#the white hope | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mykinkyyandere · 1 year

Note

Idea / Request for Edmund Pevise where he sided with Janus (who is like actually working WITH him and won’t betray him) being in love with a darling who is on the side of his siblings

The White Hope

AO3

Pairings: Yandere/Dark! King Edmund Pevensie! X f!Reader

Summary: Fifteen years had passed since the siblings found Narnia, but Jadis's reign continues. No, it is not Jadis's anymore. The reign of Edmund, The White King. And he takes a special, twisted interest in you.

Warnings: Yandere, dark, kidnapping, manipulation, obsession, possession, depression, trauma, past abuse, minor deaths, dub-con touches, implied future non-con, implied emotional abuse, implied future violence, enjoying/taking pleasure from emotional suffer/crying/power, grown-up characters, sorry if i missed anything

The White Witch's reign was not over. It had been fifteen years since the siblings came to Narnia. Everyone believed that the prophecy would come true, but one of the brothers had a coldness in his heart. Edmund became more angry, more distant and more withdrawn towards his siblings over time. It was not known who was to blame for this, but he thought that everyone had a share, including himself. There was also a share of his parents, whom he could no longer remember. He saw everyone as guilty, himself too.

The prophecy necessitated that all the siblings had to be together. But Edmund had chosen his own path once. At first he regretted it and wanted to return to them, but the White Witch had prevented him from leaving with her manipulations. He used Edmund and treated him like a slave. He was not a king, but a poor prisoner. But little did she know Edmund would one day rule her.

A king was always a king.

There was always a flame in Edmund's heart. It had grown over the years just to spite the freezing cold which became stronger every passing day. This flame wanted power, wanted revenge, and justice. Of course, his concept of justice was quite dubious. But he felt that he had the power to get what he wanted. As he got older, he became a strong man. Whatever the White Witch did to keep him naive and defenseless, it didn't work. The prophecy may not have come true, but it certainly gave birth to a darker prophecy.

No one knows how it had happened, but after ten years the White Witch had let him rule. She considered Edmund as her king and gived him all her authority. Though, she can't give him the right that he already had all along. The White Witch realized that she would never be able to rule completely, because this wasn't her destiny. She was not a daughter of Eve. But Edmund made her see the truth. The human siblings couldn't destroy her because Edmund wasn't with them. The White Witch couldn't destroy them because she wasn't the real ruler.

As Edmund sat quietly on his throne she thanked him with trembling admiration in her cruel heart. After all those years of cruelty, the King could have punished her if he wanted, but he didn't. He was also grateful to the Witch. Without her and her cruelty, he would not have become the person he was today. But he didn't share this with her.

He remembered the first time he sat on this throne as a child. The Witch had thrown him into her dungeon. And there she was now, kneeling before him, for five years.

Peter and his sisters had lost hope. They felt their chances of defeating the White Witch became impossible with Edmund's accession to the throne. He had declared himself the White King. It was wrong, it was dark. Something went wrong, but no one could figure out why. What would happen if there was no prophecy? The Great King Peter, who had no choice but to prepare for the unknown, worked nonstop. Five years. For exactly five years, he had been trying to end the cruel rule of his younger brother, whom he once believed to be grumpy but deep down inside well-intentioned. He didn't want to believe he was a bad person. He and Lucy were convinced that Edmund was a victim of a skilled manipulator. But Susan argued that he chose this path. He had had countless opportunities to return to them over the course of ten years, but he didn't take any step. Lucy was the only one who believed that Edmund was still a good person when he took the throne. But even she had started to think this was now a childish hope. Peter had finally realized his little brother had left them a long time ago.

And you, you were a dreamer trying to add ridiculous excitement to your ordinary life. You'd never been able to leave this spirit inside of you behind. They wanted to kill this side of you and cast you out for your whole life, but you never stopped dreaming. You wanted to explore a wardrobe in one of these hide-and-seek games you'd been playing with yourself. "I want to hide in this wonderful wardrobe and have the coats wrap me up!" Ha! You were a strange girl. There was probably a reason why this peculiarity of yours was accepted by Narnia. Because you found yourself in the snow.

