person holding you is large and strong. When you try to headbutt him, it doesn't even clip his chin. You bring your hands up to try and claw at the hand holding the cloth over your mouth, but your nails meet metal instead of skin, and you gasp in another inhale of chemicals as you realize who it is. “Mmph!”

James steps up close, smirking fondly as he watches you fighting the urge to inhale. Eventually he tuts and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Shhh, omegechka. Stop. Stop fighting now. It’s all over.”

“Nngh!”

“Just take a deep breath and go to sleep. Everything’ll be alright, I promise. Just relax.” You whimper as you feel yourself running out of air, knowing that your body’s going to force you to draw breath in a second. James leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, just as your vision starts to fade out, “or our daughter.”

The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then the taste of old pennies in your mouth. Then, a gradually increasing sense of awareness of your body in space and time. At first you think you're somewhere very bright, as colors and rainbows dance through your lashes, but the more you blink your eyes open, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus.

And there he is: holding a crystal tumbler and looking like he's been waiting for you to come round. "Well hello there, Sleepyhead,” he says. “Welcome back." He takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking, the ice cubes clinking softly against the sides of the glass. He looks totally relaxed.

You sit up straighter in the seat where you’d been slumped, moving your tongue around inside of your dry mouth and trying to remember what happened. And then reality hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:

James—He found you.

June—She's not there.

"How're you feeling? Thirsty?"

You blink, dazed, a few lingering specks still floating at the edges of your vision. You look around the room you’re in, clocking your surroundings. Windows, cabin—Shit. You're already on a plane. Pressure builds rapidly at the backs of your eyes as you fight not to cry, thinking of your baby girl left behind, never getting to see her again.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Bucky’s eyes sharpen on you when your stifled sob breaks out and you throw a hand over your mouth. "Steve,” he says, still watching you in concern. “Get her a bottle of water."

“Sure thing, boss.”

And then the worst realization of all: You look over and see the winter fucking soldier walking down the aisle, holding your baby.

They've got June.

Your eyes widen and you make a distressed little ‘meep’ of a sound. “Steve!” you blurt, and he turns to face you. He looks surprised that you’ve spoken directly to him. He’s not wearing his usual black mask, but he still looks huge and intimidating, and it’s like seeing a wild animal right next to your baby—dangerous, wrong. Your mouth works uselessly as you stare at his hands on June’s body: one supporting her head, and the metal one scooped under her butt. You see her back rise and fall steadily through her bumblebee onesie and you realize that she’s asleep. “I-is she okay?” you ask, heart in your throat.

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, but he nods curtly. “She’s fine.”

Across from you, James scoffs, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s going to put her down. There’s a crib in the back. She’ll be fine,” he says, when he sees you stiffen in protest. “You and I have some catching up to do, vorishka.”

“I thought we did that back in my bedroom,” you snap.

“You still want the water?” Steve asks.

“That’s okay.” Bucky keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll take care of her. You just stay back there with pchelka while she sleeps.”

Steve nods, and you can’t help yourself. “Wait! Please. Please give her to me. Steve?” You sit forward with your arms outstretched, but can only watch helplessly as the other man obeys Bucky and ignores you, disappearing back into the next section of the plane. Bastard never did like you.

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky assures you. “Just sit back and relax. We won’t be in the air for too long.”

You hate it, but you do sit back in the chair. James won’t hurt her. You know that. Especially now that you know he knows. You look around the cabin, taking in the wide, leather seats and gleaming wood finishes. There’s a couch, tv, a bar. A fucking electric fireplace. It's the sort of luxury you used to go starry-eyed over; incredibly rich men, fat or old or ugly, tripping all over themselves to spoil you.

… Only, James was never any of those things.

“This is your plane?” you ask, dragging your hand over the arm of your seat.

James smirks. “What? You thought I’d kidnap you and then fly commercial?”

You purse your lips at his joke. “I guess not.” You relax back, trying to get your bearings. It is bad news that you’re already on a plane with him. You’ll be landing at his private airstrip at the Siberia compound, which gives you no middle ground to run. You bite your lip as your thoughts race and you try to think of anything you might be able to do once you get to—

“Stop it,” James says quietly, drawing your attention back to him. He’s giving you a stern look. “You barely got away before, and that was on your own. Now we’ve got our daughter. Anything you try will put her in unnecessary danger and you know that.” He shakes his head, some of that sadness from before creeping back into his eyes. “You’re not leaving me again, omegechka.”

“I’m not?” you echo, stuck in place by his stare, by the memories you share with him, and the fear you have of what he’s planning for your punishment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just taking back what’s mine, Sweetheart. You do realize that?” You fail to answer him and his gaze hardens just a little bit. “That’s okay. You’ll see it eventually. This isn’t a bad thing. If you had just stuck around a little longer instead of lying to me and running off, then you would’ve seen it before, and we wouldn’t have to be going through this right now.” He raises his drink to you in a little salute. “You, me, and pchelka? We’re going to be a family.”

You don’t refuse the water he gives you, or the drink that he mixes for you, after. If James wanted to keep you drugged up until reaching Siberia, he certainly could’ve done so without allowing you to wake up on the plane. You’re only conscious right now because he wants you to be. And because you know that, you don’t protest the drink he prepares for you over at the bar. To be honest, a stiff one actually sounds really good right about now.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he hands it over, still unmoored by this drastic shift in circumstances. A few hours ago you’d been safe in your cottage, then suddenly you weren’t. One minute you’re sure you’re about to get a bullet in the face from this man, and the next, he’s got you sipping thousand dollar vodka on his private jet, calmly explaining how he intends to keep you and force you into some twisted form of domestic bliss.

“I had a whole renovation done for her,” he tells you. “Pchelka will have plenty of room to play and grow.”

You frown, hating the idea of your daughter growing up in that cold, Siberian fortress. You don’t care if he’s bought her an indoor waterslide and a herd of ponies. It’s no place for a child. “What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. “That word: chelk—? You keep using it. You can’t just rename my daughter.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he wipes it away fast. “Pchelka means little bee. The outfit you put her in has bees on it.”

“Oh … Right.” You love that set. It’d been another gift at the shower, from Hilde.

“And she’s my daughter too,” James says tightly.

You gulp at the bitterness in his tone, at his eyes boring into you with reproach. It’s silly, but you do feel bad about hurting him in this one way, at least. “Her name is June,” you offer quietly.

His face draws tight with emotion that’s impossible for you to decipher. Mostly you just sense hurt coming off of him, tingeing his scent and making it into something mournful and awful. He stares at you for a long time. “You made me think you’d lost it,” he eventually whispers. “How could you do that to me?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. You’re just sorry that I found you.”

“I saw you kill people, James!” you cry. “I saw who you really are. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.”

His mouth ticks up at the corners. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’ve got no idea who I am, or what I’ve done for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes gleam and he lifts his drink, tipping back the last of it. “Do you even remember where we met?”

You frown. “Of course.” You’d met him on a yacht, off the coast of Greece. At a party you’d been paid to attend as one of a flock of similarly hired ‘pretty girls’. Five hundred bucks just to sit around and drink cocktails for a few hours and make whoever owned the yacht look like a successful playboy. James had taken one look at you and made it his mission to charm you off of that boat with him. And you’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he says disdainfully. “Don’t know how lucky you really are. I saved you.”

You scoff. “You’re no different from those boat guys. You think you’re so special, God’s gift to omegas, I get it.”

“No,” he grits. “You really don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know! I know what I saw. All over the floor of your goddamn office. I slipped in it for Christ’s sake!”

“Right, right. The men you saw me kill,” he says, referencing the scene you’d walked in on just before you’d faked your miscarriage and fled. “You were eavesdropping outside the door, weren’t you, Little thief?”

You jut your chin out. “Yes. So what?”

“You know, I’d always assumed you heard the entire conversation. Now I realize I was wrong.”

“What?”

He laughs under his breath—at your expense, you suspect. “Who exactly do you think they were?”

“Your business associates. The same sort of underworld, black market scum as you. Only they didn't work for you. You screwed them over and they were there to collect what you owed them, and you murdered them instead.”

James scoffs and smiles angrily, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he looks away in frustration. "Figures," he mutters.

“What?” you snap. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. But I killed them for you.”

“Oh please. Just stop it. Stop lying! I know what you do for work.”

Granted, you'd been a little slow on the uptake back then, too enamored and swept up in the whirlwind romance with your first Alpha that you hadn’t ever stopped to wonder where his money came from, or where it was he jetted off to “on business” every few days. It’d taken a year for you to piece it together, to see the true magnitude of the enterprise he ran, and how dark it really was.

Sitting in front of you now, he doesn’t deny it, which only bolsters your disdain for him. “I don’t want that in my life,” you hiss. “Arms dealing, drugs, smuggling, mercenaries. And apparently human trafficking as well.”

His eyes flash. “They don’t call it that, you know. It’s called the ‘skin trade’.”

“I don’t care.”

He gets up to go pour himself another drink at the bar. “Right,” he snaps, like you’re an idiot. “You’re so fucking naïve, krasotka [pretty (n.)]. So convinced that I’m the devil. But you have no idea how much worse it could’ve been for you.”

“You threatened to sell your own daughter before you figured out she was yours!”

Refusing to be provoked, he returns to stand right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him towering over you. “I knew she was mine from the second I walked in that house,” he says, making your breath catch.

“How?”

He smiles nastily and takes a sip from his drink, then sets it aside. He leans over you with his hands on the back of your seat, caging you in. You can smell the expensive alcohol on his breath as he gets in your face and tells you, “I put that baby in you, moya omegya. She’s a part of me. You think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out? Think an Alpha doesn’t know the scent of his own flesh and blood?”

You tense, fighting not to shrink away. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckles lowly and puts his face right next to yours, cheek to cheek, savoring your reaction. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I may not have forced a mating bite on you back then like I should have, but there are other ways to leave your mark on someone.” He dips in to kiss your neck, right over your unbitten glands. “I found you by your scent,” he whispers. “Sniffed you out.”

You shiver at his hot breath on your skin and the deadly soft tone of his voice. The way your body responds to him isn’t anything you can control, and he knows that, but it still makes you flush with embarrassment when he takes a deep inhale in the bend of your neck and hums with satisfaction when he smells the effect he’s had on you. “I wouldn’t have sold her anyway,” he tells you, pulling back and picking up his drink. “I want you to know that. I don’t participate in the skin trade.”

You swallow thickly, watching him watch you as he waits for you to react to him in some way. You don’t know why you believe him about this one thing, but you do. “But you’re aware of it,” you say. “You know it happens, and you don’t do anything to stop it.”

His jaw works in frustration. “I’ve interfered a time or two, when I could get away with it.”

“Well, aren't you a hero.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I’ve done what little I could. These men make a lot of money dealing in omegas, and they don’t take kindly to being stolen from.”

“I can imagine.”

“No,” he mutters into his drink. “You really can’t.”

There’s something oddly bitter in his tone, like he's working hard not to tell you something. You bite your lip and watch him for a minute. “... How much?” you ask.

“What?” His eyes darken when he figures out what you’re asking. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“It depends,” he grits, glaring at you. "Now cut it out."

Sober, you might have; but half a vodka spritzer after nineteen months of no alcohol has you bolder than you usually would be. You look down at yourself, feigning flippancy. “Well what about me? How much would I go for?”

“Kotenok,” he warns lowly, growling when you continue to press him with a snotty little,

“Come on, I thought you were such a dangerous criminal? You can’t even discuss a little human trafficking with the weak omega you just trafficked?”

He probably knows you’re trying to antagonize him, but he still rises to the bait. He sits back and lets his eyes drag over your body in a way that makes your pulse pick up. “Well,” he drawls, “you just had a baby. So that’s less right there.” Your nostrils flare angrily and he gives you a look. “You’re the one who asked,” he reminds, waiting until you give him a nod to continue. He gives you another onceover, this time lingering in certain places longer, a softer look in his eyes for the softer parts of your body. He almost seems to get distracted. He catches himself overindulging and looks away, like it’s hurting him to consider you this way. “Most people want their omegas untouched,” he says quietly. “Especially if the buyer's alpha, which they usually are. It’s an instinctual thing for us. We’re very driven to possess. We don’t like to share.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you mutter.

