DADDY

Lithe limbs moving seemingly at the speed of light, the strain of tight material over said limbs. Grunts of exertion that your brain reimagined as grunts of something else entirely. Your thighs clenched at the images your mind was crafting. You were not-so-secretly spying on Arat as she sparred one of the saviours, a young but burly man with dark hair. Since the weather warmed up, you had taken full advantage of the courtyard, where the female saviour just so happened to be sparring on occasion. Finally, Arat trapped the man in a disabling arm lock and lowered him to the ground while ignoring his pleas for mercy. Eventually she let him go, her lips quirking slightly at his grumbling exit, rolling his arm dramatically. You’re so caught up in the rare sight of Arat smiling (to a degree) that you’re not quick enough to look away when her eyes fall upon you.

You frantically flip the page of your book in a last-ditch attempt to look preoccupied, hoping she didn’t see. You’ve been harbouring this painfully juvenile crush on the stone-cold saviour for weeks now, still unable to find the courage to talk to her. Usually you’re pretty confident, able to talk to most people with good reason. But Arat… She gives off a vibe that screams ‘I’ll punch you if you talk to me’ and you dig it, but it stops you even attempting to say hi. You don’t think she’d be interested anyway, she seems so above frivolous things like relationships in the apocalypse. A lone wolf. Your nerves are only amplified when you feel a shadow fall over you and your book, a useless prop at this point. You look up, regretting it immediately when you glimpse of a droplet of sweat sliding down Arat’s neck, the way you wish your tongue could.  

“You want something?” She states gruffly, it doesn’t really sound like much of a question. “No, why?” You reply dumbly, kicking yourself for not saying something a bit more intelligent. She cocks an eyebrow. “You were watching me.” You shrug, hoping it comes off as nonchalance rather than speechlessness. She regards you suspiciously. “You ever sparred before?” Her question takes you by surprise. She sounds genuinely curious. “No, unless biters count as sparring partners.” Your heart falters when her lips quirk, just like before. “You should. Helps develop technique.” She informs you, folding her arms in front of her. “I don’t think I really have a technique to be honest. I just attack full force with whatever weapon I have and aim for the head.” She shakes her head slightly. “That won’t work against humans.” “Guess I’m screwed then.” You chuckle awkwardly. “Not if I teach you.” She says. You have to stop your jaw from dropping. Where has this come from? After a few moments of you staring gormlessly, she offers you a hand. “Get up.” “Aren’t you tired?” You protest, taking her hand. Arat does that little smirk again. “I don’t get tired.”

Your body warms significantly, no thanks to the sun. She leads you out into the middle of the dusty courtyard where she stood with her original sparring partner. “Get into position.” She instructs you. Drawing from a couple of boxing classes you took at your old gym pre-apocalypse, you take stance with your dominant foot forward. Her eyes draw over your body with intrigue. “Southpaw. Interesting.” She comments. She takes her own stance, and before you can register her first move, she has you in the same painful arm lock that she did the man before. You groan out in shock, and then arousal when you realise how close to her body you are. She doesn’t appear to notice the difference. “Ok, ok, fuck, let go!” You protest. She chuckles, her breath tickling your ear in a way that makes you shiver. She relinquishes her grip on you and you stumble away.

“You didn’t say go or anything.” You snap. Arat snorts indignantly. “You think your opponents are going to wait until you’re ready and say, ‘on the count of three’?” Your shoulders slump and you roll your eyes, she’s right. “Come at me. Don’t go easy either.” “Wasn’t planning on it.” You mutter, getting back into your stance. This time, you don’t even wait for any indication from Arat, you simply lunge for her, guard raised. The pair of you trade punches, you attempt kick her feet out from under her but fail miserably as her torso bends sharply and she grabs your ankle. She lifts your leg up suddenly and you fall back on your ass. Before you can jump to your feet, she nudges your chest back with her boot and your back flops to the ground pathetically. She kneels on your biceps, holding the top half of your body down with her weight. You’re now distracted from the initial reason why she’s sat on you in the first place. Your mind has transported you from the dirty ground to your bed, Arat’s clothes are gone and she’s rolling her hips in front of your face, teasing you.

