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mssalo · 2 months ago

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Hummingbird - Part: I

Summary: In the quiet town of Jackson, Joel becomes consumed by a dark and overpowering obsession with his new neighbor. What begins as fascination quickly spirals into something much darker as he loses control over his desires.

3,6k

Warnings: +18, MDNI, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, obsessive!Joel, stalking, voyeurism, dark themes, explicit sexual content, masturbation, age gap (not specified), unprotected PIV, noncon, sexual obsession, power imbalance, dark!Joel, inappropriate behavior

Part: I

Here’s Part II.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

In the quiet of Jackson, where the rhythm of daily life had settled into a predictable monotony, something delicate and strange began to intrude upon Joel Miller’s routine. It was a morning like any other, with the sun rising lazily over the horizon, casting a gentle golden hue across the town. Joel was out on his usual run, his steps methodical and unhurried as he made his way back to the his house, his mind occupied with mundane thoughts.

It was then, amidst the usual rustle of leaves and distant hum of the town awakening, that he first heard it. At first, it was barely perceptible—a faint, ethereal sound drifting through the air like a whisper from another world. Joel paused, his attention momentarily snagged by the delicate melody that seemed to dance just at the edge of his hearing. It was as if the air itself had taken on a subtle, musical quality, a softness that contrasted starkly with the rough edges of his usual environment.

He turned his head, his gaze searching for the source of this unexpected serenade. It was coming from the house next door, a modest structure that had always seemed unremarkable, shrouded in vines and surrounded by the casual chaos of overgrown greenery. The sound was so incongruous with the house’s unassuming exterior that it felt like a secret whisper from within, something hidden and precious.

Joel’s curiosity was piqued. He stood still for a moment, trying to catch the essence of the melody. It was a hum—a soft, resonant tone that seemed to rise and fall with a natural, almost instinctual grace. The notes were like tendrils of mist, curling through the air and slipping past his defenses. He could only imagine the source, but it was enough to make him linger longer than usual, his gaze drawn toward the window of the house.

He paused, listening, his gaze instinctively drawn toward her house. Through the window, all he could make out was a fleeting shadow, a delicate form moving gracefully inside.

At first, Joel thought nothing of it, dismissing the moment as an odd distraction. But as the days passed, something began to shift in him. He found himself increasingly drawn to that house, his curiosity growing with every glimpse of her. It started innocently enough, with stolen glances as he passed by, but soon it became more deliberate. His steps slowed near her house, his eyes straying toward her window, searching for even the slightest sign of her. He was fascinated by the way she moved, by the way her hands gently tended to the garden, her fingers brushing over the petals of flowers she grew with such care. Each sight sent a strange rush through him, something that made his pulse quicken.

· · ─────

The first time Joel saw your face, it struck him with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs. He had been watching, hidden behind the blinds of his window, when you stepped outside. The world seemed to pause, holding its breath as your eyes met his, just for a brief, charged moment. Your wide, innocent eyes framed by long lashes, and the natural rosy glow of your cheeks, made Joel’s chest tighten. You smiled softly, the gentle curve of your lips triggering something deep inside him. He felt it immediately—a need so intense it nearly overwhelmed him.

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, a relentless pressure building in his pants. His body reacted violently to the sight of you—his cock hardening painfully. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the overwhelming urge to approach you, to bridge the gap that separated you.

That was when the obsession began.

He started to hear your voice more clearly, each utterance a sweet murmur that resonated deep within him. Even the simplest exchanges—casual hellos, friendly greetings—were like a siren’s call, drawing him deeper into his obsession. Your voice was a melody that seemed to play directly to his most primal desires. Every word you spoke, every laugh, every soft-spoken sentence made his resolve crumble.

As he observed you from a distance, he couldn’t help but be captivated by the way your clothes clung to your body—how your sundress gently swayed with each movement, exposing just enough to tease. The sight of your legs, bare and inviting, only served to fuel his obsession. His cock often grew hard and throbbing whenever he caught sight of you, straining painfully against his pants. The thought of you, so close yet so out of reach, drove him to the brink of madness.

One evening, as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, Joel found himself standing by his window, peering out at your house. His breath came in ragged gasps as he saw you stepping outside, your form illuminated by the fading light. You looked ethereal, your face soft and angelic in the warm glow. The sight of you made his cock pulse with need. He gripped the edge of the windowsill, trying to steady himself, but the pressure in his pants became almost unbearable.

He watched, nearly paralyzed with desire, as you walked to your mailbox, your hips swaying with each step. The way your dress clung to your curves made his mouth go dry. His hand instinctively moved to his aching cock, and he found himself pressing against it through his pants, trying to relieve some of the intense pressure. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of dirty fantasies—images of you, your soft lips wrapped around him, your body arching beneath him.

“Goddammit, baby” he cursed, his voice low and strained. “I need you so bad… fuckin’ want you so much…” His hand moved under his pants to his aching cock as he began to stroke himself slowly, his mind filled with filthy images of you. He imagined your soft lips on his skin, your body arching in pleasure beneath him. He imagined how you’d look at him with your pretty eyes as you took him between your soft pillowy lips. fuck.

The intensity of his desire pushed him to the edge as he whispered dirty thoughts about you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

With every stroke, he imagined you moaning his name, your body shuddering with pleasure as he took you, over and over again. Pounding into your little cunt. He could almost feel the warmth of your body against his, the way your skin would feel under his hands.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, eyes locked onto your unknowing frame as he stroked himself, his mind filled with filthy fantasies of you. “I bet you’d feel so good wrapped around me, fuck…”

The thought drove him to the brink, and he came with a shuddering gasp, his mind filled with the image of you—innocent and sweet, yet twisted into his darkest fantasies.

· · ─────

Later, when Joel finally mustered the courage to approach you, he was a bundle of conflicting emotions—nervousness and raw, unfiltered desire coiling tightly within him.

The encounter had been a fantasy that had played out in his mind countless times, and now it was happening in reality. Every step toward your porch felt monumental, his heart pounding with a frenetic rhythm that echoed in his ears. His palms were slick with sweat, making his grip on the porch railing shaky as he approached.

He could barely contain the tremors that coursed through his hands and legs, the anticipation making his entire body vibrate with a desperate urgency.

You were seated gracefully on your porch, a book resting lightly in your lap, your legs crossed in a demure manner that only accentuated the delicate curve of your soft thighs.

The evening light painted you in a soft, almost ethereal glow, casting shadows that highlighted the gentle curve of your silhouette. Joel couldn’t believe how one could look so… pretty.

When you looked up and saw him standing there, your eyes widened with surprise, and a radiant, innocent smile spread across your face—a sight so pure and captivating that it made Joel’s breath catch in his throat.

“Hello,” Joel managed to say, his voice coming out rough and gravelly, betraying the tumult of emotions swirling inside him.

He struggled to keep his tone steady, forcing himself to act casual despite the intense craving gnawing at his insides.

Your smile only widened further, and your eyes sparkled with a blend of curiosity and warmth.

“Oh, hi! You must be Mr. Miller. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Joel’s gaze fell to your hand as you extended it in greeting.

Immediately his thoughts slipped to your delicate fingers gripping his throbbing member while he called you his goodgirl. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt a rush of blood pool in his cock, which was now straining painfully against the confines of his pants.

Every move you made seemed to amplify his arousal, and he fought to maintain control as he forced himself to look up at your face.

The sight of you, so effortlessly charming and engaging, was overwhelming. His cock throbbed again with an urgent need that he could hardly contain, and he struggled to keep his composure as he looked at you. Do you know, what you’re doing to him?

“Call me Joel,” he said, his voice low and strained, barely above a whisper. His hands were clammy, and he had to clench them into fists to keep them from reaching out and taking you right on the floor.

You continued to speak, your voice a soft, inviting murmur that wrapped around him like a velvet glove, soothing yet igniting.

“I was just out here enjoying the evening. How are you?”