His gaze snaps back to you, a painful amount of familiarity in his eyes. “You’dve been a couple million, back when we first met.”

Your eyes widen. You weren't expecting that. “But … I wasn’t even a virgin.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I said untouched, not virginal. Not in that way. Alpha buyers want unbonded and never bred, first and foremost.” He leers at you. “Not that there aren’t some who’ll pay a little extra to pop a girl’s cherry. But that’s not the main thing they’re looking for, when they buy.”

You scowl. “Right. So I guess I’m damaged goods now."

“Oh no, mamochka,” he says seriously. “You’ve only gone up in value in my eyes. Though believe me when I say I’m more than happy to contribute to the depletion of your market value." He raises his glass to his lips, looking darkly pleased. “You’re not for sale, and you never will be. You’re mine.”

You're embarrassed to be the one to break eye contact first, but you can’t keep listening to him talk about how much he likes you and watching him look at you like you’re his most prized possession. With any other man you’d just be disgusted, but James has always had a knack for getting you flustered, and he knows it. There’s always been an inexplicable pull between the two of you, and he knows that, too. It’s the main reason why you've always refused his attempts to bond you. You're terrified of what it’ll be like after, since you already know how pathetically helpless you are around him without a bond.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumble quietly. “Where is it?”

“Just down there.” He nods in the direction behind you, opposite from where Steve had gone with June.

You press your lips together and get up without looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re walking away.

“Don’t take too long in there, kotenok,” he purrs from back in his seat. “Or I’ll have to come in after you.”

In the bathroom, you splash water on your face and lean against the sink, looking at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. You blink, and she blinks, but it feels like you’re looking at another person, someone you don’t know. She looks fragile. Tired, and dazed. June’s been sleeping through the night for months, but it’s been a hell of a day.

You scrutinize your reflection, smoothing your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears, thinking about how you have zero makeup on. Then you scoff at yourself for caring what you look like in front of him. You think about how much you’ve changed in the seventeen months since you ran away. Not just physically, but mentally. You’ve had to be so strong. For June, for yourself. It’s been awful, and lonely, and you’ve hated yourself for not being able to stop missing him.

You sniffle and splash more water on your face, grumpily thinking that postpartum hormones are so much worse than the pregnancy ones. You grab the towel off the wall, but freeze when you bring it up to pat your face dry and get a smell of it.

Oh.

You whimper, unable to keep from pressing it harder to your mouth and nose and inhaling deeply. It’s James’ scent, and it smells so good. It smells like Safety and Love and Alpha. You hear the sound of your own, needy mewl and you gasp, yanking the towel away from your face and tossing it into the sink, trying to keep your shit together. You brace your hands on the counter and glare at your reflection to tell her to stop it, stop it, stop it, but all it takes is seeing your lower lip quiver, and soon your entire face is collapsing in long-repressed sadness. You turn away from the mirror with a pathetic noise, throat aching from the urge to keen.

Why does this have to be happening?! You’ve tried so hard, for so long. To be strong for June, to get over him, to move on! You bury your face in your hands and choke on a wrenching sob. You know you have to be quiet, have to stop, have to pull yourself together before he—

A soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. “Doll?”

You whine and hastily search for a lock on the door, but there is none, and James hears your crying and pulls the door open. “Honey,” he mourns when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You push past him, hurrying in the direction he isn’t blocking. “Leave me alone!” you cry, hating the blubbering in your voice that makes you sound just as weak as James thinks you are. You arrive in a perfectly made up bedroom with no point of egress other than the one you arrived through. You whine in distress, circle around helplessly, and then throw yourself onto the bed when he arrives at the doorway looking worried. “Leave me alone!” you cry, curling onto your side and pulling one of the pillows down to bury your face in. At least it isn’t suffused with James’ scent. You still cry though, unable to keep it in anymore now that you’ve started.

He tuts sadly from the doorway and comes into the room slowly. He stands there for a long minute, silent, before he sighs and his weight comes onto the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says.

“Just leave me alone,” you whine miserably. “Go away!”

“Shh sh sh.” He curls up behind you, arms around your waist and legs pushing in behind yours. He kisses your shoulder and hugs you, but it only makes you cry harder at how achingly familiar it is. “It’s okay,” he murmurs between kisses. He doesn’t try to get you to stop crying, or ask you what’s wrong. He seems to know exactly why you’re breaking down, and he simply devotes all his efforts to helping you calm down in your own time. “S’okay, s’okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he keeps saying, soothing you with a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I’ve got you now. It’s all gonna be okay. Shhh.”

At first, his placating makes you angry, but not enough to stop your crying, and once that tapers off from sobs to quiet, sniffling tears, you can’t seem to dredge up the anger anymore. It isn’t there.

“You feeling a little better?” he asks kindly, gently tucking your hair behind your ear and then hugging you again.

You whine when you feel his lips against your neck. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice coming out scratchy from all of the crying. You cringe and scrub your face into the pillow in embarrassment. “Just got a little sad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, giving you a supportive squeeze. “That’s okay.”

You hate how he says it, because it’s obvious that he knows why you were crying: Poor, sad little omega, bawling her eyes out over how much she’s missed her Alpha. He nuzzles into your neck, telling you it’s okay and that you’re allowed to cry. As much as you hate him being able to see into you so easily, you’re just grateful that he isn’t rubbing your face in it right now. The way he's holding you and comforting you feels good. You don’t fight to get away from him.

The two of you lie there together for what feels like a long time. Once you’ve stopped crying and are only giving the occasional sniffle for your runny nose, he goes back to running his hand over your side. It’s a gesture of comfort. He’s not groping you, but even still, you blush at the vulnerability of it. You find yourself glad that you’re facing away from him.

The plane shifts noticeably, and James’ hand pauses on your hip. “Pilot said we’re landing soon,” he murmurs. “Should probably go and get pchelka up.”

You sniffle and fight off the urge of resurfacing tears at hearing him reference June. One day of knowing his daughter and already he’s got a nickname for her. You should be annoyed by that, but instead it just makes your heart squeeze with emotion. “Pchelka,” you whisper, trying out the word.

“Yeah.” He hums happily and kisses your shoulder one last time. “Little bee. Come on. Let’s go.”

You don’t think about how it’s far too soon to have arrived at your destination, until you’re back in the main room of the cabin on the way to where Steve disappeared with June, earlier. You pause at the windows, peering out at the landscape. “This isn’t Russia,” you say, confused. The plane is definitely descending, but you’ve only been in the air for a few hours at most. “James?” you ask, as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Together, you both look out at the looming mountains and turquoise waters below. “Where are we?” you breathe.

James rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs happily. “Home,” he says. “We’re home.”

A.N.: See? Much less Rapey! Plenty more mega-dub con to come though, so don't you angst-lovers worry. Thanks for reading!💖Sarah

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nervoussagittarius · 17 days

Text

self control

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: two best friends who have been flirting for years finally confess their feelings for one another, request

warnings: fluffy, short little cute moment

chris has been trying to hide it for years. four years to be exact. he refuses to admit it but he’s completely infatuated with you. even though you have been in and out of multiple relationships, chris is holding on for the day he can call you his.

you’ve spent your day with the triplets and are currently getting ready to film a night vlog with them. this isn’t an unusual situation. you often filmed with the boys and appeared in different projects of theirs. you loved it. although you could never give up your job and do it on your own, you enjoyed being included.

chris was currently stood behind you resting his hands on your shoulders as you watched nick start up the camera. you reached your hands back to intertwine your fingers and leaned you head back to lean on chris.

you were both very touchy people so this was no rare occurrence for you two. nick began to intro the video not giving you two time to release eachother. “hey guys welcome to todays vlog. we’re just gonna film our night because we forgot to film the rest of our day so you’ll see what we do tomorrow as well.” you let out a laugh as nick panned to you and chris.

“what are your guys plans for the night?” nick asked. you moved to sit in the counter as you wrapped your arms around chris’s shoulders from behind. “we’ll y/n doesn’t know this but she’s spending the night with me and we’re watching all of the spider-man movies.” he looked over his shoulder at you. “is this your ploy to get me in your bed?” you asked raising your eyebrows. chris looked at the camera and signaled for nick to come in closer before whispering “she wasn’t supposed to figure that one out.”

you jokingly pushed chris away as you hopped off the counter. you felt his eyes on you as you left the room.

later in the evening as you all were sat in the living room watching old videos of the triplets together, nick pulled out the camera again to film you all.

as nick adjusted the settings you all were sitting in a brief scilence, which chris couldn’t handle. he turned to you as you were looking down at your phone. “who’s your celebrity crush?” he asked as he tilted your head up to look at him. “ya know i’m kinda a celebrity so it’s basically me right.”

“sorry to break it to you babe but it’s actually ross lynch.” you said with a shrug. “what are you talking about dude. it’s definitely me. but i could learn how to play the guitar if you really wanted.” he said giving you a wink.

“yeah but have you seen him? he’s like a quadruple threat. he sings, dances, acts, and plays multiple instruments.” you continued. chris rolled his eyes at you and nonchalantly moved away from you on the couch. the spot where he was laying in you becoming cold. “i could definitely do all of that.” chris mumbled.

the rest of the night chris was distant. he didn’t want to admit it but he was jealous that you spoke so highly of this guy you’ve never met. you noticed his change of attitude towards you and it eventually started to hurt your feelings. he was pulling away from your touch and not responding to your jokes and comments towards him.

you became tired of the way chris was treating you so that night when you made it to his room you spoke up about it. “did i do something to upset you? ‘cause if i did i’m sorry and i didn’t mean it.” you slowly climbed onto chris’s bed and watched as he turned his back to you. “i really don’t want to talk about it. it’s fine.” he is tried to act unbothered but you could read him like a book.

“i know something wrong can you please talk to me.” there was silence and a deep sigh from chris. almost five minutes went by before chris started talking. the way he shot up and almost exclaimed startled you. “i just don’t understand how you talk so highly of these people that you let treat you so horribly.” you were stunned by his statement. you didn’t know how to respond to that.

“wh-what?” “you talk so highly about your exes or random people that you don’t know when they treat you like shit. i would treat you so well if you gave me the chance but your so hung up on these people that mean nothing instead. i’m so obsessed with you it’s not funny. i love being around you and i love hearing about your day but you don’t see that. i just want you to see that.” chris’s tangent got quieter as he finished his thoughts. you were at a loss for words.

“i don’t know if it’s because im exhausted or because im just in shock at what you’re saying, but im so confused.” you were looking at chris like he had three heads. you didn’t know what was going on or how you got here, but you weren’t necessarily mad about it.

“y/n. i think im in love with you.” chris said taking your hand in his. “all jokes and flirting aside i really really like you. and i hate that you don’t see that. i understand and if you don’t feel the same way but i can’t keep flirting with you like i don’t mean every word im saying to you.”

“im in love with you two, chris.” you said as you rested his free hand on his cheek and leaned your forehead in his.

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine

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assiraphales · 10 months

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me over-tiredly spewing a crack theory: what if heaven and hell both came to an agreement that crowley and aziraphale were the biggest threat to the status quo? what if they decided they were the only two likely to try and stop armaggedon 2, and with their combined efforts, win? what if they knew how powerful a fallen angel of crowley’s rank and that unassuming bookshop keeper really were? what if the ENTIRETY of season 2 was nothing but a ploy put together by the archangels and demons to tear them apart?? michael and beezlebub, the storming of the bookshop, everything?

#good omens #good omens spoilers

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kingkenzieofmold · 1 year

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Day 7. OTP Cuddles: Poly Threat! i love them-i love them- ilovethem-ilove-i

#the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmim collection #henry stickmin fanart #thsc fanart #thsc #henry stickmin #charles calvin #ellie rose #thsc henry stickmin #thsc charles calvin #thsc ellie rose #ploy threat #ship art #stickmintines2023

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Take It Slow

A sequel to Take a Seat

Warnings: allusions to mafia/crime, intimidation, suggestions of verbal and mental abuse, toxicity.

