#paddy x reader

“Is that all you got, pretty boy?” You playfully tease, shoving your palm into Paddy’s Shoulder.

Despite Paddy being substantially taller and larger than you and having the advantage of being the stronger grappler, there was something fun about messing around with you on the training room floor. He was always careful with you when it came to getting physical in a playful way, even though you found this to be boring.

You had agreed to train with each other even though you were in different disciplines. You competed in Olympic Weightlifting, something you had done since you were 15 years old. You met Paddy at a training event, before his UFC days, and had constantly begged him to show you how to grapple. It had taken years of begging for him to consider it, and he finally broke. You wanted to know what it was like to roll around on the mat, but he was still ever so careful with you.

“I’m only 5 kilos less than you! Stop treating me like I’m made of glass, dickhead,” you whined watching as he easily twisted out of your grip with no retaliation.

He nudges you with his hand, raising his fists in defense, “5 kilos is a heavy difference, love. Don’t want you to break.”

“I’m just curious,” you yell as you attempt to lock your arm around his neck. “I want to know how strong you are. If you could really hold me down.”

Paddy scoffed, expertly rolling you off and tossing you to the ground. “Why? You’ve seen me dismantle men bigger than you. I’d crush you.”

You attempt to grab at his legs, but he sidesteps, gently putting a palm on your forehead and pushing you back. You huff and cross your arms, “Yeah, well I’m not learning much if you just love tap me and call it a day. I want you to stop holding back!”

“I don’t want to go so hard that you sleep, love,” Paddy replies, real concern in his voice. You go to swing at him again, harder this time, but he simply catches your fist in his hand.

“Well, I want you to pin me down and shit,” you muttered, trailing off. Your eyes looked at your first as you tried to wriggle it out, but he remained quiet. Fist still stuck in his hand, you nervously peered back up at his reaction.

He was staring down at you. He took a step closer, his eyes dark. His body filled the space, broad shoulders tensed, jaw set and fist clenched tightly around yours. He felt and looked so impossibly large. You knew this look from watching his fights. If you hadn’t been friends, you might have actually been scared of him at that moment. He was testing you.

He smirked ever so slightly and firmly said, “I’ll happily pin you down, love.”

Before you can really think, your bodies collide and his hands cling to your arms. You try to use his taller frame to your advantage, clawing onto a bicep while desperately trying to get behind him. Paddy uses his strength to grip the back of your leg, sending you both to the ground. Your wish has been granted as he pins you down, hard. You squirm in place, quickly getting frustrated as you try to find a way out.

He grapples you and you inadvertently squeak out a gasp as he applies pressure with his arm on your mid section. His dark eyes soften just a fraction. He leans down closer, his body filling the space between you. The smell of him, musky and clean, like he was sweating through a fresh shower, was overwhelming. You suddenly became aware of a warm, blossoming sensation making its presence known in between your thighs. It was heavy and light all at once, a familiar pang of need. You were turned on.

“Have you had enough, princess?” He mocks you in a sing-song voice, fingers gently pinching at your sides.

You go to push his face out of yours but he grabs your wrist in his large hand, easily pinning it to the side of your head. He was manhandling you and making a joke out of it. You grumble, face red and chest heaving as you try to push up against his larger frame.

“You’re such a dick, Paddy,” you gasp out, still struggling against his grip.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He laughs and grins dangerously at you from above, using his knees to stretch your legs wider as he bends down lower. The thought of his body stretching you open, leaving you no room to escape made you tremble. He was a dangerous man who had you cornered and laid bare for him. He had you where you wanted, but you were a sore loser. You wanted to see how far you could push him.

Before he realizes it, your free hand shoots up from your side and into his armpit, viciously tickling him. Paddy yelps and launches away from you covering his torso with his arms. You laugh gleefully at this, scrambling away from him on your hands and knees.

Suddenly, your ankles are grabbed and you fall, chin thudding on to the mat. He drags you back to him, and he is much rougher this time.

“I don’t take kindly to cheaters, love,” he hisses out at you as he forces his arm around your neck. He pulls you into his torso, your back engulfed by his larger frame. You’re both on your knees before he locks his inner elbow around your neck, choking you, and falling back onto his back. He’s got you in a full nelson hold, locked in tight.

You gasp and shudder in place. An intense red blush painted your cheeks, and you are suddenly so happy he can’t see your face. He had you in his grip and shaking. A predator after its prey.

He instinctively uses his other hand to grab your wrist, trapping your arm. He puts his knees in between yours, spreading your legs painfully again. You whimper at the pain and fall back against him, body pressing into him fully. And you feel it.

His cock was forming a tent in grey sweatpants. You could feel the heat of it burning against your ass. You almost felt like begging. Instead, you carefully wiggled back on it, applying pressure. His elbow tightened around your neck, forcing the air out your lungs, but he released your hand.

His breathing becomes ragged in your ear, short and sharp breaths as you again grind back on him. Your fingers twitched nervously at your sides. You didn’t know what to do.

Paddy slowly brings one of his hands up to caress your side, lips pressed against your ear. His fingers brush against the waistband of your shorts. “Is this okay?”

Your voice is meek and shaky when you respond. “Yes, please.”

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat as his hand lifts your shirt, tickling your sides. The idea that the man who voraciously beats other men to a pulp, gripping you tightly was so intoxicatingly delicious. He could have so easily crushed your windpipes in his grip, and it sent a thrill of shivers up your spine. Teasingly, his hand squeezes and kneads at the small of your belly before slipping under your gym shorts.

Surprised, he slides his fingers through down to your folds. “No panties, eh?”

Your fingers pull his arm back just enough to squeak out, “Fuck you, Paddy.”

“Lift your pretty little bum, love,” he murmurs in your ear, and you do as he demands without a sound of protest. He removes his hand just enough to rip your shorts off and down your ankles. You bite your lip as his calloused hands travel back down from the swell of your stomach to between your thighs. Harshly, he tugs your thighs apart again. You feel vulnerable and small.

Paddy’s fingers languidly played between your folds, spreading the wetness evenly. He made sure to apply just enough pressure that you squirm. You preen, your hips bucking up and a pretty whine escaping your lips as he circles your clit before pushing his fingers in. Just like that, you’re gone, moaning intensely as your eyes roll back. Your breathing is ever more erratic as he pumps his fingers, languidly spreading the digits at your entrance.

He hooks his fingers, rubbing them along the top of your walls. A noise catches in your throat, and you clench hard. “G-Go back, Paddy, do that again,” you pant out.

Paddy keeps his fingers inside of you in one place and tightens his arm around your neck. He lifts your head back and pulls you in close. Your lips quiver, as do your walls around his fingers. “Beg.”

You could cry at how embarrassing it was to feel this needy, but you oblige, “Please, Paddy. P-Please, do it again.”

And so he does. He drops you back to his chest and ups the pace he was at. You press down, and it’s obvious when you’re going to come. He moves his mouth by your ear and kisses and nibbles, pumping his curled fingers in and out of you. And just like that you come around his fingers, in hot, wet pulses. Before he can pull back, you suck his wet fingers right into your mouth. He runs his fingers over your teeth and then pulls them out with a pop.

He releases you and places you on the ground. You all sit there for a few seconds, dazed and horny and shocked.

You glance abashedly at his hard cock in his sweatpants. You briefly imagine his muscular legs hidden away before scanning your eyes up his body. His stomach is flexed hard, hair is strewn across his pecs. He’s got his strong arms on display, resting his full weight on his legs. He’s staring hard at you through his wispy layers. He’s always had a strong nose and well defined chin, and god, do you want to sit on his face so badly right now. You swallow and shuffle a little.

This hasn’t happened before. Sure, there were longing glances and touches, and you definitely couldn’t lie and say that watching him fight set something off in you. The way he moved with such predatory grace was mesmerizing. You remember the animalistic look in his eyes. He didn’t just fight in the ring, he hunted. His brutality was beautiful.

You run your fingers through your hair before nervously patting it back into place. You sheepishly motion to his cock pressing against his sweatpants. “Do you, uh… want help?”

Paddy doesn’t respond, so you glance up. He’s still staring at you intensely, like he’s sizing you up. He’s hunting.

Then it came. In an instant, before you could even react, Paddy was on you—like a predator closing in on its prey. 

Paddy lunges forward, knocking you on your back. There was a slight smirk, the barest hint of amusement, that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes never left yours as he quickly closed the gap between them, almost as if his goal was to overwhelm and smother. He was aggressive and quick tearing off your clothes. He had no patience for removing his own, shimmying his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, hot and heavy and thrumming against your stomach. His cock was just like the rest of him—big, and thick, and angry.

He brought his arms up, trapping and encasing you. He bent down, lips dangerously close and eyes burning into yours. He brought one of his hands up to caress your neck, lips following shortly. He liked to play with his prey.

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat as his hand wraps gently around your throat. Teasingly, he dragged his lips down your throat before biting hard.

“Fuck,” you whimper out into the hot air, hands grasping at his arms. “Please, Paddy, fuck me.” 

He pulled back for a moment, as if to check this is what you wanted before he attacked your mouth with his own, almost violently. His teeth clashed with yours, pulling on your bottom lip just enough to break skin. He pulls back to lick the blood off your lip, moving his hand over your hips, gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.

You bite your knuckles, knees shaking as Paddy continues to move down you, tasting you with kisses down your navel to your pussy. His palms clamp around your thighs, bringing them to his shoulders as he surges closer. You open your mouth to say his name, but it fizzles out as his tongue darts out, lapping a long stroke across your folds. Suddenly, his tongue finds your clit, and your whole body arches, lightning racing up your spine.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the tension building to the point of almost unbearable as his tongue pushes up inside of you. You whine in frustration when his mouth withdraws, your heart pounding madly. Gently, teasingly, he rubs his thick shaft up and down your folds. Spit and your natural wetness coat his heavy cock.

“Please,” you beg, eyes closed and sick from desire. He eases your thighs from his shoulders, holding them wide as he gazes down at you.

“Open your pretty eyes, love. I want you to see me fuck you.”

“Oh my god,” you choke out, eyes fluttering open to look at him. “Please, Paddy, fuck me.”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he rumbles, rutting his hips against your thigh.

You preen at his praise, spreading your legs further for him as he took his thick cock in hand and began to line himself up. He grabs your chin forcing you to look at him as he begins to enter you. 

The air is knocked out of you, he was so big. Your body shudders as he finally drives into you to the hilt, possessing you fully. He tilts his head back to the ceiling and groans low from deep in his throat, a noise that has you clenching around him. 