Joel’s eyes traced every movement you made, every subtle shift of your body.

The way you leaned forward slightly, the way your pretty pink lips parted in a soft, engaging smile—all of it was a tantalizing display that made his cock strain even harder.

He could feel the wetness seeping from the tip of his cock, staining the fabric of his pants, and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to discreetly adjust himself while maintaining a semblance of normal conversation.

“I’m doin’ fine,” he said, his voice barely audible.

All he could focus on was the way you looked, the way your eyes sparkled with an innocent curiosity that heightened his yearning.

His mind was consumed by a storm of lustful thoughts, barely registering the actual conversation. Do you feel this pull, too?

The more you spoke, the more his body betrayed him.

Every smile you flashed, every soft laugh that escaped your lips, was like a provocative tease that made his cock twitch with uncontrollable arousal.

His fantasies grew darker with each passing second, imagining what it would be like to press you against the wall, to feel your body writhing beneath him, to hear your moans of pleasure while he sucked your perfect clit into his mouth and doing that, and more, for hours.

The thought made him shudder with a mix of desire and frustration, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Each accidental brush of your body against his was like a jolt of electricity. You’re talking, but he only grasps half of it.

When you leaned in to grab something from the table, your soft, intoxicating scent enveloped him, making his cock nearly explode with a desperate need.

He could barely keep himself together, his thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of dirty fantasies.

You, looking up at him while sucking on his twitching balls. Licking between them and going lower-

He interrupted himself before he would go actually insane.

You laughed at something he said, and the sound of your laughter—sweet and melodic—was like a siren’s call that fueled his desire further.

He envisioned your eyes filled with innocent curiosity as you took him in. The thought made his cock leak uncontrollably, the wet stain spreading on his pants a testament to his arousal.

Look down, baby. Look what you’re doing to me. Give me a fuckin’ reason.

· · ─────

As the evening drew to a close and you finally excused yourself, Joel was left standing there, his body trembling with a mix of frustration and unfulfilled desire.

He watched you walk back inside, your silhouette framed by the warm light of your home, and the sight only deepened his obsession.

He retreated to his own house, barely able to contain the need that simmered just beneath the surface.

Later, as he lay in bed, his thoughts were consumed by you. Every moment, every touch, every word you had spoken replayed in his mind with relentless intensity.

His hand moved to his aching cock, and he began to stroke himself slowly, his mind filled with filthy images of you. He imagined your soft lips on his skin, your body arching in pleasure beneath him. The intensity of his desire pushed him to the edge as he whispered dirty thoughts about you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. My goodgirl. You’ll be such a good fuckin’ girl.

“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he groaned, each stroke of his hand sending waves of pleasure through him.

I want to feel your tight pussy wrapped around me, hear you scream my name. I need to make you mine.

With each stroke, he envisioned you moaning his name, calling out to him. Daddy, sir, master, anything - as long as it’s you.

The thought drove him to the brink, and he came with a shuddering gasp, his mind flooded with the image of you—innocent and sweet, yet twisted into his darkest fantasies.

· · ─────

Joel knew his obsession with you was consuming him, but he couldn’t stop.

Every sight, every sound, only deepened his fixation. He was trapped in a cycle of desire and denial, the more he saw of you, the more intense his obsession became.

The twisted desire that had taken root in him was growing stronger, and he knew there was no escaping the dark, perverse longing that now ruled his every thought.

“I have to have her,” Joel whispered into the darkness, the words a promise and a curse. His mind was set on claiming you, making you his in every way. The thought of finally having you, of making you his possession, consumed him completely. He was lost in his obsession, and the only thing that mattered now was the need to make you his, no matter the cost.

Soon, we’ll be together - my sweet little hummingbird.

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nickypooh · 7 months ago

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Can you watch my boyfriend for me?

Summary : you do the tiktok trend of leaving your phone to “watch” your boyfriend.

🎀★🎀★🎀★🎀★🎀

Chris and I were at dinner together and I had the idea of doing the tiktok trend where you set your phone up and leave to do something and they “watch” him, kinda like a babysitter in a way. I set my phone up on my glass of water and faced it towards Chris, starting the video and getting up.

“Hey guys can you watch him while I go get the check please?” I say, getting up and walking away.

Chris looks from the phone to you walking away confused until he eventually understands that you aren’t coming back too soon. He looks at the phone while eating his chips and salsa. “Y’all want a chip?” He asks, holding a chip towards the phone. Chris being Chris had many random fun facts stored in his mind, and he was great at talking so he started listing off his facts.

“Umm did you guys know that ants don’t have lungs? Oh and baby elephants can’t control their trunk for a while after they’re born? Crazy right?”

He looked to see if you were coming back yet but you weren’t anywhere in sight yet so he kept talking to the phone.

“Hmm what else do I know… Oh did you know that hummingbirds tongues are so long that they wrap around their head to protect themselves while they’re hammering? Ummm… a shrimp's heart is in its head. Ketchup used to be sold as medicine, so Matt would’ve been fucked.

Oh, oh, the first person to be pulled over for speeding was going eight miles per hour.

Anddd did you know that wallabies can be pregnant for up to like two years, depending on when they wanna have the baby. “

When he finished listing his fun facts he could see you coming back so he sat there like nothing had happened, like he was just sitting there in silence with his chips.

“Thanks for watching him guys” You smile at the phone as you stand next to Chris and grad your phone turning the video off. “Did you have fun?” You ask Chris.

“Yeah my chips were good.” He smiles as you both get your things and go out to your car to leave.

The caption of the video was “None of these even surprised me anymore, I’ve heard them so many times it’s crazy.”

🎀★🎀★🎀★🎀★🎀

🏷: @matty-bear

My requests are open right now, or if you just wanna talk to me feel free to anon/ask me anything. And if you want to be added to the taglist let me know! :)

#christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #🎀 fanfic

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lovebugism · 9 months ago

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shy!reader goes to the pool with Eddie and is too afraid to wear her swimsuit in front of him? Maybe she’s wearing clothes over her bikini/one piece and doesn’t want to undress at first because of her nerves lol

hope u like it! — you still get a little nervous showing your body, but eddie takes it all in stride (shy!fem!r, established relationship, cw for mentions of body insecurity, 1.1k)

Eddie’s rubber flip-flops are much too big on your feet. You fight to keep them on and match his longer strides at the same time. He leads you down the scenic trail of the Harrington vacation home with one hand curled intently around your own. He doesn’t seem phased by the dirt clinging to his bare feet.

“Think Steve’s folks will get mad if we skinny dip?” he jokes over his shoulder, wild curls billowing in the late afternoon wind.

You shrug. “I don’t think they own the lake, so…”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he scoffs.

“Me neither,” you concur with a quiet laugh.

A set of wooden steps lead off the trail and towards the shore. They creak under your weight, ancient and half-eroded with time. Eddie stands beside you on the dock, lips curled into a pink, lopsided smile. “Well, what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he quips before reaching for the hem of his shirt.

You giggle when he lifts the fabric up and over his head. His milky white torso is left on display for you, sprinkled with sparse hair and a couple of faded tattoos. His body is lanky and lean — stomach soft with gentle pudge where his happy trail begins. You couldn’t hide your leering if you wanted to.

“You’re crazy,” you say, still laughing.

“Crazy for you,” the boy croons.

You watch him reach for the buttons of his jeans, fumbling with them for a moment. Your chest swirls with a strange, hollow feeling. “Wait— Are you serious?” you wonder with wide, glimmering eyes. You’ve never felt totally comfortable swimming in a bathing suit, let alone naked.

Eddie shrugs his freckled shoulders and tugs his jeans down his scruffy thighs. “Yeah. Why not?”

He’s left in his thin, plaid boxers now. He doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by it as you do. Heart thrumming like an anxious hummingbird, your eyes dart over your shoulder and back to him. “What if the others see?!”

“Then let ‘em see,” he chuckles, golden like the early setting sun. “Who cares?”

