Lady of the Underground.

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king aegon ii targaryen.

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prince aemond targaryen.

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prince jacaerys verlaryon.

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lord cregan stark.

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my asoiaf / hotd / akotsk fanfics.

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⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ tips n' tricks ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Note! These are just some of my personal tips and tricks that I used often and found super helpful to me and my work. They may not work for you and that's totally okay!

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Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Tell me if you see any errors and I'll fix them asap! ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND.

Letting out a soft giggle as he presses a kiss onto your inner thigh, you shove him back by the head, his dark eyes focused on you. God, he was beautiful. Playfully blowing a raspberry on your inner thigh, you squeal at the ticklish feeling, lips curling up into a bigger smile. Wrapping his arms securely around your hips, he drags you to the edge of the bed, plopping himself on the floor. He mumbles something under his breath, but you don’t catch it. Pressing a loving kiss on your navel, he slowly trails his tongue down onto your clit, sending hot jolts of pleasure down your spine. Humming in delight at your reaction, he slowly swirls his tongue over your clit, the slow drag of his tongue and vibrations of his humming nearly sending you over the edge too soon. 

“Brad⎯” You moan, hips bucking up off the matress.

“Mmm..”

“Brad, I⎯” You warn, the rapid flicking of his tongue growing into too much.

You didn’t want to cum just yet. Groggily opening your eyes up, you barely register the head of blonde hair behind your thighs, mind still fuzz from sleep. He looked so pretty in between your thighs. And his tongue? God, he was even better than you could imagine. Digging his nails into the fat of your hips, the sting from his nails sends a shudder down your spine. The mix of pain with his tongue was a heavenly combination. Opening your eyes again as he hums in delight against your tongue, you tangle your fingers into his hair, the greasiness of his hair making your cringe for a moment. Greasy hair. Why did that feel so familiar to you? No, it was just sweat. He was sweating a lot.

Brushing it off as nothing, you glance between you thighs, tugging at his hair. Humming softly, you buck your hips harder for more, his face completely hidden by your thighs brackening on either side of his head. Sloppily slurping up your wetness, you shut your eyes, ignoring everything but the way he sloppily slurped you up. Perhaps, you should let him do this to you more often. He was so good with his tongue. Lifting your hips off the mattress, you tug harder on his hair, earning another muffled moan of pleasure. Shaking his head from side to side like he was motorboating you, you let out a hiccuping moan, body twitching and jolting involuntarily. You really weren’t going to be able to hold back if he kept that up. 

“Brad⎯”

“Stop calling me that, I’m not fuckin’ Brad. I’m Jimmy.” A familiar voice complains, instantly snapping you out of your pleasure filled daze. 

Jimmy.

Him.

Snapping your eyes open instantly, you stiffen up instantly, feeling as if someone had just poured a pot of boiling water in your face then a pot of cold water. Your gut churns, dreading looking between your thighs again. It wasn’t Jimmy. It wasn’t Jimmy. It was Brad. Brad was between your thighs, not Jimmy. Digging your nails into his scalp hard, you pull him away forcefully by the hair, coming face to face with Jimmy. His chin was covered in your wetness. His blue eyes full of sadness as you forced him to pull away from you. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. A blood curdling scream escapes your lips as it processes in your head what was just happening. 

Jimmy had just..

He was..

He had been..

Kicking him away forcibly, you scramble to put some space between the two of you, the conflicted mix of throwing and scrubbing your skin raw bubbling in you. He was just giving you head. That wasn’t a dream, that was fucking Jimmy. Jimmy and his filthy fucking STD riddled mouth was touching you. Clutching his throbbing nose, he falls back on his butt, his bottom lip bloody from biting down on it accidentally. Gagging violently as your mind kept on repeating over and over that it was Jimmy had just given you head, you shake your head, tucking your knees up to your chest. The scream drags on and on until your lungs burn and force you to breathe once again. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

“You hit me.” He frowns, his eyes watery from the kick to the nose.

“Get the fuck away from me! Get off!” You shriek, kicking as he reaches out for you again with his free hand. 

You swear that you hear a sickening crack when your heel connects hard with his nose again. Falling back on his ass, he lets out a loud sob of pain, the blood seeping through his fingers thicker and more frequently. You must’ve broken his nose. Pulling his hand back from his face, he stares at his bloody hand, teary eyes widening with panic at all the blood. Letting out a panicking sob, you look over his face, his once slightly crooked nose now drastically crooked. Surprisingly, it made you feel guilty. If this was a victory, you never wanted to win again. Tucking your knees up to your chest, you try to take as little of room as possible, not wanting him to get a chance to grab you again. Taking a hiccuping breath in, he blinks back tears, nose still gushing blood.

“Why⎯Why would you hit me? I⎯I didn’t do anything wrong!” He sobs, his words quickly snapping you back to reality.

“Are you fucking serious?!” 

He doesn’t respond, only sobs heavily at his bleeding nose.

“You fucking rapist piece of shit!” You shriek, throwing whatever was within reach at him. “You fucking fat fuck! You fucking pervert! Don’t you ever touch me again, I’ll fucking kill you!”

The crusty pillow smacks him in the face, only worsening his sobs. Watching him wail and blubber out snot, you can’t help but stare at him in pure disgust, your nose wrinkled up and lips curled down firmly. It was pathetic, truly fucking pathetic. He was a grown ass man⎯god knows how old really⎯sobbing about you kicking him in the face after he had just raped you. What the fuck did he expect? For you to thank him for once again assaulting you? To giggle and smile and ask him for more? To twirl his hair with your hand and smile at him like he was the love of your life? When in reality you really wanted to kill him.

Taking a hiccuping breath in, he reaches out for you again, clearly hoping for some kind of comfort after what you had just done. It only worsened your anger. Wrinkling your nose up even more, he manages to latch onto your ankle firmly, the stupid rings on his fingers pressing hard into your skin. Surely, adding more bruises to the collection already on your skin from last night’s assault. Kicking at his hand with your other foot, he drags you roughly to the edge of the bed, tears stopping for a moment. It was like a switch had just flipped in him. One moment he was sobbing, the next staring at you with a cold expectancy for obedience.

“You’re supposed to comfort me.” He states, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You fucking raped me.” You argue, unable to stop yourself.

“You promised me that you’d be my Mummy, that you’d take care of me.” He states, voice raising slightly as you continue to not obey instantly. 

Yeah to stop you from raping me, asshole.

The words were on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out. But, you stop yourself at the last second. You just let him rant and rave some more, hoping that it could buy you enough time. Time for what? You weren’t sure just yet.

“Stop being such a frigid bitch like the rest of them. You’re supposed to be different. You are different! Just stop! Fucking stop!” He rambles on, “You broke my nose, so you need to comfort me. You promised you’d take care of me, so take care of me.”

“I don’t owe you jackshit, let alone being your fucking Mummy. You fucking raped me, you fucking rapist piece of shi⎯” You argue, but a hard slap to the face cuts you off mid-sentence. 

The room goes deadly silent. It takes you a solid second to process what had just happened, the pain of his ringed hand connecting with the side of your face trickling in. He had just slapped you. He had just fucking slapped you. Blinking back the tears that bubbled in your eyes from the pain, you lift a hand up to touch your cheek, regretting it instantly at the throbbing that shoots down your spine. Reaching back out for you again, you flinch at his outstretched hand, just waiting for a second hit. But, it doesn’t come. Grabbing your chin firmly between his thumb and pointer finger, he forces you to maintain eye contact, his foul breath fanning against your face. It was sour and rotten. Smelt like something that would give you some kind of disease if you kissed him.

“Comfort me.” He demands, pressing his thumb hard on your bottom lip.

“You raped me. I’m not gonna fucking comfort my rapist because I broke his nose for raping me. That’s not how this works.” You argue, shaking your head in refusal.

“You were wet.” He argues, as if that justified it.

“Doesn’t changed what you fucking did to me.” You argue, standing your ground against him. “It’s still rape. You raped me.”

It was stupid. It was really fucking stupid. You knew that deep down, but stubbornness kept your spine extra straight. Narrowing his eyes hard at you, his nose twitches from anger, nostrils flaring up as he takes a sharp breath in. For a moment, you think he’s going to slap you again. That he's going to make you regret talking about to him. But, he doesn’t. Licking away some of the blood on his top lip with his tongue, he blinks back tears in his eyes at the bitter metallic taste, the dark look on his face slowly falling. Staring at you with a pathetic expression, he lets out a soft sob, shoulders wracking up and down again. Another round of tears, wonderful. Fucking wonderful.

Biting back a scoff at the sight of him wailing like a child, he lets go of your chin, dragging you into his arms abruptly. Roughly burying his face into your breasts, your face curls up in disgust, your body tensing up at his tightening grip on you. He was like an overgrown child with his clinging⎯his stupid demanding for care and comfort from you. Digging his nails into the fat of your hips dips, he nuzzles his face deeper into your breasts, his chin pressing hard against your under boob. Gritting your teeth in pain at the pressure, he nips at your breast with his teeth, blindly feeling around to find your nipple. 

“What the fuck?!” You shriek, trying to shove him off but he’s latched on tight. “Get off of me!”

“Mummy..” He whimpers, suckling on your nipple like he was some baby.

“I’m not your fucking Mummy, you sick fuck!” You grit your teeth in anger, “Get off me!” 

“Mummy..” 

He sucks harder on your nipple like he thought that if he did it hard and long enough, milk would eventually come out. It was disgusting. Sure, you knew a few guys with Mommy kinks. But, it was always hot stuff like, “You ride me and call me a good boy” or “Dom me and treat me like I’m beneath you”. Not actually trying to breastfeed from you. Grabbing a handful of his greasy hair, you try to peel him off of your breast, but it only makes him suck even harder on your nipple. 

Letting out a yelp as he clumsily nips at the tip of your bud, it’s clear that he doesn’t know how to properly suck on a nipple, and that only makes it worse. It’s just sloppy and downright painful from how overly eager he was to be touching you, like a stabby toddler on a sugar rush. Giving another hard nip on the areola, you hiss at the painful flick over the tip with his bottom teeth that follows, feeling almost the same as getting a cervix scrape done with a cheese grater.

“Get off of me, you fat pig!”

“You’re being mean, Mummy.” He mumbles against your nipple, more tears streaming down his face at your harsh words.

“Stop fucking calling me that! I’m not your god damn Mummy!” You ramble on, “And I will never be no matter how many times you say it!”

“You promised me⎯”

“That doesn’t mean jackshit! I don’t fucking like you, and I never will! You’re nothing more than a fat fucking creep from the mall to me!” You cut him off, unleashing the anger that had been festering in you since all of this had begun. 

Stopping sucking on your nipple for a second, he stares at you in dead silence, and you think that maybe⎯just maybe you had gotten some sense into him. That he’ll realize everything he had just done to you. But, then he sniffles as more tears bubble up in his eyes. Your words seemingly trigger an even bigger age regression in him. Pawing at your hip dips, he resumes sucking on your nipple, teeth dragging painfully over your throbbing areola. Giving his hair another painful tug, he releases your nipple, only to latch onto the other before you could stop him. Pressing his chin deeper into your underboob, your nipples felt sore and raw, and god knows what they look like.

“Jimmy, get the fuck off of me.” You demand, trying to find some way to peel him off.

He doesn’t listen.

“Jimmy, your Mummy is telling you to get the fuck off of me. Listen!” You try again, hoping that half-play into his twisted fantasy would get through to him.

Again, he doesn’t listen to your demands. 