“You ok?” You snap out of it at the sound of her voice in real time. “Yeah, I think I might be a bit light headed.” You reply weakly. Arat actually grins. “You had enough?” She taunts, staring down at you. “From the position we’re currently in, I’m inclined to say no.” You say, shocking yourself, and Arat too apparently. Her mouth is open slightly and her eyes dark. “Too much?” You ask, nervous that you’ve pushed it with the formidable woman, but she shakes her head. “Not enough, I’d say.” You slip your arms out from under her knees, moving your hands to rest on her thighs experimentally. You look up at her, Arat doesn’t protest. The courtyard suddenly feels very silent. Allowing yourself to squeeze her toned legs, you continue to gauge her reaction, still a little scared you’re treading a dangerous line. Arat could snap your neck in seconds, and she was very difficult to read. You’d barely even talked to her before.

Finally deciding there was no point being so timid, you take a leaf out of Arat’s book, and rather boldly move your hands up her thighs to her hips. She still says nothing, but you notice that her breathing has accelerated, and her chest is visibly rising and falling. You decide to make the final move and slide your hands round to her ass and grab, hard. Her dark brown eyes widen in shock and you brace for her rebuttal. It doesn’t come. “Look at you. So bold all of a sudden.” She smirks. “I might’ve thought about this… A few times.” You admit sheepishly. “Do we need to go inside?” She asks, her voice husky in a way that gives you goosebumps. “I mean, if that’s your preference.” You joke, and her smirk returns.

*

It took less than five minutes for you and Arat to reach her room and strip of all your clothes. You caged her underneath you, licking up and down her collarbone hungrily as you had always fantasised about. She tasted so fucking good; her needy moans were driving you utterly insane. “Took you long enough.” She breathed out. You stop momentarily to meet her gaze. “Huh?” You pant. Instead of responding, she reaches her hands up to grab yours, placing them around her neck. “Choke me.” You don’t need to be told twice. Squeezing tightly, you relish the way her eyes roll back so that only the whites are visible. Her gorgeous mouth opens and closes, silently begging for air. You let go when you think she’s had enough, your stomach fluttering at the sound of her breathless gasps.

“All you ever did was watch me spar.” She groans, burying her hands in your hair. You kiss her lips hungrily then back away, sliding down her body and tasting her all over. You can taste the salt of sweat on her smooth skin, and somehow, because it was Arat, it was a turn on. “My apologies,” You mutter between licks and kisses. “I have voyeuristic tendencies.” She chuckles, but her amusement is cut short when you spread her legs. Moisture glistens all over her arousal-swollen lips, inviting you in. You lean forward, dipping your tongue between her folds. “God, you’re so fucking wet.” You observe, Arat lets out a guttural moan. You drink her up, rubbing her clit with your finger. Her hips buck against your face and it’s a job holding her in place. Her skin is soft and pliable underneath your fingertips, and her cum tastes so good you could eat her out forever. Her moans have your own pussy soaking, but you’re determined to make her come. For such a quiet brooding woman, she was pretty vocal when you got her going. Arat swore quietly through her teeth, you concentrated on pushing her closer and closer, unable to hear anything other than your heart pounding and Arat mewling.

You briefly pull away from her dripping cunt to instruct her; “Cum for me, Arat.”

Arat is a work of art when she comes. The sinewy muscles in her thighs tighten and shudder as she lets out the sexiest sigh you’ve ever heard in your life, followed by an unsteady ‘ohhh fuck’. You slow your assault, gently licking Arat through her climax and finger fucking her to completion. With one final curl of your fingers against her most sensitive spot, the fierce woman comes undone yet again, all over your face. A damp area forms beneath the meeting of your face with Arat’s slick pussy. You just made Arat squirt. “Holy fuck.” She exhales, pulling you up by your jaw to kiss you roughly. “You taste good.” You murmur. “I know.” She smirks, grabbing at your breasts and tweaking at your nipples. “Still going?” You tease her, applying a light slap to her sensitive cunt. Arat flinches, biting her lower lip in pleasure. “I don’t get tired.” She echoed the same words she’d said to you out in the courtyard, not a hint of jest in her tone. She shifts herself out from underneath you, and you watch her ass move as she walks to a drawer and pulls something out.