There’s a small fraction of time where all he does is rotate his hips, relishing in the whine it pulls from you. Paddy kisses your neck, pushing in deep before pulling out and slamming back into the tight heat. You see stars, arching your back, pressing tight against the thick cock drilling into you.

You barely have time to gasp for air before he’s all over you again, pinning you to the floor with strong, sure thrusts and calloused hands. He grasps your throat in one hand, turning your head to the side and dragging his tongue along your cheek, cock pounding into your needy, dripping pussy. You look so good, pliant and needy under the weight of his body. He wraps his arms around your thighs in the bends of your knees, leaning down to drill harder and faster into you. 

He leans back a little to watch his cock disappear deep into you, letting out a deep, satisfied growl as your eyes roll into the back of your head, back arching and fingers twitching. His cock stretches you in all the right places, almost as if he’s pushing up into your stomach. He leans back again and rubs your thighs as he watches you twitch around his thrusts, pink and stretched so good.

He slows his pace, hitting into you with deep thrusts that leave you seeing stars. “Your pussy was made for my cock, princess.” 

You pant for breath, stomach full and thighs shaking. “Paddy,” you manage to choke out between your mantra of high moans. You sound like you’re about to cry.

He pulls out halfway, only to thrust back into you roughly. He must’ve hit the right spot because you gush around him, coming hard with a bright, keening sound. Your body clenches around him in waves, pulling him in, milking his cock.

Paddy curses and slows down for a moment. He takes his hands off your hips and moves them to spread your ass and squeeze, drawing himself deeper inside. You grab desperately at his shoulders, the air knocked out of your lungs. He’s just toeing the edge when he hears your voice, raspy and dulcet in his ear. “Finish inside me, please. I want you to fill me up.”

And that’s it. He bites violently into your shoulder, coming hard, spilling his seed deep inside your pussy.

They stay there for a moment, quiet and sore and tired. Carefully, Paddy stands straight again, slowly pulling his softening cock from your weeping pussy. You wince from the pain of emptiness. Paddy stands there briefly mesmerized as he watches his cum drip out of you. It would almost be enough to make him hard again.

He gingerly leans down to capture your swollen lips in a soft kiss, so different from before that it causes you to whimper against his lips. He pulls back, worried, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

You smile up at him, smoothing his worried brow with your fingers. “No, you didn’t. You were perfect.”

He kisses you one last time as he shimmies his pants up, “Let me get you cleaned up.”

He grabs his sweaty towel from earlier and goes to wipe at you. You push him away, laughing, “You’re sick in the head, Paddy Pimblett. At the very least get me a clean towel!” 

One year, 365 days, an entire trip around the sun; that's how long you'd been sleeping with a married man. You couldn't have made it any easier on yourself by picking your run of the mill, hates his wife and hits on you at the bar while waving a 20 in his hand kind of married man. Why would you do that when instead you could have your very own Lieutenant Robert Blair Mayne wrapped around your manicured finger? A man who was your fathers best friend, who you'd see so frequently at family barbecues that there was always a seat saved for him, a man who your father sent in on more than one occasion to check for monsters behind the sparkly pink closet door of your childhood bedroom, the man who you were the flower girl at his own wedding under the excuse of "he didn't know any other kids".

Now you're taller, older, more glitz and glitter on a random Wednesday than more people would put on for prom. Your skin soft with the scent of vanilla and whatever designer fragrance you batted your lashes at Paddy for this month. All you needed to do was pout your glossed lips and anything you wanted was in your hands in a neatly wrapped box in a matter of moments.

Paddy had a very loose definition of marriage and surely sleeping with his former Captains daughter for the better half of a year wasn't included in those vows filled with half truths he performed with faux passion at the altar. War made men mad and Paddy had been the maddest one of all. That was the explanation everyone would give themselves to explain away why a man such as himself tends to spoil the glossy-lipped brat of his old Captain, who was half his age while he has a perfectly age appropriate wife waiting in a cold bed at home.

She had done nothing for him, even when he met her at that bar his former men had dragged him to all those nights ago. Paddy Mayne wasn't a man to be anchored down by anything, he knew what everyone expected. Come home a war hero, settle down with a pretty woman on his arm, have one son to carry on his name, one daughter to give away as she walks down the aisle, and die with them at his bedside. It's what was traditional, encouraged even, but the he was never one for tradition in the first place.

A year later and you're back home on spring break and coincidentally, your mother and father had left the house to you while they're on vacation. Your father always tended to treat you as if you were still a child, telling you not to have anyone over while they were gone, not even your friends from school, and you could go have the neighbors cook you dinner if you need help working the stove. The same neighbor whose sons been trying to get a peek at you changing through your window since primary school. A fact that had you rolling your eyes and stomp over to the windows to tug the curtains shut, cutting off the boys unfruitful attempt at the peep show he so desperately desired.

In all his feeble attempts of discipline, he had failed to forbid the one thing you were dead set on doing, the actual thing that would get you in trouble if caught. Inviting his friend over.

That was part of the reason you liked fucking a man twice your age. It made you feel like a woman, not some girl who still needed babysitting that your father is convinced you still are. Crouching down, you fish out the box that stored your dirtiest secrets, concealed by the frilly bed skirt that had yet to be changed into something that was"more suited" to the young adult you actually were. Tracing your fingers across the boxes edges, your heart involuntarily skips a beat as you open it, lifting out the latest letter Paddy had written you with the delicacy of something worth far more than just a sheet of paper.

Sitting on the bed, you find yourself smiling as you reread the words,the handwriting surprisingly soft and flowy for a man who knows the brutality of war so intimately, and no one knew that intimacy more than Paddy. It was far more suited for a man of words, a poet. You studied the words of this letter far harder than you had any of your textbooks this semester, almost as if you were trying to commit them to memory. Involuntary, you couldn't help but rub your thumb over the ending, your favorite part.

Love, Paddy

Love, you were sure that's what this was. The need to have him buried deep inside of you, how frequently you've caught yourself daydreaming about those rough hands, the hands that have taken lives, gripped around your jaw as he forced his fingers in your mouth. All while you were supposed to be doing your algebra homework.

You tuck the letter back into the box for safe keeping, placing a chaste kiss over his name before folding the paper back up neatly. Your lips were only meant for him, no matter the form he took whether that was in the flesh or through written word.

You wanted to do something sweet for him, it was your anniversary after all. He took care of you like a well kept secret, holding you close to his heart as he fueled your infatuation with hushed whispers and wistful promises. Swearing to take you away from everything, this town, your father, anything you wanted would be yours as his strokes hit deep in your core. Even the mere thought of that now had you crossing your legs to ease the gentle ache.

Striding into the kitchen, you can't help but wonder how your secret lover would treat you if you really were his wife, his lovely little bride getting to play house for a man more than double her age. Would he come up behind you, pressing your stomach into the counter as he growled that you really shouldn't be swinging your hips like that in those sweet little peignoir sets he'd frequently swipe his credit card to buy without even looking. All he ever needed was a shy pout and batted eyelashes, and he'd get to rip them off of you anyway. It really was a win win situation for the Paddy in your daydreams.

You find the house phone in its lone spot in the corner of the kitchen, beckoning you closer with your own mischievous thoughts, something you should've known better than to listen to. Hopping up on the chilled laminate, the receiver gets comfortable in between its nestled spot in between your ear and shoulder, punching in the number you shouldn't have known by heart with one neatly manicured finger.

The sharp ringing that greeted you caused your heart to swell, a mix of anxiousness and excitement had you feeling like a school girl, giddy with the newfound infatuation of her first schoolyard crush. Except this was something different, something darker that settled deeper into your core that was impossible to rid yourself of, no matter how many boys at your college you pretended to engage in their lust. It wasn't their fault really, no one could drill his hips into you like a man with so much to loose. Your heart pounded in your throat as the receiver picked up on the other end.

"Mayne Residence" That thick, accented voice shouldn't have worked you up as much as it did.

The same voice that barked orders at terrified men could also promise you anything you wanted. But here, it sounded bored, annoyed, tied down to the domestic dream that wasn't his.

You cradled the phone in your palm as you smile, trying not to let your smile show through your voice.

"Hello, is this Mr.Paddy Mayne?" stifling a giggle, you try your hardest to seem serious.

He knew immediately who was on the other end, hearing a sigh come through the phone, the one he'd let out before rolling his eyes at you and your antics.

"This is he, an' who is this?" That smirk is playing on his lips, a coy smile lined with mischief, a mischief that should've been long abandoned for a man his age.

"Oh you know~" you toyed with your answer, swinging your legs as you absentmindedly played with the hem of your dress, picking at loose threads that weren't there.

Your father would scold you if he were here for not only sitting on the counter, but wearing a dress so short. It was clearly improper for you to be wearing as a young, polite woman like yourself. Too bad he didn't know one of his closest friends picked it out himself, then proceeded to go down on you in his car to show just how much he liked how it rode up your thighs.

"…is your wife around Mr.Mayne? I'd hate to keep you preoccupied with little ol' me" your tone suddenly hushed in mock secrecy.

"No ma'am, she's off a' her sisters this week" its clear that he can hear the excitement brimming at the cusp of your voice as the cord twirls in your pointer finger like it's the only thing keeping you on this earth.

"so.. do you think she'd mind if her husband kept a pretty young thing company while shes alone in a big empty house right? maybe just for a night.. " theres a pause, feigning contemplation.

"maybe just for a night, what if something happens and I don't have a strong man to defend me?"

There's a chuckle echoing through the receiver, an amused laugh of a man entertaining something that should be beneath him.

"Do you really think I wouldn't remember what today is lamb?" There's an eyebrow raise clear in his tone. You're embarrassed to admit the gruffness in his voice makes you wetter than you'd like. The nickname..his faux mocking question, it makes you fiddle with the necklace sat between your breasts that he gave you for your first communion all those years ago, trying to think of anything else but his hand in your panties.

How could he forget? Not when you squealed so sweetly while you bled a creamy ring on his cock, blubbering and sniffling about how he was far too big to fit all the way, that it hurts, way more than you ever thought loosing your virginity would. Not when that was the beginning of what was now a years long relationship consisting of chalked up purchases and fake nights out at the bar rehashing the same old war stories, all to spend the night easing orgasm after orgasm out of your sweet cunt.

You took too long to answer, too caught up in the cloud of what those war torn fingers felt curled inside of you and you knew it. The only thing snapping you out of the hazy daydream the man was solely responsible for was a gruff chuckle, one that curled in your ears and chills down your spine. He sensed the effect he had on you, even through the phone.

