A/N: This took me longer than I wanted it to but it's finally done! That means there's only one fic left to finish before I open up requests again. :•) Enjoy!
Premise: Depressed!GN!Reader finds out they're not as worthless as they think they are.
Warnings: None! Pure fluff.
You scribbled on the corner of the page to test your ink pen.
I have to vacuum the floor again soon. Dishes need to be done again today. I don't know what I want to make for dinner. More chores need to be done tomorrow. Is it even worth it anymore?
You pause. Every entry from the start of this week looked exactly the same. Flipping through the pages you notice that the beginning entries aren't much different either. Seems like every day has turned monotonous and bleak for you for a long time now. When you really think about it, when was the last time you were truly happy to wake up in the morning? Nothing came to mind.
The amount of hopelessness that filled your mind, body and soul was immense.
"Good morning!" Sloan sets down a coffee mug with a cat meme on it for you. Their smile had genuine happiness behind it– not something you could relate to.
"Good morning." You mimic their smile and watch as they take a seat next to you.
You're not sure how they could be so happy to wake up to the same burden every day of their life. Surely they must of thought you were baggage at this point. You were just waiting for the day they got tired of your presence and finally packed up and left. Everyone did. It was only a matter of time for them, too.
You bookmark the current page of your journal and close its cover.
"Don't forget your medicine!" They set your pill case next to your cat meme mug.
"Thanks."
They give you a kiss on the cheek.
You want to cry. Instead, you just watch as they take a seat next to you at the dining table for breakfast.
"Not hungry?" They ask.
They fork small bites of waffle into their mouth.
"I already ate." You lied.
"Oh? What did you have? I didn't hear you making anything."
You knew they were worried about you, but your brain didn't accept this.
"Just toast."
They're quiet for a moment. "Just toast?" They repeat.
"With jam. I'm not completely tasteless." You halfheartedly joke.
In order to dodge more conversation you open your pill case and down everything on an empty stomach.
"You have therapy today, right?" It feels they're playing a game of Twenty Questions.
"Yeah. I can make it there on my own, though."
"Well, I don't have anything to do right now. Why not let me take you?"
Right. You forgot. You were used to them being gone for weeks on end because of field work, studying or traveling. They took a couple weeks off to spend time with you. It seemed to be happening increasingly often as of late.
"It's alright, really. I don't want to bother you with it." You insist.
"It's not a bother! I promise!"
They're smiling again. It's hard to say no to that face.
"Alright."
...
Your therapist gives you back your journal after reading the last few entries. Nearly fifty minutes had already gone by and you don't feel like you've gotten everything off your chest yet.
"So, you feel like nothings gotten any better then?" They inquire.
"How are things supposed to get better at this rate?"
You collapse into the sofa and stare at the wall behind your doctor.
"I'm a burden. I can't do anything right. Everyone else already has everything figured out. What am I supposed to do? I'll never be good enough at anything."
Your therapist jots down everything you're saying before looking back up at you.
"If it's okay to ask... what do you want to be good at, exactly?"
You think about it. "Anything."
"Do you really think that's true, that you're not good at anything?"
You nod.
"You woke up this morning. You're breathing. You're very good at doing those two things. You're taking up space and existing. You're listening. You're feeling. You do these things without even thinking about them. Is that not a sign of skill?"
"That doesn't make me a worthwhile person, though." Tears start forming in your eyes and your therapist hands you the tissue box.
"You don't have to do anything well to be a worthwhile person. You exist, and that enough makes life worth living. If you want to learn more then you can, but knowing everything won't increase your value. You're valuable just by being here. Your worth as a human being is not determined by what you can or cannot do, or what you do or don't know."
Your therapist stays quiet as you sob into multiple tissues. It takes several minutes for you to calm down enough to continue your session.
"I still can't help but feel like a burden to everyone though." You still find it hard to speak after crying so much.
"Those who see you as a burden will never be worth your time. People who want to be around you will stay around you, even if they can't be present in your life at all times."
Rain begins gently tapping at the office window.
"... wouldn't it just be easier to shut everyone out, then?" You point out.
"Well, sure... but then you would never find out who truly loved you, or find others who are going to love you despite it all."
