berryangel773

You knew he’d be here tonight. You planned for him to be here.

The night was still young but the impatience was settling in. It didn’t help that you were exhausted and he was taking his sweet ass time.

Your feet padded along the hardwood floors, eyes glancing every so often towards your back porch for any sign of him nearby. A sigh left your lips upon seeing no change, not even a feeling of change in the atmosphere.

Just when you started to turn back towards your bedroom, the air shifted. It was a heavy shift, the air stilling and sending a chill down your spine. Looking back at your porch door, there was no sight of him, but you could feel him somewhere out there. You stepped closer to the door, feeling a sense of unease crawl up your throat.

“Remmick…?” You called out softly, pressing your hand against the doorframe. A rustle came from your right along with an unintelligible whisper. “Remmick…” you called out a bit more irritated, already wary from the creeps.

“Find me.” His whisper sounded in your ear, as if he were right against it. You rolled your eyes at his antics, crossing your arms in an attempt to look annoyed rather than scared.

“It’s dark, I’m not coming out there.” Just like that, his presence vanished completely. You frowned, half wanting to go out there like he asked, the other half wanting to go to bed. “Christ.”

You pushed open the door and stepped out barefoot, the coarse wood beneath you creaking with every step. Your arms remained wrapped around yourself because of the chill, but also because you were still scared. The grass was slightly damp and the air smelled of mildew and heat, but the one scent that caught your nose was blood—that metallic tang was one you familiarized yourself with, and it only meant one thing.

“Peekaboo!” The whisper came with strong arms wrapping around you from behind, Remmick’s lips grazing the soft skin of your neck. You yelped from the shock of his sudden appearance and groaned when he lifted you off the ground.

“Idiot!” You kicked, brows furrowing once he turned you around. “Why’d you do that?”

His teeth, which were slightly pointed, glinted in the light of your porch lights when he grinned. He gave you a half-hearted shrug, “like t’ hear ya yelp.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head before walking back to your house, “I oughta leave you out ‘ere.”

He trailed after you with quiet footsteps, “no, no, no. I’ll be good.” You looked over your shoulder to see those wide eyes, full of fear at the thought of you leaving him alone tonight. Feeling a hint of satisfaction bubble in your chest, you stepped into your house, leaving him almost pawing at your screen door. “C’mon darlin’… don’t be like this.”

Remmick stood right outside your door, nose barely brushing the screen that separated you from him. His teeth were tucked over his bottom lip and his fingers twitched at his sides. You weren’t really mad, but it was nice to be the one in control this time.

“Be like what?” You tilted your head to the side. He audibly huffed and reached up as if he could grab you. “I thought I made myself clear when I told you I didn’t want to go out. I don’t like that spooky bullshit you pulled.”

“I know…” he frowned, opting to fumble with his suspenders to give his hands something else to do. “I was jus’ bein’ naughty. You know me.”

You hummed, not quite giving in yet. Remmick’s nails grew pointier with every moment he strained to hold back. He knew logically he couldn’t just lunge at you, not without your permission.

“Let me in, please?” You could see the drool slowly drip down from the corner of his mouth, “I swear. I’ll be good, I’ll listen.”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes, “you promise?”

“I promise, over my undead body.” He pressed a sharp hand over his chest, red eyes boring into yours.

You shifted your stance and slid a hand behind you, “come in, Remmick.”

Just like you predicted, he threw the door open and lunged at you, baring his teeth as he reached for you with those sharp claws. But you were prepared. Right as you felt the rush of wind, your hand shot out from behind you and bestowed a rosary, a dainty little thing, but it did the trick.

Remmick cowered, shrinking back and glaring like you struck him. “The fuck was that for?”

“You said you’d be good,” you shrugged. Even though you knew he could overpower you—the rosary didn’t compare to the likes of him—he was playing along. “Now I’m not sure I want to play anymore.”

“No!” He reached out, wincing when you kept the rosary raised in front of you. He wiped the saliva off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt before looking at you through his lashes, “I’ll be so, so, so good now.”

“You keep saying that but won’t listen,” you sighed dramatically, “and to think I was going to give you a gift.”

“A what?” Remmick perked up immediately, brows shooting up. “A gift?”

“Well it is your birthday,” you hummed. Remmick had mentioned in a fleeting moment of his origins and that included his birthday, but he had never expected you to pick up on that, let alone remember it. You watched him soften gradually, not just in his gaze, but the sharp edges of his teeth and nails were starting to round out again. “But I suppose if you’re going to misbehave, then forget about it.

The room echoed with a loud thud as he dropped to his knees, his hands tentatively grasping at your thighs, the coolness of his skin seeping through your thin nightie. He pressed his face into your warm stomach, nuzzling you like an eager puppy. “Please.”

The sight of him like this made both lust and satisfaction fester in your gut. You gently lowered your non-rosary wielding hand into his hair—slightly tangled and damp with sweat. He let out a soft noise and nuzzled further into your stomach. You played with his hair for a moment, enjoying the gentle serenity compared to your usual animalistic passion. Remmick sighed and slid his hands up the backs of your thighs, just barely grazing your ass.

“Bad,” you muttered and brought the rosary down so it grazed his neck. He hissed and released his hold on you to swat at the crucifix. Remmick eventually gave up and sat back on his haunches, keeping his hands on his lap. You smiled down at him, ignoring the way his slacks tightened at the crotch. “I won’t ask again.”