"So then.. what time would you like me over love?" He questions in a new voice, one that edged on mischievously playful. A lilt in his tone what wasn't usually there.

You're finally snapped out of it, realizing that there was a question, an important question that had to be answered. Stammering yourself back to the present, a giggle forces itself out of your chest, running your hands down your skirt as you smooth imaginary wrinkles.

"A..ah um" An airy giggle rings into the receiver, a mix of fear hits you when he asks a question you honestly should have been expecting, why wouldn't he be asking what time to come over?

"Is uh.. is 6 okay?" your voice lightens at the end of your sentence, trying not to convey that on the other end of his telephone you've managed to knot the cord into a rats nest with all of the twirling in your panicked daydreams.

"Ah ah, you're stammering an' you know I don' like a stammer" He says in a way far too stern for what should have reasonably made you this wet. It gave you that glimpse you craved, that you yearned for, what all that military discipline taught him and what that meant for you.

"An' if I recall… I asked you correct? So tell me, when should the lady o' the house be expectin' me 'round?" There's a grin, you're sure of it. Your poet of a soldier carefully dictating his words and according actions as if he were playing chess.

There's a wobbly breath in, a feeble attempt to compose yourself while your clit throbbed to the rhythm of your heart.

"6 it is then." You say with false bravado and you could practically see his self satisfied crooked smile.

"Good girl, tha' wasn't so hard." He teases, thinking of all the things that will wait for you upon his arrival.

"See you soon lamb "

"I'll see you then sir~" the teasing coo hums from your lips as you hear the call disconnect on the other end. Your breath you weren't even aware that you had been holding escapes in an almost pleasant burn through your lungs. There was so much to do before 6.

You rocked on your heels as you gazed into the warm glow of the bakery's display case, seemingly filled with endless sugary goodness. If you had all the money in the world, you probably would spend it all here. Your eyes go over each treat, scanning as you try to think about what Paddy would like, what he'd praise you for choosing because you knew him so well.

You thanked god every step you that took that lead you to the bakery that your father wasn't here with you. He would've had a fit if he saw you walk into town unaccompanied without a man present and without a coat or shawl. You could practically hear his scolding, demanding to know where your shame was, how a woman shouldn't go anywhere alone, much less in just a dress. Too bad you were your own woman now, if only just for a week or two before their return.

"What're ye lookin' for love? Anythin' in particular I can help ya' with?" A woman asks in a pleasant tone, seeming to pop into existence out of thin air and snapping you out of your sugar induced trance.

"O…oh!" You smile politely, the words falling out of your mouth in a surprised stumble

"Well um..well.." contemplating for a moment, you try to recall if you've ever seen this woman before. If she had a mouth, and if that mouth would tell your business to the town and in return, your family.

"I'm celebrating an anniversary and I was wondering what was popular..nothing too sweet, I don't think hes much for sweet" Your face can't help but flush at the thought of him, giggling a bit to cover the awkwardness in the conversation

"Oh honey an anniversary!!" she says excitedly. The woman, who you soon learn is named Eleanore, reaches over grabs your hands that were idly resting on the curved glass, squeezing and filling them with warmth.

"And such a pretty little thing like you! Let me look at ya'!" She is far too excited than she should be for a strangers anniversary, but you guess that's why she got into the business of creating things to be enjoyed on special occasions, because she gets to enjoy them with you.

You somewhat reluctantly obliged when she gestures for you to back up from the counter, even doing a small twirl so she can fully see you, soft features and all. That seems to delight her as she claps her hands in overwhelming joy.

She eagerly waves you back, all grins as she pats your cheek in the way a tender mother would.

"Oh hes a lucky man love! Lucky lucky man to have a sweet little thing like you. An' he must treat you right! He treats you right yes?" It's easy to tell that shes rambler, talking even when she isn't fully sure anyone was still listening. Even now, shes walking around behind the counter, looking in the lit cases almost like she's scoping out the exact perfect dessert with every little description of Paddy you provide.

Little does she know that the man you're describing, shouldn't be yours to have in the slightest. Every little daydream she's having on your behalf of baking your future wedding cake is so morally wrong that she'd probably kick you out of her shop and make you a town pariah, an outcast gossiped about during ladies bridge games.

You zone back into the conversation when she finally starts listing desserts she thinks would suit your mystery man with whatever strange divination she utilized to make decisions about people's taste she's never once met, or at least you hope never met. You begin twisting and twirling your necklace in a fidgety, overthinking nervousness.

"Well then, if your mans serious, stubborn to the point of pure stupidity, which trust me lovey when I say you're hard pressed to find a man who isn't, but hes got a deep sense of art an' poetry to him like you say he is, then I think he's fit for our strawberry shortcake. Not too sweet but delightful all the same!" She gestures a hand to a cake, simple and classic, decorated with whipped cream and full strawberries. There's no doubt he'd like it, all you're left to wonder is how in the hell she's right.

"An' we do offer two sizes! Do ye' have any little ones running 'bout? Or just the two of ye for now?" Her smile indents into her rosy cheeks, but the flush of them is nothing to the warmth that blooms across your face and down your neck only to settle deep in your belly at the mention of children. You're unsure whether to feel horror at the possibility or just the littlest amount of joy at the mistaken domesticity of your relationship. There's a bit of shame that creeps in and settles where it should be when you admit that you wouldn't be upset if there were.

"It's uh.. it's just us!! The small one'll do us just fine" A coy smile plays on your lips as you toy with the only thing that tied you to him.

"Oh that's alright! The little ones will surely come soon enough for you two!" Eleanore teases playfully, grabbing the smaller cake out with a delicate hand.

"Now let me pack this up nice for ya' "

And she does, she wraps the cake up with a box and bow, far prettier than you ever could have done. She even throws in a couple of cookies for you, free of charge.

"Those are for you now ye' hear me, don't let him have any of those. Plus, men like a woman with a little meat on her bones! You make sure you eat up!" She scolds with a pat to your arm, bundling up all your goods in a neat little bag that makes you look like the sweetest little house wife.

With a shy smile and repetitive, sincere, thanks, the bell above the door cues your exit as the woman waves you bye through the window. You'd surely have to stop in again, hopefully with a ring on your hand and a bump firmly seated in your belly.

You tried desperately not to spiral about every little detail displayed in front of your kitchen counter. On your way home you'd decided on picking up Paddy's favorite poitín, even batting your eyes extra hard when the clerk at the counter raised an eyebrow on why such a pretty little thing was buying such harsh liquor, better fit for a man of his age or even older and not the nice wine he was expecting when you walked through the door.

It was ten to six, the clock feeling far too quick and far too slow in the same beat. You tried to make everything nice, that you weren't some ungrateful little brat that everyone else thought you were, that instead you were a woman, grown and mature, capable of a nice evening. You even put on his favorite dress, one that he bought you himself, short and playful that ended just shy of your knees. He told you that night after in his bed he liked the easy access, not too much fabric to bunch up and get in the way of his ravenous mouth. Just at the top of your breasts laid the necklace Paddy had given you for your first communion. When you were just a girl, a lamb unknowing of the worlds cruelty or the deep, interwoven love that it was capable of.

The sudden knock on the door sent a sharp shiver down your spine, heart rate climbing to the point of hearing it thrum in your ears. With a deep breath and light giggle of giddy excitement, you smooth your hands over your skirt and grab the handle to open the awaiting threshold to the man waiting on the other side.

There he stood, broad shoulders, scruff on his face and gray ever so slightly creeping onto his temples, perfect. You're unable to keep back your smile as you feel like a kid on Christmas. He offers you a crooked one back.

"Well..are ye' lettin' me in lamb? Or do ye' jus' wanna keep me out here waitin'?" He cocks an teasing eyebrow at you, nodding to your hand still firmly planted on your side of the doorknob, blocking him off from entering.

It takes you a moment to realize what he means, and when it sinks in you feel face flush in a brief flash of embarrassment, smiling a half apologetic grin at him as you replace your grip on the handle with his wrist, coaxing him inside by moving every so slightly to the side.

"I wouldn't want to keep you waiting, that'd just be impolite of me" Your tone is ever so lightly teasing as he allows you to pull him in with a gentle hand, shutting the door behind him.

His hands immediately find your waist, holding you loosely at first before his hold becomes firmer, pressing you against him with a little squeak of surprise escaping you, hands pressing against his shirt clad chest.

"I see yer wearin' my favorite.." making a show of looking you up and down, you feel his fingers drift down to cup the fat of your ass, his palms heavy on your flesh as his lips move to capture yours in a hungry kiss. All masculine and greed like a man starved in a desert wasteland.

"Now.. why don't we work on takin' it off" His kisses pause only to lean into your ear to whisper, so close you could practically feel the words flowing from his mouth.

You can't help but let out a soft moan at his ministrations, feeling those heavy hands knead at the flesh, the chill of his wedding band offering a welcome contrast to the burning desire.

Reluctantly, you separate from him, lips glossy and swollen even from that brief, heated kiss. You give him a coy little smile as you pat the center of his chest, giving a sweet little laugh along with it.

"Later.." You whisper mischievously, a little more out of breath than you'd care to admit.

"I didn't plan a surprise for you for it to go to waste." Satiating him with a brief peck on the lips, you relish in the smell of his cologne and the welcomed pain the scrape of his freshly shave stubble provides.

You're immediately met with a raised eyebrow from the man in front of you, his hands not moving from their precarious position, still offering the occasional pinch and squeeze as you speak.

"A surprise ya' say?" He pretends to ponder your words, a glint in his eye with a motivation you couldn't quite place.

"Now, what would make my little lamb wanna do somethin' like that?" He mock ponders, looking you square in the eyes with a wry smile. He gently starts swaying you both side to side, making you giggle.

"You know.. its been one year since we.." You let your statement trail off, letting your gaze shift from his face, down to his hips, then back up again do all the talking that was needed.

"Just wanted to make it special," A playful pout marks your lips as you lay your head down on his shoulder, placing a few chaste kisses on his neck.

"Ah.. an anniversary?" he teases, one hand moving up to the small of your back, rubbing smooth little circles.

"I guess that's reason enough for a surprise isn't it?" You're half convinced he just likes hearing himself talk before he captures your lips in a brief, but passionate kiss.

"Well then, show me." A smile grazes his lips, now both calloused hands circling and massaging your hips.

"Let's see what my girls been workin' so hard to plan" You can't quite tell if hes teasing for your efforts, but you're not really sure you mind.