I care, you almost say, ‘cause you’re too pretty, and I’m not pretty enough.

You swallow your loathing and instead reply, “Steve would never let you live it down if he caught you out here. You know that.”

Eddie’s bare feet pad against the creaking wooden dock. The sound is mostly drowned out by the waves ebbing and flowing beneath you. Nothing could hide the heavenly sound of his laughter, though. “What? That I’m skinnydipping with the prettiest girl in Indiana?” the boy retorts with a boyish chuckle. “I wouldn’t want him to let me live it down.”

You swallow hard, not swayed by the compliment. Your unsure gaze flits to your feet and the black sandals Eddie lent you on the way down. You see his paler, bare ones come into view just before his calloused palms smooth over your waist — above the oversized t-shirt you wear, which also belongs to the boy in front of you.

“I’m just… I’m just kidding, you know? About the skinnydipping thing,” Eddie assures you, suddenly serious and much quieter with it. His head ducks down to catch your falling gaze. His chocolate eyes sparkle beneath the yellow sun. His lips curl into a lopsided smile. “We don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. We never have to do anything you don’t want, you know that.”

You purse your lips to the side and think for a moment. You’re not nearly as at ease swimming naked as he is, but you’d be silly to turn down the opportunity to be alone with him. You have spent the entire weekend babysitting, after all.

“Can I keep my bathing suit on?” you wonder sheepishly.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course you can! You can do whatever you want, doll. I’m followin’ your lead here.”

He smacks a kiss to your lips, mouth tasting of nicotine, soda, and strawberries — like nostalgia and springtime.

“Can you turn around?”

Eddie meets your coy look with a wider smile. “Yeah. Sure,” he hums and steps back from you to spin on his heel. You know he’ll see you in your bathing suit before you step foot in the water, but you’ve always felt distinctly smothered by his gaze. You don’t feel half deserving of the adoration always swimming in the deep brown of them.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you know?” he quips without looking at you.

“It’s different,” you insist, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head. You fold it neatly before setting it gingerly on the dock. You’re left in the pretty one-piece you thrifted before the trip — a floral number that dips low at the chest and ties into a bow at the back.

Eddie doesn’t really understand, but he figures he doesn’t have to. He’ll do whatever makes you most comfortable, no questions asked. “Sure,” he nods. “Can I look now?”

You hesitate for a reason you can’t name. You feel more at ease with Eddie than anyone else in the whole wide world — and besides the fact that he’s seen you in much, much less — you shouldn’t be as nervous as you are now.

“Yeah…” you waver.

Eddie peeks at you over his shoulder for a moment before turning to face you fully. His pink lips purse and a low whistle sounds between them. “Damn,” he mumbles.

You fight back a smile and look away from him, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. “Hush…”

“You’re a total smokeshow, baby.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t know why you wanna hide from me so bad…” he teases lowly, gravitating towards you without thinking. His hands are warm and wide as they smooth over your sides. His palms curl around your lower back and idle there, fingers lingering just above your ass. “All I wanna do is look at you, and you won’t even let me…” he jokes, mostly serious, but with a playful pout on his lips.

Your arms cross between your bodies. You glare up at him with pretty doe eyes that swim with all the love you have for him. You couldn’t pretend to be annoyed if you tried. “It’s ‘cause you’re so nice…”

His brows raise and disappear behind his fluffy bangs. “You’re shy because I think you’re hot?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s weird.”

“Maybe,” Eddie laughs. He figures it’s on-brand enough for him, as the resident freak and all. But loving you has never felt unnatural or strange. It feels normal, like an instinct he’s always had, something he’s always been destined to do. So he just tilts his pretty head and smiles sweetly down at you. “Can’t help it, though.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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clockwayswrites · 19 days ago

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A Bird in the building is worth to in the car. Or something. Part 23

yes, I do have too much fun with these part titles masterpost

The efficiency that Danny and the kids were ushered, privately and securely, into the parking garage and the waiting car with was impressive. Bruce gave the order and then in a breath they were at the car. Unable to fight the instinct, Danny had kept his wings around the boys the whole way, as if he could protect them from the world.

Even in the car Danny still wanted to protectively drape his wings around them. He was grateful when both boys let him. He was grateful that Mr. Pennyworth didn’t comment on the wings at all. He just wished Bruce had gone with them.

It was completely understandable for Bruce to have to check on the situation and the people who had been in the building before leaving, but it left Danny feeling on edge. It would be better once Bruce was back in the car, and Danny knew that everyone here was safe. If it had been possible, he would have preferred to wait in the safe room. With the incoming cops that hadn’t been wise.

What felt like too long later, Danny watched Bruce walk towards the car through the tinted windows, flanked by very alert security. The door opening and closing felt very final. Danny let out a breath he hadn’t exactly been holding, but had still felt clogged up in his chest.

Bruce leaned across the center console and part way into the back seat. “Are you all alright?”

“Yes, Father,” Damian said where he was just barely leaning into Danny’s side and cradled by a wing.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “But, B, he was following me. He said he saw me going into the building. He called me a dormouse. I didn’t… I didn’t even notice him until he came into the building.”

Danny carded talons through Tim’s hair, hoping to calm himself as much as Tim or else he might go back and show the Mad Hatter how terrifying he could really get.

Bruce didn’t look any more pleased at that. “We’ll look into it, and I’ll pass along the information too. We’ll have to put some security on you for a bit in case he has others under control who are still after you.”

Tim frowned at that and Danny couldn’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to Tim’s hair, as presumptuous as the act was. “Let us protect you, hummingbird.”

Tim looked up at him. “Hummingbird?”

Danny just gave a little shrug. It seemed to fit. He didn’t think too much about it. It fit in the same way as being able to wrap his wings around them and the need to protect them.

“And what about you?” Bruce asked.

Danny glanced at the other man, tilting his head quizzically.

“Are you alright?” Bruce clarified.

“He was not before the event,” Damian jumped in quickly. “He was obviously fatigued and suffering from either a headache or over stimulation from the noise.”

“Or both,” Tim added. “We thought he might be leaving to go home.”

“I was just leaving to get lunch,” Danny sighed, even though they weren’t wrong about the rest.

Bruce frowned and held his hand out, which Danny just blinked at.

“Hand, Danny,” Bruce explained. “I want to check your pulse.”

Danny froze. He was suddenly, excruciatingly aware that his hand was still tipped in talon and small feathers. He snatched his hand out of Tim’s hair, worried now that his hand alone had been too much, as distorted as it was. He crossed his arms, hiding his hands against his body.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce didn’t pull his hand back. Instead his whole face softened in a sad way that confused Danny.

“We aren’t afraid of you, Danny,” Bruce said. His voice was a comforting low rumble that Danny wanted desperately to trust. “You’ve been nothing but kind to my family and today you kept them safe. The physical changes you went through to do that do not scare me.”

Danny glanced down and away, trying to avoid looking at any of them in the tight space of the car. “They scare me.”

Damian clicked his tongue and leaned further into Danny’s side, further in under the wing. Tim reached for a hand. Not wanting to accidentally hurt Tim with the sharp talons, Danny reluctantly let him take it. Tim wrapped his own fingers confidently around Danny’s.

Bruce still waited with his hand out.

Danny chewed on his lip, an old nervous tick. Bruce waited. The boys stayed close. Finally, Danny let out a huff of air and offered his hand up to Bruce.

“Your pulse is a bit erratic,” Bruce said after he had counted Danny’s pulse along to the ticking of his watch. He didn’t let go of Danny’s hand after it, instead he ran his thumb against Danny’s wrist. The touch almost made Danny shiver in a good way.

“I, ah, adrenalin crash, I figure,” Danny said once he could find his words.

“Are you alright returning to the Manor so that we can keep an eye on you?”

“Oh I get asked this time?” Danny teased. Teasing was easier.

Bruce just chuckled. “Well you are awake.”