The hospitable beavers who were talking had hurriedly invited you to their home. You were so scared when they told you that this wonderful world was not so wonderful anymore. You wanted to go back home, wished you'd give up your ridiculous games. But everything had a reason and a price. It couldn't be brought back.

They have taken you to the High King Peter. A daughter of Eve who came in Narnia fifteen years later must had had something to do with this war.

You had arrived after a trip full of delicious jams. A king and two queens who tried to defend their people and their land, but were betrayed by their brother Edmund. The dead flame of hope in their hearts began to burn again with your arrival. They were supposed to hide you from the White King. But Peter knew deep down that they were too late for that.

Edmund had heard of your arrival. He knew about a lot of things thanks to the White Witch. She protected him against all diseases and made him immortal. She gave him all the powers she could give. She turned Edmund, who was a king by birth, into an invincible king.

"Witch, give me your wand." Edmund said, without taking his eyes off the faun, who was trembling with fear. His eyes were on the ground, he did not dare to look at the White King. No one could, not even the White Witch.

Jadis bowed her head and held out both hands to present her wand. Edmund stood up, taking his time, and went down with slow steps. There was something in his eyes. Far from the old Edmund. He took the wand that Jadis held out. He spun it in his hand and hit the ground. The sound echoed powerfully on the soulless walls. The poor faun almost fainted on the spot.

He titled his head and said in a half-whisper, "Lost?"

"P-p-please h-h-"

Edmund turned the wand in a way that contrasted with his still form and pressed it against the faun's back. "Lost?"

"W-wait! Beavers! I believe t-they took her to... t-them."

If he had looked into Edmund's eyes before he turned to stone, he could have seen how "insane" he was. Out of his mind, empty, dark.

He gave the wand back to Jadis. He didn't speak. He didn't need to talk. The Witch could understand what was going through his mind. She could figure out what he wanted. There was an almost wordless but deep relationship between them. He thought the only person who understood him was the White Witch. After all, she raised him in some way.

He rested his hands behind his back and walked away in silence. Jadis knew what she had to do.

"How much time do we have?" you said when Peter gave you a dagger.

"Enough to get you out of here."

"I'm not running away."

Peter took a deep breath and looked out from the huge castle windows. Snow. There was snow everywhere. Could he end the freezing winter? It's been a month since they found you, but there hasn't been a single improvement. It was as if everything was getting worse. The winter was harsher, Narnia was more dangerous. A wild wind that signaled that the White King was looking for you and would find you eventually. But why didn't he come earlier? Why didn't he start a war to capture you earlier? It was as though the trees listened to everything and told him that the right time had come. Now that you were Peter's only hope, he couldn't lose you either. But there was more. One month was enough for him to realize that there was more. Maybe... one day, he thought.

He looked at you, holding your hands. "You're not running away. You're just hiding."

"It's the same thing!"

"You are a hope that has come to Narnia after a decade. It is my duty to protect you. And I have the final word."

There was a brief silence. "I see. Narnia needs me, so no harm should come to me."

You weren't looking at him anymore. Your eyes wandered over the ground and then over the beautiful, eerie snow. He thought how beautiful you looked. But sad. "Yes, Narnia needs you and I have to make sure that you are safe."

You turned your offended face to him. He put your one hand on his heart and the other hand on his face. You were so full of life and pure. Since the first time he saw you, his sisters have noticed that there was something changed in him. And it was their fun to make fun of it. But they were so happy for him. It was the first time they had seen their older brother so full of love in fifteen years of cruelty. He definitely became attached to you in a short time and had no intention of leaving you. He didn't know the extent of his attachment to you, all he knew was that his heart ached when he didn't see you even for a second. "But Narnia is not the only reason."

You felt your face got warm. To be honest, you've been waiting for this moment. He was a charming person. Brave, patient, caring, leader... Your mouth fell open while your eyes widened. Maybe... one day, you thought.