Rocking on your heels, you carefully remove Paddy's hands from their purchase on your ass, instead grabbing his hands to lead him into the kitchen. You pause for a moment to cover his eyes with your free hand.

"Make sure your eyes are closed. No peeking and I mean it!" You scold, playfully scowling as you feel the man's eyes roll beneath your palm.

As you lead him, you can't help but feel giddy as you draw him closer to his prize, what in your mind hes worked so hard to deserve .

"'m old dolly, much longer in the dark 'n I'll probably end up snorin' in your lap," He chuckles, feeling you stop just shy of the counter. Your fingers brush against the bridge of his nose daintily, tickling as your nails leave his flesh. Oh how you longed for that nose to be buried deep in your cunt. Soon.

You gasp playfully as when you remove your hands, you see that his eyes were actually closed.

"You actually listened!" Giggling, you press a quick kiss against his cheek .

"Good boy," teasing, you tuck the bottle behind your back, moving Paddy right in front of the cake, which read in dainty, twirly writing.

'Happy Anniversary'

"Ready…open!!" His vision takes a moment to focus, adjusting to the sudden onslaught of light.

First he sees you, the pretty thing he'd had his eye on, angelic and heavenly as you stand there all sweetness, flushed and soft. You've known nothing of hardship, of struggles or pain. Honestly, sleeping with him is the most rebellious thing you could have possibly done, and he doesn't think either of you would change any of it.

Then, his eyes drift onto the counter, finding immediately what you had surprised him with. A light cake decorated with whipped cream and tart strawberries. He goes back and forth between looking at the dessert and looking at you, your smile, your nervously flushed face and how your fingers always seem to find his necklace. In all honesty it just reminded him of how young you were. No adult, bored to tears from the relentless beat down of life is buying any man in their life, a boyfriend or a husband, a cake, especially one this delicate looking.

In some weird way, it reminded him of you, sweet, playful, light and loving all wrapped up in a delightful presentation. He sees a slight flash of worry cross your eyes as you gaze into him, still concealing something not so subtly behind your back.

"Oh.. aren't ye just the sweetest little lamb," he coos, you can tell theres sincerity behind the playfulness, drawing you closer into his warm grip.

"Did ya' pick this out yourself?" There's a distinct want to his words, it relaxes you as you allow him to brush your cheek with his thumb.

You nod sweetly, unable to bite back a proud grin any longer.

"Mhm.. Thought you'd like it."

"I do.. an' what's this behind your back?" He looks you up and down, surveying you as if he were taking inventory. His hands find their way back around your hips, creeping around to your back. Your heart thumps in your ears, beats sounding like gunfire rather than an organ in your chest as he closes in around you, looping his arms around until they meet hands, your hands gripping the neck of a bottle.

You allow him to encase your hands in his, bringing forward the bottle of Poitín, his favorite brand, strong and not the cheapest. He shifts his gaze to look down at it in your shared grip, a satisfied hum leaving his lips as he looks back up to be met with a sheepish little smile.

"It's uh..its your favorite right?" You asked, head now swirling that somehow you had gotten it wrong and fucked this all up.

"Aye, an' how'd you know that?" There's a grin on his face even as his words feel more teasing than anything, taking the bottle from your hands to set it gently on the table. His hands return to their place on your hips, walking you slowly backwards until your back is flush with the countertop. In what reality was a few feet felt like miles, eons even.

"I.." It takes a considerable amount of focus to try to conjure the words needed in your brain, no thanks to Paddy, who’s now placing slow, light kisses right at your jaw, no doubt leading to what you'd hoped for all day.

"I've seen you drink it.. y'know when you're in the study, with dad," the air is impossibly thick with tension, charged. It feels as if you're deep underwater with the only possible way to get oxygen back is through Paddy.

His hand that’s not firmly planted around your waist, keeping the edge of the counter digging into your back into a delicious sting, began to trail up. It settles snugly with his thumb notched under your jaw, the other fingers wrapping loosely around the back of your neck. The position has you straighten your stance in his grip, your hands braced on the counter as his warm kisses go closer towards your ear.

"Such a sweet girl, doin' all this for an old man like me," He whispers, his hips subtly beginning to grind into your core, now realizing he has you pinned in a way you couldn't possibly get out of. Not that you'd want to anyway.

It's only then you realize just how firm his cock was, stirring in his pants the entire time you showed just how much you liked playing house.

"Why don't I show ye' just how appreciative I really am, consider it yer own anniversary present?" A hear stirs in your belly, sparking into a low, steady burn. He feels you slowly nod your head, only to tsk in your ear. Drawing his head back, the hand on your waist journeys down to your ass, giving you a sweet little rub before a firm smack comes down causing you to squeal and whine at the sting.

"Now I know I've taught ye better than that, use yer words like a big girl." There's something in his eyes you can't quite place, something between hunger and ferocity. His voice is steady, matter of fact. It causes the heat to pool lower into your cunt.

You give him a little pout, causing him to give you a look, half surprised, amused even in response.

"Y'dont have to be so mean about it Paddy," A playful little glare going his way, causing him to pinch the flushed, hot skin in response. You wince with a further whine.

"'m not bein' mean, jus' know ye know better is all." He pats your cheek with his palm almost condescendingly, only to then grab your chin with this thumb and middle finger, causing your glossy lips to pout further

"Try again." The words are simpler than you'd want, allowing no wiggle room to even try to twist this.

With a deep, somewhat shaky inhale that he takes as defeat, you look at him with the wettest eyes you could possibly muster, leaning the weight of your head into his palm.

"I would like you to show me..how much you appreciate me sir." The words stumbled off your tongue, feeling clunky as they fell out of your mouth. He should know that's what you meant, and it's stupid that he makes you say it.

You hear his warm hum of approval, rewarding your less than stellar performance with a soothing rub of the stinging flesh of your ass and a deep kiss, keeping you firmly planted between him and the hard laminate.

A small whimpers escapes your lips as his teeth bite, dominating the scenario in every sense of the word. He kisses like he has nothing to loose, like a man starved, a man who has everything most people could ever want but he still wants more. His tongue delves into your mouth with such precision you'd have thought he had a map.

Now both his hands wander down to your thighs as you shift, trying not to give away how soaked with slick they were. He squeezes, kneading as they travel farther down to the ditch of your knees. Your head swirled with the dual sensations, as he proceeded to lift, just for a moment as his mouth stayed firmly planted on yours.

With eyes shooting open in surprise, you feel the cold counter against your skin. A string of spit still connects your lips as he finally allows you to separate, chuckling at just how flushed in the face you are from one kiss, only to then leave you on the counter. A moment felt like years, only ceasing when he turned his back to reveal the cake in one hand and the bottle in another, setting it next to you before returning in between your thighs.

His hands pinch the hem of your dress, toying with it for a moment before lifting it clean off in one fluid motion, leaving you in soaked panties and a lacy bra he had bought weeks ago. He clicks his tongue, taking a moment to realize just how sweet you had looked, on display for him like a toy to play with.

"How sweet.." he teased, a doting coo evident in his voice, his thick fingers finding their way to the elastic of your panties, not quite touching where you wanted. So close but still so far. It was maddening.

You watched as his eyes glanced down to the cake, its soft cream pristine and unmoving, he looks back up at you.

"Have ye tried some yet lamb?" You shake your head, he let's that one slide, following the movement of his fingers as one dips into the cream.

"Open," and you obey, probably too quickly as your jaw falls open, only to be met with two fingers on your tongue.

Wrapping your lips around him, you suck on the digits, being sure to look up at him through wet lashes. You make a show of finishing everything he gives you, coming off with an audible, wet, pop when he draws back.

"'s good?"

You nod, humming in confirmation. In the midst of being about to speak, he reaches behind you and unhooks your bra swiftly, leaving your nipples to stiffen at the cool air. You shudder, feeling newly exposed while Paddy's stays fully dressed.

"Guess tha' means I should try some huh?" The words feel matter of fact, almost bland to the point of not matching his actions.

You whimper at the sudden chilled sensation of whipped cream on your breasts and down your sternum. You almost say something, a whine of feeling too cold, too sticky, until you feel two fingers prod at your entrance, curling with known precision.

A moan swirls out of your mouth, all shuddering and wobbly with pleasure. The sort of feeling that has your nails digging into his bicep and your back arching. Then you feel his mouth, warm and wet as he trails licks and sloppy kisses from your pantyline to your sternum, tracing the dessert with his tongue.

You practically see stars as the dual stimulation, his fingers curling into that gummy spot that he knows so well. Writhing in his grip, your breath quickens as the man's thumb rubs agonizingly slow circles on your clit. If you knew one thing, it was that Paddy loves to tease.

"Si..sir! 'm gonna-" You're met with a sharp sting directly on your cunt, thighs clamping so hard around his hand they're trembling. His rough, flat hand making contact directly with your clit, the metal ring adding a distinct throb that has you clenching around his fingers greedily.

"No stammerin'. Tell me yer gonna cum like a good slut or 'm stoppin'."

A sob rips through you as your shoulders shake. One arm dedicated to holding tightly onto him, as if it was the only thing keeping you on the ground, while the other trembled in attempts to keep you at least somewhat upright. He could be so cruel.

There's a shake to your voice, a sweet moan drawn from you as the wave crescendoing in your belly begins to peak, its crash imminent and approaching rapidly. Your grip tightens.

"Fuck..Paddy pluh.. please~" the tears cascading down your cheeks wasn't intentional, bubbling over your lashline brimming with need. Your chest goes in rapid successions of rising and falling, there was somehow not enough breath you could take but also far too much. The quick circles on your nerve felt sharp, pointed pricks stabbing deep into your core while the walls of your cunt fluttered in a desperate attempt to keep Paddy's fingers curled inside.

"I've mn..I've been really good." Your weeps were pathetic, soft and pleading.

"Aye, ya have, really good. Jus' need some remindin' don' you?" His mouth is over your breast, making sure theres not a part of your body he hasn't left untouched. He yearned to make your father question why his daughter was wearing a turtleneck in the heat of summer, why you were now walking with a limp and squirmed while seated at the dinner table.

He took your pitiful nod as good enough, he thinks that you've been strung along enough, pinching your peaked nipples between his fingers while he takes the other in his mouth.

"Go 'head, cum for me." With his mouth full, he gets to listen to you squeal and writhe, that much awaited fluid suddenly gushing over his fingers. His chuckles vibrate against your chest as he keeps up the steady rhythm of his fingers while while you come down, head leaned on his arm.