Letting out a harsh noise of frustration at his refusal to get off, he bucks his hips at the rough tugging of his hair, grinding himself against the edge of the bed. The sight of his growing boner only makes you even more disgusted and fearful. A tiny voice in the back of your head fuels your fear, What if he got horny again? What if he tried to stick that disgusting little dick inside of you again? You didn’t have a bathroom to clean up in. You still felt so revolting from last night, like a thick layer of filth had managed to glue itself onto you. God, you wish that you could forget what happened last night. But, your mind was not kind enough to allow you that privilege.  

You could still feel the way that he rubbed at your clit with his hand, the damn thing feeling like it was made of sandpaper. The way his weight crushed you, forced you down on the crusty bed sheets. The way you had tried to fight back against him, only for it to fail. The way you eventually had to just accept it and count the seconds until it was finally over with. Digging your nails harder into his scalp, you pull him off with all your strength, shrieking in pain as he pulls at your nipple with his teeth. Slamming the bottom of your palm against his bleeding nose to keep him off, you scramble off the bed, desperate to get as far as possible from him. 

“You sick fuck! What the hell is wrong with you?!” You hiss, clutching your aching nipple in your hand; far too far to look at the damage done to it.

“Why do you keep hitting me?!” 

You don’t respond at first, too shocked by just how stupid he truly was.

“Answer me!” He demands, pointing a threatening finger in your face.

“What part of you raping me is not kicking in that stupid bottle blonde brain of yours?!” You snap back, stumbling over a pile of clothes on the floor.

God, he really was stupid…or delusional...or both.

Flinching as your back hits the wall hard, he has you cornered once again, this time the door far too out of your reach. You’d have to jump on the bed to try to reach it, but even then you’d have to find some way to unlock it. Swallowing the pit of defeat bubbling up, you try to stay strong, to keep up the fight just as so many girls did in the true crime documentaries you’d seen. Sooner or later, someone was going to notice that you were gone. Sooner or later, someone was going to notice something was off with Jimmy's house. Sooner or later, Jimmy was going to slip up and you needed to be ready for it. You just…You had to wait, no matter how painful that was.

Taking a moment to really gather yourself since waking up abruptly, you wrap your arms tighter around yourself, realizing that you were only in your socks. Your uniform shirt and bottoms ripped last night during the first assault. Staring down at the ground, you cringe at the stains on the carpet, the cute design of your tellatubbies socks coated with blood clashing against it. Your hair was knotted, could’ve been from last night or from how you slept. It didn’t matter. Your legs had marks, bruises and scratches⎯from his hands, his teeth, his crushing weight. It didn’t hurt, or maybe it didn’t hurt because you weren’t thinking about it too much. He takes a step closer towards you.

“Stop being a bitch.” He warns, “If you keep hitting me, I’m going to treat you like how foids should be.”

“I won’t stop fighting.” You argue, shaking your head.

“Then I’ll have to beat it out of you, bitch. You promised to take care of me, you don’t get to take those words back. You don’t get to leave, no one is waiting for you out there..” He argues, poking roughly at your temple.

“That’s not true, someone will come for me.” You argue, a lump thickening in your throat.

“No one gave a shit about you at work.” He argues, “You think you’re that fucking special, huh? That someone gives that much of a shit if you show up or not? They're not your real friends, they don’t care about you. Not like how I do.” 

Fresh tears bubble up in your eyes, the lump in the back of your throat thickening more and more as your bottom lip quivers. He was just being a dick, trying to break you down so that you became compliant with every demand of his. Someone was going to notice that you were gone. Your friends. Your co-workers. Your neighbor down the hall who always stole your parking spot. The security guard who did rounds in the staff parking lot. Someone. Brushing his fingers down your temple to your jawline, you flinch at the touch, back pressing harder against the wall like it would somehow move so you could escape him. Narrowing his eyes hard as you try to move away from him, he grabs onto your jaw tightly, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. 

“No one is coming for you. No one cares about you, not like I do.” He argues, “Stop waiting for someone to come, because they aren’t. It’s just going to be me and you, and that’s going to be enough.” 

“Stop saying that⎯” You argue, but he cuts you off.

“It’s the truth, it’s the fucking truth and you know that deep down, ( Y/n ). You’ll learn to accept that..” He trails his eyes down your face, then lingers on your body for a beat too long for your liking. “Sooner or later.”

You don’t respond, biting down on your tongue hard.

“Let me take care of you, ( Y/n ), please. Please, let me.” He whispers, his voice dropping to a sickening soft one. “I don’t want to hurt you, not anymore. I don’t.”

Liar. Tightly clenching your jaw at his words, you bite harder on your tongue, the faint taste of blood flooding your mouth. Pressing his thumb harder against your bottom lip, he stares at your breasts for a dragged out moment, making you wrap your arms tighter around yourself. Your stomach was bubbling up like you had a nasty case of food poisoning⎯your mind telling you to make a bolt for it. This was the thing of horror movies, you were naked. He was naked. Stuck in a room. Together. He did it once before, he could again. He would again. Tightening his grip on your chin, he forces your head back, refusing to let your eyes wander away from him again. 

“But, you keep forcing me to.” He frowns, his rotten breath fanning against your face.

“Just let me go.” 

“Stop saying stupid things like that. You're home, ( Y/n ).” He argues, “There is nowhere else for you to go. This is your home now, I am your home now.”

“Then, let me go to the bathroom.” You try, already knowing that he’d refuse to let you.

“So you can try to escape? Again?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes hard at your words.

Yes, you could find a razor blade..or a window..or a vent..something..anything to help you escape him. Grinding your teeth together at his words, you open your mouth to argue back, but he cuts you off. Trailing his hand from your chin to your throat, he suddenly smashes the back of your head into the wall, a violent wave of nausea fills you instantly. You lose feeling in your fingertips, black spots floating around in your vision. He had smashed the same spot from yesterday, the one that had finally stopped feeling so tender. You had just been feeling good⎯or as good as one could be after being kidnapped and raped. Retching violently, your throat burns as stomach acid goes up. 

Throwing you onto the ground hard, you wheeze in pain as your temple smacks against it, waves of pain shooting down your body. Reaching up to protect your head with your hands, you try to roll over on your side, brows furrowed together. Smacking the back of your head hard with his ringed hand, he forces you to lie on your back, staring up at him. The pressure of the floor on your throbbing head makes you squirm in place, trying to get away. Plopping himself down on his knees, he cages your head in between his thighs, forcing you to come face-to-face with the thick blonde hairs on his balls and ass. The stench of what you know is unwashed ass filling your nose.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You panic, fearing that he was going to try to throat fuck you.

“You don’t need to breathe, just lick.” He states, as if it was the most normal response.

“Don’t you fucking dare⎯” 

Putting all of his weight down on your face, you take a sharp breath instinctively, nose pressing deeper into his balls. The coarse hairs scrape against your skin just enough to make it itch. The stench of sweat and unwashed piss being shoved down your nose. You would gag if it wasn’t for the fact that you couldn’t breath. Angling himself just enough to let you breath again, you gasp deeply for air, the shock of being smothered under his weight making your lungs burn. Gagging at the stench wafting off him, your eyes water heavily, not sure if you wanted to hurl or cry or gag some more for air at this moment. Clawing at his thighs to try to move him, he sinks back down on your face, smothering you once again. The stench of him overwhelming and drowning you.

“Fucking lick.” He demands, grinding against your face.

Not a fucking chance, you wanted to shout back.

“Fucking lick it, or I’ll fucking piss on you, foid!” He shouts, the boom of his voice making your ears ache.

Not a fucking chance, asshole. 

Clenching your jaw tightly in refusal, he grinds harder against your face, shoving your nose deeper between his ass crack. You can feel the coarse hairs rub the skin raw, feeling like sandpaper. A pathetic noise escapes his lips, almost like a squeak and a moan. Bucking against your nose desperately, you dig your nails into his thighs, feeling the muscles tense with each needy jerk of his hips. Despite how fat he was, the muscles of his thighs were still straining and flexing hard. Retching violently as you swear that you feel something wet smear against you, you thrash against him, his weight unbearable⎯everything about him was so fucking unbearable. 

Blindly feeling around for something to use to get him off, your hand latches onto what feels like an action figure, a sticky plastic that feels a lot like a sword. Curling your fingers harder around it, you smash the figure into his thigh with all of your strength. Letting out a blood curdling scream, he abruptly jumps off of you, collapsing onto the floor beside you. Clutching this bleeding thigh in pain, he looks like he’s seconds away from bursting into a fit of tears again. Gulping in as much air as you can before it’s gone, you find that it was some anime figure, plastic sword red from his blood.

Sitting on the toilet in silence, you cringe at the burning sensation as you pee, digging your nails into the palms of your hand. Shoving a cheese grater up your vagina was more pleasant than this feeling, and that was saying a fucking lot. Tightly shutting your eyes in pain, you squirm on the toilet seat, teeth biting hard on the inside of your cheek. You most definitely had a UTI, or some other kind of infection. Which wasn’t surprising considering how fucking filthy Jimmy’s dick is. But, also a little considering you barely had it in you yesterday and a fucking UTI took days to form. The power of Jimmy’s filth…so amazing. The rotten cherry on top of your shit sundae.

Taking a sharp breath in through your nose, you let out a soft grunt, the feeling worsening as you accidentally close your legs too much. God, you needed a jug of cranberry juice and the most expensive pharmacy UTI treatment kit that money could buy. Peeling open your eyes, you grab the roll of toilet paper, dreading having to wipe. You had to do it. But, it already hurt so fucking much. Letting out a whiny little grunt, you shake your head, trying to hype yourself up to wipe yourself clean. Just do it quickly, like ripping off a bandage. Chewing harder on the inside of your cheek, you wipe as quickly as possible, the touch of the toilet paper feeling like sandpaper.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” You hiss, barely resisting the urge to scream at the top of your lungs. 

“Does it hurt?” Jimmy asks, the stupid question only worsening your anger.

“Shut the fuck up!” You sneer, gritting your teeth tightly in pain.

“You’re in pain.” He frowns, as if barely coming to the realization.

No fucking shit, Sherlock. 

Patting yourself dry with another piece of toilet paper, you flinch at the touch, regretting it instantly. If Jimmy hadn’t fucking touched you, none of this would have happened. Hell, if your stupid co-worker hadn’t asked you to take out the trash, none of this would have happened. This was all of her fault. Throwing the toilet paper into the toilet bowl, you slowly stand up, even just moving sends jolts of hot pain up your spine. It felt like if you breathed wrong, it would somehow travel down to your vagina and hurt. Grabbing onto your ankle, you watch in disgust as he presses a sloppy kiss on the skin, as if that would somehow magically get rid of your raging UTI.

“Fuck off.” You hiss, shaking him off.

“You’re all bruised up and hurting.” He states, pouting deeply.

“No fucking thanks to you!” You snap back, “Now fuck all the way off, Jimmy!” 

“I wanna take care of you..”

“Then, take me to a god damn hospital! I’ve got a fucking UTI or something because of you!” You snap back, “Better yet, let me the fuck go and kill yourself, you rapist piece of shit!”

Pouting even deeper at your words, he grabs onto your ankle firmly, his nails curling into the sticky skin. Hot rage bubbles up in you, wanting nothing more than to drown him in the toilet bowl filled with your piss. First, he kidnaps you. Then, he assaults you. Now, he wanted to comfort you? To act like you two were fucking dating? Like all of that was in the god damn past? Not a fucking chance. No matter what he said or did or how much time passed by, you wouldn’t forgive or forget. Lifting your leg up, he has your foot rest on his shoulder, pressing sloppy kisses down your ankle to the tips of your toenails. Wrinkling your nose up in disgust, he starts to suck on your big toe, maintaining eye contact in what you think is an attempt to be in a sexy way. 