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, head bowed.

You sucked your teeth in annoyance, “I’ll drag you outside.”

His shoulders sagged with the deep breath he released, lifting his head to show you the remorse in his eyes. If he was faking it, you didn’t catch on. “I really am sorry. I’ll behave, really. Let me see my gift. Please, sweetheart.” His gaze followed you as you dropped down to his level, shivering when you leaned in to breathe against his neck.

“You can keep your hands to yourself, yes?” You watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, giving you a barely there nod. “I’ll tie you up if you misbehave, you know I will.” He gave you a firmer nod and let his head graze your own, gaze flicking over to yours when you pulled away.

The rosary was soon discarded next to you, not completely, just close by in case you needed it. With free hands, you reached up to cup his face in your hands, thumbs grazing his rough stubble, skin marred with subtle scratches from possible feedings or scuffs. Remmick quickly melted in your palms, your warmth soothing his cooled exterior. Your lips soon met his, not giving him more than quick pecks and innocent presses. He chased your lips when you pulled away and whined in protest, but to his surprise, you bared your neck to him.

You watched as he blinked dumbly, his mouth gaping. From the moment your relationship was established, you stood firm on your request to not be bitten. Remmick had never pushed on your demand, even if he was rough with you, he’d never break that boundary.

“Well?” You smiled your sweetest smile, aimed right at his undead heart, and at the growing thickness in his pants. “Happy birthday, Rem.”

A gasp escaped you as he reached for you with outstretched hands, pulling you against him with a force that made you dizzy. He tucked his head into your neck and you felt the sharp points of his teeth slide into your skin. The pain was immediate—white-hot and setting you ablaze as his fangs slid deep into your throat. Your breath was taken, gasping for air to ease the lack of oxygen in your brain. But even with the rough handling, he tried to lessen the pain by stroking your hair and rubbing your hip.

Remmick drank hungrily, but not greedily. When your body began to feel limp and light, he released his tight grip on you and slid his teeth out the wound with a gentle pop. Your neck throbbed from the soreness but was soothed by his tongue lapping up the blood still pebbling from the wound. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely to which he took as permission to gather you in his arms and walk you down to your bedroom.

He wrapped your legs around his waist along the way, mouth still sucking at the blood still spilling from your neck. You were dazed, that’s for sure, but the moment he stepped foot into your bedroom, you found your voice again.

“I’m still in charge,” you whispered weakly, cupping his face to pull him away from your neck momentarily. Remmick was just as dazed as you were, drunk on the taste of your blood, the crimson liquid smeared across his mouth and chin. His eyes matched yours—half-lidded and cloudy, full of hunger, animalistic and lustful. He let you down onto your feet when you released your hold around his waist, keeping a steady hand on your waist to ensure you didn’t tumble over. “Lie down,” you nodded to the bed.

Remmick practically jumped on, the fragile frame creaking obscenely beneath his weight. You stood there next to the bed, in your nightie stained with red, blood still fresh on your neck. To him, you looked like a beautiful, dark angel, sent to ruin him further than he already was. Remmick lay perfectly still as he awaited your next move, claws digging into his palms.

You reached up and dropped one of your nightie’s straps off your shoulder, and then the next until the thin fabric pooled at your feet. Remmick’s eyes darkened further at the sight of you clad in only your panties, and you didn’t miss the way his cock twitched in his slacks. Your feet stumbled as you approached the bed, shooting him a warning glance when he attempted to catch you.

He took your warning seriously this time. You’d just given him something so sacred and personal that he didn’t want to imagine what would happen if you were to pull away and punish him. Your hands braced themselves on the mattress, pushing yourself up onto the bed and swinging your leg over his lap, settling right over his bulge.

Remmick let out a deep groan that almost sounded like a growl, his hips twitching upwards to receive more of that friction that you so stubbornly refused to give. His nails dug into your sheets, no doubt piercing the fabric. Just to piss him off further, you curled your fingers around his waist and rolled your hips against his hard.

“Christ,” he groaned, throwing his head back into your pillows, “thought you were supposed to be giftin’ me.”

“I am, I just love to hear you beg.” You shrugged smugly, slightly quoting his words from earlier.

Remmick rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath, “it’s my birthday. At least let me hold ya, woman.”

Your lips stretched into a wide grin, relishing in the way he whimpered when you ground down again. With a soft, surrendering sigh, you rubbed his chest. “I guess I should be nicer. You have been doing good…” You wanted to toy with his eagerness for a bit, just enough to keep him on his toes. You observed the way his eyes widened pleadingly, his claws retracting back and forth in your sheets, waiting for your ‘go’. “Still no touching.”

He sunk into the mattress with a defeated whine, throwing his arms over his eyes while his hips twitched up, making his arousal clear.

“At least fuck me,” he whispered hoarsely, tone evident that he was close to tears.

“Oh, trust me. I’m getting to it.” And you made swift progress on that promise. Your fingers swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his sweaty and pale skin. He lifted his arms to watch you perform, helping you shrug his suspenders and sleeves off his arms. His shirt was tossed onto the floor haphazardly and his chain glinted in your dim lamp light. He smirked smugly upon seeing your gawking, his teeth rubbing against his plush lower lip. “Stop.”

“I’m not doing anything!” He laughed, eyes glinting mischievously. He bit his lip to stifle his grin when you glared at him, but it wasn’t like he was breaking any rules, so there was no need to deprive him of anything.