Your head was still foggy and swimming with post orgasmic bliss while he withdrew his fingers. and soaked in a combination of cum and slick. Eyeing your glazed over vision, he makes sure you're watching as he licks every trace of your release off his fingers pulling you closer to him as you grimace, a grin plastered on his face.

He kisses your head, moving sweat stuck hair out of your face.

"I think m'girl tastes a bit sweeter" He teases, rubbing the side of your arm

"Taste, then y'can tell me" Your head leans against his arm, shifting to look into those glinting eyes once again. Obediently, your mouth opens, even sticking your tongue out, only to be met with a half chuckle at your enthusiasm.

You feel his fingers enter your mouth again, but this time its different, tastes different. With his fingers he had also grabbed a half cut strawberry, originally left for decoration now swirling with the taste of your own pleasure, sweet and tart all at the same time. He shushes your initial whine, watching intently as your lips wrap around him. The berry softens to a pulp before swallowing, drawing his fingers out, leaving the saliva that connects your tongue to him as you attempting to catch your breath.

He leans in close, whispering

"Good isn't it? Nothin' sweeter than my doll's cunt."

Nodding in agreement, you hum, still trying to get back everything in your brain that leaked out of your pussy and onto Paddy's fingers. He rubs your thighs, deep, soothing circles leaving delicious aches as you watch him think. You feel your heat pulse, trying to draw something when there's nothing there, squirming on your spot on the counter.

"Y'need more don' you?" There's a knowing smirk attached to that statement, he knew you wouldn't be satiated with just fingers, especially when his cock is at your disposal.

"Go on, ask for it. Can' read yer mind now can I?"

A pout flashes on your lips, soft and glossy. He very well knows what you want as you sit nude and desperate for what is rightfully yours, you shouldn't have to ask. But you know what he had in store if you pinched a fit, the ache in your clit evident, a years worth of punishment at the front of your mind. You keep the pout, resting your head on his arm, fingers shakily toying with the buttons on his shirt, undoing the first couple.

"You.. You know what I want sir.." Your eyes shift up to his, mischievous shine in the dark irises as he listens for the magic words.

"I need your cock.. I've been really good.." In your attempt to sweeten the deal for what you know you'll already get, you begin to kiss at his collar, moving up to his neck and jaw with his stubble scraping you just right.

With a content sigh, he slides you off the counter, setting you down in wobbly legs. He watches you stand, shaking like a newborn fawn trying to take its first steps. He leans into your ear as you're trying to put all your focus into not falling.

"Go up to yer room an' wait. Do not touch." He emphasizes his words with a playful spank, not enough impact to cause any real pain. You yelp and jolt forward at the sudden force, sending a glare at him over your shoulder.

Cautiously, you take steps. One after another leading you to your old bedroom, sitting on the edge of the mattress as you take in your surroundings. With your brain finally coming back to you, there is absolutely no way two fully grown people could do anything on this bed, only really being able fitting you comfortably whenever you stay in here. You have no clue why he told you to go in here, you would've let him take you against the counter, or in the study, or the living room, not this too small bed you're afraid won't be able to support the weight of both you and the grown man plowing into you.

You don't get to continue thinking for very long, hearing the door begin to creak open, heavy steps on the other side finally coming in. Your back involuntarily straightens, gazing up at him as he walks in, bottle in hand as he sets it down on the dainty night table. He takes in the surroundings with a brief exhale out of his nose, chuckling .

"See ye' didn't change much." You flush, rolling your eyes embarrassed.

"Shut up.. I'm not here that of-" You don't even get the opportunity to finish your snide comment, his warm mouth over yours once again. Moaning into it, you feel his hands push you back, far back until your spine connects with the mattress. He gives you another brief smack on the ass, acknowledging that he heard that little attitude that would be gone soon enough.

The mattress creaks under the added weight of his knee on the bed, slotting in between your thighs. Even with that brief contact, your slick soaking his pant leg. Your own hands go from his face, holding him into the kiss down to his shoulders until they finally reach the buttons of his shirt, making quick work of them. Hes still surprisingly fit for a man of his age, you guessed the military had something to do with that, his stomach soft with the pudge of domesticity, but muscles firm from work.

You slide the shirt off his shoulders, hastily throwing it to the floor. He laughs at your eagerness, breaking the kiss only to bite and suck at base of your jaw, earning your soft, breathy moans.

Your fingers make their way to the waistband of his pants, trying and failing to pop the button to get them off, you need him inside of you, now. A small whine comes from you, frustrated. His warm breath is by your, whisper and full of teasing.

"You needy little slut, y'need help?" His tone is almost mocking, condescending and filled with faux concern.

Nodding, your hand runs up his neck to the side of his face.

"Off.. need them off. Need you inside sir please." you plead, eyed watering in horny desperation as you grind and wiggle your hips into his notched knee, anything for a fraction of friction

He shushes you, rubbing your waist down to your hips before taking your thighs into his grasp.

"Shh shh no cryin'. Yer a big girl right? Big girls don' cry jus' because they don' get what they want." There's a grin on his face, one that says just how much he loves toying with you and that little pout on your lips.

Suddenly, you're yanked closer to the edge of the bed. What in reality was probably a few inches felt like miles, dragged closer to the edge, closer to him and what you yearned for. You watch as he calmly unbuttons his trousers, pulling them and his boxers down and one smooth motion, his cock bobbing up onto his stomach. His tip angry and leaking beads of precum. You can't help but stare, your walls fluttering around nothing as they anxiously wait for him.

Both of his knees hit the bed, the mattress audibly protesting. Finally, hes in between your thighs, cock lined up in against your cunt, tip nudging your clit as he coats his length in your slick, much to your mix of whining protests and syrupy moans while he teases.

You're given practically no warning when he enters, bullying the thick length into your cunt. You squeal, writhing under him as you dig your nails into his shoulder, pleading for him to give you a moment, even just a second to to this new, much needed intrusion.

His hips still, if only just for a bit while he hikes your legs up, his body weight folding you in a way you didn't know was possible before slowly easing out of you. With only the tip, left in his hips collide with yours, squirming with a gasp and a whine.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes against the soft painted wall as Paddy gets into a rhythm, hips moving in and out as your moans staccato in time with his thrusts. You're sure you've never felt him this deep before, feeling impossibly full, overwhelming filled to the brim with his cock.

You writhe, moans punched out of you from his brutal thrusts. With your legs by your ears, you feel open, vulnerable, the mixture of slick and precum in between your legs offering a sticky slapping noise with his thrusts. With one of his hands at the base of your neck and the other holding your legs, he makes you look at him with you're teary eyes and gaping lips, pace unrelenting.

"D'ya like bein' fucked stupid by a man twice yer age? Ye like him fuckin' your cunt in yer childhood bed with his necklace hangin' off your tits?" He groans, breath ragged as his hips meet your ass again and again. He slams into that spongy spot deep in your core that has your toes curling and eyes rolling back.

"Ye just like bein' some old man's slut? A toy for me to use?" He holds your face, giving your cheek a couple light slaps.

"Focus lamb, I asked ya' a question," God he was so fuckin mean, bullying his cock so deep you're worried he'll hit your womb.

"I..ha I.." You're struggling to get the words out, so many sensations combining into one out of body experience. You feel as if you're looking down at him take you from above.

"I think youre jus' a mn ..dirty old man wh..who likes to be balls deep i..in his best friends daughter~" You snide, back mouthing him while you feel as if he's in your throat.

You gasp as he pinches your nipple hard, whining as tears brim your eyes from the cruel pain as he grins above you, somehow moving his hips quicker than they were before.

"Yer gonna sass the man deep in your cunt? 'n I thought I taught ye better." He slaps your clit once again as you whimper, tears finally falling from your face, he licks them off your cheek. He leans close to whisper, breath heated and tone a false calm.

"Maybe I jus' need to put a fuckin' baby in ya', maybe that'll finally teach ya' how to fuckin' behave." There's a firm slap on your ass that has you mewling, the pain from his hit and the pleasure from his brutal thrusts mixing into one.

You can't help but giggle, cockdrunk and dazed as your eyes glean with the hope of him fulfilling that promise. You hold onto his arms as you arch your back, his flesh feeling like an anchor. Your walls clench, contracting at his words.

It doesn't go without notice, of course it doesn't. His next thrusts are especially harsh.

"Ye want that? You wan' a baby with a married man? Is that right?" He's grinning as you can't help but squirm on his cock.

"Wan' me to send ye' back to tha' college with a growin' belly? Want everyone to whisper about how much of a slut ye are havin' a babe outta wedlock?"

His fingers reach down to spin circles on your clit, your walls clamp down as you mewl out sweet, syrupy moans, nodding your head enthusiastically. The word yes slurred out of your mouth so much it could probably just be considered one long sentence.

Your hands run through his hair as his pace picks up. You've never felt so lucky that you had the house to yourself as the bed slammed into the wall, creaking every time he moved his hips. You feel a mess, drool and tears on your face as your head begins to blank, you don't think you could remember the day if anyone asked.

"Oh an' your da.. he'd jus' have a fit." Paddy sneered, biting down on your neck so hard you'll have to find makeup to conceal the mark that'll be left in its wake.

"He'd probably throw ya' out in the street after findin' out what a whore he raised." You can't feel your legs, you can't feel anything other than the pleasure rushing to your core, your eyes roll back as your limbs feel useless, like jelly even as the heat in your belly grows hotter.

" mn.. paddy 'm.. 'm gonna -" You whimpered, high and breathy as you hear a crack, sharp and splintering as your body begins to slide, the only thing keeping you still is the weight behind the mans thrusts. The small bed giving into the weight of you both.

"Go on, ye' can do it lamb, soak my cock." And you do, soaking both of you as you cry out, holding onto his hands as you sob. Your release splashing up to your lower belly in a way that hadn't happened before.

His thrusts kept their pace as he grins, continuing cruel circles on your clit as you soak his hand, clamping down on his cock. He stills, letting out a low groan as he presses his chest to yours, feeling his warm cum flood your womb while his shallow thrusts ease you down from your high.

He presses a kiss to yours sweaty forehead, wiping makeup and tears off your face.

"You're good.. so so good.." You sniffle, holding onto him as if he were your only lifeline.

Reluctantly, he pulls out, watching as his cum begins to slowly leak from your entrance, only for him to scoop it back in with his fingers, being met with your whines and shudders of being too sensitive. He chuckles, giving you a quick kiss on the lips before setting you on his lap on the last stable part of the bed.

"I told him to get ya' a new bed.. yer a woman now after all.. need somethin' stronger." He chuckles and you dazedily nod, finally regaining a bit of feeling in your lower body.