Another moment of silence passes between the two of you before the clock chimes in the distance.
"Same time next week I presume?" Your therapist fills out an appointment card for you.
"That sounds good."
...
You forgot your umbrella. The rain has already begun to pour.
Y/N: Alright. I'm ready.
💛lil meow meow💛: ᕕ( ՞ ᗜ ՞ )ᕗ
💛lil meow meow💛: ON MY WAY!!!
A car speeds by while you're waiting and splashes you from head to toe in puddle water. You're lucky enough that your phone case is water proof and that your journal is in your bag, otherwise everything would've been ruined.
Weird. You haven't thought about the positives in a long time.
You carefully wipe the droplets from your phone before another text message pops up.
💛lil meow meow💛: [Uploaded a photo at 3:56 PM].
It was a photo of you from behind.
💛lil meow meow💛: Omg? There's just a cutie pie standing outside? Do you think they're single?
You turn to look in the direction the photo was taken, then Sloan snaps another photo of you.
💛lil meow meow💛: OMG they noticed me!!!
💛lil meow meow💛: They're walking towards me!!!
You open the car door and the warmth hits your damp face.
"Wow. Now there's a cute person in my car! No way!" They grin and gesture over to you.
You can't help but smile.
"Sorry I wasn't fast enough to pick you up before the rain started..." They add.
They reach over to hold your hand and give it a comforting squeeze.
"It's okay. I can shower later." You reply.
You look out the passenger side window at the world covered in gray. The sooner you could get home, the better.
"So, how did it go?" They ask.
For a moment you replay the conversation with your therapist in your mind. You're not sure if you want to bring it up.
"Well..." You start to say, but you choke back the rest of the words.
Tears form in your eyes and you turn farther way from your beloved to hide them. You attempt to focus on the street lights passing you by instead.
"It was okay."
A brief silence passes between the two of you.
"You can be honest with me." There was a genuine concern for you in their voice that you were all too familiar with.
You bite your lip and think about your therapist again.
"Do you think I'm a burden?"
The question seems to come from no where for Sloan– but for you, it's all you've been wondering for a very long time.
"No! Of course not! Why would I ever think that about you?" They answer almost a little too defensively.
"Because you're smart, and you already have your life figured out– and I'm just a nobody, really..."
"No, you're not. Not to me."
You wipe the oncoming tears with your sleeves. The weight of the world comes baring down on your shoulders once again. Hot breaths escape between choking sighs and you can't stop yourself from sobbing all over again.
"I'm sorry–" That's all you could repeat, over and over again, like a broken record.
"[Y/N]..."
You can hardly hear them over the sound of your downfall.
The crisis seemed like it lasted forever to you. Everything you've been keeping bottled up for so long comes pouring out all at once without any warning. Even though your heart still hurts, you can feel it becoming lighter with every passing minute.
You can't form words. All you can do now is cry, cry, cry.
So cry, you did.
For minutes on end, tears flood out from underneath your swollen, bloodshot eyes. Your face was pink and pain pounded in your head from all the upset. It felt like forever until you were calm enough to form coherent sentences again.
"I'm sorry you had to see that." Once again you find yourself apologizing for things beyond your control.
"There's no need to say you're sorry. Let's just get inside so you can get out of those wet clothes."
You didn't even realize you had made it home already.
...
One mental breakdown, shower and ibuprofen later you felt like a brand new person.
In the same cat meme mug from this morning your beloved sets down some hot chocolate for you to help you cheer up.
"Do you want to talk about it?" They ask.
You can feel them wrap a blanket around you before sitting down and scooping you up into the warmest hug you've ever received. You close your eyes and melt into their affection while placing your head on their chest to listen to their heartbeat.
"I guess I just feel worthless most of the time." You admit.
"But why? You're not worthless to me. Not one bit." They comfort you the best they can.
You can feel Sloan place their hand on the back of your head and gently stroke your hair.
"I feel bad for taking time away from you. You have everything in your life figured out. I can't imagine why you still come around to visit me."
"Because I love you." There's a softness to their reply that makes your heart feel safe and secure. "I love spending time with you, so I take time off to visit you. If I didn't want anything to do with you I'd be gone already."