“I… yes,” Danny answered. It was less about him being looked after and more so that he could look after the boys. If he went home now, he’d worry all night.

Mr. Pennyworth finally started the car. “Will you be needing medication or any such health items from your apartment, sir?”

Danny shook his head. “I keep some extra doses in my bag. And really, just Danny is alright.”

“Then to home, Master Danny.”

Danny tried not to miss the touch as Bruce pulled away and buckled in for the drive.

#dp x dc #dannny/bruce #spirit halloween ship #birdritch

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ceilidho · 10 months ago

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prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision.

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask.

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days.

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate.

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye.

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear.

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window.

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak.

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him.

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change.

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side.

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye.

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt.

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply.

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up.

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist.

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it.

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger.

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath.

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing.

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way.

You, however, press yourself back into him.

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust.

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips.

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do.

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound.

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in.

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up.

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears.

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment.

“No—no one else—”

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.”

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes.

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus.

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist.

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—”

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone.

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod simon riley #ghost/reader #ghost cod

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xayasmrxsoftlyx · 2 months ago

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Imagine...

Imagine you recently moved to the outskirts of a forest. The nature is beautiful and you do your part to keep it that way. You plant pollinator friendly flowers, rabbit friendly herbs, deer friendly bushes, you put out bird feeders, hummingbird feeders, squirrel feeders (though honestly, it's just extra bird feeders with less specific seeds since you noticed the birds didn't always eat the variety equally). Hell, you even changed out your lawn from traditional grass to clover and native wild flowers to use less water. You've been putting in a lot of effort to keep things nice for nature-- it's certainly been noticed, too.

In fact, you've no idea of the amount of eyes watching your beauty preserve nature's beauty- and to them you are nature's finest beauty. Looking at your plush body care for, tend to, and love the very things that feed their lives' essence; it's a sight that cannot be beat. At first, it was a competition amongst the forest. Who was yours? Who you belonged to? Now, now they understand that just like you work so hard to aid all of them, they can all share, love, tend to, and care for you, as well.

Imagine the first you meet, unbeknownst to you, is planned- it's all planned. You're sitting outside on a blanket, book in hand, just enjoying some rare free time when you hear a loud buzzing. It sounds as if a humming bird were flying right beside your ear. Yet, when you look up, it's certainly not that far from the truth despite not being completely correct in concept.

He's shorter than you, but not by much, barely hovering a foot off the ground. He hides half his body behind your oak tree- the one with all your feeders on it. He's got brilliant colors and jerks almost completely behind the tree when your eyes meet. (He's supposed to be speaking to you but when his eyes met your own shining gaze, he couldn't help but grow shy.) Your sweet, comforting scent has wafted in the air, stirred up in part by his own rapidly fluttering wings. He's buzzing with anxiety and adrenaline, the need to prove and show you his skills battling with his fear of your rejection. Now that he's gotten so close to those plump cheeks, he needs to kiss. Now that he's seen how soft and warm you are he needs to get closer; he needs to feel how soft and plush you are as he clings to your chubby form from his own anxiety.

Imagine you softly call out to him, voice sounding like both the sweetest lullaby to soothe his racing heart and mind and also just like home- like the sound he'd come come to with a nest full of little hatchlings and your warmth shared. It's that thought that spurs him into action, faster than you could reasonably expect. After all, the speed he can achieve gets to nearly the same as a traditional hummingbird.

He's higher in the air than you'd ever think he'd go, he shoots down, nearly towards you- no, definitely towards you, nearly at you the speed of which creates a loud chirp and you hear the sweet melody of whistles erupt from him as he's closer to you. As he hovers before you, dance still pumping adrenaline through him, he's more than proud of the awed expression you've been unable to shake. When you close your book and set it down to completely give him your full attention, he preens at your acceptance. You may not fully understand your own consent to his courtship, but the primal, feral instinct within him is more than satisfied with your open attraction and silent acceptance of him into your space- your life. He lingers by you for a moment and when he doesn't hide or fly away from you, it indicates he's comfortable enough with you. You smile and begin to speak.

Imagine you still keep your voice soft, welcoming for him. It's so, so sweet of you to care so much for him already- such a precious, soft, sweet mate you are already without hardly trying. You introduce yourself to him- you give him your name! As you do so, he flits around you with little twirls and swoops in his own excitement. Instinctually, you hold your hand out to shake. He grabs it instantaneously within his own soft, warm grasp. He holds your hand, enjoying how his hands are still just a smidge bigger than your own little, pudgy ones; even if it's barely noticeable to you, he can tell. You give the shared grasp a shake but he doesn't release you, instead he uses it to hover closer to you. (He's tempted to swoop into your outreached arm and cuddle into your side, he's strongly resisting that temptation. The mantra in his head is "not now, don't do it, not now...")

You smell like the flowers you plant, the earthiness of fresh watered soil, and there's a warmth beneath it all he can't place. It's enchanting, nearly hypnotizing. (Fuck, the other's are going to drool over your scent later when they get closer- maybe even over him if it's strong enough lingering on him after he meets you.) When he finally releases, he gives you his own name breathlessly with a giant blush upon his cheeks. His feathers puff up around him in his embarrassment before he dashes off towards the forest. As he does so, he pauses to look back at you every few yards. Instead of following you like he's silently urging and beckoning you to do, you smile, little puffy cheeks rounding adorably as you tell him "see you soon!" (fuck- his heart is going as fast as his wings and that cannot be healthy)

Imagine you start seeing Calypte more often. In fact, you start meeting him in your garden at least twice a week. After your first week, you begin to bring him fruit to eat, since you didn't quite think he drank from the hummingbird feeder like his look alike. The first time he ate the orange so ravenously for you that you never stopped. He knows that in nature, if he were true to his counterpart, he wouldn't be building the nest- you would. He knows in nature his counterparts instinct wouldn't be to linger after copulation, but he supposes that side of him is entirely the human part.

The need to preen and nest for you, the need to stay by your side, the need for you attention, for your care, for your love. That is surely, entirely his humanity. After all, hybrids are different from their animal inspiration. They're an interesting amalgamation of all the best parts of both. That's why they were created, why they were designed, right? Before the humanity and ethics caught up to it all, anyway. His parents acted very human after all, it just depended on genetics. However you.... you brought the humanity out of him. You bring the humanity out of him. It thrills him, makes him feel alive, and he can not get enough of it- of you.

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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hi ml, wondering if you’d be able to do poly!marauders x hyperactive!reader who rlly gets the zoomies sometimes (me honestly) and out of nowhere she’s just super energetic and is like “hey sorry i’m gonna run to the store quickly for some stuff” and comes back and she’s got things to bake/cook and they’re all in bewilderment like ??? what is happeneing rn

Thanks for requesting lovely!

poly!maraders x hyperactive!reader ♡ 603 words

“I’m bored,” you say abruptly, knee bouncing so fast it’s shaking the coffee table.

Sirius raises his eyebrows at the unfinished card game between you, him, and James. “Well, that’s a bit insulting.”

You shake your head rapidly. “Not you, sorry. I just…” You gnaw at your lip, and Sirius and James exchange a bemused look. Remus had cut you off from the coffee pot hours ago, but you look like you’re about to start vibrating. “I don’t know, I need something else to do.”

James looks at you consideringly. “Do you wanna start a movie?”

You shake your head again, and you’ve got a look on your face like you’re trying to see inside your own brain.

“We could put on some music,” Sirius suggests.

“No.” You frown. “I feel like I need to climb a tree, or learn how to do a back handspring, or something.” You look at him. “You know?”

Sirius can’t say he does.

“Maybe you just need to take a lap around the block,” Remus says idly, flipping the page in his novel.

You jump to your feet. “I’ve got it,” you announce, and head for the door.

“Wait,” James says quickly, “wait, sweetheart, Remus was just joking.”