Rubbing your back, he opens the bottle he set so carefully on the table beside you pouring some of the clear liquid in a glass you hadn't seen him grab.

"Bought me the nice one too didn't you love, how sweet." He teases before taking a swig, the liquor burning nicely as it goes down.

The room feels charged, alive but still so warm somehow as the both of you sit on a cracked bed. You feels docile now, soothing in his energy. You feel him lean over to kiss the side of your rested head, nothing could compare to how soft you feel in this moment, full and cared for by the man you loved. You hoped every anniversary would feel like this, leaning into him as you feel him rub your back soothingly.

Basked in the dim flickering glow of fire light and the yellow headlights of a military vehicle. You stood on a crude makeshift stage. Created just for you and a couple others. The wood planks were warped and uneven. Stained from oil and or blood-adding a level of flare-not to mention the few bullet holes. Scattered creates stacked on top of each other spaced sporadically giving the stage a bit of scenery. Currently the stage was occupied with you and another soldier of the S.A.S. The two of you were in the middle of giving a small performance. You as the singer. The other as your musician. Worn out mic in front of your lips you belt out a familiar song. The crowd of other soldiers—some standing, some sitting in chairs, or on the ground—watched and joined in merriment to the song. It made you smile at the boisterous comradery you managed to instill in them. Made all the more fun the more drunk a few got. Voices raised, holding arms swaying, dancing ridiculously, or stomping their feet. It was all in good fun. 

You were born to be a performer. A whole family lineage, going way back. 

Before the war your family moved as a tight knit group. Traveling place to place putting on shows for the locals. Ever since you were able, you were a part of that. The front singer of the group. Voice of an angel they told you. Being from a family who never stayed in one place for long certain skills were gained. Passed down from one family member or another. Generational knowledge. So, besides being a singer you were adept when it came to ailments and remedies. Learning intricate knowledge of human anatomy. You could stitch the most gnarly of wounds, putting the person back together again. Good as new. Able to treat someone well without any formal training. 

So, when war came you were the perfect candidate to join the war effort. The armed forces welcomed you. Your knowledge landed you as a medic. And somehow that led you to join this special division. The S.A.S. A rag tag mosh of unhinged soldiers of various ranks and talents. 

You were only with them for a few months before one of the men caught you singing to yourself while cleaning the medical tent. 

Out of all the men on camp he was the roughest. Perhaps the craziest. Sour face, rough with bushy beard, untamed hair—that sometimes was slicked back. One of your superior officers. He would constantly come in for treatment, that it started to become routine. The man loved to fight. And when he found out you could sing… you found Paddy finding ways to come by more often. Then word got out and many of the men encouraged you to the point where you now did performances for the whole camp. Singing your heart out. Forgetting this war existed every time. I also helped boost morale.

Always lost in the small spotlight, the men overtime built you this stage. Taking parts from missions they went on. They even got you a working microphone.

At every performance, Paddy made an appearance. Spotted in various spots throughout the crowd. He can’t help it. There’s something about you. That voice. It grabs his attention. To a point of obsession and infatuation. Jealousy burns in his chest now. Watching you perform for the men gaily singing along in merriment. And when your song would end they rushed towards you like groupies at a concert. 

It pissed him off. Or as he would so frankly put it, “get his goat”. That feeling stewed in him for quite some time. Festering like a desert sore left untreated.

A cold desert night, light breeze whipping through, and you were still cleaning the mess in the medical tent. The stale tang of blood hung in the air, not even the antiseptic could override the smell. The few lamps you kept lit were slowly dying. You should be asleep, but the quiet darkness was enjoyable. Compared to the chaos that reared its head during the day. Placing some unused supplies back into a metal tin. The ruffle of canvas had you looking over.

Paddy entered the tent. 

What could he have gotten into this time? You wonder immediately, scanning him and his uniform. For once he was unharmed. A rarity for sure. All put together. Your brow creased as to why he was here then. 

It was in his eyes. That part he could never hide. Or chose not to. Even when physical maladies were present. Paddy’s eyes were dark under the light. Sharp and jagged. A snake coiled, fangs ready to bite in an instant. The type of look he got right before a brutal fight broke out. In two strides he crossed the tent. Before you had a chance to offer up a single syllable, his calloused hand gripped your arm. The grip was tight. The jealousy he had been harboring finally taking hold, no longer contained. 

Too many nights watching you sing your heart out to the cheers and eyes of others. The way their faces softened. Lit up when you sang. Too many times they surround the stage, crowding way too close, blocking his perfect view of you. Paddy’s jealousy had him believe that every soldier’s ear that was blessed to hear you was theft. Stolen from him. As if it was purely for him alone. 

“Paddy?” Your voice questioned with confusion. “Something wrong?” Urgency in your tone. “Where are we going?”

Through the flap of the medical tent, Paddy hauled you out into the cold night. Tugging you along, a little too forcefully, not looking back as the two of you drifted silently across camp. 

He eventually responded. That gruff lilt of his resonated with suppressed rage. “Wan’ a private performance.”. 

Endearing as the words were, they sounded like a threat more than a request.

The makeshift stage came into view. With rough desperation he shoved you up the wooden platform. You stumbled forward finding the center, catching your balance. 

Jealousy removed any gentleness he might have had. Pure possessive need overriding any thoughts of sane treatment. Nodding towards the mic stand, “Sing.”. He ordered, stepping closer letting you feel the heat radiating off him. “Sing for me.”

And you did. Not only because the order came from a higher ranking officer, but with the look in his eye and demeanor, obeying was your only option. With your chest tight, you took up position. The mic and all equipment—from what you gathered—were off. Yet he insisted you use them. Your voice wavered as you began. Nervous. It came out soft and thin. Hands trembling slightly. 

To Paddy it made this more thrilling. 

As you slowly gained your confidence the tension in his jaw eased. And when the melody rose, your voice acted like a sedative to his burning rage.

The desert and camp dissolved to only the song. Music is a calm sanctuary. That calling that lived deep inside. Feeling the moment, song taking hold, you let your eyelids close. If he wanted a performance he was welcome to one. 

That calm moment before the storm didn’t last. Paddy moved. Stepping close behind you. 

You could feel his heat burning bright and hot. Without seeing him you felt the weight of the effects that your voice brought him. It had your cheeks pink, the flush slowly creeping up your neck. His solid body pressed against yours. You continued to sing. 

Calloused rough hands began to roam. Sliding around your waist and up your stomach. Hands proudly claiming, With a rough yank, you were pulled flush against him. He wanted you to feel the hard erection straining through the fabric of his uniform trouser. 

You gave a faint gasp between lyrics.

A low growl vibrated against the skin of your neck. Paddy leaned in, deeply inhaling. “So handsome. So Beautiful.” He rasped with dark satisfaction. “Always that voice of yers. Was only meant for me. Nay for them. Me ears alone.”

Then his touch grew rougher. Bolder. Teasing palms dug into your waist traveling upwards to your chest. Hands tracing the divots and curves of your body. With a firm press of his fingers, when they strayed to a more sensitive spot, a gasp would catch in your throat. Just a fraction of a second, hiking the pitch of your voice. 

Paddy grinned at the fight. The struggle. He had your voice wavering from more than just nerves. His hands held no restraint, rough and claiming with possession. Lingering jealousy flared, wound tight in his chest. He growled in your ear, murmuring to himself. How he wanted this for some time.

You squeak out an off tune note when his hand finds the soft outline of your cock. Palming it slowly yet firmly until it started to twitch to life. It made singing difficult.

Paddy’s hand on your hip pulls you back against him when your body strays too far. His grip tightened on your hardening cock. Rubbing up and down, adding more pressure. You heard him groan in delight. Each pass of his hand made your core flutter. Your ass clenches on nothing, balls tensing, the head leaking pre-cum already. You try to sing the next verse, but the words stammer out. Voice cracking when you let out a moan. You clutch to the microphone stand in a death grip. 

“Aye, that’s it lad.” Paddy grumbles, hot breath hitting your neck. “Keep singin’. Let ‘em all hear how I’m makin’ ye feel.”

The thought that someone from camp might see the two of you like this, turned you beat red. But when Paddy grinds his hips, the train of through was gone. The thick prod of his cock pressed between your cheeks-separated only by your uniforms. As he grinds, the fabric ruffles with friction, making your hole clench with want. 

Paddy’s free hand rips open the top of your shirt, shoving his hand inside and gripping at the muscles of your peck. Squeezing hard leaving it red and sore. His palm rolls over the perking bud of your nipple. He squeezes it harshly. 

Your chest arches and you whimper mid-lyric. Hips bucking sharply. Involuntarily. 

He manhandles you with possessive jealousy, wanting to break you. A dark chuckle escapes his lips, fueled by desire and not caring if there were witnesses to the act. As if it were just the two of you. Paddy pauses briefly with a growl when he feels a significant damp spot against his palm. “Christ. Yer leakin’ already!” With a quick hand he rapidly pops and zips open your uniform trousers. Cold air rushes in before his hand dives past your boxers wrapping tightly around your bare length. Jerking roughly, tugging your shaft, thumb greedily swiping the beads of pre-cum. Smearing the slit down over the head. 

Breathy moans have your song falter. Your legs shake unsteadily, but his hold keeps you up. His hips roll, humping faster, his rigid cock straining against your awaiting ass. 

“Keep goin’,” he barks. Giving another squeeze of your peck and tug of your cock. “Go on. Sing louder. Especially when I know this is makin’ ye feel grand.”

You comply, the best you can. Raising a shaky voice, singing words-which tumble and spill over one another between gasps. Hips now roll in tandem. Ass grinding back to meet his raging erection. Between his hand pumping your hot needy cock, his hips rubbing against your cheeks, his control over your actions pushes you to the edge. 

More pre spills from your cock and he uses the slick to coat your shaft. Your cock pulses in his fist. Paddy’s fist pulls more pre-cum and he glides the fresh slick over every surface of our throbbing cock. Pumping his hand faster, going to the head, twisting it. Causing more to spill. Your cock is leaking like a water fountain. The unyielding grip makes your shaft pulse with an intense burn. 

He rips open the rest of your shirt, letting the old air of the desert hit your skin. Nipples pebbled and perked when his fingers found them. Paddy’s hand is back at your pecks, thumb teasing the already abused buds. Then he yanks them hard. Twisting painfully

Your voice cracks. Lyrics come out in shattered whimpers. They dissolve into loud groans. Your knuckles turn white from the grip around the microphone. Knees threaten to buckle, pain and pleasure bogging your senses, mind splintering under the assault. Your cock jerks wildly in his palm. That sweet orgasm slowly coils in your gut-so close, on the verge of breaking free.