You slid down his thighs to undo the zipper of his trousers. Remmick stared at your tits which jiggled with the movements you made. He swallowed the pooling saliva in his mouth when he saw the dried line of blood between them, wanting to bite the softness of your breast and suckle from there.

With little difficulty, you pulled down his pants and his cock sprung out angrily. The sticky tip of his tapped his lower stomach, coated in an obscene amount of precum, flushed red and twitching under your scrutiny. You shared an equal amount of thirst for him as he did you, so you did what he would, take.

Remmick choked on a moan when your lips enveloped his sensitive head, your tongue swirling the round tip and tasting the salty slick of his that made your mind blank. You wrapped a hand around the shaft and dropped your jaw to take a bit more of his girth, and because you were a tease, you grazed your teeth on the upwards pull. He hissed at the feeling, cock twitching hotly in the warmth of your mouth.

For a moment, you just licked around his length, barely bobbing your head. It took literally everything in him to not grab your head and fuck up into your mouth senselessly, you could tell by the way his hands hovered over your scalp. You peered up at him and the sight almost made him cum right there. It wasn’t often that you took his cock into your mouth, much preferring to have him inside your cunt, so seeing your mouth full of him? It was enough to bring a man to tears.

“Let me touch you,” he whispered hoarsely, whimpering when you gave a harsh suck. Slowly, you braced your hands on his thighs and gave him a silent look which only meant ‘yes.’ His large palms immediately clasped on either side of your head, holding you in place as his hips pistoned upwards.

You gagged as his cock hit the back of your throat over and over again, the heat between your legs unbearable now. Remmick growled deeply, throwing his head back as he continued to facefuck you harshly. The bed creaked rhythmically and your saliva bubbled around his shaft, creating a rim of sticky slick that dripped down to his heavy balls.

The soreness settled in while his speed was unrelenting. Breathing through your nose was futile since every time you breathed in, his pelvis met your nose, burying you in the hair that laid there. Still, you were just as turned on as he was, rutting uselessly against your mattress in an attempt to lessen the uncomfortable heat boiling in your core. Your actions didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Yeah? Ya like it when I fuck yer mouth like this?” Remmick whined, holding your head still once his cock was buried in your throat. You gagged around it, eyes rolling back as you tried to pull off, but his strength was too much for you to overpower. He laughed gruffly, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood before resuming his cruel thrusts. “Fuck, look at ya.”

He lifted you off his cock to let you breathe, smirking at how you spat a glob of hot, sticky slobber onto his tip before gasping for air. The action scratched at your throat, burning the already raw flesh. Remmick’s thumb came down to wipe the slobber that gathered at your chin, only to push it back into your mouth. You sucked on his thumb and felt your cheeks burn when you tasted the salt and metallic tang. He pressed the pad of his thumb on your tongue before pulling it out and replacing it with his cock.

Tears rimmed your waterline as he resumed his pummeling. You slid a hand down to your panties which were completely soaked through and sticky and rubbed your clit over the fabric. The both of you moaned in unison, Remmick more so due to the vibrations from your moan. He licked at his own lips, arching his back as sweat dripped down his chest from the stain of pushing himself deeper and deeper between your lips.

Your fingers kept swirling over your clit, making a mess of the sheets beneath you. Remmick’s balls hit your chin with every thrust he gave, making you reach for them with your other hand. You pressed a thumb at the seam of his balls, rubbing and groping them while his hips stuttered.

“Shit, fuck, shit.” He swore under his breath, gritting his teeth. You looked up at him through teary eyes and didn’t expect him to pull out so quickly. You blinked blearily as he wrapped his hand around himself and jerked off so furiously, it looked like it hurt. He let out a loud groan just as the first string of cum sprayed across your face.

The hot webs sprayed everywhere—your cheek, almost in your eye, and of course, in your gaping mouth. Remmick moaned heavily, hand slowing down as he looked down at the thick globs of seed trailing down your cheeks.

His head dropped back into the pillows, letting go of his cock which to your surprise, was still rock hard. You pushed yourself up on weak arms and brushed a finger along the flushed skin. He whimpered quietly and his cock twitched from the sensitivity, but nevertheless, still solid.

Not wanting to overstimulate him, you straddled his thigh. Riding him would come soon, but for now, his thigh would do. Your slick-soaked panties met his muscular thigh and made his head lift slightly. He flexed his thigh once he caught on, drool dripping as you began to rock your hips.

You closed your eyes as the pressure finally gave you the pleasure you needed, throwing your head back as you dragged your clothed clit along the hard planes of his thigh. Remmick watched you darkly and brought his hands up to your hips to guide your movements, lifting his thigh a bit so it pressed hard into your clit. You whined out softly, throat still raw, and ground harder. One of his hands slid down to pull the soaked gusset to the side and pressed into your pussy to part your folds, making it so his thigh met your swollen nub completely.

“Remmick!” You gasped breathily, rutting against him pathetically. The coarseness of his leg hairs gave you an even greater pleasure that sent shivers through your entire body. The sight of you like this, covered in his seed and your own blood, made his length twitch helplessly against his stomach.

“Yeah, ya feel good?” He cooed, lifting himself into a sitting position to lick at the dried blood between your breasts. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and the only response you could give was a feeble whimper before jerking your hips. “Yeah… jus’ like that. Good girl.”