You think about their words for a minute and wish you had something equally as nice to reply with, but instead drowsiness begins to fog your mind.
You open your mouth to speak but a yawn escapes first.
"Rest, mi vida. Don't let those thoughts bother you anymore. I love you so much–" They place a kiss to your head. "– and I'll love you even more when you wake up."
They let you lay down and listen to their heartbeat for a little while longer.
"You mean the world to me. I don't care about anything else right now– just you. I'm here for you. Everything else can wait."
"Promise?" You nuzzle into their chest, ready to fall asleep at any moment.
"I promise. I'll write it on my tombstone." They reply.
"I'll hold you to that."
"You'll have to wait and see. I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, first."
For the first time in a long time you felt yourself genuinely smile.
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Cowboy Casanova
Summary: When you decided to move to the middle of nowhere to get some perspective in your life, you expect to be bored out of your mind. You definitely don’t expect Bacara.
Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader
Word Count: 4123
Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, biting, hints of a breeding kink
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things
A/N: This started out at one thing, turned into another, which turned into a third thing, and anyway it's now what it was supposed to be so I had to change the name, which makes me sad. The Original name was Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy. Anyway! I hope you like my sin. Also, this is a western au because...I don't have a reason other than Bacara with a cowboy hat. I'm sorry. Anyway, no requests got done today because of this. Note, this isn't edited - so if you see any errors, no you didn't.
“You’re staring,”
“Am not.” You reply absently as you drag your gaze across Bacara’s bare chest, your eyes lingering first on his dog tags and then on the nipple piercings that he got when he lost a bet.
He chuckles, low and deep, “You’re still staring.”
“If you don’t want to be stared at, then you should put on a shirt.” You counter, unrepentant.
Bacara arches a brow and flings a rag at your face, making you sputter and scrunch up your nose, “You wouldn’t say that if I was staring at you.”
“Of course not. Double standards are a thing after all.”
He rolls his eyes and walks over to you, leaning into your personal space as he picks up his rag again, a smug smirk crossing his face when your gaze drops to his chest and then his waist, before snapping back to his face, “See something you like, city mouse?”
Your face heats, but you keep your gaze locked with his, “Just worried that your pants are going to fall down since they’re hanging so low.”
“Fashion choice,” Bacara replies with a shrug, as he walks away from you and back over to the machine he’s trying to make work, “Besides, it’s hot as balls out here, and I hate the feel of my shirt sticking to my skin.”
Well, he’s not wrong about that.
Bacara leans back into the engine block and reaches in, “Why don’t you just pay someone to come and fix it?” You ask.
“You have the money for some repair man from the city to drive out here and fix this? Cause I sure as hell don’t.”
“You own, like, a dozen cows.”
“There are three dozen of them, actually.”
“That’s not the point that you think it is.”
He laughs and pulls back, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Come here, I need a small hand.”
“I don’t fix things, Bacara.” You warn, though you do hop off the bale of hay that you’ve been sitting on and walk over to him.
“You need to learn, city mouse. What happens if something breaks in your home?”
“Uh, I’ll call you.”
“What if I’m not available?”
“Why wouldn’t you be available?”
“Believe it or not, I don’t exist to come running at your beck and call.” Bacara replies dryly.
“What? Wow! Really?” You marvel sarcastically, and then you yelp when he pinches your side. “Rude!”
“Alright, Little Miss Sass, I need you to reach into there and feel around for any loose wires.” Bacara explains as he presses his chest against your back and points where he needs your help.
“Wires? I’m not going to get electrocuted, am I?” You ask as you try, really, really hard to not get distracted at the feel of him pressed against you.
He shoots you a look, “Of course not. It’s totally safe.”
“Fiiine.” You sigh out as you reach into the opening and feel around blindly, “Um...okay, I found a wire.”
“Excellent work,” His voice is low against your ear, and you can’t help but shiver. Embarrassingly, he notices and a quiet chuckle falls from him, “I need you to follow the wire and tell me if it’s connected on both ends.”
You ignore him, as best as you can, and feel around for a moment, “I...think so? It doesn’t feel loose at least.”
“Damn, I was hoping you’d say the opposite. Alright, pretty girl. You’re done. This is now, officially, someone elses problem.”