An iron grip clamps down with a merciless squeeze. Your shaft swells, cum trapped in your tightened balls. Your cock goes from red to a purplish hue.  A whine rips from your throat. Hips snapping forward uselessly. 

“No… No. Ple-please…” Words slurring, your song stopping.

The strong hand on your chest snakes up tracing the skin. Fingers wrap around your throat and force your face to his. Dark blue eyes lock onto your watery pleading ones. Lips parted, drool-slick from singing and building need. 

A smug grin crosses his face. Then his mouth crashes into yours. Tongue plunging, claiming a rising moan.

Your body melts into his as you whimper. The vice grip hold he has on your cock cuts off the circulation. Causing it to throb angrily.

Paddy slowly grinds harder, uniforms chafing as he keeps you pinned to him. Any involuntary movement earns you a warning growl. His wet tongue twists and tastes you. Then he bites, sucking on your lower lip until it bruises. With lips brushing yours, he mutters coldly. 

“Nah, Not yet. Ye don’ cum ‘til I say so. Not ‘til I’ve wrung ye dry on me terms, lad.”

Another plea stumbles out of you. “Paddy… you ca-can’t…. please. I need-“

With a sharp bark he cuts you off. “Sing.” He orders. 

You obey. Again a direct order from your ranking officer. Despite the current circumstances. Mouth parting, shaky lyrics resume. Your voice is already breaking.

Under his wrapped fingers he lulls your head back. Watching the way your throat bobs, and the vocal cords strain under the skin. Your neck is nicely bared. Vulnerable and exposed he bites down. Teeth indenting into the soft flesh as he marks you. Sucking with a locked jaw causing bruises to bloom instantly. Pain floods your system. Your cock twitches desperately in his brutal hold. Mid-note you moan deeply. Body shivering.

Eventually he relent, his grip loosens around your base. Blood rushes through the shaft. It causes you to see spots. Then the stroking resumes. Slow and drawn out. Going from root to tip. Despite the treatment, fresh slick beads from the tip. His thumb finds it constantly, pressing and smearing it over the head. Hips snapping forward, rutting harshly, promising more.

“Louder.” He demands, nipping at your neck. “Let the desert an’ other men hear how bad ye want it!”

You try to obey his command. Voice raising ragged and hoarse. Hips roll seeking him automatically. Cock constantly leaking, balls tight and aching. Each pump of his fist brings you back to the edge. The hand at your throat tightens, not too much, but enough to instill in you that he was in charge.

Paddy’s tight fist strokes your cock relentlessly. Pushing you right back to the brink. Your cock is hot and rock hard. Red with veins pulsing wildly along the shaft. The coil in your gut goes taut as an orgasm attempts to build. Imminent. As if Paddy knows his hand freezes with a vice grip squeeze. You reach the peak with a moan and then it crumbles. Pleasure halts, retreating back from where it came. A loud raw whine rips out of you. Tears form and spill from your eyes-leaving wet streaks to roll down your cheeks.

“Paddy—” You sob. Whole body shaking. “Fuck, please…”

He smirks against your neck. 

As the harsh denial fades, that’s when his hand moves again. Stroking faster. Harder. Dragging his hand up your entire shaft. Thumb back at your slit milking whatever still pathetically leaked. The coil in your gut pulls taut rapidly, angrily, cock twitching viciously. Hips bucking wantonly. You tremble. Back at the brink, it resurfaces like a lightning strike. 

Cruelly he stops. 

Your whimpers turn to pleas. Broken ragged breaths puff hard fro your lips. Any semblance of the son you had been singing drowned out by pitiful moans. Overstimulation and denial wrecks you. Cock bright red, swollen, oozing with slick like a cunt desperate for release. Tears fall freely, drool pours down your chin.

He’s unraveling you. Leaving you a begging drooling mess of a man.

Paddy drinks it all up like a smooth whiskey. Triumph curled the corner of his lips. Both hands retract only to yank down your trousers in one harsh pull. Gravity takes care of the rest as they pool at your ankles. Ass cheeks grabbed by his rough hands, kneading the firm flesh.

Instinctively you shove your ass back. Presenting yourself just for him within your sex driven haze. 

The snarl he gives this time is filled with pride. His thick thumbs part your cheeks showing off that tight puckered hole. Which clenches as if begging. Hungrily he watches it contract. Instantaneously his own hand drops to the front of his trousers palming his erect bulge. Fondling himself before he rips his cock free. Raging, thick and veiny, it bounces freely. He continues to stroke himself, his other hand lazily circling your tight rim. Fingers tease before slowly inserting inside.

Thick digits thrust. You clutch the mic stand like it will save you. Drool dripping in thin strands from your parted lips. Warm walls squeeze around his fingers needily. Hips rolling on their own. Your back arches. Fingers curl, stretching and pressing just right that it has you mewling. Sounds that were once sung turn into incoherent moans.

“Ah! Paddy.. Ah.. Fu—fuck. Yes!” You groan. Hips bucking as you ride his fingers shamelessly. Ass thrusting back. 

Paddy growls again. Fingers shoved forward when your hips thrust back. There’s an underlying thrill—none of these other soldiers get to stake their claim on you like this. This was just for him.

Thinking you’re prepared enough he withdraws his fingers. A wet pop echoes. Before you could take another breath his fat cockhead is already knocking at your entrance. Rubbing the leaking tip, smearing his own pre—as if that would count as proper lube—he thrust hard. One brutal push and he’s buried balls deep. 

The momentum makes you lurch forward. Mic stand rattling as you start falling. Strong hands grab your hips, pulling, slamming you flush into his pelvis. The thickness of his cock stretches you wide. Your hole burns from the invasion, extending the tight muscle. He fills you. Stuffs that perfect hole. Thrusts dragging your hole. 

Your knees knock and wobble as the force has you nearly collapsing. He repeatedly pulls your hips to his, cock dragging in and out through your tight heat. 

“Only I get this fuckin’ ass.” He rasps gravely overcome with desire. “God damn tight! Fuckin’ grippin’ me cock..,” 

“Paddy! … Oh… oh… god!” You cry weakly. Voice breaking, body humming to a new tune of its own. 

This feels right, Paddy thinks. “Perfect. Wreckin’ this tight fuckin’ hole.” His cock rams your prostate with the same accuracy he fires his gun. 

Tightly gripping hands redden your skin. Slamming you back repeatedly. Each thrust plunges you forward and he snaps you right back. He dictates the pace and rhythm. Fast and hard. Sweating skin slapping against skin. Your body can’t take much more and your legs give out.

Quickly his arms reach out wrapping around your torso. Keeping you pinned right against his chest. He holds you like a man possessed. Thrusting aggressively. Your head is thrown back into his shoulder moaning loudly. To add to his brutality one hand snakes down and wraps around your overly sensitive cock. 

You cry fiercely with a hiss. Hand squeezing tight in a punishing grip right back at the base. Denying you yet again from any release, even when fucking you. 

“Not yet.” He snarls deeply against your jaw. Beard prickling your skin. He pumps in time with his thrusts. Paddy wants to see you completely broken before offering you relief. 

By now you’re gone. Shattered into pieces. A moaning mess. Lips part with your chin soaked in strips of drool. Tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision. Walls clench down around his rigid thick cock while his hips piston. 

The desert wind whips stirring particles of dust. The lamp lights flicker. Soldiers are stirring in their tents. But it all means nothing while you are speared on his cock, exposed and on display. He owns your hole. He controls your impending orgasm. And he has reduced you to a screaming mess.

Paddy’s hips crash faster. Thrusts turning feral. Brutal slams fro his cock hit deeply in your ass. It splits you open. Thick shaft punching your prostate. Behind your hazy eyes sparks explode. Warm wet walls give way, stretching around his girth. He is reshaping your insides. Molding your ass perfectly. 

A hot ragged groan hits against your eardrum. Warm breath heating your skin. 

Your mind is lost to you. Turned to mush and pure sensation. Pleasure overloads your nervous system. Moans are pitched higher. Whines are replaced with desperate mewls. Your grip fails. Hands slide away from the mic, body becoming boneless. Tension coils as it has all evening. Muscles tense, locking then going limp in his hold. Eyes roll back into your skull, lids fluttering madly. 

Paddy soaks it all in. Devouring the thing you had become. No longer a soldier. A singer. A medic. Now you were a place created to warm his cock.

His chest heaves in a heavy exhale. A dark glint in his eyes as he reaches for the abandoned mic. Fingers click the small switch on top. 

The mic is live. 

He orchestrated it all. Now broadcasting every filthy obscene sound to the entire camp. Your loud moans, now amplified, boom.

“Paddy… fuck… fu—Paddy.” Broken cries echo into the night. 

Soldiers stir from their cots murmuring with shocked attention. 

“Good lad.” Stubbled lips brush your jaw as he whispers lowly. “Sceamin’ for me. Aye. Belt it out. Let ‘em all know that yer mine.”

Too wrecked to form words, all you do is nod frantically. Agreeing to whatever he told you. Head lulling to the side he kisses your jaw. 

His hand doesn’t leave you for long and is back around your slick cock. Stoking in sync with his thrusts. Up—burying into you. Down—as his cock drags your walls towards your entrance. Each snap and his balls slap your ass. The wet smacks create a loud beat. 

Your body suddenly sags. Knees buckling, giving out fully. Your heavy weight allows him to sink deeper, spearing you on his shaft. As it’s shoved every inch to the hilt.

His hips stutter, as his gut tenses, frantic wild thrusts as he cums. Thick hot ropes blast like an exploding grenade. Your insides are painted white with his claiming seed. Flooding your hole until the pressure pushes it past your clenched rim. Spilling out. Sticky rivulets pour down your thighs. Drool spills from your slacked lips, chin shiny, glistening in the flickering light. A low groan reverberates from your chest. Your body welcomes his warm filthy cum, walls constricting, milking his twitching shaft. Mindlessly your hips roll, chasing the strokes of his hand. 

Paddy keeps thrusting through his orgasm.

Every drag of his thick cock, every pump and tug of his hand, became way too much. Overstimulated and raw it was borderline torment. Thoughts disintegrate with his cock buried deep in your cum filled hole. Sanity pounded out of you. The world dark with clouded vision, that was until, finally a shred of mercy. 