Watching Arat put on a strap on while never dropping eye contact was unexpectedly sexy. Once she makes the final adjustment, she transforms. She prowls towards you, a cocky sneer on her face. “Suck it.” She growls. You oblige her request immediately, spitting on the appendage and sucking it with such an enthusiasm, Arat begins bucking into your mouth. Apparently not quite satisfied with this, she grabs you by the hair and turns you around on the bed, throwing you forward. Her slight frame doesn’t prepare you for her strength, but it turns you on. Arat yanks your hips up so your ass is in the air, presenting your pussy to her. She lets out an audible ‘mmm’ at the sight and you wiggle involuntarily. “You want me to fuck you?” She asks, rubbing the tip of the strap on against your aching core. “Please, Arat, please.” You beg. She slaps your ass so hard it stings. “You call me master.” “Yes master, please fuck me.” You cry out into the mattress. And finally, she relents. Arat thrusts herself inside you and you moan so loudly that if anyone was in the hallway, they surely would have heard you. The sinful sounds of the toy pushing and pulling from your soaked pussy seem to echo through the room. Arat’s hips offer savage punishment, it feels as though she’s fucking you with all her strength.

Her hands grip your hips, occasionally removing one to spank your ass hard enough to make your eyes water. “Take it, bitch. You love getting fucked from behind, don’t you?” You whimper out a response, but it doesn’t satisfy Arat. She snatches your hair up in her hand and pulls your head and torso back into an uncomfortable position. “I asked you a question.” “I love getting fucked from behind, master.” You manage to gasp out, but she doesn’t let you down immediately. Continuing to slide in and out of your wet snatch, she gropes at your tits with her spare hand. She toys with your hard nipples, pinching and tugging them until you start to shake. Amidst your shuddering and moaning she shoves you back down and buries your face in the pillow.

Her savage attack on your cunt continues and you can feel the inevitable build at your very core. It was like a ball of pleasure, growing and surging inside of you and making your entire body tingle. “I’m close, master. I’m gonna cum.” You warn her. “Not without permission you won’t.” She snaps, moving her hands from your hips to your throat. “Please may I cum, master?” You squeeze the words out despite the pressure she maintains on your carotid arteries. Small waves of pleasure pulse through your cunt but you desperately try to keep yourself from disobeying. She slides a hand from your throat round your hips and down to your clit. “You may. Cum all over my cock, right fucking now.” She orders you, and you have no trouble obliging as you let go and a blinding orgasm overcomes you. You collapse onto the bed in a shaking heap, thirsty for air. Arat pulls the toy from your pussy, eliciting one final moan from your lips. She sets it on the bedside table and lays down next to you, you can hear that she’s out of breath too.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that to you for a while, you know.” She admits, a sly smirk on her face. “Looks like we were both wasting time.” You chuckle. A sudden bang on the door makes you both jump; a loud booming voice follows. “Arat, you done scissoring the fuck out of that broad or what? We got shit to do.” You recognise it to be Negan and promptly turn bright red. “You weren’t exactly making an effort to keep it down.” Arat shrugs. “As much as I’d love to stay,” She lifts your chin to kiss you. “the bossman is calling.” “Go.” You smile. “I’ll probably need some time to recover after that.” You delight in the hungry way Arat looks over your boneless, naked form. She leans in close to your ear. “We’re not done here.” She hops out of bed and pulls her clothes back on hurriedly. “I’m coming.” Arat calls out to Negan. “I’ll bet you are. Send me an invite next time.” His bellowing laugh is almost contagious, and despite your embarrassment you find yourself grinning too.

He came over after I got home from the gig. Told me to stay up and that he’d be there shortly. I stopped drinking wine and chain smoking and tidied up a bit. After showering and making sure everything was in order, my phone rang. 

“I’m outside, babe.” He then starts having a conversation with the cab driver, so I hang up and make my way downstairs. 