He dragged his nose along your jaw, licking up the spend on your face before it could dry up. You moaned and felt yourself gush at the action. Remmick felt it too and quickly captured your lips in his, groaning as he tasted himself on your tongue. The kiss was messy, teeth clashing and nipping while tongues got sucked into each other’s mouths, and it was especially hard to tell if the sloshing was coming from the kiss or your pool of slick gathering on his thigh.

“Come ‘ere, get on my cock now.” He ushered you to straddle him properly, nails digging into the flesh on your ass. His fingers tugged your panties to the side once more before pressing down on his cock to rub it through your folds, groaning when it caught on your clit.

You leaned back just enough for the tip of his cock to press against your slit, sliding down onto it effortlessly due to all the slick your cunt produced. The sound of both your moans echoed through the small bedroom, the bedframe groaning beneath you. He wrapped a strong arm around your lower back, holding enough authority to keep you there, but still allowing you all the power you needed.

Regaining your mind, though it was still swimming with thoughts of him and his cock splitting you open, you cupped his face. His eyes softened just a tinge, looking so cute with his teeth aching to bite you again.

“Need it?” You purred, rubbing the tip of one of his fangs and grinning at the shiver it gave him. A palm grasped your ass and did nothing more than just squeeze—he knew his place right now.

“May I?” He whispered, eyes rolling back as you leaned down to lap up the thick saliva that slid out his mouth.

“Of course.”

His mouth met the other side of your neck this time, but just as before, quickly sinking his fangs into your skin with a sharp crunch. Your hips jerked forwards as the heat of your blood filled his mouth, flooding his senses with the feeling and taste of you.

You whimpered, unable to tell the difference between pleasure and pain. The pain didn’t matter so much once you started to move. With a small, curious effort, you rolled your hips back and forth—feeling the length of his cock slide further into your fleshy walls. Remmick groaned against your neck, sucking at the blood that kept spilling from his bite, and his hands urged you to keep moving.

With Remmick still feeding, you planted your knees into the mattress and used the leverage to lifted yourself up and down on his length. The feeling of him filling you was one you would never get enough of, you could feel it in your throat. The feeling stuck in your gut, an ache you’d never be able to get rid of no matter how much you fucked him.

You dragged a hand into his hair, tugging the sweaty curls back to look at him. His mouth was stained with your crimson, teeth shining as he grinned. You gave a particularly sharp flick of your hips and watched the way his brows furrowed in deep tension.

He brought his mouth back to your neck and licked over the wound to soothe the dull ache, pecking along the surrounding area while your movements began to speed up. His cock pulsed inside of you, hot and needy. You moaned weakly, too dazed and hoarse to make a noise louder than a whisper.

“Remmick,” you breathed, lifting yourself up and then dropping hard enough to knock the remaining breath out of you. The heat settled in your gut and you slammed yourself down to ease the burning. Remmick groaned beneath you and gripped your hips, lifting his own to meet your movements.

The slick between you two was sticky and wet, smearing along your ass and his thighs, each motion making a slick squelch. You leaned back on your hands and fucked yourself on his length, he helped by pulling you down, the angle deep enough to feel like it was in your chest.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” he groaned, reaching up to grope at your tits. Your nipple rubbed against his calloused palm, sending a shock of pleasure right to your pussy, fluttering around his cock. He took your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the pebbled nub to make your back arch.

“Yes, fuck.” You moaned, eyes rolling back. Your thighs started to burn and your hips grew sore from his grip, but you needed to finish, and you wanted him to finish inside. You placed a hand on the back of his neck, pulling yourself up to meet his lips, rolling your entire body against his while he continued to fondle your breast. “Just like that…”

“Yeah?” He whimpered against your cheek, moving you back and forth. “Gonna come? Gonna come jus’ for me?”

You nodded desperately, bouncing frantically. Every movement sounded lewd every lift of your hips pulled strings of arousal from you, sticking to both of you and creating a mess between both his and your legs. Remmick lowered his head to nip at your breasts, not piercing through your skin, but enough to make your pulse jump.

“Fuck,” you whined, tugging at his hair. “Rem- I’ll-”

He wrapped both arms around your lower back, locking you in place before planting his feet onto the bed to snap his hips up in a frenzy. You cried out hoarsely, nails digging into his shoulder while your head spun with ecstasy. His skin slapped against yours, a hollow sound which filled your ears.

There were no thoughts in your mind. All you could do was let out silent cries of pleasure and fall limp to his pounding. Remmick growled into the soft skin at your chest, gritting his sharp teeth into his own lip as to not hurt you by sinking them into your flesh.

Ecstasy was all that you could feel. Your orgasm was intense. You couldn’t hear your own cry over the sound of ringing in your ears growing more and more persistent. Your lower half grew numb with overstimulation and your walls spasmed erratically around his throbbing length. He followed soon after, fucking into you slowly to ride our both your orgasms. The warmth of his seed pumped into you, filling you with the thick liquid as well as a sense of home.

When you came to, Remmick’s groan was just fading away. His arms remained wrapped around you, but his grip had loosened since then. He nuzzled your cheek with a soft, tender touch.

“Y’okay?” He murmured into your hair before pressing his lips there. You could still feel his cock inside you, but was thankfully softening—you were far too gone to keep going.

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling gently at him. He mirrored your expression—sated and tender, leaning in to kiss you with that same tenderness. His grip tightened around you a bit to pull you down with him, now lying down with you on top.