This might just be a drabble, but I'd appreciate a reblog and some feedback! You are loved and appreciated. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

You sit in a haze. You try not to twitch at the prodding beneath you, the obvious delight of your keeper. Thor’s arm wraps around your middle as he holds you in place, making himself your seat, your throne as he proclaimed boldly to Travis’ face. He won’t forgive you for this one, you’ve humiliated him.

Yet, you can hardly worry about that. You can only wonder how this night will end. Will this brute of a man laugh and let you go? It must all be a joke, similar to a hazing, he is testing his man, that’s all. So you will face the consequences of his ploy.

You wiggle uncomfortably as you keep your head down. It’s humiliating how he continues to beckon men to his table, chatting as if your aren’t even there, his arm hooked firmly around you to keep you from escape. He way his hand runs up and down your side, at times venturing down your thigh. You shift again and he groans.

“This one is getting impatient,” Thor chuckles as he brings his hand up the front of your dress and tickles your throat, “as am I. Leave us,” he commands away another man in black, “I think this night over.”

The man leaves and Thor pulls his hand away to snap in the air. Another approaches, the black-haired one Travis told you was the boss’s brother. You stare at the table.

“Brother, clear this place out,” he says, “and see if you can’t find Mallory.”

The slender man takes his order but not without a grumble. He struts away and Thor turns back to kiss your crown, growling as he inhales the scent of your hair, bowing to press his lips to your shoulder. You assume he will hand you back to Travis now so you can spend the night in his wrath.

“What a prize I’ve claimed this night,” Thor rumbles and turns you in his lap, “I see you are tired, kitten, so let me find you a bed.”

He scoops you up in his arms and you squeak in surprise as he stands. He is much taller than you expect. You glance around and he chuckles, bending his knees as he angles you towards the table. You take his intent and reach for your clutch.

“I... what about Travis--”

“Say his name one more time, kitten, and I will have be certain to make him nothing more than a memory,” he girds and fire crawls up your body. His tone is dangerous and his strength is obvious in his easy hold on you. “Forget your old life, sweetheart, I will give you a new one. A better one.”

Your lips part and you close them. You’re too afraid to ask why? Why you? Is this still a game? He can’t mean a life, maybe only a night.

“He doesn’t deserve you and you deserve much better,” Thor purrs as he carries you across the room.

“I...” you murmur into nothing. This cannot be real.

You fall into silence. Not so much accepting as terrified. A man this big, this powerful, is not to be defied. You are in his territory. Travis was right, he shouldn’t have brought you here.

Thor carries you across the lobby of the hotel and angles to hit the elevator button. He stands and waits as you stare at the golden doors. They part and he steps on, turning as he keeps you steady in his arms.

“Top floor, sweetheart,” he says.

You hesitate before you reach out and hit the button. It lights up at your touch and the doors close. You shiver as you rescind your arm against your chest.

“Cold?” He wonders coyly, “I’ll be happy to warm you up, kitten.”

You dip your chin down, horrified by his suggestion. He is not an unattractive man, he is tall, blonde, and well-defined. Any woman, yourself would swoon over him, and yet the situation has you locked in terror.

“Why are you so afraid?” He asks as he nuzzles your hairline, “have I been unkind so far?”

You shake your head, the edges of your vision glossy with the threat of tears.

“So why cower and hide away? I mean only to worship you, kitten.”

You inhaled and clasp onto your purse tightly, stilling the tremble in your, “I... I don’t know.”

“Was he such a man that you would laugh at the idea of me? The way he spoke to you, the way he dragged you around as nothing more than an accessory, I saw no man,” the elevator dings and he steps off, “I saw lesser than you should have.” He stride breezily down the hall to the corner suite, “I will be your king.”

He stops before the door and his chest puffs out, “the door key is in my jacket, would you mind?”

You stare at his collar then let go of your clutch. You slip your hand beneath his blazer and feel the firm muscle beneath his satin shirt, the top button open. You twist around to feel the inside pocket and slip the card free with two fingers. You retract and reach for the door. He lowers you so you can slide the card through.

The censor flashes green and he moves you closer. You turn the handle without prompt and he carries you within. He kicks the door shut with his heel and the snap of it makes you flinch. He marches around the suite, and airy front room with a full bar and sofas, opening onto a high balcony with lights.

He turns through a doorway to the bedroom and takes you to the bed. You brace yourself for the drop, closing your eyes and tensing. How many times had Travis tossed you back so you bit your tongue?

He lays you on the mattress gently and slips his arms out from under you. You slowly open your eyes and look up at him. You sit up as he takes your clutch and sets it on the glass console table near the wall. He rolls his shoulders and groans, slipping free of his jacket.

“What do you expect, my queen? That I should throw you around like a ragdoll? I should mistreat you as that worm must’ve? I feel how you steel yourself. How you wait for me to hurt you,” he faces you as he drapes his jacket over the velvet chair paired with the sleek desk, “it is not my intent to offer anything but delight.”

He comes to stand at the foot of the bed, “you are tense, you could use a hot bath. And in those shoes,” he peers down at your strappy heels, “you must be aching for it.”

You are put off by his suggestion, more innocent than he means. You glance down and tuck your feet back so your skirt hides them. You shrug and rub your naked arm, “I...”

“Kitten, you do not need permission. You say it and I will make it so,” he brings his hand up under your chin, “come, let us wash away this night.”

He squeezes your jaw and you stand. You wave as you’re trapped in his allure. Your eyes cling to his oceanic blue irises, sinking into them as his hand drifts down your neck. His other tickles along your stomach and to your shoulder. He slips the straps of your dress down your arms and guides the fabric down your figure. You quiver at the brush of his rough fingertips.

He reaches around you smoothly to unhook your strapless bra. It falls away as you gasp. His eyes follow it to the floor and he lowers himself to one knee, then the other. He brings his hand around your heel and unclasps the buckle of your shoe. He wiggles your foot free and you stand flat, then he removes the other heel and tosses them aside.

He puts his head straight and leans forward, kissing the front of your panties as he looks up at you. You gape down at him as your body tingles. Another wave flows over you, guilt; betrayal. What would Travis think?

He frames your hips and rolls your panties down your legs. You don’t stop him. His touch grazes your legs and you step out of the dainty fabric. He takes your hand as he gets back to his feet. He tugs on your arm as he turns and guides you away from the bed. Your skin speckles with goosebumps as you enter a spacious bathroom with a square hot tub in the corner.

He leads you to the tub and lets you go. He bends to flip up the faucet and turns it to adjust the temperature. You watch his back as his shoulders stretch the satin tautly. He rises and faces you as he plucks at the buttons.

You stare dumbly at him as he undresses. His muscles are thick but defined, his fingers move lithely, his jaw sets as his eyes blaze back at you. He drops his shirt then bends to pull off his shoes. He undresses, piece by piece, never looking away.

As he pushes down the elastic of his briefs, he has no shame. He is wanting. You try not to look as he smirks and reaches for you. He takes you by the wrist and steers you toward the tub. Without a word, he urges you in ahead of him. He climbs over the side and puts your back to him, lowering you both into the basin.

He leans you against his hard torso and his hands rove and wander over yours, tickling, stroking, cupping as a tremor rolls through you. He purrs and twitches against your back. His hands never stop moving, eager to explore, eager for more.

#thor #dark thor #take a seat #mob au #dark!thor #thor x reader #avengers #mcu #drabble #unexpected series #series #marvel

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strawberri-yan · 11 months

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TW: kidnapping, Jing Yuan babies and degrades reader, also the usual yandere stuff

Some background: Jing Yuan and reader had a fiery rivalry when they were young which morphs into a strong friendship as they grew older. But then reader decides to betray the Loufu and take part as a Stellaron Hunter.

You and the other Stellaron hunters were tasked on a mission to find a potential Stellaron. Things were going smoothly until all of you were ambushed by the Cloud knights. Overwhelmed and nearly beaten, the hunters make their escape.

But you were a liability after sustaining a critical injury from knights. Kafka and the others had no choice but to abandon you. Biting your lip, you can do nothing but shout curses and profanities as your team leaves you in the middle of Cloudford. ‘Nothing personal,’ Kafka simply told you in that mocking, teasing tone of hers. Soonly after, you had been surrounded by the army of Clouds knights as they all aim their weapons at you. “My, my, now what do we have here?” A smooth, deep voice drawls out from not too far. The men part way for the white hair general as he saunters towards your pathetic form, arms crossed from behind as he sends you a knowing look. It sickened you.

"You... I should have known you'd be lurking around here somewhere, Jing Yuan," You growled. "And as for the others, they've already made their escape,"

Jing Yuan chuckles at your words. "Is that so?Oh well, doesn’t matter. We'll find them eventually. But for now, I'm more interested in what you're doing here. Especially joining forces with the Stellaron hunters? My, how you've fallen far."

Gritting your teeth, you glared at the man. "Someone like you wouldn't understand!" you shouted. “And why are you so pleased to see me like this? Enjoying seeing me suffer?"

"Oh (Y/N), my naïve, reckless little songbird," Jing Yuan tsks, his voice dripping with condescension. "You were so easily deceived. There was never a Stellaron. It was all a ploy to draw you out, to lure you back home and into my welcoming embrace." He extends his arms wide, exaggerating his point. If you didnt know any better, he had seemed like a wicked villain from a novel.

You's eyes widen with a mixture of shock and anger, your battered body stiffens. "You... orchestrated all of this? … did all of this just to bring me back?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jing Yuan's smug expression doesn't waver as he steps closer to you, his hand gently caressing your bruised cheek. "Yes. I've missed you so much. I couldn't bear the thought of being separated from you for so long. Especially with those slimey, conniving hunters. "

Your eyes blow widely at the madman in front of you, you try to pull away from his touch, but the Cloud knight general holds you firmly in place. "I won't go back with you," you snapped defiantly. "You will not strip me of my autonomy! I am a Stellaron hunter and nothing will change that. "

Jing Yuan's expression turns dark, and he tightens his grip on your cheek. "How foolish to think you have a choice in this matter, my dear. You belong to me. You always have and you always will."

You glare back at Jing Yuan. "You’re wrong! I will never go back to the life I had with you! I decide on what I do with this life!"

Jing Yuan's lips twist into a cruel smile. "We'll see about that," he says, his tone menacing. "I have ways of making you see things my way."

Immediately, you break free from his hold and summon your weapon before lunging at Jing Yuan. The older man merely smirks as he simply dodges your attacks with ease, not really seeing you as threat as he didn’t even bother taking out his own weapon. If anything, he was toying with you.

"Is this the best you can do?" Jing Yuan taunts, dodging yet another attack. "I expected more from you."

You growled, as you swing your weapon with all your might, but Jing Yuan once again dodges gracefully.

"You're still no match for me, old friend~" Jing Yuan taunts, truly getting under your skin. "You're out of practice, weak, and foolish for thinking you could challenge me."

Your's eyes blinded with fury as you charge at him once again, determined to prove him wrong. "I remember when we used to train together, you were so much better than this. What happened to you?"

A surge of humiliation bubbles within you, especially seeing how he was able to overpower you so easily. "You think you're so much better than me, I'll show you what I'm really capable of!"

"I'd like to see you try," he chuckles, still circling around you. "But I have a feeling you'll just end up embarrassing yourself even more." But before you could even retort, Jing Yuan knocks you out by striking the back of your neck. He carries your limp body as your weapon uselessly clutters to the floor. He takes this moment to admire your gentle features as you remain unconscious in his arms. He had always found you to be vibrant and beautiful, he especially liked to see you frustrated and angry as he had found it cute.

With his soldiers escorting him to his personal Starskiff, he lays you down comfortably on the seat cushions while sitting down beside you, gazing intently.

"I've missed you, baobei," Jing Yuan whispers softly. "You're still as stubborn as ever, but that's what I love about you. You may have lost your way, but I'm here to guide you back home."