He’s sitting on the wall with a can of Stella Artois when I open the front door and hops down in an oddly childlike manner and enters the house. I tell him to go on upstairs while I put something in the kitchen, and he obliges. I follow him up shortly after. 

“How are you, babe?” His usual greeting, and he hugs me tightly. I love how he hugs me, letting out an elongated ‘mm’ sound until he lets me go. He slips off his Prada trainers and neatly sits them next to my Converse. It never fails to amuse me how he tidies up after himself. Folding his clothes, placing used towels on the rack, trash in a bag ready to be taken out. 

He grabs his bottle of gin from atop my wardrobe and sits in my desk chair as he always does. He doesn’t like to sit on the bed until he’s invited, and even so, he likes to sit at the desk until he’s done drinking. I stare at him in mild shock as I watch him pour some gin into the lager can. 

“Are you seriously putting gin in beer?” He nods and chuckles. 

“That is fucking dirty.” I snort. 

“Nah it’s not, babe.” I leave his vile makeshift cocktail alone and pour myself some wine. I catch him eyeing the pack of cigarettes on the edge of the desk. I open them, place one between my lips and he leans forward so I can place one between his. 

“You stole my lighter last time you were here.” I say bluntly, brandishing the new one I’d had to buy as a result. 

“Shit, did I?” 

“Mhm. One minute I had a red clipper, the next you’d gone home and voila… No clipper.” He looks slightly embarrassed and apologises. 

“Sorry babe, force of habit. I always go home from nights out with about a hundred lighters.” I laugh and reassure him it’s fine, and that I do the same. 

I adore how he genuinely never wants to inconvenience me. He never does. We slip into our usual cornucopia of conversational topics, my surreal dreams, a new song he made, and what I’d been up to that week. He never tells me too much about what he does outside of his music and creative pursuits. I suppose there’s not much to tell about selling class A drugs and dodging jail. We drift back onto the topic of my OnlyFans and I tell him how much I made this week. 

“Jeez, my hustler.” He laughs. 

“I’m your hustler?” I say incredulously. 

“Yeah baby, we’re hustlers.” I burst out laughing at this. I enjoy his strange proclamations to no end. 

He polishes off the remaining half of the short bottle of gin and lager concoction then gets up to go the bathroom. 

“I’m always busting to piss when I’m drunk. You haven’t been once.” He shifts awkwardly on his feet as I look at him in confusion. 

“Normally I’m the same. I’m not sure why I’m not too.” 

“Didn’t you already have a bottle of wine?” 

“Yep.” I pull out the empty bottle from under the desk to show him. I was already halfway through the other and not feeling it much. 

“You’re such a heavyweight, babe.” He whines. He always seems to be somewhat self-conscious about how much more drink and drugs I can consume than he can without it being noticeable in my manner. 

One night we’d done so much coke that come early morning, neither of us could switch ourselves off to go to sleep. We ended up staying up and talking about nothing. He was jittery (he also has ADHD) while I barely exhibited a change in behaviour. We’d fucked until barely any cum dripped from my slit after the fact. As 7am rolled around we were still turning to face each other, making sure the other was still awake. As the morning light started to illuminate the room with a dull, grey glow through my thin curtains, he’d asked me a question. 

“Why do we never do anything in the daytime?” Because I never ask. 

“We should go for brunch or something. When we wake up.” 

“Brunch?” I’d snorted. 

“Yeah… Or maybe not? Is that weird?”


“No.” I’d admitted. 

Now undressed, he snuggles up to me. He asks to put on a Studio Ghibli film, and I set it up for him on the TV. 

“I want a hug.” He mutters, his words muffled as he buries his face in my chest. He wraps his thick arms around my upper body, and I’m surprised by his uncharacteristically affectionate advance. I reciprocate, circling my own arms around him, one hand stroking his dreadlocks. He left the coke at home tonight, and even forfeited driving drunk for a taxi. Perhaps I’m having a good influence on him. I shoo that thought away as quick as it comes. I touch the tattoo underneath his right eye gently with my index finger. 