"He's here! We're too late!" Lucy shouted from the outside.

"You were wrong. Enough to confess." You said, smiling.

He caressed your hands and smiled. "Still enough."

Edmund; the oppressor, the ruthless, the fierce White King. Even if their High King was Peter, they were afraid of him. They couldn't ignore him or disrespect him by saying, "you're not our king." It was known that he made collections of them.

He had not seen his siblings for fifteen years. While he was a prisoner of the White Witch, he had a chance to escape and go back to them, but he didn't. He was afraid to change his mind. But on what? At that time, he didn't have the wish of becoming a king in his mind. There was a boy who just wanted to go home. A boy who missed his mother and hid from the war. But he could not ignore the growing darkness in his heart. He loved and embraced this darkness. He was afraid of losing this mysterious self he had if he returned to his siblings.

Was he nervous? Was he angry? Was he excited? He didn't know. His mind was pensive as he approached the sheltered castle. Was he happy to see them? He wasn't sure about that. He wanted to be happy, he wanted to feel something. Instead there was no life in his cruel heart.

He was sitting alone in his sleigh. He looked straight ahead. Neither to the right nor to the left. He had a white fur and cloak that could easily disappear among the snow. It did not belong to any living thing. It was a big, magical fur that his witch created especially for him. Every single garment and every single precious jewel of his was white. It was not just any ordinary white color. It was magical and ominous, cursed like snow. On his head was a crown of ice similar to that of the White Witch. But it was much larger and disproportionate. A crown that was almost as sharp as a knife and reflected his unstable inner world. The only thing that made him look distinctive in white was his natural hair and longing eyes.

Jadis was on another sleigh next to him. She was also dressed in white and had a sharp crown of ice on her head, but smaller than before. She had taken off her crown when Edmund became king, but he had let her keep it on condition that she would make it much more smaller, like a little insignificant accessory. She put the reason down to his generosity, but the main reason was that the White Witch, whom he knew and was used to, had that crown. He couldn't quite get rid of his past. His heart and mind had been damaged. It was hard to let go of the people and things he was used to. He had chosen to lose his family. At least now he could choose not to lose some things.

"The new hope of Narnia" he said, smiling vaguely.

Susan took Peter's hand. They were little, they were children. Now they had all become young adults. Young kings and queens. No one said anything, but what they were feeling and what was going through their minds was the same. After all those years... What was going to happen?

And here he was. The White King and his White Witch. Their big sleigh stopped side by side. There were only two of them. There was no army in sight. It was a frightening display of force. It meant that their younger brother had became so powerful that even the High King Peter the Magnificent could not afford to stand against him. To come without an army was to despise him. Since it was certain that he did not come there with the intention of peace, this was an insult.

Susan took her hand from Peter's and waited with one hand on her arrow. She was ready to stop Edmund, and maybe to stop him forever. As if she could. Peter couldn't foresee what he wanted to do, so he waited. His army was on standby for his order. An army against two "person". Peter knew that it would take more than a whole army for two person with these powers.

"Where is Lucy?" Edmund's voice wavered like a song in the maddening silence. The wind somehow perfectly conveyed to them his voice, which was impossible to hear at a distance. There was no need to shout, there was no need to get closer. There was no need for unnecessary family reunions. And they had no way of inviting him to their walls anyway. He was too unreliable for that.

"She preferred not to see you. Her heart is broken, you know. Because of you." he said it a little loudly, but there was no need for it. Edmund had sharp ears now, he heard Peter with ease.

"You betrayed us." Susan said. She thought her heart wouldn't soften when she saw him, but she couldn't take her eyes off his brother, who had become a young man, even for a moment. The cold air dried her tears quickly. She missed his little brother very much.

"I- I..." Edmund murmured. He frowned, looked confused but he wasn't really. He smiled slightly. "...really want to see Lucy."

"As I said earlier, she doesn't want to see you. What is the reason you come here after all those years?" Peter said, this time more quietly but confidently.