The sheets were wet and your bodies were sticky with sweat, spit, and cum. But you barely cared, too exhausted to get up to do anything about it. Remmick’s fingers trailed up and down your bare back, humming a soft Irish tune to coax you to rest.

Your breathing settled and you got used to the feeling of him still inside despite being soft. With a small nudge, you whispered, “happy birthday Rem.”

He huffed a laugh into your hair, stroking your shoulder. “Best birthday of my life.”

dean loved getting you off. 

watching your lips form that pretty little ‘o’ shape and your brows furrow as you come undone underneath him — because of him. he was fucking addicted to it.

so here you were. in his bed. needy and compliant for him. riding out your fifth orgasm of the night, and sobbing into his pillow as he pounded into you from behind. 

“you like feeling me all up in your guts, baby?” he groans, slamming into your bruised cunt and smacking your ass cherry red. “turns you on?”

fuck yes, you wanna say. yes, yes, yes. but your brain is teetering off the edge of a cliff, and the only thing grounding you to reality is dean’s huge cock splitting you open. 

“you were fucking made to take my cock, baby,” he groans, reaching his hand under you to toy with your puffy, aching clit. 

you wail, and before you even realize it you’re cumming again. hard. 

“fuuuuuck yeah,” he smirks, pushing you down into prone bone. almost his entire weight is on you now, and all you can feel is dean.

his huge arms caging you in. the musky, heady smell of sex and his cologne. it overpowers you. 

“you’re such a dirty girl, letting me fuck you like this. fucking impaling you on my cock,” he reaches up to run a hand through his hair, one hand splayed across your back to keep you down. 

“you with me, baby?” he hums, brushing his lips between your shoulder blades. 

“uh huh,” you choke out, fisting his comforter in a white-knuckled grip. 

“you gonna be good and cum again for me?” he nips at your ear and you're squealing.

it’s a pretty, breathy sound that feels out of so body. you’re nodding furiously into his pillow, soaked through from pearly tears and drool. 

“use your words for me,” he’s nothing if not a sweet talker. nothing if not a man who wants you to feel good.

“yes! yes, i’ll be good,” you’re pleading now, forcing your head back to look at him.

big, fat tears well up in the corners of your doe eyes, and dean swears they twinkle like little stars as they drop down your cheeks. you're beautiful like this.

he slides his palm under your ribs and pushes you up against his chest, arching your back into him.

you scan the backyard, and lock eyes with your target.

reclined on a deck chair, he’s pretending to listen to beau’s teammate bitch about how fucking terrible their offensive line has been playing. 

he’s got a half-drank bottle of miller high life dangling from his hand. the condensation of it is a steady drip, drip, drip onto his levis. 

hunter davenport. 

bingo.

you knew it was a fucking stupid idea. the kind of idea your brain only conjures up after taking a shot of room temperature tequila. 

but just because you know what’s good for you doesn’t mean you turn your ass around. 

no, dean deserves this, some deep dark part of you thinks. he deserves to know how shitty you feel every time you see a puck bunny feening for his attention. 

you march up to hunter. plaster a bright a smile on your face, and convince yourself you’re making the right call. ignoring that rotten feeling in your gut screaming at you to find dean. it’s your body betraying you, you decide. you pull the trigger anyway. 

“hunter! it’s so great to see you. you’re usually never at these things.”

you cringe at the truth hidden beneath your words. he’s usually not at these things because these things are at your boyfriend’s house off campus. your boyfriend who wishes hunter davenport was buried six-feet under. your boyfriend who stays up at night plotting how to do it himself.

you squeeze your eyelids shut, bracing for the retort you’re expecting to be slapped in the face with. some mean, cruel comment that hunter is somehow always armed with. 

you pray for a portal to open up, and spit you out into an alien dimension where you have a shred of confidence. 

you really thought you could flirt to hunter davenport. what a fucking stupid idea.

you’re about to raise the white flag, to be noble and walk away, when hunter’s face breaks out in a wide-toothed grin. 

“hey, trouble.”

oh?

he flashes his canines at you, and you swear his teeth glimmer. his eyes trace the outline of your silhouette, figure accentuated by your mesh mini dress. his gaze lands on your breasts. 

you look down. your nipples are pebbled from the cold air. standing at attention through the mesh fabric. 

you’re quick to cross your arms and shield him from the view he thinks he’s so privy to. the view he sees as an invitation. 

“i didn’t realize dean would let you off your leash with so many people around. must be my lucky day.”

oh. right. 

this is why you didn’t talk to hunter davenport. he was a pretentious fucking asshole.

“i’m not–” you sputter at the comment.

“dean doesn’t.. i’m not on a leash," huffing, you set a hand on your hip.

you can see hunter wracking his brain for some quippy comeback. but the smug look is wiped clean off his face the second a shadow overtakes it. 

you feel someone breathing down your neck, and a heavy arm wraps itself snugly against your middle.

dean.

“what the fuck is going on here, davenport? what are you playing at?” dean’s gaze is hard-set on hunter. 

“dean, chill out. it's fi–” hunter is practically cowering under the weight of dean's stare.

“actually, no. y’know what? get the fuck out of my house. i’ll deal with you later.” dean’s voice is steady and cold. he doesn’t yell. he doesn't need to. he points to the back gate, and hunter has already left with his tail between his legs. 