You pull your hand out and make a face at the oil on your fingers, “I thought you didn’t want to pay-”
“I don’t, which is why I’ll have Neyo come and fix it.”
“Ripping off your own brothers, shame-”
“What are brothers for if not a little unpaid labor every now and then?” Bacara asks rhetorically, “Come on, you can come inside and get that stuff off your hand.” He picks his hat up off his work table, and pauses before setting it on his head.
He shoots you a small smirk, and drops his hat on your head, it immediately tilts over your eyes, and you use the back of your hand to tilt the rim back so you can look at him, “Well, how do I look?” You ask with a small grin.
Bacara lazily drags his gaze across your body, his smirk growing, “Hot as hell,” He drawls.
Your face heats again. Still, you’re not able to stop the delight from sliding across your face, “Well, thank you~”
He stares at you for a moment longer, and then motions for you to follow him. It’s kind of unnecessary, you could navigate Bacara’s ranch blindfolded and drunk, but you do appreciate being able to walk with him.
After you get yourself cleaned up, which takes a lot longer than you anticipated since the oil just did not want to come off your hands, you meander from the guest bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen.
He’s still not wearing a shirt, and you’re beginning to think that he’s walking around like that intentionally. “Did you manage to get the oil off?” Bacara asks as he turns to face you.
“Yeah, eventually. The bottle of special soap was empty, so I had to make some more real quick.” You shrug easily as you sink into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. You don’t mind, you normally make it for him anyway.
Your parents would be so proud. Thousands of credits spent on a fancy Chem degree...and you use it mixing oil removing soap.
“Sorry about that, I should have checked earlier.”
“Don’t worry about it.” You fold your legs under you, and your attention lands on something interesting on the table.
Now. Bacara is a rancher, there’s always new and interesting things laying around his house that he needs to explain to you. Over the year that you’ve been friends with him, you’ve learned a lot about ranching and about the things that he needs to do his job well.
This, however, is new.
“Bacara?” You sound slightly bemused as you reach across the table and hook a finger under, surprisingly silky, maroon rope, “What’s this for?” You ask as you turn your gaze to him.
Unless your eyes are deceiving you, there’s a hint of a blush on his face.
“It’s a joke gift. From Cody.” Bacara replies as he walks over to the table and picks up the rope, only to hesitate for a moment, “Although-” he murmurs quietly, as if to himself, as he pulls some of the rope out and lays it across your wrist, “It would look amazing wrapped around your wrists.”
You tilt your head and your mouth is slightly dry, you’re pretty sure that his comment was meant to be an inside thought, not an outside one, but it’s not like you can unring that bell.
“I think it’d look better wrapped around yours.” You blurt, and his gaze snaps to meet yours, “The color would look amazing against your skin tone.” You add, sheepishly.
He stares at you, and you stare right back at him.
And just as you’re about to apologize, Bacara smirks.
“Alright.”
You blink at him, “Alright?”
“Alright. Lets see what you’re capable of.”
You blink at him again. And then a third time as his words process, “Wait! Really?”
“Really. Unless you think you can’t handle it.”
“I can handle it,” You shoot back, “The question is can you?”
He folds his arms across his broad chest, “Let’s make this a little more fun-”
“-more fun then you getting tied up?”
His grin is predatory and sharp, “I don’t beg. Ever. For anyone.” He advances on you, “However, if you can make me beg in say...an hour, you win this little challenge and I’ll do whatever you want for a week.”
“You already do whatever I want, Bacara.” You point out.
“Unimportant.” He replies, “But when you lose-”
“-if. If I lose-”
His gaze locks with yours and his grin becomes even more predatory, “When you lose,” Bacara repeats, “I get two hours to make you beg for me, and when I win you’ll do whatever I want for a week.”
“Hold on now! How come you get two hours and I only get one?” You demand.
“Because I’m going to spend the first hour with my face buried in your pussy, that’s why.”
Your entire thought process screeches to a halt as your train of thought derails. “...oh.”
“So what do you say, city mouse? Do we have a deal?”
And, really, there’s only one thing you can say to that, “Deal.”
Bacara advances on you again, essentially crowding you, as he walks you through his home and into his bedroom. His eyes a glittering with arousal, but he doesn’t touch you, as much as you can tell that he wants to.