Edmund stared at the beautiful castle. His smile was more visible. "White... It's nice to see your warm home dressed in white. And do you like it, my brother? Do you like my beautiful cold gift? Does it fill my absence in your warm home?"

His calm and soft voice filled the ears of both of them. Something was wrong. There was an odd feeling inside them. They looked at each other for a moment.

"You could have filled your absence yourself." Peter said. "Why are you here?"

"To become a family again." He let out a small laugh.

"Stop it! Don't play with us!" Peter shouted.

Edmund took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the cold filled his lungs. Becoming a family again? Even his joke felt impossible. It felt like a bitter taste on his tongue. It sounded like a forbidden sentence. Becoming a family again? Even the thought of it was unbearable.

"Why these stupid questions that you already know the answers?" He let out a deep breath, making it sound like he was extremely bored.

Peter took out his sword. "Answer me!"

Edmund slowly opened his arms and showed around. His thin and long fingers were rather pale, but strong. "I came to find a new... hope."

Peter gulped. There was no trace of goodness on his brother's face. He seemed more full of evil than the White Witch. He wore a mask looking like compassionate, but he was cruel behind it. "There's no hope left for you."

Edmund raised his head and stared into the blinding whiteness. 'It's too late for me, isn't it, brother?' he thought.

"Tell Lucy that I really would like to see her. And tell her that... it wasn't her fault." He said. The smile on Edmund's face didn't go away. It wasn't an empty, numb smile, it was a smile of victory. "It was yours."

As their sleigh returned in the direction from which they had come, Peter put back his sword and looked at Susan. He didn't know what to think, he was confused about what to do. When did his little brother turn into such a dark and deceptive person?

"What did he mean?" Susan asked anxiously.

"I don't know."

Cold, icy, soulless. It's like these walls wanted to kill your soul. It's as if these chains have chained you to your terrible fate. The wait was painful, but was it sweeter than what was going to happen to you? The sculptures of poor Narnians with whom you shared the dungeon had agreed you.

The unnatural cold has forced you to sleep. You didn't know how long it had been when you woke up, but it had been long enough for your body to hurt from the hard ground.

"Oh, no!" You shivered when you heard the Witch's shout. She said the king wanted to stay alone. "Get out!"

The sweet comfort of painful waiting had come to an end at last.

The White King, tall and unnaturally pale-skinned, stood in front of your cell. You wondered if there was any trace left of that old brother Lucy told you about. You wondered how much he had changed. Lucy thought that why Edmund lied to Peter about seeing Narnia when they were a child was only because he was a bully. If she had known that Narnia would become what it was today, she would never have told her siblings about her secret world.

You looked desperately into his eyes. Imploringly. You never stopped looking into those firm eyes of his for a moment.

"The new hope of Narnia." He said. "Why do you look so hopeless?"

"I- I'm not h..." The longer you looked at him, the more hypnotized you felt. You shook your head and kept your eyes on the ground. There was something about him that attracted you in a scary way. "Peter will save me."

He tapped his ring rhythmically against the bars. "Peter... Why Peter?"

You didn't answer.

"Oh, I know."

You turned your head.

"Of course I know."

Would you end up like these beavers standing next to you?

"You've had time enough to take a fancy to my charming brother."

You looked at him when he opened the dungeon. His long white cloak and fur were touching the ground. They looked so warm. You wished you had one of them.

"Are you cold?" He asked, already knowing your answer.

You nodded. He released you from the chains and helped you to stand up. You couldn't help but tremble with fear. What was he trying to do?

He wrapped you inside his cloak and made you disappear next to his body. You leaned your head against him and put one hand on his chest. It was warm. So warm, perfect.

He led you out of the dungeon. After he sat on his throne, he placed you on his lap. You were warm and sleepy. You rested your head on his chest. The cloak and fur he wrapped around you made you feel incredibly peaceful.

This, this was not normal.

"Do you know what the best part is?" he talked to himself while you were on that strange line between sleep and wakefulness. "To imagine that my brother is devastated because he failed to protect you."