Remus looks up from his book, vaguely alarmed. “Yeah, dove, don’t actually run around the block. It’s dark out.”

“I won’t.” You wave them off, grabbing your bag and rushing out the door. You stop a few steps from the threshold, look down at your feet, and come back, slipping on a pair of shoes. “Be back soon!” you call, and before anyone can protest further, you’ve shut the door behind you.

Sirius looks between his boyfriends. “What the fuck was that about?”

Remus shrugs, going back to his book. “Dunno. If she’s not back in twenty minutes, would one of you let me know? We should probably call the police.”

Thankfully for them (and the police), you are back within twenty minutes. You and three bags of groceries.

“Angel.” James stands as you speed into the kitchen, heaving the bags onto the counter. “What’s going on with you? What are you doing?”

“I’m baking cookies.”

“It’s nearly midnight,” Remus says, at the same time as Sirius asks, “What kind of cookies?”

James has perked up at the mention of desserts, too. “Not sure,” you answer with a shrug. “I couldn’t decide between chocolate chip, earl grey, and these peppermint-and-chocolate ones I saw online, so I got ingredients for each and I’m gonna try them all.”

“Dove,” Remus tries again, as James prances happily into the kitchen to help you set up, “it’s nearly midnight. How late are you planning to stay up to finish all that?”

“Also not sure.” You take out three big mixing bowls and begin measuring out flour for each of them. “The dough for the earl grey cookies needs to be refrigerated for a few hours, so I figure I can always freeze the rest if I don’t want to keep going after that.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows, watching as you and James flit about the kitchen like busy hummingbirds. “Should we try and stop them?” he asks Remus quietly.

“No.” Remus is frowning, and Sirius can tell that, behind a layer of weariness, his amber eyes are calculating. “She won’t be able to keep this level of energy up for long. She’ll conk out soon.”

Sirius grins, leaning up to press a kiss to the taller boy’s cheek. “Alright, sunshine,” he says, joining you and James in the kitchen. He hops up onto the counter. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 5 months ago

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You looked up from the cot you were changing the bedding on to see Daryl stepping into the clinic. Your brow furrowed. "Please don't tell me you're feeling sick too," you said.

He shook his head and you breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. That's good," you sighed. You continued frantically cleaning up the area around you and stuffed the dirty bedding into a nearby basket. You were about to go and retrieve clean sheets but Daryl was suddenly there holding them out to you. "Thanks," you murmured, grabbing them and getting back to work hurriedly.

He watched you flitting from task to task like a hummingbird. "How many is it so far?" he asked.

"Fifteen," you said, your face tightening. You pulled off your gloves and tossed them into the bin. "But it's only a matter of time before another walks in.

Daryl nodded grimly. He watched you pause for only a moment and you seemed to waver on your feet, passing a hand over your eyes. "Hey—why dun ya sit down. Ya look dead on your feet," he drawled.

You shook your head and glanced at the clock hanging high on the wall. "I don't have time. I need to check on Mr. and Mrs. Johnson again and sanitize more of the IV lines and containers and—"

Daryl gently grabbed your elbow and led you over to a chair. "Sit down. Ya ain't gonna be any good to anybody if ya run yerself into the ground. Have ya eaten anythin' today?"

You sank back into the chair and shook your head. As soon as you were off your feet, you noticed them aching. "No... the first wave came in at 4:30 this morning and—I don't think I've stopped since then."

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip. "Right... Sit here and dun move," he said firmly. "Drink some water. I'mma go fix ya somethin' to eat."

You made to stand up. "You don't have to do that. I can go to the pantry and—"

"Wasn't a question," he said gently but resolutely. "Ya gotta rest while ya can. I'll go grab some more people to help ya in here. Ya shouldn'ta been doin' this by yerself all day."

"I wasn't, but I sent Siddiq to get some rest," you said.

Daryl smiled and let out a dry laugh. "Course ya did. Anybody can sterilize and clean. I'll round some more people up and then I'll come back and help ya myself. And yer gonna eat."

You could see that there was no arguing and so you sank back down, letting the exhaustion settle over you heavily. "Okay. Thank you, Daryl. I mean it."

He nodded. "S'nothin'."

But it wasn't. You knew this was Daryl's way of telling you just how much he cared.

Prompt: "Have you eaten anything today?"

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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daddyricsdoll · 8 months ago

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So first of all congrats to your 1kkkk😭❤️

And so for the blurb Like maybe prompt

“Don’t make me pull over or I’ll fuck you till you can’t speak.” And “let me take your innocence” With Charles Leclerc

Would love ittt❤️

Oh thank youuuu!! And yes... I'm back?

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ

“Please mon amour.” Charles grunts, keeping a deadly grip on the steering wheel as he drives through the thin roads of Monaco.

“But Cha, I thought you wanted me to look pretty. Make them jealous, show me off.” I say so innocently, playing with the hem of my skin tight short dress.

“I-fuck, not now and not like that.” He focuses back on the road. Clenching his jaw and placing one of his hands on my thigh. Massaging my skin with warm hands but a contrast of his cold rings.

His gesture usually sweet but I knew his tight hold on me was for a different reason.

“I didn’t even wear any panties for you.” Muttering the words quietly and watching Charles as he bites his lip.

“Don’t make me pull over or I’ll fuck you till you can’t speak.” Charles spits out, eyes burning holes of lust into my body.

“What makes you think I don’t want that?” I grab ahold of his hand, dragging it further up my burning hot thigh. Forcing his thick fingers to go beneath the fabric of my dress and between my thighs.

“Fuck, why you being such a brat tonight?” Charles questions as he makes a sharp turn before pulling over. Still not enough time for me to answer, knowing all too well he didn’t expect one from me, but I had to ask myself that too. Maybe it’s the way those thick glasses perfectly sit atop his nose and make a tear drip down my leg. Or maybe his suit and how his veiny hands leave you wondering what’s underneath all that fabric. Is his touch as good as he looks? Is it as smooth as his voice or as rough as the short stubble on his flawless face.

“Don’t move.” He commands of me. Rushing out of his door to get to mine. Opening it quickly and letting the door slowly rise, gradually revealing the man behind it.

“Cha-”

“Mon amour, you know it’s so hard,” Charles places his hands on each of my cheeks to kiss my lips. Letting his arms drop to soon grab my hips and pull me out of his Ferrari.

“to not touch you when you do that.” Closing the door behind me and leaving no space between us like positive and negative forces.

“I do it for you Charles, it’s so hard to act like I don’t crave you.” I breathe against his neck, a charm of hummingbirds singing in my stomach as I fill my nose in his parfum.

“Oh mon amour… then let me take your innocence. Let me have you.”

Charles whispers, bringing his head in front of mine so we can see each other directly. It was as if he took the blue from the sky and placed it into his eyes, giving it a reason to be in hues of pink, orange and yellow.

“Always.” I answer in a whisper that’s barely audible. But it’s perfect for his ears, not needing another word to be said in advance to finally raising my dress. Bringing it to my stomach and giving Charles a perfect view of my truth.

My panties, nowhere to be seen. And my pussy, oh it was throbbing and dripping. I didn’t have to tell him I needed him, it was obvious from the expression on my face and the silent words my body revealed.

He caressed my lower abdomen with the tips of his fingers, teasing me and helping me gain composure for the touch I knew I’d get. Dragging them lower and lower until he was a mere nanometer from my folds. Eyes flicking back at me once more. And I open my legs further, a silent gesture to tell him to carry on.

Immediately making my lips part once Charles makes contact with my folds. Taking no time to find my entrance and pry against it. Gathering my slick and making it easier for him to start sliding one of his thick and long digits inside of me. His finger itself, already stretching my unmarked pussy.

“Please Cha.” I moan quietly, not asking for anything in particular but just more of his touch. Going insane as he starts thrusting in and out, eventually adding another finger and making it impossible for me to stay quiet. Deep and heavy breaths leaving my mouth, and little curses of his name. He pushes me further against the side of the car, making it seem as though he’s about to kiss me with the small distance between our faces. Instead curling his fingers and rubbing my clit with his calloused palm.