“Get the fuck off me!” 

“I let you go to the bathroom.” He argues, as if that justified it.

“You want a fucking prize for that?” You scoff, yanking your ankle free. 

“I do.” He nods.

“You fucking kidnapped me and raped me, you think that you desreve a fucking prize for letting me use the restroom after that? Huh?” You argue, unable to help yourself.

He doesn’t respond, just blink blankly at you and somehow that’s worse than his stupid attempts to justify everything. At least then, you’d know what was going on in that fucked up head of his.

“I don’t want to be touched, not by you.” You add, “Never a fucking again, and don’t ever call me Mummy again.” 

Blinking slowly as he takes in your words, he lunges for you suddenly, grabbing a handful of your hair. Thrashing against his grip, you claw at his forearms with your nails, kicking at whatever part of him you could find in reach. Dragging you into the doorway of the bathroom, he smashes you against the wooden frame, purposefully hitting the back of your head against it. A wave of nausea hits you violently, some stomach acid managing to spill out of your lips onto the floor. You were getting real fucking sick and tired of him hitting you there. Throwing you against the porcelain floors of the bathroom, you curl up in a ball instinctively, wrapping your arms around your head to protect it from further hits. A sob escaping you at what you were sure was another round of abuse.

“Stop being such a foid, ( Y/n ).” He scolds, “You’re supposed to shower me in kisses for letting you go to the bathroom instead of pissing in the bed.” 

You don’t respond, knowing better now to just shut up. A little too fucking late, but still..

“I don’t like hurting you, I don’t. But, you just keep on being such a bitch!” He huffs, “Must be your period or something, girls always act like bitches when it’s their time of the month.”

It’s not, you weren’t due until a week from now. But, still that wasn’t why you were fighting against him. He just didn’t seem ready to accept the cold hard truth⎯you were never going to love your kidnapper and rapist. You could die tomorrow and still hate him with a passion. Dropping to his knees with a soft huff, he grabs onto your thighs, forcibly prying them apart. Another sob escapes your lips, dreading what was to come. You couldn’t even pee without it feeling like hell. God knows what this would feel like. Blowing a strand of greasy blonde hair out of his face, he reaches between your thighs, rubbing the oozing head of his cock between your folds. 

Slapping the head against your clit, you jolt at the feeling, chewing hard on your bottom lip. It felt even worse than peeing, like sandpaper and a cheese grader had a baby and shoved itself inside of you and was now dragging against your inner walls. Lifting your hips up a little higher, he slowly presses the head of his cock in, slowly easing the head in down. Choking on a moan as you clench instinctively around him, he bucks his hips upwards impatiently, pushing another inch in. The sensation makes your back arch, a loud wail escaping your lips. Digging your nails into his chest, you try to squirm away, to force him to pull out. But, he only crushes you under his weight. 

“Stop it.” He demands, “It’s not even that bad, you’re just being dramatic now.” 

“Pull out! Fucking get off!”

“I’m gonna take care of you now.” He shakes his head, pressing a sloppy kiss onto your cheek. 

Hunching himself over you, he forces himself in all the way without warning, a thin layer of sweat glistening on your skin at the intense stretch. It burns, the lack of foreplay and your UTI killing you. Shifting uncomfortably, you arch your back softly, trying to find a position that would ease the burn. But, it doesn’t work. You could still feel the burn from it. How could you not? It was practically in the back of your eyes at this point. Leaving welting red marks on his chest, he reaches up to grope and knead at your breasts, flicking your raw bitten nipples with his fingertip. 

Taking a sharp breath in through your nose, you shift again, feeling the coils of his pubic hair against your thighs. It burns just like the rest of it does. Sobbing as the burn grows as he starts to thrust into you, he places both hands on either side of your head, smashing his lips against yours in a filthy kiss. His tongue and teeth devouring your mouth like it was his only way to heaven. Your lungs burn almost immediately, his foul breath being forced into you. Breaking the kiss, you gag at the lingering taste of him in your mouth, a string of saliva connecting to both of your lips.

“I’m gonna take care of you now, ( Y/n ).” He coos, “You just need to let me. It’s the man’s job to take care of his woman, and that’s what you are.” 

You didn’t fucking want that, and you weren’t his.

“Just stop being so difficult about all of this. I know you like doing things your way, but you’re in my house now. And as the man of the house, what I say, goes. If I want you to bend over, you do it, or else I’m gonna choke you until you're blue. And don’t think I’ll let you die, I know CPR. I’ll bring you back.” He rambles on, each word worse than the other.

Hooking your legs over his hips, he uses the leverage to fold you in half, changing the angle of his thrusts. Punching out sobs from you with each hard snap of his hips against the back of your thighs, you choke on a breath, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the searing pain. Death would be more merciful than this. Drooling at the sight of your face, one hand snakes down to rub tight circles on your clit, earning another sob of pain from you. If God was real, he was fucking cruel. What sin was so bad that he justified this? Gossiping with your girls? Talking shit about the creeps in the mall? What was so fucking bad, huh? What was the reason? What?

“I can’t wait to see what our children look like.” He babbles on, head throwing back in pleasure.

What. The. Fuck.

“I hope they have your eyes. No, no, I want them to have your smile! You have a pretty smile.” 

You don’t respond, no matter how much you want to. ‘Not a fucking chance will I get knocked up by you’ was on the tip of your tongue, just threatening to spill out at any second.

Letting out a pathetic whimper as you don’t respond, sweat drips down his forehead, his body trembling as he battles between trying to get you to respond and just saying fuck it and cumming. Growling lowly as you still refuse to respond, he grips onto your hips, lifting your legs higher on his hips. The awkward angle sends a pinch down your spine, only worsening the pain that fills your entire lower half. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck, he thrusts into you hard and suddenly, stealing the breath from your lungs. The bed creaks under the force of his movements, the sound of your wet, sloppy fucking echoing off the walls. It’s horrid. It’s sickening. It’s cruel.

Biting down on your throat hard, he thrust on last time before tensing, drool leaking from the corners of his slack mouth as he finally cums. That familiar disgusting heat between your legs comes back. He had came in you twice now. Collapsing on top of you like a dead weight, you wheeze as the air is knocked out of you, face turning red from a lack of oxygen. Whimpering lowly as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, a sickening wet squelching sound fills the air as his hips jerks forward, pushing more cum inside of you. Staring up at the ceiling in a daze, you pray that you actually do suffocate underneath him, that this being your escape from him.

“I am going to make you so happy..” He whispers, sucking on the side of your neck to add another mark on your bruised and battered body.

----

come here dead-dove jimmy fans ( lulaw ), i got a treat for youuu....

A = Aftercare ( what they’re like after sex )

I feel in my heart and soul that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to have sex with someone he doesn’t love / care for, so this man would be so fucking gentle and caring after sex. If it is a one-nightstand, he still will be kind about it because you deserve basic respect. Though, it won't be as sweet and doting as if you were his wife / girlfriend / etc.

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

His - I am stuck between his hands cause of the way that he works with his gun / horses / how he can make you cum with them and his mind because he's pretty clever / was able to outsmart Frank.

You - I feel like he's an ass / thigh kind of man, and seeing you wear his pants whenever you need to work would get him a one way ticket to boner city. Especially considering the time period. But, if we are talking about something more sweet / romantic, then you're smile because it's all he can think about when he needs a pick-me-up.

C = Cum ( anything to do with cum, basically )

I think he’s very old school about it and would want to cum inside of you. But, if you needed / asked him not to for whatever reason ( fear of pregnancy, not being in the mood, wanting him to cum somewhere else, etc. ) he’d pull out or cum in your mouth or thigh fuck you until he cums between them.

D = Dirty secret ( pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs )

He once watched you bathe ( it was an accident because he heard you squeal and thought that you had gotten hurt, only to realize it was because of the water temp. ) and proceeded to jerk off to the image of you naked for weeks to come. He will never tell you because one, he's ashamed to have jerked off to it and two, he fears what you would think of him seeing you that vulnerable.

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

I wanna say that his body count is less than 10, only because I do think that Roy is not the kind of guy to have sex whenever Frank and the gang make camp somewhere.

For one, because he has seen the horrors that Frank and the gang do ( Frank literally r*ped a woman in the show / those twins killed their family and joked about what they'd do to other women )

Two, he needs to be a little emotionally invested in you to wanna hook up or be in the mood.

Three, he might only do it if Frank forces it upon him. But, even then, I think he'd pay them extra to say that they did have sex even if they did not.

F = Favorite position ( this goes without saying )

I so badly wanna joke about cowgirl and anything related to cowboy sex positions..But, doggy-style cause he can see your ass jiggle and pull you hair. Missionary cause it's a classic / allows him to be able to kiss and love upon you. Spooning for whenever you two are cuddling / too lazy to move.

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

I wanna say maybe 50% serious and 50% not serious. I think it would depend on you, the situation, and what you two have established are okay and not okay with each other.

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

I have said this in the JOC discord, all of Jack O'Connell's character's have hair on their balls. I REFUSE the narrative that they are clean shaved. ESPECIALLY, Roy Goode.

I also know ( yes KNOW ) that he does not give a fuck if you have hair. He's a cowboy and a grown-ass man, he can survive the desert and Frank's gang and he can survive hair on your coochie.

I = Intimacy ( how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect )

HEAVYYYYYYYY on the intimacy!

He's kissing you, whispering sweet words in your ears, playing with your hair, leaving love bites on your skin and then kissing them to make you feel better. BUT, if you want him to be rough, he will be. He’ll leave bites on your neck and thighs, pull your hair and manhandle you around.

J = Jack off ( masturbation headcannon )

Yes, he jerks off. It's a normal amount. But if he has you and you want to ( though I do think that he is a chicken to bring it up cause it sounds lowkey degrading / come across like he is using you ), then, he’d prefer having sex / letting you handle it for him.

K = Kink ( one or more of their kinks )

Ughhhh, this one is soo fucking hard. I wanna say...breeding kink because I think that deep down he'd want a family / stable life, HEAVY on praise because of how he grew up ( Frank, being abandoned, etc. ), claiming / marking up, spanking for when you're being a brat, and some light bondage for when you're being a brat.

L = Location ( favorite places to do the do )

Bedroom / private tent if your still with Frank's gang because it allows privacy, but he’d be down for anything that you feel comfortable with⎯horseback, living room, river / lake, etc. ( I just KNOW that this man is heavy on consent and whatever you feel comfortable with / want! )

M = Motivation ( what turns them on, gets them going, etc. )

The 'look' that you give him, you doing things on your own, you standing him up, you putting him / others in their place, and....you doting on him ( lingering kisses, looking for him whenever you enter a room )

N = No ( something they wouldn’t do, turn offs )

Anything that hurts you / that crosses your boundaries, maybe degrading ( but like REALLY bad degrading, not like "You're such a bad girl, gonna have to punish you" or "such a filthy slut for me" ), and anything that involves cheating or sharing you with some other person. I think after his brother that he wouldn't like sharing cause of abandonment issues.

O = Oral ( preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc. )

At the end of the day, he is a man, so he would like to get oral. If you're okay with him pulling your hair and being rough, he'll be rough. But, this man is for sure down for eating you out. I fucking know that at some point Roy has given some girl oral ( maybe pressured by frank or by his own choice )

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

Whenever he’s angry, I feel like he'd still have a rein of his emotions and not wanting to hurt you, so slow and deep that gets faster whenever he’s close or you are. Whenever he’s feeling romantic, slow and sensual but when he gets close it gets faster and harder at your demand. 