He rubbed your back. "Sometimes I close my eyes, sometimes I focus on a point. But what I do is the same. To imagine." He smiled, was lost in thought again. "He is now a desperate man whose loved one has been stolen from him. 'The magnificent king of Narnia', who lost hope, found hope and could not protect it."

He pulled you a little towards himself. He held your chin and turned your face to him. You were sleeping. Peaceful, beautiful and vulnerable. You were like the other innocent beauties he destroyed. He had never wanted to see a flower or a sparkle, he had destroyed them all. It shouldn't have been hard to kill you. As Peter had said, there was no longer any hope for him. Edmund had already killed his hope, with his own hands. Why would you be any different?

But you were. He took you to his quarters and put you in his bed, which kept you warm like his cloak. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked your hair softly. "I am cruel." He said. "Oh, my poor little hope. I am a very, very cruel monster."

He smiled and kept caressing your hair for a while. Poor sweet girl. Why did you even come to Narnia? Did you like little games like her sister Lucy? He imagined you in the hide-and-seek game they were playing. You ran laughing and followed Lucy. She wanted to get into Edmund's hiding place, but Edmund got annoyed as usual, telling her to find another place. So you grabbed Lucy's hand and ran to the room where the wardrobe was, saying this way. Yes, it could have been a nice memory.

Whatever the innocent reason, this could not change the fact that you were trapped in the cold kingdom of The White King. You were going to spend every day, hoping, to get away from him, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

"I'm afraid I will break your heart and lock you in here." He whispered.

He gently tucked your hair behind your ear. Looked at your beautiful skin. "I will chain you up and never let you go."

He stroked your cheek. "I will make Peter suffer only to see the despair in your eyes." He held his breath when he imagined the tears streaming from your eyes and pleading sobs escaping from your trembling lips. He had really turned into a very twisted person, and he had no complaints about it.

He leaned and rubbed his nose to your skin, inhaling your smell. "I will make him watch how I own you to see the desperation in Peter's eyes." He liked that thought. It was something that thrilled him very much to show Peter his strength and leave him helpless. The idea of seeing his own brother miserable, leaving him no choice but to beg because there is nothing he could do was perfect.

"But don't you scared, my beautiful hope. I wouldn't harm a single hair on your head."

"Lucy?!"

Peter and Susan spent hours searching for their little sister Lucy and you. Their plan was to bring you back when Edmund left. Lucy was supposed to take you to a safe place just for a while.

"I'm here!"

"Lucy!" She was tied to a tree, sitting.

"Are you okay?" Peter rescued her and helped her to stand up. Everyone who was supposed to protect the girls had been killed.

"I'm okay but..." Lucy cried, hugging Peter. "I'm so sorry."

Peter felt bad enough already. For hours, he couldn't even take a sip of water out of concern for Lucy's safety and yours. He found one of his loved ones, but what happened to the other?

He hugged her tighter. And it was all his fault.

He caressed Lucy's hair. "It wasn't your fault." He whispered.

In the weeks and months that followed, Peter didn't stop trying to find you. Narnia had lost hope once again. Peter had once again lost a person he loved. It hurt him even more that his own brother was the one who put him through this pain. But that was just the beginning. Edmund, The White King, now had a wife. The White Hope.

#dark edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie #yandere edmund pevensie #king edmund the just #just king of narnia #king edmund pevensie #the white witch #yandere edmund pevensie x reader #dark edmund pevensie x reader #dark narnia #yandere narnia #edmund pevensie x reader #narnia x reader #peter pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #x naive reader #x kidnapped reader #narnia #the white hope

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fleuraimer · 5 months

Text

hi girlies :)). i've got another breeding blurby to share, thank ms. bubbles @harrysonlylover.

wc: 1.6k

cw: talk of menstrual and ovulation cycle, smut, minors dni, 17+, breeding kink, and more. not proofread.