Allowing me to wallow into the feeling of his hand. Making my imagination seem pathetic. Even as I close my eyes I still see Charles. Trying to just focus on the sensation of his hand but his painfully beautiful face always needs attention. Forcing my hand to grab the back of his neck and close the gap between us. His soft lips fused against mine. Tasting sweeter than honey and more addicting than a drug. I couldn’t stop. Pulling his bottom lip between mine, sucking on it before Charles takes the dominance again. Biting my lip and making it more than impossible to part. Not even giving me the opportunity to moan from pleasure. But still somehow, Charles knew I was on the verge of my release. Arching my back and helplessly falling into Charles. Nearly crying as I came around his fingers.

His name leaving my swollen lips endlessly, just for me to finally gain clearer vision again and see Charles unbuttoning his pants with one hand. His other fingers that were recently inside of me, now being twirled by his tongue, between his silky lips.

“Amour,” I call him by my own nickname. “I can’t, you were so fucking good before, I can’t take more.”

“I know you can, and… I haven’t taken your innocence yet.” Charles states, just as he lowers pants and I grow all the lust I had before, even more. Opening my legs wider and seeming like a delirious woman who craves what she can ultimately have.

“Fuck, take it. Take it all.”

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pseudowho · 8 months ago

Text

Red

Nanami Kento, the infamous Curse User, is finally captured and sentenced to death after years on the run. The reader feels her grasp on morality quickly unravel, when her ex-boyfriend breaks down any inhibitions she thought she still had.

Warnings: 18+, smut, MDNI, Bad!Nanami, really a reprehensible man, rough sex, bondage, forced orgasm, multiple sessions, coercion, dubcon, tw: gaslighting, tw: abuse, reader is obsessed and hopelessly in love, and Nanami Kento takes full advantage of that.

*I absolutely do not endorse a relationship like this, and I must insist that anyone who reads this sees it as the red flag it is...ANYWAY...*

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You felt sick to your stomach.

"They caught him. Did you hear?"

You stumbled through the rain, barely composed, your heart in your mouth. Anxious desperation clawed up your spine, on your way to get the fix that you had been withdrawing from for so long.

"Yeah, Gojo got him, obviously. No, no, he's alive, for now."

Mud spattered up the backs of your legs, tripping through puddles, passing under rain-hush willows, Torii gates, and so many graves filled by his hand. His hands that you knew. His hands that knew you, so intimately, a body and soul so untouched by anyone else ever since and ever again.

"Nanami Kento. The Nanami Kento...scheduled for execution. Finally."

You reached corridors, a caretaker shouting in indignation as you tracked mud all over his freshly polished floorboards. You gained speed, running, ready for his face his hands his smell his eyes his body his heart and yours that was always his forever his still his--

"You shouldn't go in there." Your hand retracted so briefly over the handle of the door to the execution chambers. Feeling cold drip down your spine, not knowing if it was rainwater, sweat, or Gojo's voice behind you, you shivered. You felt him approach. A long hand on your shoulder; protective, apologetic, grieving.

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be this way. But you shouldn't go down there. He's...bad for you." You sniffed, straightening yourself, steeling against him. Gojo was so insignificant to you in this moment. "Are you keeping watch? Is there anyone else?" Gojo sighed, knowing better than to argue with you, feeling dread creep through him regardless. He leaned back on the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes downcast. You heard your own heartbeat, amplified hummingbird's wings. You heard the rain, cleansing on the leaves, but weighing you down with your sin. You felt the thread on your finger, trapped beneath that door and running down the stairs.

"No. No, it's just me. I...understand. Whatever you want to do, I...I understand." You felt the ghosts in this corridor. You felt the footsteps long since gone. You felt the shadows of the other half of Gojo's soul. Ah, yes, you thought, raindrops running down your cheeks, you would understand, of course.

"There will be a gap in the guard. At midnight. Just five minutes. Ten, if you're lucky." Gojo turned, facing down the corridor. You could smell the regret. The weight of his own failures haunted him. He sensed your fingers grip the handle, squeezing down, taking your life into your own hands.

He would give you this, what he had prevented you from taking five years ago. He would not see another whole broken into halves. He would not regret, for a moment now or for years to come. Behind him, your other hand, cold and damp, reached out and squeezed Gojo's. He felt the farewell upon your skin. "Thank you, Satoru. I love you." "I love you, too. Be good." You wracked with need, trembling down those spiraled steps. They took you so deeply underground, that you could feel the earthen chill of ages past upon your skin, and you welcomed the death and rebirth, shedding the life you had left at the surface.

You knew Nanami Kento would, inevitably, be your downfall. And yet...you had shared a room with death so many times, now, that you would not fear him reaching for your hand. You paused near the bottom of the stairs, soaked in the soft orange glow of ten thousand illuminated paper charms. You felt him. He beat you to it. "I can smell you." Your knees almost buckled; that voice. It ran through you, spitting hot oil in cold blood. You flurried down the rest of the steps with numb feet, rounding the corner. The breath rushed out of you, into him, and he smiled at you, so much wider than he used to, all canines and white.

Nanami Kento was bound to a small chair, barely enough to hold the sheer width of him. In this short (long too long so long) five years, he had grown from a man, to a beast, his shoulders hulking and mountainous, scars littered across his forearms and collarbones.

His white shirt was bloodstained-- mostly someone else's, you assumed, but some from Kento himself. Kento was scuffed, bruised, red at the corner of his lip. His parting remained, disheveled from his capture. His harness, the brown leather soft and aged, strained against his chest and shoulders. His blunt blade rested, leant against the wall in a dingy corner of the room.

The only thing holding back what you knew would be Kento's enormous, overwhelming power, were the ropes that restrained him. You fingered at the blade of the Cursed tool in your pocket. He was...ethereally beautiful. You felt the last vestiges of yourself pass to him, blissfully unaware he would take so much more from you yet. His smile grew, eyes full of searingly cold ice, sneering at you as tears built in your eyes.

"You're crying for me?" He cooed, soft and mocking, "Why is that? You made your choice, all those years ago." "You were the one who left." "You were the one who stayed," he growled, lurching forwards against his bonds, chest heaving and straining, snarling. Expecting you to step backwards, instead, he felt the sick satisfaction of you stepping closer instead-- drawn in by his gravity. "You didn't give me a choice, Kento," you begged, shameless, "You didn't come for me. I couldn't find you." Kento huffed, scoffing, twisting against his restraints. "Fuck off," he scorned, spitting a wad of blood to the floor, "I came for you. The night I found you in Gojo's bed, of all people." You frowned, remembering the night Kento snapped and executed two dozen colleagues in his offices, years after leaving Jujutsu High. Remembering the news reaching you third-hand, through whispers in the corridors, as you had headed to Jujutsu High to see if anyone had heard from him. Remembering Gojo's grim confirmation, how you had collapsed in his arms, carved in two. Remembering how he had taken you home with him, tucked you into his bed, where you slept fitfully, alcohol-soaked to numb the nightmares. Your stomach filled with ice water. "You were-- you were there?" You choked, tears spilling over, "At Gojo's? You were there?" "Tell me," Kento commanded, his lip curled, "how many hours it was, after you heard? How many hours before you let Gojo Satoru fuck you like some desperate little whore? How many hours it was before I found you in his bed." You shook your head, brutally injured by his venom, punctuating him with sobs and denial as his voice rose.

"Three? Four? So devastated, it took another man fucking his seed into you before you could get over the loss of your lover? And you have the fucking audacity to come in here and cry over me?" Kento strained forwards, teeth bared as he sniffed deeply, breathing out with a satisfied smirk, a laugh, deep and smoky. "Can't smell him on you now, though," he mocked, filthy and merciless, "I thought he liked pathetic little scraps like you, but I suppose one fuck was enough to tell him you belonged to someone else, just as much as he did."