“upstairs. now.” 

you don’t need to hear another word before you’re sprinting through the crowd of strangers. 

your heart is beating in your throat. the lace trim of your dress is itchy on your skin as you take the stairs two steps at a time. you almost trip over the last one on your way up. 

when you get to dean’s bedroom, you’re blurting out apologies before he even gets the chance to shut the door. 

“i’m so so sorry, dean. i didn’t– didn’t think he’d be like that. i didn’t think it through, i swear,” you hiccup as you plead, throat tight and scratchy — straining just to get the words out.

“please, please don’t be mad.”

dean’s got that unimpressed look on his face. massive arms crossed cooly over his chest. his large frame kicked back with one boot against the door. 

he looks so handsome tonight in a creamy white henley and faded jeans. the mean, unforgiving look in his eyes doesn’t suit him. it makes you burst into tears. this is all your fault. 

“you’re un-fucking-believable, you know that? running off to fucking davenport in my house. didn’t realize you were such a little attention whore. can’t handle not having my eyes on you for two seconds, can you?”

a loud sob escapes you. you wanna scream and plead and promise him you want nothing to do with hunter. you were just being stupid.

but you keep your mouth shut and hang your head. try and convince yourself his words are empty. devoid of any real meaning. you’re jumping through hoops trying to tell yourself your boyfriend doesn’t think you’re a whore.

you sniffle and wipe at the flood of tears pouring from your bloodshot eyes. you look like a wreck, you’re sure of it.

maybe dean’s right. none of this would’ve happened if you’d just been good. 

“i’m just so so sorry, dean. i just– i missed you. you were busy and i–”

he gives you an accusatory look that shuts you right up. he’s not interested in excuses right now, obviously.

you try again.

“i wanna make it better. please, let me make it better. i’ll do anything.”

his ears perk up at that. he cocks his head. “you’d do anything, huh?”

you nod furiously. it’s true. you’d do whatever he asked if it meant he’d stop looking at you like this. like you'd disappointed him. 

“anything you want,” you promise.

dean’s toying with you. pretending to weigh his options. maybe he’ll granting you forgiveness. or maybe he’s planning how to make sure you regret ever going up to davenport in the first place.

he pushes his body off the door. walks a few steps over to the end on his bed and slowly lowers himself down. he sits and stares at you. 

you’re standing in front of him, pulling at the mesh fabric of your dress. tracing the pretty cheetah print pattern of it. distracting yourself by thinking of a happier time — last weekend, when dean had bought you this dress at a boutique downtown. he'd chanted sweet nothings to you in the dressing room.

“crawl.”

“w–what?” your eyes pop open.

he’s got his hand beckoning you forward in a come hither motion. his legs are spread wide and you feel yourself start salivating at the bulge in his jeans. 

“crawl to me.”

you weigh it in your brain.

you and dean definitely weren’t vanilla by any means. he was prone to settling a rough hand around your throat every now and then. slapping your ass in doggy. but you’d never delved into anything teetering on bdsm.

you decide dean knows best. 

you gulp in anticipation, legs shaky as you lower yourself onto your knees. 

it feels so primal, having his eyes on you as you bring yourself to all fours. a natural submission. feeling any sense of power slip through your fingers as the fibers of the rug eat at the skin on your palms. knees scraping against the fabric. your bones aching against the wooden floorboards. 

you move toward him, and you see his hand slip under his waistband. lazily playing with his cock. and, god, you want it so bad. 

the heady smell of him hits you when you arrive at his feet, eye-level with his crotch. it’s a woody musk mixed with the denim fabric of his jeans. you want to bury your face in it. 

“sit.”

you immediately obey. panties completely soaked through. slippery arousal dripping down your thighs.

you’re wet. 

the realization is a sucker punch. you pause. the anxious, flighty feeling bubbling up is like dark storm clouds over your head. 

you like this. 

maybe you shouldn’t. 

you’re reeling. navigating the ocean of your brain a million thoughts per second. thinking that you’re dirty. that this is wrong. thinking why the fuck do you like being treated this? 

and the worst one of all — oh god. dean’s really going to think you’re a whore now. 

“hey, where’d you go baby?” dean’s voice is so soft and shaky it makes your guts tangle into something poisonous. he’s touching your face so lightly, dragging his thumb up and down your jaw. 

“you need to stop? shit. baby, i shouldn’t have pushed you that hard.” 

if it weren’t for the panic attack you were on the brink of, you would’ve laughed.

“no, no, dean i–” you take a deep breath in and muster up the courage. “i don’t– i don’t think the punishment is working.”

“god, baby, i’m so sorry. had a feeling that was too far. smack the shit out of me next time i–” 

“dean, i–,” you sigh. “you don’t understand. i liked it.”

god, what were you even saying? how are you supposed to tell your boyrfiend that you like being punished. that you like it when he’s mean to you.

“sorry, what?” dean stops in his tracks. 

fuck it. 

“i think i like it when you.. um– get mean? how terrible is that. god, you probably think i’m disg–”

“oh, baby.” 

he lifts your chin up. looks deep into your eyes.

you hope he doesn’t see the deep rooted humiliation you feel.

no, it seems like he doesn’t. or maybe he’s putting it to the side for now. because he’d got this fond look in his eye. readjusting himself to lean in closer to you, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you preen at that, nuzzling your head further  into his hand.

“my girl likes being roughed up a little? likes being on her knees for me?” his thumb forces its way into your mouth and you latch on. swirling your tongue around the digit instinctively.  