Q = Quickie ( their opinions on quickies, how often, etc. )

My heart says yes, but that only depends on if you're not with Frank's gang. I think he would if you weren't with Frank because you two are free to do whatever you want with no fear. But, if you are with Frank, it's no because he's worried that someone would see you two together / Frank being creepy and he can't really do anything about it cause of how Frank is. ( We saw what happened when Roy stood up to Frank that one time )

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

At the beginning, no because of all the stuff at the beginning of the show and he already takes risks as is. But, once he's settled down, yes. I think he'd like to push it ( having sex in the barn, on horseback, etc. )

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

I think maybe..two long rounds? But, like multiple rounds of foreplay in between to drag it out and to really build up the tension / desire for an orgasm. 

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

No. But, only cause I don't think that sex toys were common back then. Plus, if they did, I think he'd be personally insulted that you need a machine to get off when he is right there.

U = Unfair ( how much they like to tease )

You fucking heard that man, "He's just soo damn mean.."

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

He's medium loud, that turns into low whimpers whenever he finally cums. He praises, curses, moans, whimpers, whines. Maybe a little degrading comment, if you're okay with that. It's the kind of sounds that you wanna replay / record.

W = Wild card ( a random headcannon for the character )

Covering your mouth with his hand to muffle your mewling moans, he stops thrusting immediately, anxiously looking over his shoulder in fear of finding Frank standing there. This was the stupidest thing that he had ever done⎯and he had done plenty in his life before. Watching the shadows of the rest of the camp move around, you let out a muffled complaint against his hand, clearly demanding that he continue. Pressing harder against your mouth, he tense up at the crunching of gravel, someone’s shadow clear and just a foot away from the tent flap. Shit. If the breeze hit, the flap would open just enough to reveal the two of you right now, balls deep.

Pausing at the tent entrance for a moment, the person spits on the ground, before turning on their heels. Following the shadow retreat further away with his eyes, he swallows the dry lump in his throat, his heart pounding heavily in his chest like he had just run a mile. He should pull out. He should. It was the smart and gentlemanly thing to do. But, fuck, the two of you had been skirting around each other⎯around this for weeks now. He couldn’t stand anymore lingering stares or fleeting smiles in passing. It’d fucking kill him. Slowly peeling his hand away from your mouth, you slap him upside the head, cheeks red from being smothered by him. Oops..

“I said to fuck me, Roy. Not fucking murder me.” You hiss, wary enough to keep your voice down to a whisper.

“Well, maybe, if you stopped moaning like a bitch in heat. I wouldn’t have to cover your mouth with my hand.” He argues, shooting you a look.

“Well, maybe, you shouldn’t have been thrusting into me like a goddamn virgin⎯” You counter back, having no shame in being blunt.

Covering your mouth again with his hand, he thrusts upwards into you hard, earning a muffled moan against the palm of his hand. The sight of your eyes rolling into the back of your head filling him with a sense of pride. Flicking his eyes between your face and the tent flap, he picks up his pace abruptly, thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Because in a stupid way, it did. Frank would kill him if he knew what he was doing to you. Not because he cared about you, but because then it would cause an uproar over who was and wasn't allowed to do the same. The lewd sounds of skin slapping together filling the air. Licking the sweat off his top lip, he strains to keep his hand over your mouth, wanting to gripping onto your throat instead to watch you tremble again.

“You knew exactly what you were doing.” He growls, “Fucking asking me to mend your saddle, knowing damn well it didn’t need no mending.”

X = X-ray ( let’s see what’s going on under those clothes )

I stalked the screen and have talked with other Jack O'Connell thirsty enthusiast, and we think he's maybe 5 to 6 1/2 inches. But, then again, most clips of him nude could be a prosthetic / the camera angle may be off.

Y = Yearning ( how high is their sex drive? )

It's a healthy amount for sex.

But, for intimacy, he YEARNSSSSS. He wants to kiss you, hold your hand, be the reason that you smile and laugh. Most of Jack's characters are yearners, Roy is no exception to this.

Z = Zzz ( how quickly they fall asleep afterwards )

If he's worked all day and you've been doing it for a while, then yes. He blacks out like a corpse and then blushes when you bring it up in the morning. Otherwise, he's waiting until you're asleep and all taken care of to finally fall asleep. He likes to watch you body relax as sleep takes over / it might be an instinct cause of Frank and danger.

Six months. Twenty-six weeks. One hundred and eighty-two days. For six months, your company had become regulars for Kyle’s delivery company. Express delivery. First class delivery. Business class delivery. Second-day delivery. Just about every kind of crappy ‘deal’ or overprized ‘special’ offer that his company offered, yours accepted liked chums. It felt like just about every single day, he’d see you⎯hidden by this big old glass desk and smelling of expensive coffee. 

Sometimes in the morning to pick up monstrous packages that killed his lower back to carry back to the truck, greeted by your half-awake smile and a weak apology for not being able to help him with the packages. Sometimes in the evening, when you had a stack of papers that needed to be delivered before midnight, greeted by a frazzled look and a hushed joke about ‘work am I right?’.

Sometimes, he’d just show up and pretend like he was just checking if there were any more packages. Your building had great air conditioning. Plus, the free wifi was nice. But, those things really were just little extras on top of being able to see you. The way that you rolled your chair around behind your desk, scrambling to grab papers and answer phone calls. The way you would put on the sweet smile and pretend like you didn’t want to strangle entitled co-workers.

Pushing open the door to the lobby with his elbow, he cowers slightly at the soft beep of the sensor, feeling like a sore thumb in the sea of polished tile and marble offices. Here he was in thrift store work boots, surrounded by these perfect and polished offices that he would never see the light of unless he was scrubbing the floors of them. Finding your receptionist desk, it was like a breath of fresh air, a tiny glimmer of color in the cold unwelcoming office lobby. Watching you brush away some guy in a suit, he chews on his bottom lip, picking at the skin with his teeth. He should've just stayed in his truck, eating his sad excuse of a sandwich. He shouldn’t fucking be in here.

“Kyle!” You perk up in your seat, a bright smile spreading on your lips. 

“Uh..hey, ( Y/n ).” He weakly waves, cringing at how awkward his words come out.

“Hi!” You lean over the desk to motion him closer, “Come on, I stole us some sandwiches from the potluck. They're like those super expensive ones from that fancy BBQ place around the corner.”

“You didn’t have to.” He argues, praying that it wouldn’t get you in trouble.

“As if I wasn’t going to let you starve!” You argue, “Plus, they're gonna buy these ridiculously overpriced donuts for dessert, so they won’t even notice if something goes missing.”

Cracking a soft smile at your insistence he eat the stolen food, you push yourself off the desk, heels clacking as you scramble to unlock the door for him. Fuck, you were sweet. Too fucking sweet, really. Most receptionists wouldn’t bat an eye at him, yet here you were⎯offering him food. Pushing open the door, you practically drag him inside by the shirt, ushering him to the secret stash of stolen food from the potluck. There on a small corner of the desk was a stack of plastic takeout boxes filled with food. Biting back a chuckle of amusement, he could smell the sweet brown sugar rub of the BBQ in the air, different from your usual smell of coffee. But, it was still nice.

“You really don’t have to…” 

“Oh hush! Like I said, they won’t notice.” You argue, “So tell me, which one do you want?”

“Uh..what is there?” 

“So..um..” You chew on your bottom lip, sorting through the boxes. 

Moving some boxes around on the countertop, you furrow your brows in focus, trying to read the label. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he glances over your side profile, lingering on the way that your lips part softly. Your hair was curled and styled. Your makeup was glittery and perfect. Your suit was silky and unwrinkled. Everything about you was clearly meant to match with the aesthetics of the office. Something expensive. Something above his pay grade. 

“This is pulled pork, and this one is barbecue chicken.” You point to each box, “This one is..some kind of brown sugar  rub on ribs, I think? And this is the cornbread with macaroni n’ cheese.”

“I’ll take the smallest one..” 

“Kyle..” You shoot him an annoyed look, “Don’t you start with that nonsense. Take what you want, or even take all of it home.” 

“I can’t do that to you.” He sighs, hating the thought of stealing food from you.

“Kyle, don’t make me shove these into your pants. Just take some, I get this stuff all the time.” You threaten, a playful smile on your lips. “This is no different.” 

Chewing harder on the inside of his cheek, he looks at the rows of take-out boxes, lingering on box of pulled pork. The box was stuffed full, tiny pieces of pulled pork threatening to fall onto your desk. Hesitantly grabbing the box, he tenses up involuntarily, just waiting for you to protest against it. But, you don’t. Popping open the container of cornbread, you grab a small handful, picking it apart as you eat it in pieces. He remembered you said something about it ‘burning calories’.

“Ahh, that’s a good choice.” You nod your head in approval, “This stuff is like crack to the managers. They buy like the catering size cause they totally pig out on it.”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow, amused by your explanation.

“Mm-hm, it’s ridiculous.” You nod, “Almost as ridiculous considering they all bitch about how fat they are, when they all fit in a size small. Like don’t start with that whole ‘I am fat’ bullshit, it makes me feel like shit when I go get seconds or look in a mirror.”

“Yeah..I guess.” He shrugs, not really sure how to respond to that.

“I think that if you’re gonna be miserable, do it at home. Don’t bring it to work.” You chew on a piece of cornbread, “So, besides how shitty my co-workers are. Tell me, how is work? Any gossip with you?”

Thinking over your words, he hesitates in answering back, because in all honesty he did have some shit that he wanted to get off his chest. His co-workers were assholes. His manager was an even bigger asshole. He had to work overtime three times this week alone. His lower back was killing him. He really didn’t want to go back to work, and deal with entitled clients. Oh, and he was fucking crushing on you like a total pussy. Looking down at the takeout box, he pops open the lip, half-heartedly picking at the pulled pork with his fork. He shouldn’t gossip, he shouldn’t. It would look bad on his company’s part, almost as bad as him sitting behind your desk and eating food. 

“Nah..” He shakes his head, “Just the usual..working overtime and my back killing me.”

“Yeah?” You chew on your bottom lip, nodding along at his words.

“Yeah.” He nods, not thinking twice about your concern.

“You know..I know a really good massage place, can fix that back of yours. But, it only does couple massages though.” You suggest carefully, a light coyness in your tone. 

Not really paying attention to your words, he shakes his head at the suggestion, his mind already calculating the cost of this potential massage. He was stretched thin this month on money. Hell, coming here was pushing it. Taking a bite of the pulled pork, he bites back a groan, the taste of brown sugar and smokey meat taking like heaven after not eating all day. Glancing back up to you, you stare at him with a mix of amusement and curiosity for his response. 

“I probably can’t afford it⎯” He pauses, the realization clicking in his head. “Oh..”

“Yeah..so, what do you say?” You chew on your bottom lip, “Up for a little massage, Kyle?”

Chewing on your bottom lip in focus, you could feel his predatory stare on you, watching as you carefully peel off the dented armor off him. You thought that you would have to cut it off of him from how dented it was. But luckily the latches were still intact. Placing the dented codpiece down on the floor, you resist the urge to smirk, his throbbing erection straining against his sweat soaked small clothes. He had taken what was supposed to be a lethal blow to the ribs. He should be dead. But, he defied nature and continued to live⎯seemingly the promise of you tending to him keeping him spitefully alive. Ignoring the way he leans back on his heels to bring it closer to your face, you innocently begin to remove the armor on his thighs and knees, unraveling the knotted straps. His face instantly turning sour at your teasing.