Gently, he brushes some of your hair away from your forehead and leans in, pressing his lips against in a gentle kiss.

#yandere jing yuan #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #soft yandere #yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #yandere hsr

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obsessivevoidkitten · 2 years

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Peace Offering

Yandere Male Orc x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Dub-con/Non-con, smut, cock warming, orc, general yandere behavior, escape attempt, all a big misunderstanding) Word Count: 3.4k (I think I dropped the ball a bit on the smut scene, if it seems a bit disjointed that is because I wrote the last 1/3 of the fic over the course of 3-5 nights and I apologize, I still think it is good enough to post and the rest of the story makes up for it in my opinion, I hope you all enjoy.) For as long as you could remember the people of your medium sized town had been caught in a fierce and bloody feud with the woodland orcs that had come from the mountains and settled the forest across the river from your home. The bad blood between your peoples had gone on for so long that no one even remembered what had originally sparked the conflict. Almost all of your fellow townsfolk were content with their bloodlust and thirst for revenge, but not you. You had always been interested in other cultures and the orcs were no exception, you knew if you could meet with their leader you could broker a truce! Whenever you spoke out your wishes for peace and diplomacy most of your fellow townspeople just rolled their eyes at you, thinking you were hopeless. Orcs, to them, were ruthless barbarians that had to be put down. But you were not to be deterred! You would do your best to put an end to the attacks on one another and you’d learn about their culture in the process! You studied every piece of information available to you on orc customs and culture, it was mostly stuff you had already known, but it still gave you more confidence in your self appointed task. You spent weeks making the preparations for your diplomatic trek into orc territory. Everything had to be absolutely perfect. You painstakingly made the proper robe. Not only did the style need to be specific but the color had to be lavender, which was the color for cooperation according to your research. Finally the day came when you were ready, you set off in your attire, gaining many odd looks as you left the safety of your town. You crossed the bridge that lead from one side of the river to the other. Soon you came to the edge of the sprawling forest that the orcs called home. Despite your resolve you were still extremely nervous. Not just about meeting the orcs, but also of wild animals, and you did not even have a weapon on you as if the orcs caught you with one they might assume that you had malicious intent. With a deep breath to center yourself you entered the orc’s land. You called out loudly and clearly the orc term for peace, they spoke very little of your language and you had to make sure they knew your trespassing into their home was because you were on a mission of peace. You held your hands up in the universal way to show that you had no weapons and were no threat to them. You traveled for several minutes, seeing no signs of any orcs, but they saw you almost immediately upon entering their land. Nrybul, the orc leader, gasped when he saw you. A soft squishy little human walking right into his forest dawning the ceremonial courtship robes and calling out the orc term for “gift”. Your intent was abundantly clear to him. You were offering yourself, or being offered by your people, as a gift/mate to him for peace. He was intrigued and decided to watch you warily for a few minutes to determine if this was a new human ploy. When the orc man had decided that you were probably safe he and the guards he was on patrol with made themselves known to you. You almost fainted from fright as three large orcs, weapons in hand, slammed down from the trees and landed a mere few feet in front of you. They each had to be 7 feet tall. At least. One of the orcs approached you. He wore a full set of dark plate armor. Rough and rugged, it had clearly seen many battles. The visor of his helmet was up revealing his red eyes and two large, almost tusk like, bottom teeth. This could only be the infamous orc leader that instilled fear into humans on the battlefield. You could see why, that armor made his already intimidating size that much scarier. You were shaking and sweating nervously. The orc said something you could not understand, but it seemed neither angry nor hostile. He took you by the hand and gently pulled you close before picking you up bridal style. You yelped a bit in fear from so suddenly being literally swept off your feet. Nrybul could see you shake and sweating. Poor thing, humans were softer than orcs, but you were clearly far more fragile than most humans. It must have tired you out so much to make the long track here. It was no wonder to him that you were offering yourself or being offered as a peace tribute to a strong orc. You were so soft and delicate. Clearly no mere human could keep you safe. You were even shaky and exhausted from just a little walk. He was kind of angry that your fellow humans did not give you an escort, clearly you had a weak constitution. But no matter, you were with him now, and he would gladly take up the task of being your mate. You had no idea why their leader had decided to pick you up, but he did it very gently. Orcs were known for many things, but their tenderness was notably absent from that list, so you took it as a good sign. If they had been taking you as a prisoner you would probably be marched to their town at sword point so you forced yourself to try and relax in his hold. Though you were by no means able to speak fluent orc you managed to get across your name to Nrybul on the way to their home and you also managed to discern Nrybul’s name. Nrybul quite liked your name, as even your very name sounded soft and delicate in comparison to orc names. He said your name several times over the course of your journey, almost as if he was savoring it or trying to embed it in his brain. You of course took this as a positive sign you must have made a good impression! At long last you came within view of their town, strong wooden walls were erected all around the perimeter with a small guard tower near the main gate. The other two orcs that had patrolled with their leader left and returned to patrol. As Nrybul approached with you the guard on duty motioned for the gate to be opened and Nrybul entered. His choice to hold a human in this manner, and your attire, granted you two many quizzical looks, though no one said anything other than a curt nod or awkward greeting to their leader. Your own personal orc escort noticed you were no longer shaking or sweating so he figured you might like to walk a bit and stretch your legs. Nrybul put you down gently and allowed you to walk beside him. He took you with him into a well lit mine where a few human prisoners were supervised as they toiled for ore. You did not know their names but you recognized them as people from your town, they had been captured during a mission into orc territory and presumed dead. While Nrybul had a discussion with the orc guarding the humans you told the prisoners that you were trying to establish peace. They ignored you and laughed, assuming you would soon add to their ranks. They were stunned in silence when they were lead out of the orc settlement and set free. He released the prisoners! You had done it, this was a sure sign that your attempt at peace was solidified. You took a few steps intending to go with the released prisoners back home but Nrybul grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you back into town before the gate shut with a resounding thud. Nrybul knew you just wanted to escort your friends back home, but he really could not go with you and he absolutely would not have you going without him. What if you became fatigued again? You should never be without him attending to you if you are going to be outside the walls. And, preferably, that would not be a thing that happened too often. He really wanted you to get a meal and rest, as tomorrow you would need to officially consummate the union of yourselves and the peace between your people. You were extremely confused as Nrybul guided you gently into a large building that you could tell by the amazing smell inside was clearly a dining hall of some type. Maybe he wanted to share a meal with you to commemorate an end to hostilities? Or maybe this was more a part of making peace than it was a celebration of it, like a tradition that must be respected to make it official. Either way, you had no intention of offending him and ruining all of your hard work so you let him lead you into the building and sit you down at a table as he left for a few good minutes. When he returned he had removed his armor, his attire was sleaveless, showing off his large biceps. You could now see his long red hair. He was quite handsome and you blushed and looked down quickly, hoping he had not caught you staring at him. He set down a plate of food for each of you and then sat himself down a bit uncomfortably close to you. You did not notice because you were looking away in embarrassment, but Nrybul was smirking as he had certainly caught you checking out his muscles and looks in general. He was very pleased, he was glad his soon to be mate was so impressed with him. You started eating when you felt his left arm wrap around your waist and pull you a bit closer. You were unsure what this gesture meant to their kind, but it made you a bit nervous. But of course you could not offend him for fear of the consequences so you allowed him to keep you close while you just looked down and focused on continuing your meal of roast boar and vegetables. Nrybul thought you were just so cute, acting all shy as he pulled you close. It really endeared him to you how you had been so determined to offer yourself to him despite being as feeble as you were. And now you were all shy and blushing. You were such a perfect mate for him. When you finished your food you had expected to be allowed to leave. There was still enough daylight to make it home in time before dark. But Nrybul had a different idea of where your home was. Nrybul held your hand and guided you once more. He lead you towards what was clearly his personal house. This was where you thought something may be wrong, from all the reading you had done you knew orcs did not allow strangers into their homes. Could it have been possible that all of your gestures and behaviors had been indicative of a desire for courtship? He did seem to hold your hand a lot… But orc sex was rough and you were rather small, Nrybul was handsome, but you did not really intend to leave your friends, family, and home. You noticed that a hunting party was coming back into the town and the gates where wide open. Screw peace, you did not want to upheave your entire life for it! You slipped out of his loose hold on your hand and bolted across the town and through the gates. You left the trail so you would not be spotted so easily and headed in the direction that would take you home. You did not spare the second that it would take to look back, but you heard him call out your name in the distance. You ducked low and made your way slowly through the bushes and weeds and crept away, hoping that they would pass you by on the trail and not bother to search off of it. Or at least not until you were gone. Your heart was pounding, your legs were shaky, and you were sweating profusely both from the effort of getting away and from the anxiety that flooded you. You had not heard anything in a while so you started running as fast as your burning legs could carry you. It looked like you were actually going to escape, the bridge would be in view soon and from there it would not be a long way to your home. Suddenly though you were yanked back from behind, you screamed and kicked but Nrybul hardly noticed as he carefully put you over his shoulder and began the walk back to his town. You continued struggling for a minute or two, but soon gave up due to sheer exhaustion and the fact that he was clearly much stronger than you could ever hope to be. He was not even panting from the chase or from holding you. Nrybul had actually been thrilled you had ran, as it is an old orc tradition that one mate must chase the other and capture them before their union is consummated. Not many still practice it, but it made him more than happy that you were so invested in immersing yourself in his culture. In fact, because of your efforts he was now sure that he absolutely loved you. In truth though he was worried, you had demonstrated such a frail constitution earlier and were just so small and weak compared to a big orc man such as himself. He had actually been close to you the entire time, but he did not want to catch you too soon and make you feel like you were weak or unworthy of a proper chase. You had put so much effort into respecting his traditions, he did not need to show off and catch you immediately. Nrybul decided he would wait a bit and when you seemed too tired he would snatch you up and then once he had you he would take you back to his bed for a nice, deep, well deserved fucking. Soon enough you were already being carried back through the gates and into his town and shortly after you were entering his home. He wasted no time in rushing you to his bedroom and laying you stomach side down on his bed. You dreaded what would certainly be a very rough and traumatic sexual encounter with a large orc. That isn’t exactly what happened though. Nrybul had taken note of the fact that you were so delicate and would never risk hurting you. You were his little human mate, it would be dishonorable and cruel to hurt you. He gingerly removed your garments and appreciated your naked form from behind. He disrobed then traced his strong hands along your sides down to your ass which he then groped. Nrybul began massaging your ass cheeks. He figured the day had been very eventful for you and he was sure that you were eager to mate with him and make everything official, but he could tell you were very tense. The orc pulled some special oil, a secret orc recipe, from a drawer and coated his hands before applying some to your shoulders, back, ass, and legs. It smelled strongly of spice with a hint of citrus. He firmly massaged your shoulders and neck first. The massage was very relaxing, but you were still extremely nervous. He proceeded to massage down your body thoroughly. Leaving no inch of your back, butt, legs, or feet untouched by his loving ministrations. You realized that there must have been something in that oil he used because now you were very relaxed. At least physically. Despite your anxiety and fear your body remained at ease. Seeing that you were feeling better from the treatment he had provided Nrybul decided it was time to start readying your hole so he could mate with his beloved (Y/N). He applied more of the special oil to your entrance, liberally applying it until you were dripping. He took one of his large thumbs and kneaded it into your hole as carefully as he could until he could slide in a few fingers into you easily. The oil must have also enhanced sexual sensations because even just his fingers felt amazing inside of you. Nrybul massaged your insides until you were almost ready to come from his fingers alone, but before he did he stopped and lubed his fully erect cock. Earlier you had your head buried in a pillow but when he stopped using his fingers in you you looked over and saw his dick for the first time. It stood, almost proudly, at a bit over 10 inches. But you were so eager and stretched now from him fingering your hole that you were now a little less nervous and a little more eager to have it inside you. You would not have to wait long at all. Nrybul climbed on the bed with you so small and vulnerable below him. He lined up his throbbing cock with your entrance and prodded you before exceedingly slowly sliding into you. Despite the prior loosening it taking him fully still hurt a bit. Mercifully he kept the pace slow as he thrust in and out of your depths. Quickly the small twinge of pain was replaced by waves of pleasure. You heard Nrybul whispering your name gruffly over and over as he pumped into you. The orc was still going at a snail’s pace, afraid to hurt his tiny human, but it was agonizingly slow for you at this point. You moved yourself back against his thrusts until he got the message. Seeing how you were handling him so well and how eager you were for his dick he began plunging into you in earnest. He still was far gentler with you than he would be with an orc partner of course, just a bit harder and faster than he had been with you previously. You whined in an exhilarating mix of pain and pleasure as you felt your stomach bulge out a bit from his sheer size penetrating you fully. Disappointingly he pulled out, but it was only to flip you over on your back so he could see your face as he mated with you. Nrybul drove his cock back fully into you easily and continued at a steady pace, his large nuts smacking you loudly as you were fucked. He started speeding up a little more as he stroked a strand of your hair out of the way and pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. Then, as he thrust deeply and filled you thoroughly with copious amounts of warm orc cum, he slammed his lips roughly into yours and kissing you in a manner more in line with how you think orcs typically kiss. You came hard while he kissed you as his still throbbing cock continued pumping cum into you. Nrybul kept you on his cock as he laid down and repositioned the both of you to be laying down. He laid behind you, holding you closely. As he started to fall asleep with his stiff cock still firmly inside of you Nrybul could not be more content with the peace offering he had been given. He would have settled the costly feud between your town for much less than what he had received, but he would gladly accept and keep this perfect mate that had been offered to him. You tried to squirm free from his strong arms and cock, but he did not even notice your resistance, leaving you to pout and accept your place as his cock warmer as he began snoring peacefully behind you. The former prisoners would tell everyone you had them released and lasting peace would be cemented between your people, and all it took was accidentally giving yourself to a large orc warrior who wanted nothing more than to own you, baby you, keep you safe, and fuck you constantly.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere monster x reader #yandere orc #Male yandere x gender neutral reader #orc husband #yandere orc x gender neutral reader #male yandere x gn reader #my oc #my oc Nrybul