Some people might say that the extent of his knowledge and control over Y/N’s life is not healthy. They might even suggest that his possessive behavior is a red flag, too. The constant messaging, always knowing her location, who she’s with, when she’s with them, why, how…

They didn’t tend to think of it that way. Love comes in all forms and theirs is… different.

Y/N likes being controlled. She wants him to know everything about her. She fucking craves the comfort of being taken care of for the price of absolutely nothing.

Well, maybe a few things.

Her obedience, for one, was expected (required). Her honesty, and loyalty. Her submission, too (although, sometimes, he liked to submit to her).

They’d found a simple way of living on some inherit, basic principles.

One, Y/N loved to be taken care of.

Two, he loved to take care of her.

So that was that. He was controlling, and she reveled in the power imbalance, and they didn’t care if others didn’t understand it, or like it, or even respect it. It was theirs, and it was enough.

It was fucking perfect.

One of the many ways he kept a tight leash on Y/N’s life was by tracking her menstrual cycle. He liked being ahead of the game—warm bath with waterlily scented suds ready for when she arrived home after her courses, her favorite sweet treats scattered across the kitchen island, Gilmore Girls queued up on his laptop, candles lit and heating pad at attention. Keeping track of her period meant knowing other things, intuitively, too. Like knowing that her cramps were worst on the first few days ( they were horrendous the last days too, though), that she’s more cuddly and soft than irritable or grumpy, that if she was too— no, severely stressed, overworking herself mentally, emotionally, and physically, she’d more likely than not work herself into a dreadful tizzy and end up intensifying (or even sometimes missing) her cycle.

Like now.

The poor thing, she was curled up in a frail little ball by end of the night every day this past week, deadlines looming over her head like a dark, rainy cloud as midterms approach. And, stubborn angel girl she is, she doesn’t bleat and moan about it to him. She doesn’t weep into his chest about how difficult this time is the way he encourages her to. She holds her chin high until the sun falls from the sky, her perseverance going with it, the stars and moon left to keep her and her misery company. And him, of course.

So, before the height of her period—when the red devil actually rears her ugly little head instead of inspiring trepidation of the inevitable with sore tits, an achy spine, and mental anguish—he thinks he’ll treat her a bit. And perhaps himself, as well (what? periods meant ovulating, and ovulating meant a lot of things).

———

Y/N’s head is quiet for the first time in days, and it’s all because of him.

As if anyone else could do what he does for her.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers in the place he’s nuzzled into her neck, littered with love bites and bruises. His cock is stuffed in her drippy pussy, stretching her deliciously over his thick, lengthy girth; his strong, beefy arms trapping her body to his like a vice.

Cowgirl usually makes Y/N’s thighs sore, but he’d taken the liberty of doing all the work tonight. He was in no mood for teasing, nor mocking or degrading. She wasn’t his whore tonight, just his girl. His soft, gorgeous, sensitive girl that deserved a sweet fucking after all the tears she’d choked down this week.

She needed a good cry.

“My little pillow princess, Yeah?” He mumbles, peaking up at her sluggish form. She’s slumped into him, head lain on his shoulder uselessly, hands gripping the tight Henley he’d neglected to rid himself of in the rush of their lustrous dance. She manages a nod, however, lazy and slow, but, somehow, still urgent. Frantic. In the glow of her eye, he can see, she adores that idea. “Yeah,” He nods, gripping the soft curve of her jaw to move her head with him, “My girl.”

She whimpers, but doesn’t speak. Too exhausted, too sedated. His cum is addicting, and if it were a drug, she’d inject it right into her veins (up her cunt).

Her arms wind around his neck, fingers spreading through the curly, sweaty tendrils of hair at the nape. Her nails tickle him, in the best way, only adding to the allure of her being. Of her mere presence.

Her hips swivel, rocking against his to create a mind-numbing sensation that has them both mewling. His cock stretches her out and fills her up completely, felt in the deepness of her tummy. Her lashes flutter when she feels him twitch inside of her, a sign that he’s close (she’d realize that she’s much closer if she had the brain capacity to think of anything other than him).