“jesus, baby, you’re so fucking hot. just wanna be told what to do, yeah? c’mon then, baby. show me how bad you want me.”

you hear his boot tap against the floorboards, and look down at the laces swinging side to side.

“c'mon. be a good girl for me, baby,” he coaxes. it’s a warm invitation. one you really can’t refuse. you lick your lips at the thought of it. 

taking a shaky breath, you lift your hips, and he’s quick to fill in the gap with his boot. you carefully settle yourself down onto it. wince at the feel of the hard leather against your heat. it’s so much pressure so quickly. it has your pussy throbbing against the laces as you start grinding against it. 

“oh fuck– dean,” you choke out, grasping at his jeans and twisting the denim fabric in your fist. trying to ground yourself.

he leans back with a smirk on his face. 

“ride out your feelings for me, angel. show me what a good puppy you can be.”

you suppose you asked for this. and god it feels so fucking good, riding his boot with his hand tangled up in your hair. your clit snagging between the laces. pussy juices leaking onto the leather. it'll probably fucking stain.

dean’s always been a dirty talker. and you’re lucky it drowns out that little voice inside your head telling you how wrong people would think this is. 

“you wanted to be my puppy this whole time, didn’t you? just needed a little guidance, babydoll. fuck– keep rolling your hips like that. make a fucking mess on me, pup. i’ve gotcha.”

you know you’ve never been this wet before. then dean starts bouncing his leg up and down, and a white hot heat burns in you as the leather vibrates against your core. the coil in your tummy is about to snap.

“dean– can’t. i’m gonna, fuck– dean!” you squeal, pain searing deep in your bones and throttling you headfirst into an orgasm. 

a soft command, let go f’me, puppy, is all you need before you’re squirting all over the black leather of his boot. body convulsing and pretty tears welling up in your eyes.

“you’re such a good girl,” he coos, lightly tapping your damp cheek. “you liked that? making a mess on me?”

you nod dumbly, still grinding out the aftershocks. 

“since you liked it so much, you can clean it up too.”

he raises a brow, daring you. seeing just how far you’ll push yourself for him. 

if he only knew.

you inch yourself backwards. arch your back till your ass is wagging in the air, and you’re eye level with your slick pooling on his boot.

it doesn’t take long before you’re practically making out with it. tongue threading between the laces.

it’s so mindless and oh so fucking hot. you can’t help yourself when you reach down, pushing your panties to the side and rub circles on your raw clit. 

it’s heaven, until you feel the sharp sting of dean smacking your ass and you pout, pulling your hand away from your core. 

This is the game you play with Rick. You're sure by now everyone else is sick of being unwilling bystanders to it, but you can never get enough. Ever since you met the older man, the two of you mixed together like a stray match in a keg of gunpowder.

He tries his hardest to lead this group. You know that's true. But life fucking sucks in the apocalypse. It's not your fault if you get a little fed up with things sometimes.

You take it out on him cause it's easy. You disagree with his plans without coming up with any of your own. You complain about assignments you're given. You whine about the lack of supplies and direction. You roll your eyes and sigh during minor disagreements while nearly throwing a fit for larger ones.

For the first six months he knew you, it drove him fucking crazy. He went to sleep at night dreading waking up because he knew he'd have to deal with you the next day. At one point, he was convinced that he'd die of high blood pressure before any walker got the chance to kill him.

But then he figured out the secret to dealing with you. It wasn't too long before the prison fell that he learned this little trick. The two of you were the only ones awake, and you had another huge fight about some inconsequential bullshit. He was supremely frustrated. You weren't showing any signs of conceding that you were being ridiculous either.

It's like a blur in his memory now, the way he pinned you against the hard brick wall. He tore open the tiny shorts you had on. And that was when he learned. Your pretty little pussy was like your control center. He just had to hit the right buttons to bring you back to normal.

Now when you act up, he gives you the chance to fix it. You'll say something in that pitchy tone of voice and pout at him, and he'll raise a brow. He'll ask you to repeat yourself. If you continue the challenge, he still tries to be civil and talk you down. But once you push too far, you end up with a firm hand wrapped around your wrist, dragging you away from the rest of the group.

That's what happened tonight.

He scoffs at your assertion that you'd apologized. "You said sorry when you realized you were in trouble," he grumbles.

His fingers dig into your waist, feeling the soft skin left exposed by your t-shirt that's riding up. Your toes curl inside your sneakers while your fingernails scrape against the chipping paint of the church's paneling.

"I still meant it," you insist.

"If you're so sorry, tell me why I have to teach you this same fuckin' lesson over and over again," he growls.

"I dunno... cause you didn't do it good enough the first time?" you offer.

He gives your hip a smack for that and shoves you harder against the wall with a forearm across your back. You can feel the cool silver of his watch on your shoulder blade. Your tits are just as smooshed as your cheek is now. You whine in response, your feet floundering against the dirt below, but he keeps fucking into you hard.

"Cute. Keep talking back like that and see where it gets you," he says.

"I was just joking, daddy," you respond with a little sniffle for maximum impact.

"Oh, I'm daddy now?" he mocks. Neither of your attempts at sympathy seem to have struck a chord. "I'm daddy when you want me to be nice to you, but not any other time. Do I have that right?"

"Nuh uh..."

"Yeah. You won't listen to me. Won't do anything I ask without givin' me hell. But the second you get tired of taking it like a big girl, I'm your daddy," he taunts.