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girlboybug · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

"he hit me and it felt like a kiss."

or the one where ellie finds refuge in your farm house, whereas joel only finds a challenge of self restraint when he meets you.

what’s playing 🎧 : ultraviolence by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x female!reader

word count : 9k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, mean!joel, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, manhandling, rough sex, spitting, slight voyeurism if you squint, f!masturbation, m!masturbation, spanking, fingering, slight dom/sub dynamics, panties fetish, creampies, unprotected sex, breeding kink, light restraining, choking, tummy bulge, impact play if u kinda squint and tilt ur head, degrading, light praise, daddy kink im sorry yall (not rlly), unspecified age gap, dirty talk, fluff for 2 seconds at the end :p

TRIGGER WARNINGS : reader has emotionally absent/verbally abusive dad, takes place after the david incident but there's zero mention of it lolz just background for yall, joel is mean and rude tbh, kinda very toxic but im addicted to old toxic men sowwy (plz dont ever let a man treat yall like this irl!!) anyways this is all i can think of, lmk if i missed anything! otherwise pls enjoy!! <3

a/n : wouldn't be a fic written by user girlboybug if the reader didn't have raging daddy issues lolz

there’s creaking at the front patio, the old wood worn down by countless stomps from your boots never failed to act as an alerting system for any trespassers. your heart sinks when you force yourself to get up, the responsibility to inspect the origins of the noise falling on your shoulders alone.

yippie.

your hand finds its hold around the neck of your dad’s shotgun, sock covered feet waiting a pregnant pause at your door, swallowing down the brunt of your nerves thickly. you inch out the door, holding the shotgun as steady as you can, eyes fighting to not fail you by succumbing to the night blur that glazes over your vision.

your sights land on a figure of a man, anxiety hitting you with the heel of its fist into your nervous system once his silhouette becomes clear before you. you pointedly aim at him, praying that the act seems intimidating enough. “you’re trespassin’” you call out, prompting him to raise his hands beside his head, keeping his movements slow and careful as to not give you a reason to shoot.

“just lookin for shelter ma’am,” he replies, his voice feels deep when it hits your ears, not stopping short of rich. “not buyin’ it. now i’m not gonna repeat myself, leave before i blow your goddamn head off,” you shoot your threats in the place of bullets, but your tone gives out on you, giving in to your fear, cracking in on itself mid sentence.

a young girl moves from behind him, her hands also beside her head. “ellie,” he whisper yells, trying to move back in front of her. your hard glare falls into a guilty gaze, and your shotgun falters downward. “thought i told you to stay behind me–” she cuts him off, probably causing a vein on the side of his temple to burst with stress when she moves in front of him to speak.

“we’re just looking for somewhere to stay for the night, and we’ll be out of your hair by morning. we promise.” the now named girl swears, looking at the man that dwarfs her in size for extra confirmation. “promise her joel,” she hushedly instructs and he huffs, looking back at you. “promise.” he adds gruffly.

they look like father and daughter, and you don’t have it in you to turn them away, and despite the possibility that lingers in the back of your mind that this is all a ploy to rob you blind, you settle on the fact that it’s worth the risk to let them in.

your shotgun rests beside you, no longer using it as a shield from the fear of an impending threat. “okay,” you verbally decide, and ellie lets out a sigh of relief, leaning into joel. he holds onto her with a sense of care, of protection, and your heart pangs at the sight as they climb up onto the patio.

your lips drop open unintentionally when the man that now has a name and a face to go along with it, stands before you.

he’s tall, he’s handsome, much older than both you and the girl. “thank you ma’am,” he says, a curt nod from the top of his head, and ellie offers a small smile, joining in his nod. “thank you,” she whispers, and you smile back, moving to the side to let them in.

immediate comfort envelopes the pair, a quiet breath of it being expelled from them, and you close the door behind you, locking it to make sure that the warmth from inside doesn’t morph into the frigid wind outside.

“there anyone else with you?” joel questions, unintendedly sending a worried alert in your mind, your body language showing a visible uncomfortableness at the question.

ellie notices, nudging joel with her elbow. “dude?” she mouths, eyebrows furrowed, silently asking, what the fuck?

you find yourself trusting her more than you do him, which is just enough of an amount to get you to believe he doesn't mean to sound as sketchy as he comes across. “just me and my dad. he’s asleep upstairs,” you respond, and joel looks back at you, pursing his lips, nodding.

“i’ll show you where you guys can sleep, and i can even get you a change of clothes.” you say, flickering between the two of them before turning on your heel. they trail behind you quietly while you lead them to their temporary rooms.

walking up the stairs, and past the stretch of the hallway, you stop at one of the spare rooms, pushing open the door. “there’s this one, and then,” you lean over, pushing open a door to the room just beside it. “this one. up to you guys to decide whoever gets which,” you send them off with a nervous smile, rubbing your palms over your pajama bottoms.

“thank you,” ellie calls out, lowering her voice but keeping it at an octave audible enough for you to hear. you turn back, smiling at the young girl before going into your bedroom. you grab a pair of pajamas for the pair, trying to be quick so as to not keep them waiting.

you return to them, finding them both in the same room, sitting at the side of the bed. ellie’s head is leant against joel’s arm, his stare resting over her. the pang hits you again, but you push past it, gently tapping your knuckles over the door. his stare moves from her to you.

“these are for her, and here’re some of my dad’s old clothes for you. they should fit, but if not you can uh, let me know and i’ll find something else for you.” you set them down beside him, and he nods, a tight lipped inch of a curl over his mouth spreads just slightly, acknowledging your actions.

“these should be fine,” he places a hand over the folded clothes, where your’s was and you find yourself swallowing hard again. his hand is big.

“alright, well goodnight.” you wish kindly, making your way out the door, nodding a polite bidding. “night,” he responds, traces of southerness apparent in his vowels. “thank you,” he makes sure to say before you leave.

for everything he wants to add, but he doesn’t, which is okay, you can hear it through the crickets and the quiet peacefulness that passes through the room.

you leave him with an equally hushed response of no problem, the door closing behind you at the curt ending of your reply.

–

your eyes snap wide open, a low wince falling out at the sting from the rude awakening your body is being subjected to. your name rings as a harsh echo, and you’re quick to your feet, remembering the girl and the man staying in your home, unbeknownst to your dad. “shit,” you groan, hurriedly rushing across the hallway and down the stairs.

and there was your father, loud, angry, and yelling at…joel? if you remembered his name correctly. “who the fuck are these people and why are they tellin’ me you let them in last night?” he all but shouts, and you feel small, humiliated.

“i did, i’m sorry, they don’t mean any harm, they just needed a place to stay for the night.” you answer meekly, and joel’s fists tighten, every fiber of his being wanting nothing more than to plummet his fists into the side of your dad’s jaw.

“lord,” he exhales, shutting his eyes and pinching his nose bridge. he walks towards you, a finger pointed at your face when he speaks.

“if they wanna stay they better make themselves useful, if not, i want them out my goddamn house in 5 minutes.” he snipes irritatedly, eyeing you down with annoyance, making sure you saw the seriousness in his face before he leaves, trudging out the front door. ellie watches with sympathetic eyes as you flinch when he slams the door shut.

it’s quiet for longer than you’d like for it to be, but you’re unsure of what to say after being belittled in front of people who are virtually strangers.

“what a dick,” ellie exhales and joel looks at her, eyes wide, lips tight with chastising ready to be released. “ellie!” he chides and she raises her arms in disgruntled defense. “what? he is!”

you laugh, and they turn to you surprisedly. “yeah, he is. i’m sorry about that.” you sigh, and joel shakes his head. “no, we’re sorry, we didn’t mean to impose and cause you all that trouble.” he apologizes, genuineness in his softened tone, a pane of his thick drawl behind it, and it soothes away the feeling your dad left you with.

“it’s alright, it’s just how he is,” you say, attempting to pacify their concerns, but ellie, blows out a quiet breath, eyes slightly wider when she tilts her head side to side. “massive asshole,” she mutters, and you giggle before joel can chide her once more. she smiles at your laughter, and joel just sighs his 100th sigh.

“you guys can sit, he’ll be gone for most of the day. i can make some breakfast before you have to go?” you offer, motioning towards the dining table, desperate to move past this topic. “mighty gracious of you, but we should get goin,” joel inadvertently rejects your offers, and you frown.

ellie turns to him, a hopeful stare chipping away at his decision. “dude please, there’s only so much chef boyardee i can take.”

you stifle a laugh at her pleading, tying an apron around your waist.

“fine.” he sighs, and ellie whispers a successful yes!

–

as time went by, you grew closer to ellie, but almost as a trade off, it seemed as though joel drifted further and further from you, leaving you with no idea as to why.

you’ve been nothing but kind to him, and the more you tried to do…well, anything, it only pushed him away instead of bringing him in closer.

granted, you did do things that prompt some kind of annoyed response from joel, like right now, as joel stands in the bathroom, his eyes falling to your discarded panties on the ground.

he marches out the bathroom, searching for you. “ellie, where’s the girl?” he asks, and she can hear the irritation building in the base of his voice. “uh, outside, she’s picking some fruit, why?” she queries, turning around from her seated position on the couch to face him.

he strides towards the door, eyes glaring straight ahead. “no reason.” he replies sardonically, and ellie rolls her eyes, flipping back on the couch.

your dad had gone into the next town over to collect more supplies, do some more trading and other various things, but you didn’t care, he’s gone for the time being, and you’re happy, at ease, with more time to look after your garden and spend time leisurely picking at the fruits that hang from the trees above you.

you’re resting on your knees, overalls rolled up to your thighs, bandana covering your hairline, nimble fingers plucking at the strawberries from the array of bushes. the rays of sunlight blanketing over your skin suddenly vanishes, and you turn, hand over your forehead when you look up at joel.