“You torment me.” He grumbles, teeth clenching at your teasing.

“I am removing your armor, Ser.” You play coy, “Just as I had promised that I would, should you have survived the tourney. Which you have.”

“You promised me other things as well.” He argues, shooting you a glare.

“I did no such thing, good Ser.” You click your tongue scoldingly, “I only promised to help you remove your armor. I am a good noble lady, I would never dare to dishonor myself by tainting my maidenhead.”

Lies. You both knew it. You had promised to ride him until dawn broke if he won the tourney⎯which he did. Grinding his teeth together in wavering restraint, you peel off the armor plates, smoothing out the padding of his linen breeches. A patch of the fabric was torn, ripped from where the armor had dented and got caught on it. Brushing your finger against the exposed patch of skin, he jolts at the touch, taking a sharp breath in. You sear you could see another droplet of sweat drip down his face. Cracking a grin for a second at his reaction, you begin to unlace the breeches, letting them slowly grow baggier until they threaten to slip down his broad hips. 

You could smell lingering blood and leather on his skin. You could taste his sweat on your tongue already. Stopping just at the final lace of his breeches, he stares down at you with hooded eyes, pupils so dilated that you couldn’t tell if his iris was red or blue anymore. His breathing is labored, body trembling from what exactly⎯lust? Self-control? Anger from your teasing? Or all of the above? You couldn’t tell. Dragging your tongue over your top lip, you wanted to keep tormenting him, to really push the boundaries of his restraint. But, the desire to lick the sweat off his navel until he was whimpering underneath you was far too tempting. Far far far too tempting.

“You tease far too much, wife.” He complains, his gaze sharpening.

You don’t respond, not having a good comeback for him.

“Won’t you clean your Lord?” 

Rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip, you shudder violently, the slickness between your thighs grows embarrassingly. You were supposed to be the one in control, not him. Opening his mouth to speak, you could already hear the witty comment on the tip of his tongue, most likely about how aroused you already were. You were, yes. But, you didn’t need to hear it from him. Unraveling the final lace of his breeches, you pull them down his thighs, the sweat on his skin making the linen stick a few times. Peeling them off him with an impatient huff, you chew on your bottom lip hard, the sight of his small clothes only making you more impatient. Damn these many layers.

“Impatient?” He chuckles, watching you through his lashes.

“I am. Problem?” You huff, fumbling to remove the laces as quickly as possible. 

“None.” He smirks, “Though you seemingly do with how many layers I am wearing.” 

“Too many.” 

“To you it might be, but it is needed for my armor.” He explains, taking enjoyment of your huffing and puffing of annoyance. “Unless you want me to get nicked every time I wear it?”

No, you didn’t. But, it was still too many for your liking. Shifting some of your weight off your aching knees, you yank down his small clothes, his erection springing free. It slaps against his lower stomach, making you shudder at the sound it makes. Wet and filthy. Chewing harder on your bottom lip, pre-cum slowly oozes out, sending a jolt of searing wetness between your thighs. It shouldn’t make you this wet, but it did. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you slowly pull back the foreskin to reveal the tip, giggling softly at the pretty shade of bright red it flushed.

Taking a sharp breath in through his nose, you release your bottom lip from your teeth, rubbing your thumb teasingly over the oozing slit. Smearing some pre-cum around his head, you could smell the sweat wafting off him, heavy and pungent. It should disgust you. It would if it was anyone else. But, the fact it was from him⎯after he killed in your name and honor, only made it all the more desirable. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cock, you hum in delight at the taste, a mix of bitter and metallic. Yet, somehow still addictive. It could’ve been the aphrodisiac in it.

“Christ⎯” He hisses, “Don’t do that, don’t bloody do that.”

You swirl your tongue around the head again, watching him shudder violently.

“Love⎯”

Letting out a soft hum of delight as the back of your throat starts to tingle, you swallow to try to relieve it, but it doesn’t help. It still feels as if you had swallowed a spoonful of honey. Pressing sloppy kisses down the shaft, the coarse greying hairs on his pubes tickle your nose, the scent of his sweat filling your senses. God, if you could bottle the scent of him, you would. Tangling his fingers into your hair, he shifts in place awkwardly, trying to find a way to stand upright that wasn’t putting a strain on his sore limbs but also didn't make him look like an old man. 

Snickering at his shifting, you take the head of his cock into your mouth, lapping the oozing head clean. The tingling in your throat grows with each lick of your tongue. Jerking off what didn’t fit in your mouth with your hand, you begin to bob your head up and down, the filthy sounds of your slurping filling the air. Throwing his head back, he lets out a strangled noise from the back of his throat, something of a mix of a moan and growl and purr all in one. The sound sends another wave of wetness between your thighs, your small clothes ruined. Bucking his hips instinctively, he forces himself to breath, already overstimulated by your devilish tongue.

“Evil..Evil fucking woman.” He pants, chasing after your tongue with his hips. 

Says the vampire, you want to counter back.

“Evil tongue of yours..”

It’s nothing compared to yours, you would say back to him. 

Gagging as he thrusts his hips forward roughly, you slurp filthy, trying to swallow all the drool and pre-cum that kept oozing out from your mouth. It was hard with the way your mouth and throat felt so tingly. Stupid aphrodisiac. Tightening his grip on your hair to anchor himself, you cringe at the sensation of his claws digging into your scalp, surely leaving marks that would scab over by tomorrow. Hollowing your cheeks the best you could, you bob yourself head faster, trying to hurry before your mouth truly went numb and you couldn't do anything but drool. Your nose brushes against his greying pubes a few times from how deep you force him in. 

“Don’t fucking do that⎯” He gasps, face flushing a bright red.

You force yourself to take him deeper, eyes watering up as the head hits the back of your throat.

“Christ, don’t do that. You’ll make me knot your mouth.” 

If that was an attempt at a threat, it was a horrid one. As if having him knot your mouth was a bad thing. Humming around his cock at his words, it sends vibrations up his spine, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Blinking back the tears in your eyes, you pull back slowly, your cheeks hot from lust. A layer of saliva creates a filthy ring around the base of his cock. Watching in lust as the bottom of his shaft begins to swell, it’s small, but the ridges start to become more prominent at the cold air fanning against it. You had taken it before, but had never really seen his knot before.

Licking the corner of your lips with your tongue, it does nothing to clean the drool that kept dripping down your chin, a feeling of embarrassment bubbling in your gut with how quickly the aphrodisiacs had kicked in. Everything felt a little fuzzier than before. But, it was a good kind of high. Slurping up as much drool as possible, you swirl your tongue sloppily over the head of his cock, watching as his knot swells. It was almost like a heartbeat with the way that it throbbed and swelled up. Whimpering softly as you hum around his cock, he bucks his hips softly, thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. His breathing grows more ragged, sweat trickling down his face.

“Christ⎯God⎯Don’t⎯” He blubbers, stumbling over his words. “Don’t stop, I’m close.” 

Oh, you could tell. 

“I’m⎯” His voice cracks embarrassingly, “That’s a good girl, just a little more.” 

He always started to sound like that when he was getting close. The knight who had murdered men without hesitation, turned into a mewling virgin under your touch⎯or rather tongue. Blindly reaching around for something to hold onto with his free hand, he trips over his feet, his back pressing against the table. Resisting the urge to snicker at the sight, you bob your head up and down a little faster, taking advantage of the fact that you couldn’t feel his cock hitting the back of your throat anymore. Throwing his head back with a whimper, his stomach clench and quiver as his breathing grows faster, a light sheen of sweat breaking out across his skin. 

Teasingly humming around his cock to watch him whimper again, he shudders violently, his knees trembling as he struggles to stand upright. Choking on his breath, he thrusts into your mouth, the warmth of his load flooding your tongue. Watching him through your lashes, you slurp down as much of his cum as possible, a few droplets still managing to fall down onto your breasts. Cringing at the sensation of it dripping down the valley of your breasts, you slowly pull back from his cock, nose wrinkling up involuntarily. Wiping your mouth clean with the back of your hand, you know it’s no use swallowing anymore, not when your mouth feels so numb and tingly.

“Do not tempt me with such words.” 

“Being?” He wheezes, tripping over his feet as his legs give out.

“Knotting my mouth.” You snicker, watching him lean on the table completely.

“You and I know that you will not be able to breathe if I did.” He argues, “Another time.”

“I will hold you to your word, Remmick.” You smirk, your knees popping as you stand up.

“I know you will, you devilish woman.”

Horses.

You detested them. How people could enjoy riding them…or being around them was beyond your understanding. They smelt. They bit. They kicked. They were just horrid creatures all together. Perhaps, you were spoiled from living in the city and not really having to depend on horses because everything was conveniently close by or soon-to-be dependent on the local train station. But, you’d rather eat a plate of horse shit than ever ride a horse on saddle. Not when you had seen horses wildly kick and buck against the restraints of carriages. Not when you had seen handlers get kicked hard, limping in pain as ghastly bruises began to form on their skin. But, Roy Goode did not seem to understand your deep⎯and warranted⎯hatred for horses. 

Letting out a blood curdling scream, you kick and thrash around, trying everything you could think of to get free of Roy’s hold. You were not going to ride a horse. You had managed plenty of years without having to ride one, and you did not need to ride one now. Clawing at his arms wrapped around your waist with your nails, he dragged you along to the horse pen, Alice watching in mild amusement. You could give less of a shit if she thought you were crazy. There was no way in the hell that you were going to ride a horse with Roy. Shifting his grip on your waist, he throws you over his shoulder, carrying you towards the horse pen with ease.

“Roy Goode, you put me down! Or I swear I’ll kick you so damn hard you can’t ever get it up again!” You threaten, hitting at his back with your hands.

“At some point you’re going to need to ride a horse.” He argues, chuckling in amusement.

“I’ll take the train.” You argue, trying to worm your way out of this.

“Not every town has train tracks, darlin’.” He snorts, “Besides, this is helpful for when you gotta do things on your own.”

“Then, I’ll walk!” 

Brushing off your protests, you try to reach down to slap at his ass, a weak attempt to surprise him enough to be able to squirm yourself free. But, he doesn't falter. If anything, it only fuels him even more. It would have been admirable, if it was not for the fact that you were being dragged to the horse pen. Yanking hard on his hair, he yelps loudly, though his grip does not falter. God damn it, why did he have to be strong? Stupid years of working in Frank’s gang. Sensing that fighting would not help you, you tried another way, putting on your best tears.

“Please, please, Roy.” You fake sob, “I’ll do anything you want, just not this.” 

“I know you ain’t cryin’, ( Y/n ).” He states, his voice deadpan. 

“Roy!” You snap, dropping the facade.

“Five minutes, five minutes and I can change your mind about horses.” He argues, shaking his head stubbornly. “That’s all I need.”

“I can do better things in five minutes than ride horses!” 

You could practically feel his smirk on his face at your words. Turning your head to try to glance over your shoulder, you panic as you see the wooden gate of the horse pen, dust kicking up as the horses pace around. No. No. No. NO. Fuck no. Stopping in front of the gate door, he tries to put you back down on your feet, but you resist. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hide your face into the crook of his neck, refusing to face the horses inside. This was your worst dream come true, coming face-to-face with a horse⎯even if there was a gate there. 