“I always see this one as anime sparkles.” 

“It’s not, but between you and me it can be anime sparkles.” I smile and finish my wine, returning my eyes to the odd scene playing out on the TV screen. 

He begins to fidget, rocking his hips against me. A combination of his arousal and ADHD makes it hard for him to continue being subdued. I chuckle, knowing instinctively where this is going. The same way it always does. 

25 and never had a girlfriend. He’d explained to me that he could never invest his time in something or someone he’s not interested in. I wonder what that means for us. His visits come earlier and earlier, and he confides more and more in me each time. I don’t think I want a relationship to come out of these sordid, late-night meetings. He pays my rent, supplies me with weed, alcohol, and company. He knows I never do coke unless he’s here, his deep-set brown eyes silently begging me not to let him do it on his own, and to cut him off when he starts getting anxious. 

He lifts the oversized t-shirt I’m wearing to reveal the red lingerie set I’d sneakily put on before answering the door. He’d seen it on social media when I was promoting new content and asked me to wear it for him, but the look of surprise on his face tells me he didn’t actually think I would. 

“Fuck…” He groans, pulling the rest of the shirt off urgently. “That’s fucking sexy.” His eyes roam my body and I blanch a little under his appraisal. It quickly turns to arousal when he grabs at my breasts and rubs my pussy through the scarlet thong. He tugs it off, throwing it somewhere in the room, and does the same with the bralette. 

The light from the television illuminates his body towering over mine. Settled between my legs, I run my hands over his naked body, as if silently begging for mercy. I feel small, like a little mammal being sized up by an apex predator. 

“You get me so turned on, baby.” A lion with a south London accent. 

“Mm, please fuck me.” I whine, desperate to feel the hard member that’s hitting the inside of my right thigh inside me. He’s not the biggest, but he knows damned well how to use it. He runs thick fingers up my pussy, crouching to spit on it and stick his tongue inside. I know how he likes to taste his meal before indulging, but he gets so impatient that he begins rutting against me. 

I slip a hand between us to guide him into me and he groans in ecstasy when his cock slides in. He wastes no time in starting up a fast-paced missionary fucking, his hands unable to decide between burying themselves in my hair or stroking my face. He sucks on my nipples as he slams into me, moaning far too loud for my housemates not to hear. He holds my body close and says something unexpected in my ear. 

“I’m gonna get you pregnant.” Renewed arousal washes over me, I didn’t know we shared this kink. The idea of his seed shooting deep inside my reproductive system and latching on to something forbidden. He knows it’s impossible, likely why he’s indulging the idea, but I waste no time in crying out my approval. 

“Do it, Daddy.” He groans at the pet name. “Cum inside me.” I encourage him, and the moan that seems to reverberate through his chest confirms that he hadn’t needed to be told twice. 

As he pulls out, he sounds alarmed. 

“Babe, you’re bleeding a lot.” 

“Huh?” I say, then turn on the light on the desk. The bed sheets look like a crime scene. Blood smeared and splattered all over them, and it dawns on me. “Oh, my period must have come.” I glance up at him and realise he has blood on his face, hands, and all over his pelvis. I crack up immediately. “You’re covered in blood.” He chuckles and points at me.

“So are you.” I look at my hands and realise they too are bloody, the underneath of nails stained red. I lean forward to look in the mirror and see I’ve managed to get it on the tip of my nose somehow. I get up before a delightful mixture of blood and cum can start leaking from my cunt and grab a bath towel, heading to the shower. He gets up too and follows me. 

“Oh, you’re joining me, are you?” I ask, one eyebrow raised. He shrugs. 

“Save water.” 

And that’s how we found ourselves in my shower at 5am rinsing menstrual blood off each other’s bodies. His tattooed skin looks so beautiful when wet and soapy. I run my hands across his chest affectionately and he practically purrs. I admire my favourite of his tattoos, a large machete brandished diagonally from the upper right to the lower left side of his pectorals. His physique is likely my favourite on a man. Big, slightly hulking, but not ripped. Large muscles tangibly flex under his skin. He kisses me under the spray, and I feel something dangerous. My stomach is flipping. The feeling of his arms around me is euphoric, so protective and strong. He pushes me against the wall and our tongues dance together messily. We’re both disgustingly obscene kissers. Tongues fighting for dominance, spit swapping, gripping each other’s heads for sanity. 