You squeak as he yanks your hips against his pelvis particularly hard. His tip rams right into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your knees start to buckle beneath you.

He watches as you really begin to slip. With a sigh, he pulls his cock out of your dripping hole. You whine about that too, of course, but you don't have time to complain before he flips you around and hooks his hands behind your knees. He folds you in half against the wall and slides right back into the slick heat of your cunt. His hips rock against you like they never stopped.

"Look at you. You think you have any right to question me when you can't even stand up on your own? When y'need daddy to do everything for you," he mutters.

You mewl and arch your back, but he keeps you exactly where he wants you. His shaft slams into you over and over, chasing the feeling of your walls clamping down on it. You can't fight back against what he's saying cause any semblance of cohesive argument has been fucked right out of you.

"Did-didn't mean it," you choke out.

"Then say sorry like you mean it," he breathes.

He pumps into you harder and deeper, making it difficult for you to answer. But you try your best because you're getting close, and after you cum, it'll be damn near impossible.

"I- I'm sorry, daddy. Didn't mean to make you mad. I'll try to be good and listen," you say before a whine cracks your voice and causes your head to drop forward.

He nudges your face up with his nose before rewarding you with a kiss. "That's my girl," he mumbles, "Gonna listen for me. Accept that you don't know what's best, hm? That you need me to take care of you and make the decisions?"

You nod with your quivering lip and glossy eyes.

That gets a little smirk on his lips, and he kisses your pout once more. His hand snakes around to thumb at your clit. The rapid fire swipes are all you need to topple over the edge and let go. You tense up and cover your own mouth, muffling your cries with your palm.

"There you go. Let it out," he grunts.

He grits his teeth, holding on long enough to fuck you through your high. As soon as you start to come down though, he pulls out and spills his seed onto the dirt beneath you.

His body shudders against yours, another set of harsh breaths blowing against your neck. You lean your head against his. The sweat that dampens his scalp smears on your cheek.

The both of you hold the position for a few moments longer before beginning to untangle. He sets you back on the ground, keeping his hands on your waist until he's sure you're stable. You pull your discarded shorts back on and adjust your shirt while he zips himself up.

When you're put together again, he grabs your wrist like he'd done earlier but with a more gentle touch. He pulls you flush against his body and encircles you with his arms, keeping you pressed to his chest. His hand rubs up and down your back in soothing strokes.

"My baby. All tuckered out and settled down for me now, yeah?" he whispers.

You nod, your eyes already feeling droopy with the calm that comes after release. His embrace is so warm it lulls you further into this docile, dreamy state.

Rick rolls his eyes again, but there's not as much irritation this time. A good fuck mellows him out just like it does you. Plus, in moments like these, he can admit to himself that he has a small soft spot for his little brat.

He sways back and forth with you for a few moments, planting occasional kisses on the top of your head.

"You gonna behave when we go back inside?" he murmurs.

"Yeah," you answer softly.

The problem isn't that you didn't like it, oh you fucking enjoyed it. Instead, the problem is the fact that you were a squirmy person, barely able to keep your limbs still as he drives his cock in and out of your pussy rapidly.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into his burning skin, only to let go and grip onto the sheets instead, not even knowing what to hold onto anymore. Your back arched, hips stuttering frantically in his hold, making his control on your hips movement a tad difficult, meanwhile your toes curled with your legs restless and your head thrown back over the pillow.

A moan escapes your throat, loud and desperate, "Fu- mm.. fuck!" You gasped, "S-so fast! I... I can't- please!" You pleaded with him, your shaky hands reaching for his wrists to try and pull them off your hips.

"You can, baby... I know you can..." Rafe assured you with ragged breath, his voice incredibly calm for someone who's raging cock is pounding into you, "Shit... stop moving, can you?"

He let out a grunt, patience growing thinner with each movement you made, which then led him to grabbing your wrists with one hand and pinning them up above your head on the pillow.

With your hands stuck on that position, you could only arch your back and move your legs as the tip of his cock kept on hitting all the right spots to make your toes curl even more. It might just be your favorite feeling in the whole wide world.

"Stop moving around, baby..." Rafe groaned, feeling your tits pressed against his chest due to how much you were arching your back, his ears filled with your desperate, mumbled, and frantic pleas. "I know, I know... You can take it, okay? Just... ah fuck..." He whispered, ragged breath and moans of his own filled your ears.

Yet now with only one hand on your hip, it was harder to guide them to move against his when your just kept on squirming and wriggling, so much that his dick managed to slip out once. Which to Rafe, once was plenty.

Rafe let out another groan, "Goddamnit!" He took his hands off your wrists– only to flip you over onto your stomach, hands guiding your hips to be lift up to provide him with your ass in the air, "Fuck... hold on, baby..." He cooed, as if as a silent apology.

As he thrusted back into you hard and deep, his hands held your wrists behind your back tightly, the slight grin on his face showed how he was assured that now you weren't gonna move as much. Not even gonna be loud, not with your flushed face pressed against the pillow, surely.

"Ra... Rafe..." You managed to moan against the pillow, eyes rolled to the back of your head and drool pooling onto the white pillow case. The position you were in had the least possibility to squirm around, only able to wiggle your fingers.

Rafe just kept on pounding into you, longing to feel those walls squeeze around him and hear the loudest and dirtiest moan leave your swollen lips, to know you were satisfied with the night just as much as he was. And while he's at it, he was still busy holding your wrists together, keeping your roaming hands still from clawing onto him.