Letting out a soft defeated sigh at your protesting, he tries to peel you off, but you refuse to let him. Your grip tightens on his waist, clinging onto him like you would die if he made you stand on your own⎯because you would in a way. Hearing the huffing of the horse behind you, you tense up in his arms, your nails digging hard into his shoulders. You could smell the horse. You could feel it’s beady little eyes focused on you. Peeling one of your legs around his waist, you try to wrap it back around his waist, but he manages to keep it off.

“Darlin’⎯”

“They smell and they kick and I saw one bite a little girl before, Roy!” You argue, shaking your head stubbornly. “I am not about to go near those beasts.”

“Darlin’, they won’t bite. I’ll introduce you to my horse, he won’t harm you. Trained him for years, he’s used to people. Even folks who don’t like horses.” 

“Kiss my ass, Roy Goode!” 

Letting out a low scoff at your insult, he gives you a soft shake to loosen your grip and it does, your feet hit the ground. No. No. No. Whining softly at what was to come, he looks at you with a mixed look of amusement and unimpressed, hands resting on his hips. Opening your mouth to protest it, he shakes his head firmly, wrapping his arms around your waist. Tightly shutting your eyes, he slowly turns your around to face the pen, your jaw tightly clenching. You didn’t need to open up your eyes to know what was probably facing you right now. Shuddering as the horse huffs in your face, Roy presses himself against your back, his thumb rubbing against your hip.

“He’s kind.” 

“He’s a wild animal who could decide at any moment that he doesn’t like me and can kick me, Roy. The idea that you can tame an animal is a lie you tell yourself to feel better.” You argue, shaking your head.

“Fair.” He nods, “But, he gives signs before he does something. You can tell by the way he sounds, the way his body moves.” 

“That’s not comforting.” 

“Trust me.” He coos, “If at any point you don’t feel safe⎯” 

“I don’t feel safe now, Roy.” You snap back, peeling open one eye to glare at him.

“You’re not runnin’, darlin’.” He snorts, cracking a grin.

“Cause you have me pinned.” 

Narrowing his eyes hard at your words, he takes a side step from you, hands tucking in mock innocence behind his back. Devil. Clenching your jaw tightly as nothing has you trapped anymore, you suck in a breath through your teeth, shifting in place. You could leave. You should leave. But, your feet don’t move. Grinding your teeth together, you begrudgingly turn your head, coming face to face with a horse. Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Taking a step closer to the gate, you take a step backwards, the palms of your hands growing sweaty. The horse was towering over you, huffing as it looked you up and down. It was like a fucking wolf looking over a big fat juicy lamb. 

“What’s his name?” You sigh defeated, knowing that deep down that he was right. “And if you say his name is horse, I’m gonna be pissed.” 

“Butter Belle.” He responds, his voice disgustingly innocent.

“You named your fucking horse, Butter Belle?” You scoff, turning your head to look at him. “Isn’t that the name from those butter crates at the general store?”

“Is it?” He shrugs, his lips curling down.

Resisting the urge to slap your forehead at his innocence, you take a sharp breath through your nose, crossing your arms over your chest. Inching a little further away from the pen, you flick your eyes between him and the horse at the gate, still not feeling safe. Sure, Roy made it all seem nice. But, you had seen wild horses before. Seen people claim that they weren’t ‘wild’ anymore and were as tame as could be, just for them to suddenly turn and kick at anything in sight. A wild animal is a wild animal at the end of the day. You can’t change an animal's nature, it was embedded deep in them. Giving your butt a cheeky little pat, he walks up the gate, holding his hand out for the horse. It huffs, leaning into his hand. Clicking his tongue in approval, he pets its mane lovingly, his eyes shifting over to you for a beat.

“You haven’t run back to the house screaming.” He teases with a grin, “I’m proud of you.”

“I don’t like them. But, I ain’t that much of a god damn coward, Roy.”

“You screamed while I carried you.” He huffs, rolling his eyes playfully.

“You grabbed me from behind and said you were taking me to see the horses.” You glare, “Were you expecting me to be jumping for joy about it?”

“Expecting anything but that.” 

“You don’t grab a woman from behind and drag her to see horses, Roy. It’s like me tying you to my bed just to have Frank show up to hump ya’.” You counter back, knowing that your example was nowhere near the same.

“That’s cruel.” He shakes his head, wrinkling in his nose up in disgust.

You were mean? You were the mean one here? Funny coming from the man who had just carried you⎯dragged you⎯here. Taking a sharp breath in through your nose, you bite back the cruel comment on the tip of your tongue, choosing to be a little more mature about this. Yes, you had just fought him tooth and nail. Yes, you looked utterly mad while doing it. But, now was the time to be mature about all of this.

Flicking your eyes between him and the horse, it huffs loudly, hoofs clicking against the ground as it seemingly senses your discomfort. You tense up at the sound, taking a step backwards instinctively. Any second now it was gonna stand on it's legs and kick at the gate. Clicking his tongue soothingly at the horse, Roy strokes its mane, instantly calming it down. It was shocking just how easy it was for him to calm the horse. You had seen others struggle when horses got all huffy like this.

“Well, I guess I’m just sooo mean, Roy.” You mock, dragging out your words exaggeratedly.

“Good thing I like them mean.” He hums, “You gonna let me teach you how to ride, or ya’ gonna fight me again?”

“You’re pushing it. This is as far as I am willing to go for now.” You argue, motioning to the small distance between you and the gate. 

“For now?” He grins, his tone annoying and teasing.

“For now.” You threaten, “But, if you ever do this again, I’m taking your balls, Roy Goode.”

Gritting your teeth in pain as the seatbelt pokes into your lower back, you try to squirm free, the backseat of Eoin’s prized car no place for this. Growling lowly in your ear, Paddy presses himself harder against you, only crowding you further. There were other places you two could have sneak away to⎯the bar’s restroom, the alleyways beside the bar, your flat a few minutes down the road, literally anywhere else. Fumbling clumsily with his belt, he presses himself even harder against you, if that was somehow possible. You hiss in annoyance at his crushing weight, only pushing the seatbelt harder in your lower back.

“Paddy⎯” You protest, but he cuts you off before you can even begin.

“Shut up.” He snaps, his voice far deeper and gruff than usual. “Shut the fuck up, can fucking smell it on you.”

“The seatbelt⎯” You try again, hoping to explain that you weren’t protest him but rather the awkward position he had you bent in.

Ignoring your protests, he finally manages to undo his belt, his hands clumsy from trying to hurry as quickly as possible. Not even bothering to fully pull down his pants or boxers, his cock slaps against his stomach. The head of his cock a painful red and already oozing pre-cum. Tangling his fingers into your hair, he yanks your head back, denying you the chance to really look at the throbbing knot at the base of his cock. The scent of his rut heavy in the car, only adding to your slick. If he was this needy now, god only knows what he would do when he finally got in you.

Smacking the top of your head against the grip of the car door, you let out a yelp of pain, your feet smacking against the other passenger car door as you try to move. This was the worst place to be laid on your back, but Paddy wasn’t about to let you slip out of his grip. Slapping at Paddy’s chest to try to get him off, he lets out a low growl, his grip tightening in your hair. Grumbling as he digs his nails into your scalp, you squirm under him, trying to find some kind of angle under him that wouldn’t hurt. But, it hard to when the back of Eoin’s car is the size of a fucking tin can.

“Stop squirming.” He orders, removing his hand from your hair to drape your leg over his hip.

“The fucking seatbelt is pressing against my back and I can’t move without hitting something, Paddy.” You argue, shooting him a glare. “This is not exactly the sexiest or comfiest.”

“There, now stop your bitching.” He huffs, hooking his arm under your lower back to stop the seatbelt from pressing against it.

Barely resisting the urge to snap back at him for his weak solution, you shift again, your foot against the other passenger door again. Taking a sharp breath in through your nose in irritation, you know that Paddy won’t let you be on top, his ego wouldn't allow it. He’d rather get shot with a silver bullet in the balls than ever let something get on top of him. It was an ego and power thing, expected of an alpha. Which was ridiculous that he would rather the both of you suffer from discomfort than allow you on top. Using his free hand to reach between you, he rips your panties to shreds, using his hips to spread your thighs further. The head of his cock pressing against your slick folds, making a lewd wet sound.

“Eoin is gonna kill you for doing this.” You breath, tensing up in anticipation.

“For fucking you? Or desecrating this car?” He smirks, his nails dig in lower back.

“Both.” You whisper, swallowing nervously.

“He can bill me.”

Bill him for it? Letting out a nervous chuckle at his words, you could try to hide your nervousness, but you fail. God, only knows what Paddy was going to do to you. Grabbing your jaw tightly, he presses his thumb against your bottom lip, forcing it into your mouth. You could practically taste the pheromones on his skin⎯something musky and somehow perfectly Paddy at the same time. It sends goosebumps down your spine, your heart pounding harder than before in your chest.

Teasingly grinding himself against you, you take a sharp breath in through your nose, your back arching instinctively. The heat between your legs grows, instincts taking over as the need for him to breed you builds. Gripping onto his shirt, you try to tug him closer, but he resists. Slapping the head of his cock against your swollen clit, you whimper, clawing at him. It wasn’t enough. You needed him. Needed his knot. Needed his fingers. Needed his mouth. Needed everything from him.

“Paddy⎯”

“You want to bitch about not being comfortable, you can wait until I get comfortable.” He scolds mockingly, smirking as you whine again.

“Paddy, stop teasing⎯” You try again, but he cuts you off.

Pressing his thumb harder into your mouth, you gag slightly as he forces it a little further down your throat, your eyes watering up. Fucking bastard. Smirking even more at your gagging, he uses his free hand to guide the head of his cock between your slick folds, slowly pushing the head in. The stretch burns already, you slick not enough to prepare for the sheer girth that was Paddy’s cock. Clawing at his shirt as he slowly pushes in, his brows furrow together as you clench around him, his breathing trembling slightly. Growling lowly to hide his trembling breath, he slams himself all the way in, a choked breath escaping your lips at the sudden brutal stretch, his knot not yet in.

“Christ⎯”

“He ain’t here, not gonna save you from this.” He taunts in your ear, “Fucking knew what you were doing coming around me, smelling like that, fucking asking me to knot you.”

You’d slap him for that snarky comment if it wasn’t for the fact that your brain was already going fuzzy.

Thrusting forward roughly, you let out a choked noise, struggling to adjust to the brutal stretch. It burns and you’d surely be sore for the rest of the day, but dear god did you not want him to stop, it hurt so good. Dragging your nails harder down his clothed back, he smugly smirks at the blush spreading on your cheeks, sweat trickling down his forehead. His hips continue their relentless pace, plunging his cock deep inside of you over and over again. The throbbing knot at the bottom of his shaft threatening to push in a few times, making you gasp sharply. You could barely handle him now, you'd weren't ready for that yet. But, Paddy didn't seem to care that much about that fact.

“You like that?” 

You don’t respond, your tongue feeling as if it was made of lead.

“I should breed you, fucking fill you all the way up and make you carry my litter.” He whispers in your ear, “Make you explain to Eoin what happened. You think he’d look at you the same if he knew?”

Tensing up at the mention of Eoin, he lets out a low chuckle at your reaction, shoving his thumb further down your throat. Gagging again as he pushes them further back, you try to spit them out, drool pooling out of your mouth and down your chin. It’s filthy, downright sinful. But, it only fuels him further. Spitting a fat glob of spit into your mouth, you swallow instinctively, only gagging further as he pushes his thumb deeper. Clicking his tongue scoldingly as you keep trying to spit him out, he curls his thumb to gather as much of your saliva as possible, pulling it out once his finger was thoroughly coated. 

You gasp, finally able to breath without restriction. 