Kento already knew, of course, that Satoru would not have taken you even once. Kento felt his cock swelling against his thigh with your anguished begging. "Is that what he told you? To make you leave?" Your head swam with the revelation that Kento had come back for you, the rage that Satoru had lied and sent Kento away. You shook your head, dropping to your knees before him; desperate for his approval, full of dreadful fear of rejection.

"Nobody else," you pressed, crawling forwards and squeezing his thighs with cold little hands as he scoffed again, looking away, "ever. Kento. Ever, ever, for years. There won't ever be--" Kento suppressed his smirk, reeling you in after you bit so willingly. He leaned down to you, his cock twitching at the memory of the last time you knelt between his legs, looking up at him with wide wet eyes. He allowed his breath to ghost over your neck, seeing your skin prickle. He softened his face, nectar and promise in his eyes. "...you and Gojo...you didn't...?" His voice was soft, gentle, hopeful. Your head shot up, fingers digging deeper into his thighs as your eyes brimmed over again, thrilled by his belief, his trust in you. His lips were so close to yours, that you felt his hot ashen breath upon your tongue, dragon's fire, those whiskey-soaked eyes flicking across your face. God, if I'd known it would be this easy, Kento thought, maliciously possessive, I'd have let you find me years ago. His cock twitched at the feel of your hands clawing his thighs. He imagined fucking you down into the bed while you clawed at him, struggling, gasping and crying.

"Never," you promised, chasing his face with yours, while Kento withdrew just enough to maintain a teasing closeness, "he lied. He lied to you." Kento's cock twitched again, thirsty for your desperation.

Kento smiled again, that beautiful, cloud-parting smile, and you preened into him. He hummed, leaning forwards so briefly to brush his nose against yours. Your breath left you in a shudder as his voice passed over your lips;

"That's good...good girl. I couldn't bear to think of anyone else's hands on my beautiful girlfriend."

You sunk into his sudden warmth, your hands stroking up his thighs, his hips, up his ribs and shoulders. He allowed you to embrace him like this, for just a moment. Prickling with fear, you felt the frost form over him once more. Kento sneered again.

"...she's gone though, I think. Rotting here, festering with the dregs of Jujutsu Society. Willing to live and die a pawn. Scum. Less than scum."

Kento sighed, withdrawing from you fully, his back against the chair, turning his head as you tried to cup his jaw in your hands. He shook you off, face twisted with disgust. He was thrilled to watch a part of you shrivel and recoil, before reaching out harder, begging in fractured whispers, clawing for dry land.

"You had your chance. You're too wet for my life. You couldn't do what I do, live how I live. You couldn't lie, cheat, extort, torture, murder. You're too soft." Kento's lip curled in disgust as you pressed yourself between his legs, begging, beseeching, "To think of all the cum I wasted by fucking it into you." He hoped you couldn't feel him, hard and throbbing against your belly.

"--anything you want-- I'll do anything you want-- please--"

"Please what?" Kento shot, shaking the ropes around him with thick, scarred arms, "I'll be dead before dawn. And I want some peace and quiet. You're nothing to me now."

A part of you died, shattered by his rejection. Clapping a hand over your mouth, your shivers threatening vomit, you sat back on the floor, pressing your face into your knees, sobbing and abandoned for a second time.

"It's a shame," Kento scorned, tutting, "we were beautiful, once. But I'd rather die than have you be my only fucking option."

Kento felt you break, and it was delicious.

You shook within, panicking at his imminent second abandonment...but you were more determined than ever to prove yourself to him. You would sell your soul. You would sell the lives of your fellow sorcerers. You would sell your dignity, your self-respect, your whole being. Having Kento in any form, even this cold-hearted killer, was better than the agony of his death, where you would surely die with him.

From your pocket, hands shaking, you withdrew a blade; a special grade cursed weapon, stolen, illicit. You reached around Kento, breathing deeply of the sweat, sandalwood and copper tang on his skin. You pressed the blade into the hands bound behind his chair. You turned, hesitated...and walked away.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You could not bear to return to your apartment. You had staggered past Gojo, reeling from Kento's biting rebuttal. You had wiled away the evening in some backwater ditch of a bar, sinking into spirits and self-loathing.

You waited to be found...by him, or by your colleagues, for execution as an accomplice to his escape. You didn't care anymore. You would die at his hands, or theirs, and cling onto that final shivering bliss of his bound body against yours. Even as a good man, he had always possessed you, more than you possessed yourself.

Walking to your door just after midnight, fumbling with the keys, you let yourself in, to spend a final night alone before your inevitable execution.

The alcohol numbed your senses, the darkness close around you. You did not feel his approach, this killer in the shadows.

All at once, you felt an enormous hand clasp over your mouth, and another pinning your wrists behind your back, tugging you backwards against a body, such an immovable chilly presence. A whisper, a tongue grazing against the side of your throat.

"I want you screaming...but not yet." You arched back into Kento's body, seeking a warmth he didn't have any more. The man you knew was long-since dead.

You felt his hand loosen, drifting slowly from your mouth, to your throat, squeezing just tightly enough to make your breath hitch, examining the length of your throat from the outside with a hum. You smelled the cigarettes and whiskey on his breath.

"I'm so proud of you," Kento purred, stepping you slowly through your apartment, pushing you towards your bedroom, "such a good girl...I knew you'd pass the test." Your heart swelled with his praise, but a lingering doubt soured the edges of your tongue.

"--how did you-- s'too early, Kento-- the guard--"

"Guard?" Kento laughed, booming with genuine mirth, "Some scrap of a boy in a beanie? Please. They'll find what's left of him in the morning."

"Oh--Ino--" you felt tears prickle on your lash line, your breath leaving you with a gasp as Kento tossed you face down on your bed. You tried to turn back to look at him, but felt his hand grip the back of your neck, shoving you roughly into the sheets. You shivered, fingers clenching as you heard the telltale clink of his belt undoing, the soft shhhk-shhhk-shhhk of Kento unthreading it from his waist.

"Oh, Ino!" Kento mocked, "Shut the fuck up, before I make you shut up," his voice pitched and ruthless. His face twisted as you trembled, noting smears of blood left by his hands on your wrists. You smelled the copper tang over his sweat and stale cologne. You knew you would never reject him, already wet with the promise of him coming back for you.

Kento softened momentarily, knowing he would struggle to fit inside you if you were scared and trembling. The faintest ghost of him wanted to pull you into his arms. The ice over his old soul knew he'd break if it cracked.

Kento crawled over you, his black trousers unzipped, cock straining against the tight fabric of his boxers. He clasped your hands, binding them with his tie to the head of the bed. You were so ready for him to take back what was his, that you didn't hear his next words, rumbling and gravelly on the back of your neck.".

"Keep still, and do as you're told. I'm sure you remember the old safe word...if I care to listen."

You felt your skirt forced up to bunch around your waist, heard a fabric rrriiip of your tights and underwear being shredded away from your core. Kento breathed heavily as he knelt above you, hooking his cock and heavy balls out, stroking himself with one thick hand as his fingers jabbed between your legs, sinking between your folds with little to no regard for your pleasure.

You jolted, squeaking against the sudden intrusion. Kento letting out another rich, smoky laugh as he sunk two thick fingers into your entrance.

"...ahhh, lovely. Can you warm my fingers up for me?" Kento laughed again, drawing out into a stilted growl as he jerked his cock eagerly to your tight wet walls around his digits. You panted into the sheets, Kento releasing his cock you squeeze your arse as he fucked you with his fingers, leaving bruising fingerprints before slapping the skin harshly, groaning as your fat jiggled, flushing with the abuse.

"-- better than some common whore...shit. Such a good girl...getting me out of there. Maybe I'll keep you around...just to fuck, my sweet little cocksleeve. Or are you better than that?"