After drying off, I switch the sheet for a clean one and we get into bed. Still warm from all our activities and the shower, we slip into bed and he holds me close to his body. He tells me I’m like a radiator, and loves to feel my skin when he sleeps. He also likes to feel it when he awakes, hips grinding sleepily into my ass while I stir into consciousness, and noticing my body reciprocating subconsciously. He pulls my face back to look at him and he kisses me aggressively. I never wear panties when sleeping next to him. He revels in how I always wake up soaked, ready for his cock to penetrate me once again. He sucks on his fingers sinfully, then stuffs them inside my creamy pussy. I thanked my lucky stars that I’d woken to go to the bathroom a few hours prior and was not bloody yet. 

After doing a terrible job suppressing my desperate moans, he replaces his fingers with his dick. My body seems to be melding to the shape of it, at least my pussy is. It seems to fit better and better each time he fucks me. With one hand on my throat and the other on my ass, he turns my lower body to the side while I stay on my front, gasping at the sensation. I can already feel myself ready to cum, and I know he can tell. 

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum all over this dick?” He breathes, keeping up his punishing pace. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes…” It’s all my brain can muster. An intense fog has taken over my mind as I hurtle towards orgasm. He informs me he’s close to following. 

“Gonna fill you up…” He grunts, the guttural sound sending me over the edge, and I bite down on a throw pillow to stop myself crying out. 

The unforgiving tightening and release of my pussy through the prolonged orgasm sends him the same way, and he spills ropes of cum inside me. We sigh simultaneously as we lay back down. 

“What’s the time?” He breathes. 

“My guess is as good as yours.” I reply, and fumble around for my phone so I can answer his question. I spot it on the floor next to the bed and grab it. “About twelve.” I inform him. 

“Shit.” He mutters, hauling himself up. 

“Did you have something you needed to do?” I ask, watching as he gets out of bed. 

“Yeah. I was supposed to visit my grandma in hospital.” 

“Oh dear.” 

“Mm.” He retrieves his phone from the pocket of his jeans that are folded up atop the washing basket and lays back down. “Ah, and I left the car at home. Fuck.” 

“You don’t seem to be in much of a rush.” I observe.

“No point. I’ll get there when I get there.” He lifts the phone to his ear and starts having a conversation with his mother. I can hear her, she sounds irritated, telling him he doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to. I listen to him explain to her that he does and that he’ll be there shortly. I wonder if she has any clue where he is, I doubt it. He finishes the conversation then gets up and grabs a towel off of the radiator. “Gonna shower, babe.” 

“Mhm.” I watch him leave the room and then go on my own phone. I hear the shower switch on and decide to listen to some music. 

When he returns to the room, the towel is sitting low on his waist and his skin shiny with moisture. I find myself salivating slightly but return to my social media activities before I end up jumping his bones. His dreadlocks are tied up with my scrunchie, I can’t help but smile a little. It looks cute. He begins to get dressed and I sneak glances at him as he does so, I feel like a creep as I watch him stuff his dick into his underwear, but it’s so attractive to me. He catches me looking and smiles in a self-conscious sort of way that I’d never seen before. 

“What you lookin’ at?” 

“You.” I say curtly, and he chuckles. 

He does his usual rounds of the room, folding the sweatpants that he keeps at my house and putting them away, clearing the wine bottles and lager can into a trash bag, and putting his shoes on. I get up reluctantly and lead the way to the door. 

“How long are you going to Ghana for?” I ask him. I know this will likely be the last time I see him until he gets back from visiting his family, since he leaves on Monday. It is Saturday. “2 weeks. You gonna miss me?” He grins.“I might.” I reply, a coy smile on my face. Might is an understatement. I know I’ll miss him. I’ve started to anticipate his messages, hoping that he’ll grace me with his presence.