“Stop being dramatic, or else I’ll really give you something to gag on.” He threatens, finishing his sentence with a hard thrust.

Cheeky bastard.

"But, you'd fucking like that wouldn't you? Like gagging on it like the whore you are."

Spitting on your cheek, he swears the saliva across your cheeks like he was trying to mark you with his scent, only making your skin sticky. Opening your mouth to scold him, he shuts you up with a hard thrust, your eyes rolling the back of your head. The sudden switch between choking you with his thumb and punishing thrusts makes your brain swirl. It was a delicious torture that only made you more wet.  Licking his top lip to clean away some sweat, he keeps a straight face, the only sight of him enjoying this being as much as you were was his grip tightening. Pulling his hand from your lower back, you hiss at the jab from the seatbelt, immediately squirming to avoid it. 

Scoffing hard at your squirming, he grips onto your thighs, keeping your hips levitated enough to avoid the seatbelt. It only pulls a strain on your muscles. Digging his nail hard into your skin, he picks up his pace, punching out the air from each thrust. Nipping at your ear with his teeth, the sudden realization that you both were in the back of Eoin’s car⎯that anyone could walk up and see or hear the two of you, dawns upon on you. Biting on your bottom lip to muffle your moans, you blush a bright pink from embarrassment, the filthy sounds of wetness squelching filling the air. Glaring at your silence, he grabs a handful of your hair, trying to get some kind of noise out of you.

“Now you want to be silent?” He scoffs, yanking your head back.

“Someone could hear⎯” You warn, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t act all shy now.” He scolds, “You weren’t shy when you were rubbing up against me, fucking trying to scent me like the whore you are.”

“Paddy⎯” 

Letting out a condescending chuckle at your attempts to explain yourself, he stops his pace for what feels like the hundredth time, frustration bubbling in your lower gut. He’d stop and torment you, just to surprise you when you least expected it by thrusting again. You’d rather he just not stop all together⎯overstimulation was better than no stimulation at all. Biting harder on your bottom lip, it takes everything in you to not shove him off, to try to pin him under you as you took over. You would⎯if it weren’t for the fact that Paddy had twice your strength and the backseat was the size of a tin can. Smugly smirking at your growing frustration, he slowly bucks his hips, dragging his cock along your walls. Slow. Torturous. Cruel.

“Stop teasing.” 

“Give me a reason not to.” He shrugs, stopping once again.

“God damn it! Eoin could be back any minute, stop fucking teasing and just finish already.” You snap, losing your patience with this constant tormenting from him.

“You think that will stop me?” He chuckles, raising a brow.

It wouldn’t. You knew that. He knew that. Hell, it would only fuel him further. Letting out a low grumble under your breath, you tighten your grip on his shirt, using your legs to try to pull him tighter against yourself. God, he was insufferable. But, that was Paddy. He played by his own rules, and you would have no choice but to play along. Pulling your head back to force you to look out the window from upside down, you couldn’t see from the fog on the glass, easing a little bit of your worry of someone seeing you two. At least it would only be a faint outline..not really. Spitting a fat glob of saliva in your face, he abruptly thrusts into you, your mind letting you not get your hopes up anytime soon. He’d just stop and leave you in a puddle of anger just for the fun of it. 

“Fucking demanding me to hurry up, to stop teasing.” He huffs, letting out a condescending laugh.

“We’re still in public, Paddy.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” He argues, shaking his head.

“We’re in Eoin’s car, Paddy.” You add, shooting him a glare.

“Still doesn’t matter.” He counters back, not even bothering to fake any shame.

It should. 

Trailing his lips down your neck, he switches between biting and sucking dark marks into your skin that Eoin would surely notice. The heat between your legs returns against your better judgment, hotter than before. Sweat trickles down your forehead, your body jerking involuntarily at each torturous slap of his hips against your hips, the roughness of the seatbelt still poking at your lower back like an annoying ex-mate. Nipping at your scent gland with his teeth, you let out an involuntary moan at the sensation, your body reacting despite your mind telling it not to. Letting go of your hip, his other hand stays tangled in your hair, keeping you in an awkward half bend. You back ached from being stuck in his position for a while with his crushing weight on top. 

“You like that?” 

You don’t respond, too embarrassed.

“Like when I scent you?” He chuckles darkly, “Filthy whore. What would Eoin say, huh? If he could smell me on you…smell me in you?”

Groping at your breasts roughly through your blouse, he sucks harder on your scent gland, sending waves of heat down your spine. You shouldn’t be getting used to this. You know that. But, finally getting pleasure after constant stop and go’s sending you spiraling. Thrusting his knot in all the way without warning, you tense up, lungs draining of air at how painful it was. Even with how wet you were, it didn’t matter. Paddy was bigger than any knot you had ever taken and that one was years ago when you were still learning about your heat and had used a toy.

Bucking his hips a few more times, he stops abruptly, drool leaking from the corners of his slack mouth as his knot swells. Collapsing on top of you like a dead weight, you wheeze as the air is knocked out of you, a lingering burn of pain in between your legs from the stretch. The orgasm that had slowly been building up, dead. You could feel some of his cum ooze out from around his knot, sticky and slowly trickling down your inner thighs. It takes a good moment to process all of it. Then, rage builds up. This bastard had just purposefully denied you an orgasm. 

“What the fuck Paddy?!” You hiss, pissed that you didn’t even get the chance to finish. “That’s fucking cruel!” 

He doesn’t respond for a second, letting you curse him in amusement.

“You cruel fucking bastard!” You slap his chest, “You didn’t let me finish! Spent half the time mocking me!”

“I said I was going to knot you, never said that I was going to make sure that you finished.” He argues, only fueling your anger more.

-----

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ NEW YORK, 1999.

Resisting the urge to gag as your friend rambles on about her latest date, you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to keep your cocktail down. You couldn't understand the thought process of a man. Just..why? Why the fuck did they have be so god damn gross? Seriously. Never in your life have you looked at a man suggestively licking ice cream and want to throw your panties at him in lust. It was just cringeworthy and disgusting and made you grateful for having Remi. Shaking your head the more that describes the way that he was licking his ice cream, you take a sip of your cocktail, swishing it around in your mouth. The burn was far far more pleasant than her story.

“That is disgusting.” Remmi nods, her nose wrinkling up in disgust.

“Agreed.” You smack your lips together at the lingering burn of liquor in your mouth, “I just don’t get how anyone can do that and think that they look sexy.”

“I can’t believe a man would do that.” 

“I can, it’s a man.” You scoff, biting back a giggle at your own joke.

“Not as bad as doing that.” Remi argues, pointing to a couple on the other end of the bar. 

Following her hand, you raise a brow up at the clearly drunk couple, sprinkling a line of salt on each other's arms. Grabbing a lime from the bartender's hand, the couple proceed to lick each other's arms, downing the shot then sucking on the lime slice. Oh fucking please, that was tame compared to the man from your friends date. They were licking each other's arms to take a shot, they probably knew each other and were totally fine with it. They weren’t licking an ice cream cone to try to seduce someone who they had just met on a first date. Two totally different things. Rolling your eyes hard at the sight, you shake your head firmly, pushing hair over your shoulder. 

"Oh, shut it, tampon sucker.” You scoff, “You eat pussy, licking someone's arm to do a line of salt for a shot is nothing compared to what Jessie is talking about." 

"Tampon sucker?" Remi scoffs, placing a hand onto her chest.

"You heard me, Remi." You argue back, "Don’t act like you totally wouldn’t do it if I let you." 

It was a low blow and just an overall shitty insult, but too late to take it back now. You had said it and she had heard you. Narrowing her eyes hard at your words, she grit her teeth tightly, sucking in a breath through her teeth. Opening her mouth up to argue, she stops herself at the last second, tightly shutting her lips. Diverting your gaze back onto your friend, she’s continuing to ramble on about her date, not noticing you and Remi’s bickering. Good. She clearly needed to get all of this out of her system, and you weren’t going to tell her to shut up any time soon. 

Feeling Remi’s glare still on you, you turn your head, raising a brow up at the look on her face. It was a mix of anger, hurt, and brattiness. Wrinkling her nose up as she festers in her feelings, she pushes back strands of hair from her face, leaning forward on the bartop. You barely resist the urge to glance down as she pushes up her chest, clearly attempting to rile you up. She had worn that skimpy little band shirt, one that you had cut up for her for the summer time. She knew just how much you enjoyed it, how you liked how it hugged her curves. Evil little bitch. 

“I have standards.” She argues, making your scoff.

“I’ve seen the people you eat, you do not have standards, Remi.” You roll your eyes hard, “Blood is blood to you.”

“Nuh-huh! Blood is not just blood. I have very high standards for the things I eat.” She pushes back tousled curls over her shoulder, acting like she was above your claims. 

“Bullshit, Remi.” You scoff hard, shaking your head in firm disagreement.

“Bullshit? I do!” She argues, her voice raising up in offense.

“You don’t!” You argue back, “I saw you eat a literal rat out of a dumpster.”

“I had drunk the blood of someone with drugs in their system, that was not on purpose.” She argues back, lowering her voice to not be overheard. “I just had the munchies!” 

As if that was a good enough reason to justify eating a literal rat. Sure, you had gotten the munchies before after smoking a blunt with her before. But, there was always other options to get a snack⎯grocery stores, convenience stores, the chinese place next door or the pizza place down the block from the apartment. Surely, she couldn’t just find someone randomly on the street and just steal a quick bite? Instead of just eating a rat. Pointing at your tongue to pretend like you were sticking a finger down your throat, you let out a dramatic fake gag, mocking her shitty reasoning. Nothing could justify it. Nothing.

“You still did it.” You bicker back, leaning in closer to her. “That is far more gross than licking salt off someone’s arm.”

“Gross enough for you to not want to fuck me?” She pouts, pathetically giving you puppy eyes.

“If you eat another rat, I will never touch you again.” You argue firmly, “Let alone let that tongue of yours near me.”

“It was one time.” She huffs, dropping her facade instantly.

“One time too many!” You scoff, shaking your head.

Pushing open the door to the apartment, you kick off your shoes, watching Remi lingering in the doorway. Her lips curled down into a big and pathetic pout. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes hard at the sight, you don’t bother to invite her in just yet, throwing your jacket on the couch. She grumbles loudly, her face darkening as you deny her entry into the apartment. Taking an annoyed breath in through your nose at her grumbling, you walk away, continuing to deny her entry. 

She was being too much of a brat for you right now. She could sulk a little longer outside, maybe that would snap her out of it. Letting out another loud grumble, you don’t give her the attention that she was clearly demanding, unbuttoning your jeans. Pressing your back against the wall for support, you shimmy yourself out of them, kicking them down the floor in front of the laundry machine. Kicking the wall beside the doorway, she lets out another pestering huff, glaring at you.

“I can’t believe you seriously brought up the rat at the bar.” She huffs, tapping her foot on the floor.

“Remi, you started it.” You argue, shooting her a look.

“Did not.” She argues back, her tone ridiculously petulant.

“Did so, you little brat.” You threaten, “Keep it up and I won’t let you in.”

“You’d do that to me?” She gasps, acting like she was in some kind of crappy soap opera.

“Remi..”

Slapping your forehead with your hand, you let out a defeated sigh as she keeps on going, patience drying up quickly. Tapping her foot annoyingly, you let out a grumble, eye twitching at just how annoying she was acting. God, you just wanted to strangle and fuck this brattiness out of her at the same time. For someone who liked to brag about being a dominant top, she was sure acting like a bratty pillow princess. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you try to focus on removing your socks, trying to show some self restraint. She was just trying to piss you off on purpose. She was tipsy and just pestering you like how she always did when she drank blood laced with liquor. 