“oh hi joel! strawberry?” you chirp, offering a plump strawberry, and he exhales through his nose, eyes raking over you.

you have a habit of almost never wearing bra’s, and you just about live in overalls and shorts, always accompanied by some tight fitted top.

god, you make his life so hard.

little pink ribbons are tied over the top strap buckles of your overalls, and you look so adorable that it almost makes him angry.

“no, thanks, look, i know it was your bathroom before it was mine, but for the love of god, please stop leavin’ your…undergarments on the floor.” the subtle twang increases just a notch at the way he rattles about your sightly panties.

your face gets hotter than it was from the sun and you drop your arm, looking away embarrassedly. “oh my god how embarrassing, i’m so sorry, i’m just not used to sharing my bathroom, but that’s not an excuse, i’ll take care of them, i’m sorry joel,” voice pretty and soft, just like you, and he sighs, staring at you for a thick standstill, before going back into the house. “messy girl,” he mutters to himself.

he finds his way back into the bathroom, eyeing the suspect in question, feeling the strings in his chest pull in tight. he picks up the pair with a curl of his finger, eyeing it like a foreign object.

he clenches down on his teeth when he stares at it, the pink striped cotton is soft, a little bow adorning the front of it.

he feels dizzy.

he honestly considers pocketing them, but immediate disgust kicks in and he drops them, walking out.

dirty old man.

–

you are inescapable, easily running joel’s patience down into the dirt beneath his boot. your dad is still gone, but joel and ellie listened when he said to be useful.

they help you around the house, almost doin ’more than you, joel would grumble, but no matter how much he busied himself with chores, there was hints of you in everything.

when he’s feeding the chickens or collecting their eggs, he can look not too far out and see the clothesline where you air dry their laundry, not a single thought about letting your bra’s hang from the wire, taunting joel.

he imagines you in it, the racy little red number, nipples perked behind the flimsy material, shoulder’s beckoning to slide the straps down.

“shit,” he grunts, looking down and seeing the smashed egg in his fist, squeezed to pieces from the intensity of his perverse thoughts.

sometimes he thinks you do this shit on purpose, mocking an old man with something you would never give him, and he feels like banging his head into the wall.

and in this moment he feels it’d be an especially good time to do so, exhaling sharply from his flared nostrils while he searches around for you, calling out your name, only to be met with no reply. he can’t find ellie either and he’s panicking, he’s panicking bad.

he shouts your name from the very depths of his stomach, and he pushes every door he sees open until he stops at your bedroom door, pushing inside and growling with anger when he sees you laid upside down in your bed, hands resting on your tummy with thick headphones clamped over your ears.

he stalks towards you, bending down and ripping your headphones straight off your head. your eyes snap open and you jerk upwards from the bed, clambering off the bed in the most unflattering way possible, rushing to get to your feet.

“joel what the hell? what’s going on?” you ask, and he scoffs, mad that you have the audacity to be annoyed here.

“where the fuck is ellie?” he grits out, and you sigh, snatching back your headphones when you answer. “she’s in the stable with my horse, she’s fine joel.” you promise, and he squints his eyes, shaking his head frustratedly.

“y’can’t just send her off somewhere on her own like that and not even think to tell me, and – dammit, don’t wear those goddamned headphones when i’m callin for you, god you are so irresponsible,” he rants, his voice trailing up a ledge of loud anger, and it’s your turn to get mad.

“okay joel, you need to stop fucking yelling at me, she’s still on the damn property, she isn’t gone in the next town over, i’d never put her in a situation where she could get hurt and secondly, you don’t get to talk to me like that and tell me what i can and can’t do in my own house.” you’re in his face now, making an effort to stand up for yourself, but joel isn’t tolerating any of it.

“you listen here little girl and you listen good,” he moves in closer, and you suddenly feel overly aware of his proximity, almost immediately backing down to move away, but no, you wanted to talk back like a big girl, you’re going to face the consequences of one.

“you best lose that nasty fuckin’ attitude of your’s, i don’t care if this is your house or not, it ain’t an excuse to act like a goddamned thoughtless brat.” he’s breathing heavier now, his face too close to your’s, chest dangerously nearing your own.

your eyes nictate back and forth in his, desperately suppressing the tears that imperil at your waterline, biting on your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. “you’re such an asshole,” is all you can manage to fire back through a weak excuse of a response.

he scoffs at you, stepping back before marching out your room. “no shit sweetheart,” he sneers with a lowered baseline of exasperation.

you fall back on your bed when he’s gone and out of earshot, holding your face in your hands, allowing yourself to let out the tears that almost spilled out in front of joel.

your fists wipe the tears away, angry that they were even there, each stream down your cheek is a reminder of who caused them.

refusing to give in to the pain that gnaws at your chest from his spewing anger, you get up, walking out your room, deciding to make your way around back to the stables.

ellie was saddled over applejack, your only horse, with joel sitting behind her, his arms wrapped around her, keeping her steady, keeping her safe.

the gnawing bites down harder inside your chest, and you’re unable to fight against it. instead you cradle yourself, comforting the ache while leaning against the bulk of the tree behind you, watching them interact.

his gaze over her is so soft, so full of care, of love, and he’s laughing, which enables her laughter, and you find yourself smiling as you watch them despite what had just transpired.

you watch as ellie plops the cowboy hat you had left on applejack’s saddle over his head, and your back gets stiff against the bark of the tree when she does.

he fixes the hat atop his head, and it annoyingly suits him well.

he looks like a proper cowboy.

your eyes drift down to the way his hips roll with each trot from applejack, his back leant naturally, looking relaxed, confident, like he knows what he’s doing, and that he knows he does it well.

his hand runs over the side of applejack lovingly, his strong hand smoothing over her coat, and you feel like crumbling down into the soil of the earth, breathing in a little harder when you imagine those rough, strong hands of his on your skin instead.

you reach up, pulling a peach from the tree above your head, settling down to sit and just watch the two gallop along with applejack.

joel’s eyes find you, they always do, and almost like she just knew, ellie decides to lead applejack back over to where you are. joel’s hands tighten over the reins, jaw clenching when they make their way over to you.

“well hi there sweet girl,” you coo, petting applejack when she bends her neck downward, greeting you happily.

you bite down into your peach, laughing quietly to yourself when the juice spills down your cleavage. joel follows the way the juice rolls down your chest, disappearing behind the pesky coverage of your tank top, and he feels like it's a punishment for his previous yelling.

you hand the rest of the peach into applejack’s mouth, cooing an, aww there you go sweet girl.

“damn these look good.” ellie whistles, reaching up to pluck a peach down.

she drops it, and she groans when it hits the ground. “i got it, don’t worry!” you remedy, turning around to bend down and grab it for her. joel feels like dying when he sees the heart curve of your ass, it’s almost too perfect, and he wonders if this is how his heart finally gives out.

kinda looks like a peach… he thinks to himself, eyes tracing over the form of your ass for as long as he can before you’re turning back to face them.

you go up on your tippy toes, quickly grabbing another peach, handing the new one to ellie and tossing the one that fell over to joel.

“you get that one,” you half tease, half huff, and ellie laughs, waving her clean peach at joel. his eyes settle on you while you talk to ellie, ignoring his presence.

his teeth sinks down into the peach, his stare trickling over the way you’re squeezed into those stupid fucking tiny shorts, and he thinks about a different type of flesh to bite into.

–

nighttime visits your household once more, but it’s anything but peaceful for you and joel.

ellie knocked out as soon as she collapsed in her bed, but joel’s wide awake. he wants to sleep, wants to forget this day even happened, but he can’t. he replays everything despite his efforts to pretend that the events from today didn’t even occur.

however, guilt drags its spindly fingers across the muscle of his heart while flashes of his loud anger directed at you forces itself to be acknowledged behind his eyelids. with a disgruntled huff he rips the blankets off his body, climbing out of bed.

he pushes past the door, making his way to your room to apologize for his harshness.

the closer he gets to your room, the more he hears a concerning sound gently echoing from behind the door. his brows fly up and he grips at your doorknob, turning it. his knuckles tighten over the knob, his body standing still and stiff in the cracked entrance when he sees you.

you’re sprawled in your bed, sheets hanging off you, covering not a single thing, leaving joel to wonder if what he’s looking at is real or not, and if it is, should he even be looking at you like this?

he knows the answer to that, it's a big fat resounding no, but joel doesn’t exactly have the purest morals of all time, so he stays in spite of his conscience telling him to close the door.

he watches your head roll side to side tirelessly, back arching off the bed, bucking your hips into your hand, struggling to pleasure yourself the way you need. your fingers keep sliding off your poor clit, too soaked to keep a good grip on it.

it sounds sticky, even from where joel stands, it’s all so fucking dirty, your sweet little whimpers going straight to his cock, pushing up against his sweatpants that already hang low off his hips.

he palms at himself, trying to alleviate the throbbing ache. his eyes follow the curve of your bare chest, your tight tank top under your chin, pretty tits in the air, hard nipples that are begging to be in joel’s mouth.

you whine to yourself, eyes watering with frustration when your fingers refuse to stay put on your needy clit, trying to instead fill your fluttering hole that clenches around nothing.

joel’s fingernails dig into the doorframe, physically restraining himself from going in there and shoving himself so far into you that it hits your cervix, stretching you nice and open for him.

he thinks about how he’d make you take it, how you’d claw down his back while he fucks you like you deserve.

he feels disgusting, like a goddamn pervert, but he again wins the battle against any morals he has left and stays to watch. you sound so wet its fucking ridiculous, he just wants to lap it all up on his tongue and drink you in.

but what he really wants, is to make you beg, to make you cry.

you further test his will, when his name floats from your trembling lips, his jaw going slack at the unreal moan. his hand falls to his straining cock, squeezing it, silently pleading with you to be good and say it one more time for him, to confirm he heard you right.

and you do, you whimper his name, an airy little, joel, while grinding down on your finger, trying to angle your hips to hit a spot you hardly ever have success in satiating.

good girl, he grits without a sound, his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock.

you think back to him yelling at you, ignoring the pain of the memory, and instead rewriting how the fight ended. your brain conjures up an alternate ending, where he bends you over the foot of your bed, smacking his hand over the fat of your ass before he rams himself inside you.

you think about his back curling over yours, his cock too deep inside you, muttering for you to fuckin’ take it.

he’d have his face in the crook of your neck, his beard would tickle your skin while the dirtiest words you can think of would be listed off in your ear.

his beard, your hips rise in the air desperately, your mind now imagining his stubble between your thighs, how his mustache would brush over your clit until it’s raw. “please, want it joel, want it so bad,” you moan to yourself in a pleading fluttery little voice, and joel almost steps forward at your begging.

i’ll give it you, he promises to himself, wishing he could tell you instead.

he can’t fucking take it, he drinks in the bare sight of you once more, memorizing each curve, the way your voice trembles, the way your legs shake, the plump of your thighs and chest, and fuck, he thinks he’ll pass out before he can even make it back to his room.

he carefully closes the door, striding hurriedly back to his bed. he shuts his door, making an immediate dash to his awaiting mattress.

he pulls the blanket over his hips, tugging down his sweatpants and letting his cock spring up. he uses his precum as lube, too impatient to spit in his hand. he fists at his fat cock, pushing past the roughness from his palm, pretending that it’s your soft hand wrapped around him.

he thinks back to what he just saw, imagining that he did step inside, closing the door behind him before making his way to you.

you’d probably get scared at the sudden sight of him in front of you, but he imagines that you’d be too desperate to care about his actions.

you’d grab his wrist, bringing his hand to your poor little cunt. “touch me, please joel?” you’d plead with those watery eyes of yours, and he would, he’d touch you until you couldn’t take it.

but he’d make you take it, he’d stretch you out on his fingers before he’d get his cock in you. he can only fantasize about how good your tight little cunt would feel all around him, how snug you’d be, gripping him in, but no matter how hard he tries to pretend, he knows his imagination does your pussy no justice to how good it’d actually be.

he starts fucking his hand, head falling back into his pillow, his bicep’s flexing with straint while he goes to squeeze his cockhead, traveling back down to his shaft, struggling to please every inch of himself.

he wonders if you’re a virgin, wonders if anyones gotten to see you like how he did, or did they get to experience it themselves?

he gets jealous at the thought, but he erases it, instead thinking of the possibility of no one ever getting to touch you but him.

yeah, he likes that, he likes thinking about being the first and last cock you’ll ever have deep inside you. shit, he growls, thumbing over his leaking tip, he’s close.

he starts panting, chest falling more rapidly with heavy breaths, his hand working over himself faster now, the slick from his pumping fist around his cock is embarrassingly loud, but he uses it and pretends it’s the sound of him in your pussy, and that does it for him.

he cums in his fist, slowly thrusting into the tunnel of his hand before he releases himself, and he groans, letting his body sink deeper into his bed.

fuckin’ disgustin’ he mutters to himself.