The thought—of his cum filling her to the point of spilling around their joined parts, a filthy mess between their legs—makes her dizzy. Eager. She’d been good, so good, this week, hadn’t she?

Fed herself, cleaned herself, went to class on time, even though school made her unpleasantly weak in the knees. She studied every day for at least three hours at the library, before trudging home with bleary eyes and a foggy head, only to do more studying.

She deserved a treat, right? A reward for staying in line, for not being bratty or whiny when he was busy and all she wanted was for her brain to shut off.

Now, with the opportunity before her (to go totally brain-dead, that is), she refuses to not seize the moment.

“Come,” she says suddenly, catching him mildly off guard.

Oh? She wanted to order him around?

“Please.”

Oh. Guess not.

“Please, please, come, Sir, I want it, so fucking bad,” she whines, mouthing at the chain sitting delicately across his neck. It’s nearly out of place; something so frail and pretty looks almost comical gracing his large, stocky figure. Perhaps that’s how those judgy people saw them, out of place.

She didn’t care though, she thought it looked nice on him. He made it look nice. Made it better, just like he makes everything better.

“Wan’ me t’a stuff you up, Babydoll?” he grunts, thankful that she’d somehow picked up on his primitive, feral need. Or maybe she just wanted it just as bad. “Fill you with my come and make you m’messy girl?”

“Yes, please,” she cries faintly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, hiding her face in his neck as the tears finally start to flow.

How precious.

“Okay,” he sighs, his hands trailing from her hips to the plush, full of her ass. “I’ll fill y’up, Sugar.” He lifts her up, letting his cock slip from her fluttering hole to the tip— less than the tip. He smears himself onto her clit, making her jolt, and spanks her in reprimand. “Stay still for Daddy,” he scolds softly. “Lemme do my job.”

She cries pitifully when her thrusts back inside, hard. And he doesn’t lighten up. Not in the slightest. He pounds his cock into her small pussy, chasing his orgasm, trying to claim hers, bullying his way through her tight snatch to find them.

“Play with your pouty clit, Doll,” he offers. “Wan’ y’to come with me; cream my fat cock, Baby.”

Y/N does not need to be told twice.

One hand drops from the back of his head to toy with her swollen button, and it takes three weak twirls of her delicate fingers to get her there. He’s not far behind, nuzzling into her neck once more, mirroring her own position on top of him, groaning out profanities as his orgasm washes over him, from his head to the tips of his toes. He continues to drill his cock into her until his legs give out, trembling beneath her own.

They pant heavily, in unison, into each others necks as they start to come down.

He feels good, accomplished. He can feel that satisfaction rolling off of his girl in waves—felt it throughout their soft session—and it was more than enough to keep him happy. His orgasm was just a much appreciated bonus.

And Y/N… she feels great. Cunt clenching over his half-hard cock, full of him, literally, in every way she could be. Thoughts silenced and replaced with rose hued daydreams, floaty, fuzzy sensations that tingle through her entire body and make her slightly sluggish, slow. She feels fucking amazing.

“Hope it takes…” she admits softly, absently. The phrase slips off of her tongue without thought (we’ve established that their are none left in that subby head of hers), and her tone suggests she’s not expecting a reaction.

He gives her one, anyway.

“Say that again,” he demands, grip on her ass tightening, his voice grumbly, deep, shooting a shiver up her spine.

“Huh?”

“Tell Daddy what the fuck you just said, Babydoll.”

Her eyes round out even more, if possible, lips parted, gazing owlishly. Stupidly.

“Said, ‘I hope it takes,’ Daddy,” She whimpers quietly, squeezing around his, once again, stiff prick.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes fluttering.

It’s like she wanted to stay locked on his cock all night.

…Oh well.

So be it.

“It’ll take, Sugar,” he says after a few moments of tense silence, shifting her up gently, manhandling her with a softness that makes her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. He presses a chaste kiss to her mouth, sweet. Contradictory.

“Daddy’ll make it take.”

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