He kicks the bedroom door shut and turns on the lamp so there’s some light in the room, and then he folds his arms and waits.
You gaze at him thoughtfully, a small smile on your lips, “You’re wearing too much. Strip.”
His gaze is hot as it lingers on your face, “Yes ma’am,”
You consider watching him strip for a moment, but instead turn to the bed and start setting up the rope, while pulling out your phone to look up safe ways to tie him up.
“Alright,” You murmur to yourself as you make sure the ropes are secure around the bed frame, and you climb off the bed to focus your attention on him, “Pick a position that’s comfortable for you, Bacara.” You say as you carefully don’t take your eyes off his face.
“Not even gonna steal a peek, kitten?” Bacara asks, as he moves passed you and settles on the bed, with his back pressed against the headboard.
“I lady doesn’t peek, Bacara,” You sniff.
“Oh? Do they tie up their friends.”
“I can leave you know.”
He laughs and grabs your wrist to tug you onto the bed, you tumble against him, your hands settling on his shoulders, as he reaches around you to settle his hand on the back of your neck, “I want you to look, kitten. After all, I need to know if I meet your approval.” You have to shift to get more comfortable, eventually straddling his thigh so you’re not twisted uncomfortably.
You roll your eyes, but slowly drag your gaze down his chest, a nearly silent sigh of delight falling from you when you see that he’s still wearing his dog tags. Bacara chuckles lowly, and you hurriedly continue your visual perusal of the man beneath you.
He’s solid, your Bacara. Oh sure, he has a belly, but you’re pretty sure that he’s solid muscle, like the professional weight lifters you used to know in college. Big, beefy, and could lift you with one arm if he was so inclined.
Absently you trail your fingers down his chest, teasingly skirting around the nipple piercings, and down his stomach, and then your gaze lands on his cock.
Already erect and with precum leaking from the head.
He’s gorgeous.
But that’s not what catches your attention. No. What catches your attention is the golden piercings.
You blink at the piercings dumbly for a moment. “Holy shit Bacara.” You blurt, “Why didn’t you say that you had cock piercings?”
“Not really something that comes up in polite conversations,” He counters with a grin.
“But...If I had know then my-” You cut yourself off before you finish the thought, and you snap your gaze to his face, “Never mind.”
“Oh no, you definitely need to finish that thought, kitten.” Bacara practically purrs, “Come on, your what?”
“Nope. Not going there.” You shift your weight slightly, and reach down to grab his wrist, but Bacara doesn’t let you move it. “Really?”
He smirks, “Tell me, and I’ll let you tie me up.”
“Don’t you automatically lose if you don’t let me even try?” You try to bargain.
His smirk widens, “No, because I saw that look on your face. You want my face in your pussy.”
Damn him for being right.
“Fine,” You drag the word out, “I might have fantasized about you before. Maybe.”
He smirks smugly, “Knew it. Alright, you may continue.”
“I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to be the one in control right now.” You counter, even as you bring his hand to the headboard and carefully loop the rope around his wrist.
Bacara hums and his still free hand comes up to caress your hip, “Oh, kitten. I need you to understand that I’m letting you do this. But I need you to know that I’m the one in control here, not you.”
Your fingers slip on the rope, “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that for the sake of the challenge.” You finally say once you finish with your knot, “How’s that? Too tight?”
Bacara tugs at the rope experimentally, “Good enough.” He finally says, as he lifts his other hand to the headboard.
You’re a lot faster this time, now that you know what you’re doing, and you sit back on your heels as you look at him. “I was right,” You finally say as you climb off of him so you’re able to peel your own clothes off.
“Bout what?” Bacara asks as he watches you strip with hungry eyes.
“That color does look amazing against your skin.”
He hums his understanding, tilting his head so he’s able to watch you push your shorts and panties down your legs. “I can just about guarantee that it’s going to look much better against yours.”
You set your clothes on a chair and climb on the end of the bed, settling yourself between his feet.
Bacara looks completely relaxed, and you’re beginning to accept that he was right, he is the one in control here, as much as it might seem like you are. “Just gonna sit there and stare at me, kitten?” He drawls.