–

he can barely look at you the next morning, he feels hot all over when you so much as walk past him, your scent always trailing behind you and filling his senses.

you smell like the sweetest form of vanilla and it makes him unstable, feeling like he’s gotta hold onto something to remain upright when you’re near him.

you make your own soap, and, of course you make your own fuckin’ soap, he thinks to himself, growing weaker by the second when you talk about how you used vanilla beans in your recipe for soap.

you offer to make some for him, but he declines as politely as he can, finding any excuse to establish some space. he can’t be near you, not now, and not later, he needs time to remind himself what self control is.

he decides to chop some firewood, the nights are getting colder and colder anyways, and he thinks this’ll be a good distraction for him.

he pours all his frustration into it, swinging the axe from behind his shoulder and down into the blocks of wood, chopping them up into logs.

sweat lines his forehead, his biceps bulging from the tight constraints of his rolled up flannel, and you watch from the window, staring at him as he leans back, taking in a few deep breaths while he wipes his forehead before continuing.

you swish your thighs together, walking away when you realize if you don’t move now, you’ll stay the rest of the day just watching him.

after a few hours outside, joel is beat, he thinks he deserves a break. he trudges back inside, sighing when he’s greeted with the fresh air conditioned breeze.

your legs hang off the arm of the couch, head resting on a cushion and buried in a magazine.

he eyes your legs while he walks into the bathroom, almost unable to tear away from them. but when he walks through the door, he closes his eyes immediately once they land on the ground, as if the sight before him physically hurts.

he exhales with aggravation when he sees your white cotton panties on the floor, and your cream lacy bra hanging off the towel rack, mocking him.

he’s had enough.

he stomps out the bathroom, and you brace yourself for the latest lecture when you hear the nearing ruckus of his boots connecting to the wood floors.

he yells your name, his voice curling around the curve of an upward rage. “what joel,” you yell back mockingly, he stands above you, looking furiously down at you.

“what did i tell you about your goddamn panties and bra in the fuckin’ bathroom,” he shouts, jabbing his thumb back towards the bathroom. you huff, swinging your legs from the arm of the couch, rising to your feet. “i’m sorry!” you throw your arms up annoyedly.

“i’ll get ‘em, i understand it’s annoying but joel you don’t need to yell over every. fuckin’. thing, you can talk to me like a normal person,” you contradict your own words, pointing a finger at him while you shout back.

he grabs your finger, pulling your wrist down and away from his face, beaming anger glinting in his eyes.

“thought i told you to get rid of that nasty fuckin’ attitude little girl,” he spits, words hanging in the air like a venomous gas, and you all but growl with irritation.

“i’m not a little girl and you’re not my dad, y’don’t get to talk to me like that you fucking dick,” you bark back, feeling a sudden fear when you see the way he’s looking at you.

his top lip curls with disdain, and he nods slightly to himself, like he’s just mentally made his decision.

he grabs you by your upper arm, dragging you along with him back around to the couch. “let me go,” you try pulling your arm from him, but it does nothing, his grip is stronger than your efforts.

he sits down, pulling you into his lap, grabbing you roughly and repositioning you so your tummy rests over his thighs. “what are you doin–” he holds your jaw, forcing you to crane your neck to face him.

“i’m gettin’ real sick of your fuckin’ back talk, you say you’re not a little girl yet all you do is act like one, a real rude one at that,” he grits in your face, and you feel small, wishing the couch would just swallow you whole.

“i ain’t your dad but you need some serious fuckin’ discipline,” he lets go of your jaw, letting you fall back into the cushion. he unhooks your overalls, pulling them down and under your ass.

he exhales lowly when he sees the hypnotic curve of your ass, clad in baby blue polka dotted underwear, it’s too cute that it makes him sick.

he doesn’t even think when his hand runs over your ass, smoothing over your skin, squeezing the thick flesh in his large palms. you whimper under your breath, squirming in his hold. “stay still,” he orders, his tone cold, riding on a mean line of pointed annoyance.

“you’re gonna say you’re sorry with every one of ‘em, you hear me girl?” he asks, resting his hand on your ass testingly.

you nod quietly, but it isn’t good enough, he’s grabbing your face again, forcing eye contact. “when i ask you a question you answer.” he sneers, teeth baring for a second and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling your clit ache embarrassingly from the harsh treatment.

“i hear you.” you reply meekly, and it suffices, because he’s letting go of your jaw, refocusing on the new task he has at hand, or rather, in his lap.

he rests his palm over one cheek, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, the warmth from his hand tingling your skin.

your clit is right up against his knee, and you want more than anything to rut on it, roll your hips to gain any kind of friction, but you figure you’re in enough trouble as it is so it’s best to hold back these desires.

he raises his hand, slamming it back down and eliciting a loud smack that resonates around the room. you cry out, gripping onto the cushion under you. “i’m sorry,” you whimper out, skin prickling with heat.

he does it again, his heavy hand rising up only to crash back down against the fat of your ass. “i’m sorry,” your voice trembles, your eyes already beginning to water, despite the fact that you’re just barely getting started.

he slaps over your ass, hard. his rough calloused palm emitting an even stronger sting over your soft skin, and you cry out, kicking your legs against the armrest of the couch, feeling the anger increasing with each rough impact from his palm.

“i’m so-orry,” you hiccup, wiping away the tears streaming down your cheeks. he continues with the abuse on your ass, feeling a twinge of guilt at the way you cry but manage to say your apologies with each relentless hit to your bottom one after the other.

“you gonna listen to me when i tell you to do somethin’?” he raises his voice, along with his hand, letting it fall down onto your pounding flesh when you don’t answer fast enough. “yes, yes gonna listen,” you wail, little feet kicking with pain.

“gonna lose that fuckin’ attitude of your’s?” he grunts, smacking your ass hard over where he just hit, watching you howl in anguish, back trying to arch away from the pain.

“yes,” you sob, nodding with earnest.

you’ve lost count of how many it’s been, the only thing that remains consistent is the hot pain that comes in waves over your bruising skin, the welts in the shape of his hand throbbing and aching in never ending flashes.

he rubs over your skin, soothing the soreness away, before he drops his hand against it once more, erasing the little comfort he was giving you.

you’re apologizing through loud wailing, not a care in the world for how embarrassing it is to be sobbing in joel’s lap, because it fucking hurts.

he swats over your ass, fast and rough, letting the sting of it settle into a prickling pain that spreads down to the backs of your thighs.

after a few more hard hits to your ass, he figures you’ve had enough, your crying making him feel a pang of remorse for not taking it easier on you. he runs his hand over your scorched bottom, mending the abused flesh in an attempt to calm you down.

you’re crying, lashes getting slick from your tears, lips growing plump with the loud hiccups of pain. he massages over your ass, gently this time, but your skin feels too raw to enjoy it.

his self restraint is weakening, he can’t stop himself when he tilts his head back, leaning into the couch to look down at your inner thighs. he sees a wet patch spreading over your panties, and he scoffs, bringing two fingers to it.

you gasp, trying to wriggle away from it, but he keeps you still. “interestin’” he half snickers, and you just about die of humiliation.

“reckon you want me to do somethin’ about this?” he murmurs, voice gruffly cascading in the teeming air. he circles over the wet patch, giving you a chance to turn him down, shut down his advances, but you don’t want to.

you bend a little, arching into his touch. “please?’ you whimper, all embarrassment gone from the pain, and he inhales a hefty breath, swallowing thickly.

he slides your panties to the side, drawing his fingers up and down your slick. you shiver, tightening your legs around him.

“can’t believe you’re soaked over that,” he taunts meanly, judgingly, and you whimper, your face getting hot from the base of your throat when he pushes in his middle finger.

“you’re s’mean,” you sniffle and he scoffs at your complaints, pushing his finger in deeper to watch you gasp and shake.

“i showed you what mean is,” he chuckles lowly, leaning down to make sure you hear him. he shifts his hips around, pressing something to your hip, making sure you feel it.

“and this ain’t mean,” he curls his finger right up into that little spot you struggled to reach last night. he starts curling his finger, right there, and suddenly you can’t breathe, you can’t even believe this is happening, but whether it’s real or not you don’t want it to stop.

“more,” you whine, pushing back on his hand with a devout need. his free hand grips at the bruising flesh of your ass, the plumpness of it filling the gaps between his fingers, and you wince, little hands trying to grip at the cushions for comfort.

“you’re a greedy little girl with no fuckin’ manners. do i need to do this all over again just to remind you to say please?” he raises his hand back up over your ass, and you’re shaking your head, turning back at him pleadingly. “n-no, no, i’m so sorry,” you whimper, the backs of your hands covering your stinging bottom feebly.

he laughs at your attempts, but decides he’ll let it slide. he moves your hands away, and pushes his finger back inside, filling you up to the knuckle. you moan deeply, relief at the pleasure entering you once more. the way he fucks you with his finger is all you need to even begin trying to ignore the resounding pain he instilled into your ass.

little pants leave past your lips, your cheek squished against the couch while you try to fuck yourself onto his fingers. “feel’s s’good,” you drool.

he can’t stop the downward spiral he’s letting himself fall into with you, he’s in too deep, and he’s just accepted that he wants to go deeper.

you’re rutting your clit against his knee just how you’ve been wanting to this whole time, and he watches you as a desperate little wet thing in his lap trying to get off with what he’s giving you.

"you know i saw you last night," he whispers in your ear, beard tickling your neck when he leans in real close, his finger picking up speed when he continues.

your face burns hot, and you can't bear to look at him. "oh god," you moan, half from pleasure, half from pure humiliation.

"heard you sayin' my name too, there somethin' you wanna tell me?" he pushes you a little further, watching and waiting to see how you reply.

you're so disoriented, you can't think straight past the embarrassment and the feeling of joel refusing to let up with his finger inside you. he rubs over that perfect spot right there, and it feels so good that it almost kills the shame that burrows itself under your skin.

"n-no? no, i dunno," you whine dumbly, and he rolls his eyes, flicking his wrist harder now, gripping the hand of yours that tries to hold onto him. "you don't know?" he parrots back mockingly.

"you just so happened to be tryin' to finger yourself while moanin' my name? that just a coincidence?" his words jab at your cheeks with taunts and you whimper, hiding your face away from him, still shamelessly grinding down onto him when he works another finger in you, stretching you out.

"i'm sorry," is all you can whimper, you feel stupid with his fingers in you, bullying your poor cunt until it makes that addictive pap pap pap sound. "apologizin' for the wrong thing, should've been sayin' that instead of talkin' back to me," he grunts, letting go of your wrist to smack the side of your ass.

you cry out, shaking in his lap from the slap, the pain echoing over the sore flesh. "i'm sorry," you draw out longly, chest racking with tears mixed with pain and ecstasy.

he pulls his fingers from out your tight hole, and you whine, looking back at him with those pretty, innocently guilty eyes of yours.

"quit your whinin'," he mutters, pulling you upright into his lap. he looks back into your gaze, and it only reminds him of how you're breaking him down into a weak, weak man.

his thumb runs across your bottom lip, dipping into it. "open," he tells you with a softer, hushed sternness. you obey, parting your lips for him.

he spits in your mouth, and you take it like a kiss, carrying the action like a caress. it mixes with your own saliva, ingraining himself in your dna.

he stares at you expectantly, hands lowering down to your ass, squeezing it indignantly, like a warning.