“Cum for me, lad.” You heard him growl low into your ear. Hand pumping fast. One, two, three pumps and you break. Cock pulses violently as pent up cum burst from the tip. It splatters everywhere. His hand, the stage, the remnants of your uniform shirt, even the mic stand. Squeezing tight he milks you relentlessly. Making sure to wring every last precious drop until you're sore and empty. Moans spill, bellowing into the night. 

The mic captures it all. 

You shattered broken cries. The wet slaps.

The camp is filled with noise. Cheers and claps. Even whistling as some come upon the sight. 

Paddy happily crashes his mouth to yours again in a crude display. Now with an audience present. Lips bruise, pressing against yours as he makes out with you. Tongue exploring your mouth, devouring your quiet gasps.

you’re putting on red lipstick, your cigarette still burning on the ashtray. the body of your latest victim on the floor, still warm. he was a major general, someone quite important. he was easy, swooning for your giggles and smile right away. they’re all easy. dumb and ignorant, thinking that everything in the world was made for them.

you’ve already cleaned yourself up, careful not to leave any fingerprints in the apartment. you have your trusty knife in your bag, ready to go.

it’s dark as you exit the apartment. you light yourself another cigarette and take a detour, a dark side street full of rats and passed out soldiers.

you’re grinning to yourself. then, suddenly. someone charges from behind you, pinning you against the tile wall. you try to scream, but he puts his hand in front of your mouth.

"be quiet, now, lass", he whispers. irish?

you don’t see much of his face in the dark, but he’s handsome. and he has a gun. he presses it on your cheek, murmuring. "if you scream i’ll have to use this", he says. you start crying. "shh, shh, none o’that now", he coos. "you see, i have an offer for you", he says.

you look at him, confused. as your eyes get used to the dark you can see his eyes. blue.

"i know what you do", he says. "and i want you in my group", he adds. "you’d be a great addition", he continues, looking at you intensely.

he slowly withdraws his hand from your mouth, the gun still pressed on your cheek.

"group.. what?" you ask, tears still falling down your cheeks. "you see.. we’re called the basterds. we kill nazi fucks, just like you do", he explains. "you’d like to kill more nazis?" he asks. you nod. he grins. "then join us", he says. "i work alone", you say coldly. he chuckles. "everyone needs help", he says. "besides, if you don’t join us i’ll have to kill you... since you know about us now", he says.

you nod. "that a yes?" he asks. "yes", you whisper. "wonderful, come with me then", the man says. "wait- no! i have to go home", you say. "come with me", the man repeats, threatening you with the gun again.

and so you walk with him. he brings you to a car, making you go inside. "can i at least-" you start, but he cuts you off. "no", he says. "alright then.. what’s your name?" you ask him. "paddy. paddy mayne", the man says.

you drive for maybe an hour. he takes you deep into the woods. you’re already dreading the situation you’re in when you see what looks to be an abandoned military base.

there’s men sitting around a bonfire.

"mayne!" one of them calls out with a big smile.

"shut your dumb-ass up, donny", paddy hisses. "what part about staying quiet while we’re in here didn’t you understand?" he hisses.

"well lookie ’ere", another man says. "mister mayne brought us a proper beauty", he says.

"introduce yourself", paddy says. you hesitantly tell the men your name. "i don’t know ’bout yall, but i’m ashamed that such a pretty lil’ thang has to stay in such an... uncivilized place", the other man says. "c’mon aldo, i’m sure the little lady will be just fine", the man who paddy called donny says.

"where are our manners.." the other man says. "i’m lieutenant aldo raine, an’ this is donny donowitz", he says. "nice to meet you", you say.

"c’mon then, i’ll show you your sleeping arrangements", paddy says.

you follow paddy down a dark hallway. water drips from the ceiling, there’s rats all around. you shudder. you miss your own house.

"now this is just temporary, miss", paddy assures you. "after our mission, you can go back home", he says. "what mission?" you ask. "i’ll explain everything tomorrow", paddy says.

he shows you to a dark room. it has a little table and a bed. the mattress seems dry enough.

paddy closes the door behind him. "what are you doing?" you ask. "now.." paddy starts. "you seduce nazis, correct?" he asks. you nod. "that’s what you’ll be doing during our mission", he says. "but i have to make sure you’re up for it.." he murmurs, stepping in front of you. "w-what are you-" you stutter, but don’t get the chance to finish your sentence as paddy interrupts you.

he kisses you. shoves his tongue straight inside your mouth, not showing any hesitation.

"mhhp!" you whimper and try pushing him off, but he grabs you harshly, not letting you move an inch.

you feel tears wetting your cheeks again.

he’s eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue, swallowing your cries. he’s sloppy with it, drooling and smacking like he enjoys seeing you grossed out.

when he finally pulls away it’s with a wet smack and a thick line of drool connecting your mouths.

"stop! what are you doing?" you sob, squirming. "i’m training you", paddy says, like violating you is the most natural thing in the world.

he kisses you again, lips crashing against yours. he starts walking you to the bed while kissing you. you thrash and squirm, but he’s really strong. clearly a soldier by the look of his arms and from the way he handled the gun.

he throws you on the bed, climbing on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head. he squeezes until your bones crack. "stop!" you cry. "stop whining like a cunt", paddy hisses.

then he spits, straight on your lips. "lick", he says. you shake your head. paddy takes the gun again, pressing it against your inner thigh. "lick!" he repeats. you sniff and lick his snot-laced spit, disgusted.

paddy grins. "look at you", he says. "can’t help miself, lass", he adds, kissing your forehead. the gesture is disgustingly sweet, an obscene mockery of tenderness in this situation.

he rips your dress open in one go, the red fabric tearing, making you whimper. your chest is exposed to the cool night air.

"nothing underneath?" paddy asks, shaking his head. he tsk’s. "aye, a proper wee whore", he says. he cups your breast, like he’s testing fruit. he squeezes your nipples, that harden instantly between his calloused fingertips.

then he tears your panties in one go, the fabric ripping with a nasty sound. he presses the gun against your inner thigh again, making you tremble in fear.

"p-please.." you whimper. "please what?" paddy asks. "please stop", you cry. "no, no, no", paddy says. "you’re supposed to beg me to fuck you, right?" he continues. "i have the gun", he adds, his voice terrifyingly cold.

you stay quiet. "beg!" paddy hisses, putting his finger on the trigger. "please, please fuck me!" you sob. paddy grins, it’s your first time seeing him smile.

"there’s me good lass", he coos. he takes the gun, rubbing the muzzle on your clit. you flinch. "no moving, wouldn’t want my finger to slip now would you?" paddy chuckles.

he keeps rubbing the gun on your clit, your fluids starting to coat the muzzle. "aye, there she is", paddy purrs, grinning sadistically.

"looks like you’re ready to go", he says. without a warning he shoves the gun inside you, right until the trigger guard.

you let out a loud whimper, sobbing pathetically. "shh, shh, look at you, all scared and pretty", paddy coos, sloppily kissing away your tears.

he starts fucking you with the gun, wet squelching filling the dark room. the gun feels cold and rough around your walls.

as he’s pumping the gun in and out he puts his rough thumb on your clit, drawing tight circles.

you let out a messy whimper, it’s too much. "paddy.." you cry, looking at him. "what is it, beautiful?" paddy coos. "please.. the gun.. stop", you sob.

paddy chuckles. "but you’re having so much fun, look at yourself", he says. "your wee cunt’s soaked", he adds.

it’s true. you are wet.

paddy presses hard on your clit, that’s when it happens. you squirt on the gun. "aww, making a mess", paddy purrs.

a few more twitches of his thumb and you come, hard. crying, legs shaking, your fluids wetting the gun and the bed.

paddy withdraws the gun from you cunt and shoves it inside your mouth. "clean it", he says. you sob, licking your own fluids off the gun, your tongue going on the muzzle as well.

he places the gun on the table and starts taking off his belt. "turn around", he orders. you shake your head with teary eyes.

slap

his palm lands across your cheek, leaving a red mark. fresh, hot tears burst out of your eyes as you hold your cheek, looking at paddy with a pout.

"aww, don’t make that face", paddy coos. "almost looks like you wanna be fucked all romantically", he says. "maybe in the morning, but now, turn the fuck around", he hisses. "or do you want the gun up your ass as well?" he asks.

that’s what gets you to obey. so you turn around, arching your back, putting your ass up for him. "good lass", paddy praises you, slapping your ass. you flinch.

you hear his belt falling on the ground, the sound of fabric against skin. his hard cock slaps your buttock, drops of pre-cum leaking on your skin. you don’t dare turn around to look.

paddy grabs your buttocks, spreading you open. "what a pretty wee hole", he coos. "maybe i’ll fuck that one after i’m done with your cunt", he says.

you whimper as he lines up, rubbing his broad tip on your entrance. it feels big. the feeling is confirmed once he starts pushing in, even the tip is too much.

you scream, you actually scream as he pushes in. "shh, shh", paddy coos, making a kissy noise at you. you think he’s done, but then he pushes more of his cock inside you, reaching your cervix.

you cry out in pain as he starts thrusting, hard and rough, touching your cervix every time he bottoms out.

"stop! it hurts!" you cry. "shut up, slut", paddy hisses. "such a dirty slag, i wonder how many nazi fucks you’ve spread your legs for", he torments you. "just take it, whore", he says, spitting on your back, slapping your ass again.

you keep sobbing as he fucks you, your hips surely bruising from his rough fingers squeezing your skin.

a knock on the door

"what yall doin’?" aldo’s voice calls. you can hear the grin in his voice. "come and see!" paddy answers. the door opens, and the two men step in.

"goddamn, she’s a real slut!" aldo chuckles. "aye, took a bit of training, but she’s a real good lass", paddy says, slapping your ass again.

you just cry, completely humiliated.

aldo and donny come stand at the side of the bed, looking at you with smirks on their faces. you can see their cocks hardening against their pants.

"what a beauty", donny says, in awe. paddy nods, grinning.

paddy’s groaning, starting to pick up his pace. his balls are slamming hard against your ass as he fucks you.

”aye, taking me so good, such a good wee lass”, he praises you.

he slaps your ass again, his pace turning frantic, sloppy. you can feel his cock throbbing inside you.

he lets out a loud growl, burying his cock deep, the tip rubbing against your cervix. he floods your womb with his cum, endless amounts of warm liquid spilling inside you.

"what a fucking show", aldo says, clapping his hands together a couple times.

paddy pulls out, his cum leaking on your inner thighs.

he picks you up, making you stand in front of aldo and donny. "look at her, we’ll have so much fun with her", paddy says with a grin.

the men nod, grinning. "me next, ain’t that right?" aldo says, taking a step closer to you.