“I’m thinking.”
“Do you need some direction?” He offers, “Because I can do that.”
“I’m not giving up yet, Bacara.” You counter as you slide up so that you’re better able to reach him, your fingers feather light as you glide them across his thigh.
His muscle twitches under your touch, “Yet, huh.” Bacara says with a small smirk, “Good to know.”
Finally fed up with his comments, you surge up and crash your lips against his. Your hands wander across his chest, lightly flicking his piercings, as you trail your tongue across his lower lip.
You’re almost surprised when he takes control of the kiss.
Almost.
He catches your lower lip between his teeth, and nips you roughly enough that a squeak falls from you. Bacara then soothes the sore spot with a lazy swipe of his tongue, and the moment you part your lips for him, his tongue slides against your own.
He maps out your mouth with a single minded intensity that leaves you moaning, and encourages you to straddle him again. When you break the kiss, you’re slightly breathless, and his gaze is dark as is slides across your face.
“You should give up, kitten.” Bacara purrs.
You shake your head, “I can still win.”
He laughs, “You’re already straddling me, and we haven’t done much more than kissing.”
“That-”
“I’ll make you feel so good, kitten.” He purrs as he tugs his wrist once, causing the knot to unravel. He presses his hand against the small of your back, and pulls you closer, and you shiver when you feel his hard erection pressed against you.
Unthinkingly, you grind against him, the head of his cock pressing deliciously against your clit and a moan fall from your lips as you do so.
His arm hooks tightly around your waist, and he pulls you closer so that he’s able to trail his lips against your throat, “Say you give up, kitten. And I’ll give you exactly what you need.”
Your lips turn down into a small pout.
“We can try this again later,” He promises, very temptingly, “After you’ve had some time to prepare properly.”
You peer at him, and then release a heavy sigh, and reach up to untie his other hand, “This isn’t me giving up.”
“Of course not.” Bacara agrees, suspiciously easily, “But, it is you forfeiting, which means it’s my turn.”
You squeak as he flips you so that you’re under him, smoothly using one hand to pin your hand over your head and tying them together and to the headboard.
Bemused, you tug on the ropes, but there’s no give whatsoever, “How-”
“Practice. I’ll teach you properly for next time.”
“...this game was designed for me to lose from the get go, wasn’t it.”
He grins and leans over you, his lips hovering just over yours, “Good girl, I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”
“You’re a dick.”
“Not gonna deny that.” He replies before he kisses you deeply, but quickly.
And then he’s moving down your body, biting marks into the soft skin of your neck and throat, across your collar, and down your chest. You squirm and writhe under his attention, biting your lower lip to keep yourself quiet.
He takes a quick moment to lavish your nipples with attention, before he’s moving again. At this, you’re unable to keep yourself from gasping out his name, and you feel his lips curl up into a smile against your breast.
Bacara litters your stomach and sides with possessive marks and then he leaves a trail of bite marks from your hip to your thighs. By this point, you’re a moaning mess, you don’t care if this means that he wins, you just don’t want him to stop.
And only then, when he’s sure that you’re covered in his marks, and when you’re whining for him, does he spread your legs to make room for himself between your thighs.
“Look at you,” Bacara praises lightly as he drags a single finger between your folds, a pleased smirk crossing his face as your hips twitch towards him, “You’re already wet. Do you have a biting kink, kitten?”
Your face burns at his words, and you stubbornly press your lips together to not say anything.
Bacara clicks his tongue, and his hand lands, heavily, on your outer thigh. It surprises you more than it hurts you, and you blink at him wide eyed, “I asked you a question.”
You know what he wants to hear. Even though you’re so horny that you almost can’t stand it. Even though his large, calloused finger is circling your clit in a way that is kind of driving you insane. You still know what he wants to hear.
What he’s expecting to hear.
Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips, and you plaster on your most innocent expression, “Did you?” You ask, slightly breathlessly as you clench around nothing from his teasing, “I wasn’t listening.”
Bacara stops. His fingers stop moving, and his hand, which was caressing your thigh and the red mark blooming there, stops moving as well. He searches your face for something, and then a slow smirk crosses his lips.
“Safe word or color?”
Your heart racing with excitement, you breath out, “Color.”