"thank you," you breathe out, feeling drunk on him. he seems pleased, his tight clasp over your ass gets gentler, but it's still firm, still there.

"got a real issue of rememberin' your manners there girl," he tsks, his thumb trailing down your chin, his other hand patting your bottom. "but i'll fix that, fix that right up." he promises, but it feels more like a threat, one that he intends on staying true to.

he lays you flat on your back onto the couch, and you allow him to, letting him do whatever he pleases with you, and he thinks he likes you like this, so sweet and so pliant.

he pulls your legs towards him, he feels hungry, feels impatient, he wants all of you and he wants it all now.

joel hasn't wanted anything in years, because if you don't want anything, you won't be disappointed when you don't get it.

but now he's got you in front of him and he can't take it. he wants you. he's greedy, and he's dirty, but he doesn't care, you've done irreversible damage that he expects will be somehow repaired if he can just get a fix of you, just enough to gratify his bodily needs.

your legs find their way around his hips as if you've done this before, as if his body has been with your's prior to this, connecting like they're supposed to. he slots himself between your thighs, feeling almost overwhelmed to finally have you like this for him.

you want to kiss him, want to hold him, want him him him, and although you've already got him, you still feel like there's more of him to be had.

he unbuckles his belt, the sound urging your legs to tighten around his waist. his eyes drag over you, slowly taking in the vision that's you, as he unbuttons his jeans. he pulls himself out, your gaze dropping down to him, feeling your heart sink immediately.

you never assumed he was small, not that you thought about what was under those jeans, (lies) but shit, this was just obscene. near unnecessary, because how in the hell does he function carrying that…thing around?

he sees your gawking, and an annoying pride fills him to the brim at your visible awe. "is that gonna fit?" you finally ask, and he laughs, pumping himself when he inches closer. "we're about to see aren't we?" he answers, moving your panties to the side.

you get stiff with nerves, holding onto his strong bicep. "joel i-i dunno if it'll fit," you admit, you sound scared, because you are, and he almost feels bad. almost.

"if you don't want this tell me now," he places your panties back, but you're shaking your head, pulling him back in. "no i do, i do, promise," you sound so desperate, so needy, and he's trying so hard to not just fuck you right now.

"just, scared…i never uh..you know." you motion between you two and he swears he nearly punched the air with obnoxious success. "this your first time?" he confirms, and you nod, feeling shy under his stare.

"not like i've been trying to save myself or anything, there's just no one around over here," you explain, not that you needed to, if anything joel is ecstatic with a primal possession that he gets to be your first.

"so you're jumpin' at the first man who gives you some attention? 'specially an old man like me?" he circles the tip of his cock around your clit, and your lips part, hips instinctively lowering down on him. "n-no, i," you don't have any words for him, his actions rendering you silent.

he starts slowly inching in, and your head falls deeper into the cushion behind you, nails crescenting into his forearms. he goes in with no resistance, you're so fucking soaked around him, gripping him in like a warm welcome.

"shit," he shudders, fully sheathing himself inside you. his hand lands beside your head, panting above you, and he looks so beautiful like this. he's so handsome, his eyebrows are in that furrow that they're always in, but this time it's for a different reason.

you look down at where you're connected, and you feel as though you're now one, he's a part of you as you are of him, and you never want him to leave.

you start rolling your hips experimentally, no matter where or how you move, you feel him deep inside, the fat head of his cock hitting there, over and over, and it feels so good, you don't think twice about continuing your little ministrations.

he forcibly pauses your actions, halting your hips down with a rough grip from his hands. he's glaring down at you, uh oh.

"greedy little girl," he grunts, starting to piston his hips inside you. you cry out, leaning forward to find solace in his broad chest, but he pushes you back down, pinning you still. he pauses for a moment, grabbing his belt. "wrists." he orders, and you listen without wasting a second.

he ties your wrists, pushing them above your head before he continues. he's groaning atop of you, fucking you with a purpose, and you take him, entire body bopping upwards with every harsh thrust being fucked into you.

you want to touch him so bad, it feels like torture, you want to put your hands under his flannel, explore the skin that lies underneath, but he's denied you of that privilege. "brat's got such a tight fuckin' pussy," he grunts, impaling you hard onto his cock, stretching you out so good you can't stop yourself from trying to meet his thrusts.

the moans that pour from you are endless, all you do is whimper his name, crying for him and it inflates his ego, but he can't have you being this loud. a hand clamps over your mouth, and you moan behind it, any touch from him is welcomed wholeheartedly.

"quiet down girl," he grits, leaning in close while his thrusts grow harsher. "startin' to think you left your panties for me to find, bet you wanted me to get mad, jus' wanted some attention huh?" he moves his hand away from your mouth, instead using it to grip your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker. "speak," he orders.

"n-no, no i just fo-forgot, promise," you swear, words feeling difficult to pronounce and even think of when he's got you stretched out on his cock like this, fucking you dumb.

he doesn't believe you, his hands working around your throat soon after you squeak your response. "no?" he teases, his hands growing tighter around the pane of your neck.

your wrists wiggle around the confinements of the belt, wishing you could hold the hands that have you cradled like a glove.

"f'you just wanted my attention, or just wanted to get fucked," he rests on his haunches, pulling you with him, letting you slip down further onto his cock, the corners of his lips curling when you cry out. "then just fuckin' ask, don't need to be pullin' stunts like that,"

his hands around your throat feel loving, they feel safe, and perfectly fitted around you, like his hands were made for this. the lack of air feels right, feels like this is what you needed, and you want more.

tears well at your pretty eyes, rolling down your cheeks while you grip at the buckle on his belt, his cock moving so deep inside that you feel him in the base of your tummy.

he releases your throat, and you gasp for the air you didn't even realize was depleting. he pulls the belt loose, and you immediately go to his arms, running over them. squeezing at the muscles, feeling impressed with how they flex under your touch.

your hands travel up to his face, his beard tickling your palms. "feels sososo good joel, never felt like this," you slur, eyes falling shut at the pleasure. "yeah? this all it took for you to fuckin' behave?" he groans, your hands running across his wide back, trying to feel him, feel the muscles that you've only ever gotten to steal glances at.

he's letting you fall backward again, hovering close to your level, his cock filling you to the hilt, and then some, and you want to tell him how full you feel, how good it feels to have so much of him in you, but the words are lost on you, there are no thoughts left to be had, just pure physical manifestations of what he's doing to you.

"kiss me, please?" you beg, and he doesn't argue, doesn't mock you or tease, but connects your lips, kissing you hard. you moan into his mouth, calf resting on his lower back while he pushes in and out of you. his beard brushes around your chin, your nails gently scratching at the back of his head, eliciting his turn to moan in your mouth.

he kisses you like he fucks you, rough. it's rushed, messy, wet, but there's power in the way he does both, making you feel hazy, dizzy, and overfilled with rapture all at once.

every push, and every shove into the couch is registered as soft, gentle caresses, loving affection, so graciously given to you by the rough hands belonging to joel and you take it all in stride, left wanting more, craving more roughness that just feels like love instead.

his face falls to the warmth of your neck, nipping, biting down onto your shoulder when he buries himself further than you even knew possible, inside of you. your mouth parts, a string of whiny moans leaving past them when he grinds into you, bucking your hips to meet his.

"finally bein' so obedient, should've just gave in an' did this sooner," he grunts into your skin, hands holding you down by your hips. his fingers find your clit, rubbing over the sensitive nerves just like how you did last night, and you choke on a moan, tangling your fingers in his salt and peppered hair.

"so good, feels so good, thank you daddy," you cry like a prayer into his neck, and he sends an especially hard thrust into your cunt, knocking the air out of you. you feel frozen in horror when you realize what's just come out your mouth.

"that's real nasty y'know that right?" the sick curl in the corner of his mouth contradicts the shame he throws at you, and the way his cock twitches inside you acts as further proof that there's no truth in his mocking.

you cover your face in his shoulder, but no, he wants you to look at him when he fucks you, he wants to see the way those pretty lips of yours mold around the word that rightfully belongs to him.

"don't get shy now," he huffs, holding your jaw, head falling back when he feels you clench down around him. his hands fall back to where they belong, wrapped snug around your throat.

he watches the way your eyes roll back, bottom lip being sucked in while you try fucking yourself onto him. "dirty fuckin' girl," he grits, squeezing you while your fingers curl over his, intertwining with him. "s'all right, i can be your daddy," he grunts, pushing in and feeling you squeeze him when he lays his promises to you.

you force your eyes open, gazing at him hazily while he pounds into you. he brings his hips down to yours relentlessly, no mercy in the way he fucks you. he's growing messy, falling out of tune when he slows down, shoving himself all the way in you, letting the sensation of the way you wrap around him be appreciated like it's supposed to be.

"my fuckin' cunt, you hear me? repeat." he releases your throat, and you gasp, sputtering while you nod. "yes, s'all yours," you hiccup, watery eyes making out a blurry joel in front of you. he presses his hand to your lower stomach, groaning to himself when he can feel his own cock piston in and out of you.

he lessens the speed in his thrusts, slowing to watch his cock fill you up. you squirm at the extra pressure, pawing at his wrists. "so much, it's so much daddy," you whine, and he grunts, feeling pride at the way he's got you so fucked out. "take it," is all he says, sounding gruff and strained.

"can i cum please? promise m'gonna be so good for you daddy, gonna listen an' everything," you cry, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips, pulling him in deeper. he grits his teeth, chest getting tight at your pleads.

"really think you deserve it?" he grunts and you nod, gripping onto his shoulders. "yes, please, i promise, promise m'gonna be good, please please," he concedes to your begging, bringing his fingers to your clit.

you gasp, panting in all the air that'll fit in your lungs when it all hits you. your skin is tinged with heat, legs trembling on either side of joel's waist when you feel the tides start to ripple closer to you until it crashes, pulling you into the ocean and you're drowning. drowning in joel.

"thank you daddy, thank you s'much, so good," you muffedly sob, face in the crook of his shoulder while he fucks you through your orgasm, fingers running over your clit, winding you up just to watch you fall apart.

"fuck, squeezing me so hard," he laughs breathlessly, slipping into a heavy moan at the way you're clamping down on him. "so good baby, take what you need, that's my girl," he groans, holding your waist down, fucking you with a rushed need. the backs of your thighs rest over him, and you feel weak, but fulfilled, watching adoringly as he uses your body to cum. bursts of pleasure still erupting inside you at the way he fucks you.

my girl

you whimper at the fleeting affections, unknowingly clenching harder around him.

"shit, shit, gonna fuckin' cum, gonna fill this pussy up, greedy little cunt can't get enough," he groans, head falling forward while his orgasm envelopes him, the slick from your mixed arousal loud while he gasps, grunting with a few harsh thrusts. he pushes into you with finality, cumming deep inside you.

he slowly pulls out, and it stings, you're wincing, feeling bare and cold.

he pulls your panties back over you, eyeing the way his cum pools against the material, and he feels good, feels like he's permanently marked you as his. he tucks himself back into his jeans, catching his breath before he turns his attention back to you.

he dresses your limp body back into your overalls, his hands now ginger and gentle over your skin, touching you like you've suddenly become glass. he sits at the end of the couch, pulling you into his lap.

he's careful when he sits you down, aware that your ass still probably hurts. he lets you curl into his side, the last bit of trembling slowly leaving your body from what just happened. his palm runs up and down your back, feeling content at the way you rest on his chest. "feel okay?" he asks quietly, and you hum a sleepy yes.

your hand rests on his chest, toying with the buttons. "you've always been a sweet girl," he says, feeling like he needs to clarify that, and you smile against his chest, feeling relief and giddiness at his admittance. "a messy one but, sweet nonetheless," he pats your back and you shoot him a joking glare.

he holds you closer by tucking his hand under your thighs, cradling you into him. he kisses your temple, the first gentle action of the day. he tells himself he'll indulge in that more when he sees the smile that spreads across your cheeks.

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