“Stop it.” You scold, “You’re tipsy, Remi.” 

“You’re tipsy…bottom bitch.” 

“Remi, stop it.” You shake your head, “I’m serious. You’re being ridiculous and you didn’t even really drink that much blood tonight.”

“You’re not letting me in because you know the moment you let me inside I’d have you bent over the bed and moaning my name.” She taunts, letting out a soft giggle.

Letting out another pestering clearing of her throat, you lose all self control, sharply turning on your heels to face her fully. Oh, this little bitch. Now she was going too far. Smugly smirking at your reaction, you narrow your eyes hard at her, hands trembling at your side. You wouldn’t hit her. You wouldn’t hit her. Sticking her tongue out childishly, she flips you off, swaying slightly from side to side. Ugh, she didn’t even drink that much. It was one fucking slurp from your neck while the two of you were in the bathroom. It was literally nothing compared to 

“Suck it..” She taunts, “Or else I’ll find some other chick who will.” 

“You’re making a fucking fool of yourself, Remi. Get your ass inside now. I invite you or what the fuck that I need to say.” You snap, shooting her a firm glare. 

“Oooh, I’m so scared!” She mocks, holding her hands up in mock surrender.

Narrowing your eyes hard at her antics, she takes it a step further, mimicking jerking off her imaginary cock. It was ridiculously childish. Throwing her head back in a loud cackle, you lose what little of your patience that held you back, cheeks flushing hot from burning anger. God, why the hell were you with her again? She was such a fucking brat. Wrapping your hand around her throat, you spin her against the wall, kicking the door with your shoe. Choking on her laughter at your seriousness, she stares at you with wide eyes, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. From embarrassment? Lust? Shock? Anger? You couldn't really tell nor did you really care.

“Say one more thing, I fucking dare you, Remi.” You sneer, “I’ve been letting a lot slide, more than I should. And now you wanna talk about fucking others? Act like pretending to be tipsy is gonna save your ass, huh?”

She doesn’t respond, and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“We both know that you’re not really tipsy, you’re just acting like a brat for fun.” You press, trying to get her to finally act maturely about all of this. “So drop the act, I’m not having it tonight.” 

“Suck my dick.” 

That fucking does it. Giving her throat a firm warning squeeze, she lets out a pathetic whimper, squirming in your grip to break free. Not a fucking chance. She started this shit and she was gonna endure until you felt like it was enough. Opening her mouth to protest, you don't give her the chance, smashing your lips against hers to swallow the sound. Letting out a strangled noise against your lips, you could feel her hands everywhere, unable to linger in a spot for more than a second. One second they were in your hair, tugging hard at the strands until your scalp ached. The next they were groping at your waist, as if trying to rip apart your underwear like a rapid little beast.

Dragging your tongue over the seam of her mouth, you force her to let you in, dragging your tongue slowly over her fangs. All slimy from all the drool in her mouth. Humming in delight at the taste, you nudge her trembling thighs apart, forcing your knee in between them. Jolting at the pressure of your knee against her crotch, you swear that you could already feel how wet she was, practically dripping like there was a waterfall between her legs. Pathetic slut. She may pretend to be a domiant top who never faltered to your friends, but at heart she was still a pathetic bottom in need of getting fucked right by you. Breaking the kiss, a string of saliva connects from your lips.

“I can feel how wet you are already, haven’t even touched you.” 

“Am not.” She argues, her face flushing brighter from embarrassment.

“No?” You mock, tilting your head to the side. “No, Remi? So if I stick my hand in your panties they’ll be all dry? That pretty little pussy of yours isn’t gonna be drooling for me?” 

“No.” She lies, her voice trailing off at the end.

“Liar. I should stop right here and leave you in a puddle of your own wetness, slut.” You scoff, putting more pressure on her crotch. “But, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’re a little fucking sadist, like torturing yourself.”

Letting out a shuddered breath at the increase of pressure, she bucks her hips involuntarily, seeking out some friction. You could see that familiar glimmer in her eyes, the one that always came whenever you topped her⎯that craving for you to breed her, even though it was biologically impossible. Clicking your tongue scoldingly at her, you slowly pull your knee away, earning a high-pitched protest. It wasn’t quite words, but it wasn’t quite a noise either. It was something desperate and inbetween. God, it was beautiful. Smirking at her reaction, you give her throat a punishing squeeze, holding it for a second until you were sure that her lungs would burn from the lack of air. 

“Keep it up and I’ll tie your ass up.” You warn, releasing your grip just enough to let her breathe again. “Put you right in front of the window.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You think I won’t after how much of a brat you’ve been acting since we got back from the bar, sweetheart?" You press harder, “Fucking mocking me. Fucking taunting me. Fucking acting like you’re drunk. You’re just an attention seeking whore.”

"You're being mean.” She whines, pouting deeply.

“You’re being a brat.” You argue, “Brats don’t get treated nicely.” 

Letting out another whimper at your words, she squirms around, clawing at your hips with her nails. Perhaps, you were being a little too mean to her. But, she deserved it after how she was acting. Brat’s don’t get to act that way and go unpunished for it. Besides, if you really wanted to be mean, you’d just walk away and go to bed. You could. You could leave her here, in a puddle of her own arousal. You probably should. But, you wouldn’t. Looking over her face slowly, you linger on the blush on her cheeks, on the way her eyes keep on growing heavier and heavier from lust. She was so pretty like this, all needy. But you liked seeing her moaning more.

“( Y/n )..” 

“Begging won’t help you, Remi.” You scold, “You’d do a hell of a lot worse to me if I was acting the way that you are.” 

“But, this is different⎯” She argues in a whiny voice, but you cut her off.

“Is it?” You raise a brow, “Don’t act like you wouldn’t already have me bent over the couch and ass all raw from slapping me.”

Opening her mouth up to argue again, you raise your brow higher, letting her dig a deeper hole for herself. She knew that it was the truth, deep down. If you acted even a fragment like how she had been, your ass would’ve been raw by the time the sun rose up. Stopping herself at the last second, you chuckle at the look on her face, begrudging defeat. Tightening your grip on her throat again, you slip your other hand down her stomach, feeling it trembling under your touch. Stopping at the button of her jeans, you fumble to remove it by yourself, roughly yanking the button free. 

Jolting as you unbutton her jeans, you press your thigh against her crotch, keeping her from moving anymore. It was a lot harder doing this with one hand, but you weren’t about to let go of her throat. Clumsily unzipping them, you take your time pulling them down, leaving them pooled half way down her thighs. The sight of her underwear bringing a smile to your face. The once pretty scarlet red now a dark maroon from how wet she was. God, you wished that you had a camera to take a picture of this. Remi this wet just from a little choking and kissing.

“Look at all this.” You mock, “Talking a big old game, acting like a total brat and you’re fucking ruining those panties of yours. You like when I slap you around, huh? Like when I remind you that I can just as easily top you, turn you into a whiny little bitch.” 

“Stop.” She argues, tightly closing her legs to keep you out.

“Open those legs for me, princess. Or else, I’m gonna walk.” You threaten, pulling your hand away abruptly. 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” She glares, her embarrassment melting away as desperation takes over.

“Open them.” You order, voice a little more stern than before.

Flushing an even brighter pink at your stern order, she surprisingly complies without complaint, spreading her thighs for you. Smugly smirking at her obedience, you slip your hand in her panties, still not removing them completely. You wanted her to sit in her wetness a little longer, feel humiliated just a little longer. Peeling the damp fabric off her folds, you swear that you could hear a low squelching sound from it, lewd and embarrassing. Biting back a whimper, you drag a finger through her folds, playing with the wetness that oozed out of her like a waterfall. 

Biting hard on her bottom lip, you smirk deeply at the sight, you could feel her body vibrating underneath you. Adjusting your other hand on her throat, you flick her clit, earning a strangled noise from her. Rubbing your thumb over her swollen clit, you trail your fingers further, the further you reach the wetter it gets. You barely resist the urge to mock her. Slowly pressing in your pointer and middle finger in, she tenses up instantly at the girthy stretch of your fingers, clenching hard around them. You could barely curl them, trying to find her g-spot.

“Please..” She whines, her hips bucking for more.

“You gonna cum already?” You mock, “Just barely put my fingers in, haven’t even moved yet.”

“You’re so fucking evil!” 

“Evil enough for you to want me to stop?” You snort, watching her face shift instantly.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I swear I’ll rip out your fucking throat⎯” 

Narrowing your eyes hard at her threat, she tries to get in your face, her fangs bared like a wild dog. Pushing her back against the wall by the throat, you sharply curl your fingers upwards, thrusting your fingers roughly. Moaning loudly at the rough pace you set, you chest your chest against hers, giving her throat occasional punishing squeezes. Not enough to make her lose her breath, but enough to make her uncomfortable. Thrusting your fingers in and out fast, you watch smugly as she blinks back hot tears of pleasure, your hand already beginning to ache. But, you push yourself through the minor discomfort. It would be worth it in the end.

Bucking her hips with each cruel thrust of your fingers upwards, you want to mock her, to mock how desperate she was to finish as quickly as possible. But, you refrain. Instead, you just take in every moan, every buck of her hips, every fluttering of her lashes as she barely manages to keep her eyes open. Shifting your hand between her thighs, you clumsily rub your thumb over her clit, ruthless circles that you know would push her closer to an orgasm. Digging her nails hard into your shoulders for support to keep standing upright, you hiss as she manages to break the skin, bloody crescent moon shapes appearing. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” You purr, “Can feel that little tremble in your breathing.” 

“So close.” She nods, face heating up the closer she gets.

“Not even been doing this for five minutes, think that’s the quickest I’ve ever gotten you to cum.” 

“Please, just stop torturing me!” She wails, “I’m sorry! I’ll fucking behave, just please!”

Tilting your head down, you nip at the side of her neck with your teeth, trying to leave some marks behind. But, the skin keeps healing before you could even get close to it. Stupid vampire fast healing bullshit. Grumbling under your breath, you curl your fingers one last time, earning a high-pitched wail from her. Your ears ring from the sound. Gushing all over your fingers, you coax her through her orgasms, her hips jerking and twitching involuntarily. Gradually slowing down your pace, you give her swollen clit one last rub, watching her shudder violently from the overstimulation. Slowly pulling your fingers out, she winces at the sudden empty feeling, pouting. 

“There we go..” You coo, “So pretty when you cum, aren’t you?” 

“Fuck off.” She huffs, her voice shaky.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Remi.” You chuckle, licking your fingers clean.

The familiar un-naturally sweet taste of her on your tongue. Licking some sweat off her top lip, you chuckle at the sight, enjoying that post-orgasm glimmer in her. Pressing a teasing kiss onto her lips, she huffs against your lips, lightly pushing you away. Rolling your eyes hard at her reaction, you sharply walk away, deciding to deny her any more attention for the rest of the night. If she wanted to continue to be a brat, you’d just let her sulk. Your hand was aching and the temptation of your bed was more pleasing than trying to finger the brattiness out of her…again. 

“Goodnight.” 

“What the fuck?!” She shrieks, “That’s it?! You’re not going to even top me properly?!”

“Nope, brats don’t get those kinds of privileges. Be grateful that I even let you cum.” You argue, shaking your head. “Besides, I’m sleepy and wanna go to bed.”

“What the fuck?! No! You get your ass back here and top me properly! You haven’t even used the strap yet!” She complains, hot on your trail. “( Y/n )!”

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