He hums, “What color are you?”
“Green.” You blurt, “Very green.”
For a moment, there’s a glimmer of something warm and soft on his handsome face, before it’s gone. “So, it sounds like you are able to listen.”
“When I want to.”
“Then it sounds like I just need to teach you that you need to listen to me, doesn’t it?”
You feel a thrill of delight, “If you ever said anything worth listening to-” You words get cut off with a ragged moan as he suddenly thrusts a finger into your pussy and curls it, almost instinctively finding the spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.
“I’m going to tell you how this is going to go,” Bacara says, a hint of promise in his voice, “I’m going to give you as many orgasms as I want, you are only allowed to cum when I allow it.” He eases his finger out of your pussy, and licks it clean with an appreciative hum, “And, if you don’t obey me, I’ll have to punish you.”
“Punish?” You ask.
He just smirks, “Do you understand? Answer verbally.”
“I understand,”
“Good girl,” He gives himself a couple of lazy strokes as he examines your splayed out body appreciatively. “I did say that I was going to bury my face in your pussy, didn’t I.” He muses, loud enough that you’re able to hear him, “But I don’t think you’ve earned that.”
That pulls an unhappy noise from your lips, and he chuckles, “Only good girls get to have their pussy eaten, and you haven’t been a good girl.” He releases your legs, letting them fall back to the bed, before he reaches up to check the ropes one more time, and then flips you, making sure that the ropes didn’t twist in such a way to hurt you. “There we go,” Bacara murmurs as he smooths his hand over your ass and then squeezes roughly
You squirm under him, but settle when you feel his hand press against your lower back. He quickly eases a pillow under your hips and adjusts your legs so that you’re spread wide for him.
He doesn’t touch you for a moment, though you can feel his heavy gaze dragging against you body. Just as you start to squirm, a little self conscious about being so exposed, his hands are on you again.
His hands are calloused and heavy on your body, and you’re sure you’re going to have bruises from his hands covering your body, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care as his hands press into you.
And then you don’t care about anything as the blunt head of his cock presses against you. Slowly he eases inch after inch inside you, and you’re squirming and whining before he’s even halfway sheathed.
The piercing feels amazing inside you, and you find yourself clenching around him.
Bacara groans and bites down on the back of your neck, “No cumming, kitten.” He warns as he slowly pushes the rest of the way in. As soon as he’s bottomed out, he presses a light kiss to the mark on the back of your neck.
He doesn’t move for a moment, and then he slowly eases out, until only the head of his cock is inside you. Bacara waits a beat, until you squirm to try and get him to move again, and then he thrusts in hard and fast.
He keeps the rapid pace, his breath hot against your ear, his hand fisted in your hair to keep your head down.
The sensations of his hand in your hair, and low groans in your ear, adding to the amazing feeling of his piercings dragging against your walls and the delicious stretch of his cock, are too much to handle.
And try as you might, you’re not able to keep yourself from cumming with a cry of his name.
You feel him laugh, “That’s punishment 1, kitten.”
“Not my fault-” You gasp, “Feels too good.”
“Oh? What’s that? Harder you said?” Bacara asks, as he adjusts himself slightly, before he leans in and catches your earlobe between his teeth. Before he does exactly as he warned, thrusting hard enough that you release a noise that is something between a moan and a sob of sheer pleasure.
“Good girl,” Bacara purrs, “You’re taking me so well.” He smooths his hand up your spine, “Such a willing little thing,” He coos in your ear, “I’m going to ruin you, kitten.” He catches your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.
“Please,” You whisper, “Please ruin me.”
For half a moment, Bacara’s hips stutter, and he releases a deep groan. “Oh, princess. Gladly.” He pulls out completely, pulling a disapproving whine from your lips and then he flips you back onto your back, before he thrusts back into you hard and fast. “I’m going to stuff you full of my cum, princess.” He promises, “Over and over and over, until I’m good and done.”
“Cara-” You whine his name as you arch against him as best as you can.
“So, be my good girl and take all of me,” He orders as he leans in and catches your lips in a passionate kiss, “Be my good girl, and I’ll ruin you.” He promises, his gaze dark.
And, really, how can you do anything other than obey him after that promise.
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