"--anything, I'll be anything you want-- Kento-- please please take me with you please--" Pleasure burned in your belly as you heard the wet slaps of his hand, masturbating himself again to the sight of his fingers moulding you to the shape of him.

You filled with a burning need to be what he wanted you to be, so exhausted by life, so bitter and ready for someone else to take control. Kento did so, gladly, withdrawing his fingers to your disappointed groan. He slapped your backside again in punishment, once, twice, three times until you learned your lesson, biting your lip against your cries.

"You'll come on my cock, or not at all," he snapped at you, impatient, with his pre-cum dripping down your folds as his cock grazed at the entrance to your prone, bound body. He rammed his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to lick him clean, low voice husky with need at the feeling of your tongue swiping over him.

Pressing one hand down on the back of your neck, before raising it to yank sharply on your hair, Kento fucked into you without warning, pressing hard, to bottom out immediately. Your scream was choked, your neck hyperextended back at the insistent pull of your hair. Your body ached and strained against his use of you, and you revelled in it, in too deep to care about how wrong it was. You stung with the size of him, always big, and so much bigger without preparation.

"--haaaah fuck-- good girl...fuck you through it-- fuck you through it-- scream all you like-- been waiting for this for so long--" Kento crushed your body flush under his, so heavy that he forced the air out of you, making you lightheaded against the raw pleasure of his cock pounding into you without mercy, simply chasing his own orgasm.

Kento's skin electrified with the sinful joy of stealing pleasure from you, ripping his shirt and harness off over his head with a fractured growl. He gripped your bound hands, slipping a hand under you to squeeze your throat, his hips slapping into you with agonising bliss. He cursed and spat against the pleasure, demeaning you and praising you in equal measure.

Breathing hard and fast, Kento saw a bead of his sweat fall to the back of your neck, and leaned down to bite you there, hard, mounting you like an animal as he fucked you harder, faster. Your clit throbbed, untouched, but you lost yourself in the deep primal ecstasy coiling in your belly. You felt the telltale twitches of his thighs and abs against your legs and back, knowing from his frantic jagged moans that Kento was about to cum, before remembering--

"Ken--Kento--oooh--ooh, Ken," you cried, whimpering as his cock bullied against your cervix, "...'m not-- not on-- pull out Ken--"

Kento jerked and groaned, grinning that wide sharp-canined grin again, his laugh leaving him in ragged breaths as his balls drew up close, ready to spill; "--fuck...pull-out? Not a--haaah-- fucking chance, without the safe word, sweetheart." Kento fucked you faster, challenging you as your cock-addled brain clasped at straws, trying desperately to remember, fuck what was it--

Kento gasped, his orgasm starting to wash over him, "Too late," he jeered, and came with a broken hushed roar, rutting his cock inside you so his seed would spurt, coating you, thick and sticky, all over your deepest walls. Kento didn't give a shit that you hadn't come-- and neither did you, trembling and mewling as his length jerked thick heavy ropes inside you.

As Kento pulled out, breathing hard, pumping his length a few more times to spill his last drops of seed across your back, he huffed out a humourless laugh, running his hand back through his hair; "'Pull out'...you'll take what I give you, and be grateful." Kento scooped up some seed, dripping from your cunt, shoving it roughly back inside you.

"What fucking use are you," he spat, ramming his fingers in you until you sobbed, squirming around him, "if you can't even keep my cum inside you? Pathetic." Your breath hitched, tears spilling over at his brutal mockery. Seeing your tears, hearing the lump in your throat, Kento cooed at you, clasping your jaw in one thick hand.

"Oh darling...don't be sad...just be better." He slapped at your cheek a few times, too stinging to be tender, pressing a hot wet kiss just beneath your eye. He stood up, stretching, padding over towards the door.

"I need a drink." Kento mused aloud. You pulled yourself up the bed, still tightly bound, clamping your legs together to keep his cum inside and win his approval. You almost wept with the bitter ache in your shoulders and arms, how your pussy stung, how worthless he thought you were. You heard the clink of bottles and glass in the kitchen.

Kento returned, sitting in the chair at the end of your bed, naked, legs crossed, as he poured himself a full glass of whiskey. You could not see him, your face pressed into the pillow. You couldn't see the cold, impassive gaze upon your bound, shivering form. You couldn't see the way he idly played with his cock, slowly stroking life back into it as his cum glistened on your folds.

"Let's play a game," Kento proposed finally, as sleep began to creep across you, "and if you win, I'll take you with me. If you lose, I'll leave you here for the dogs." Kento took a long drink, draining his glass with a satisfied hum, his cock now half-erect against his thigh.

Your determination peaked again, so certain you could make things right, and make Kento love you like he used to. You were a void, yearning to be filled.

"Yes, I-- I can do it-- anything," you pressed, voice strong and bold now, eager to shed the shell he had left you in. Kento refilled his glass, almost to the brim, grinning wolfishly. He reached into your bedside drawer, tipping his head and raising his eyebrows at you with a smirk, withdrawing a vibrator, and a dildo.

"So confident," Kento teased, a shadow of the way he used to play with you when he was softer, more restrained. He couldn't deny the flicker of joy he had felt at the old you, briefly rearing her head.

Kento emptied his hands for long enough to flip you to your back, binding your arms to the bed again, ripping your shirt and bra open at the middle, exposing your breasts and belly. Kento grabbed your nipple roughly, yanking it until you squealed, slapping it hard with a gravelly chuckle.

"Don't spill my drink." Kento ordered, picking his glass up, placing it on your chest, between your breasts. You faltered, stock still, staring up at him, uncertain.

"...I-- what?" Kento's slim brown eyes burned down at you, teasing the dildo against your sloppy cunt, before ramming it into you. You instinctively moved to squirm away with a cry, understanding almost a moment too late, the meniscus of the whiskey kissing the lip of the glass. You stilled completely, shuddering at the cold rubber filling your cunt to the belly, squelching with Kento's cum.

Kento hissed between his teeth, face twisted with nasty glee. He looked so animated, so alive with this hedonistic torture, such a far cry from who he once was.

"Close," he taunted, leaning down to brush his lips over yours, pulling away as you moved to kiss him, satisfied to hear you swear under your breath as he denied you. Kento flipped the wand vibrator in his hand deftly, switching it on and clicking to max out the vibration.

"Don't...spill my drink." Kento repeated slowly, pressing the brutally vibrating wand directly against your clit.

You saw stars, your body moving to convulse reflexively, and you gritted your teeth, eyes fixed on the wobbling glass on your sternum. Your legs shook, the pleasure too harsh to be enjoyable, feeling yourself being unwillingly dragged towards a bone-wracking orgasm.

"Kento please-- please stop please please-- I can't do it I can't keep still I can't--" You babbled at Kento, tears streaming, certain he may not acknowledge your safe word even if you did squeeze it out. Only your desperation to win him back stopped you from even trying.

"Then die here." Kento shrugged, stroking himself again as he pressed the wand harder against your clit, thrilled to hear you scream in anguish. Your orgasm hit you with stunning force, harsh wracks of pleasure pounding through you as your body remained rigid. Still, the whiskey did not spill.

Your teeth gritted around your cries, and you met Kento's eyes with a ferocity that used to make him hard in seconds. His cock twitched in his hand in memory, pre-cum dripping down to wet his fingers. Baring his teeth in a snarl now, Kento knelt between your legs, grabbing the dildo and fucking it into you with harsh strokes, pressing harder with the punishing vibrations of the wand.

Your body was on fire, every part of you burning, from bruised bound wrists, to your feet, crackling with electric overstimulation. You cursed, spitting out tearful bile at Kento.

"--Kento-- stop it-- you fucking monster-- I hate you-- you fucking left me and I hate you so just stop it--"

Kento grinned, growling out as he continued his messy overstimulation of you; "There! There she is! That's my girl...make me proud!...shit, you're a mess. Don't spill it now." As another orgasm hit you, a primal hideous landslide, you screamed with your head thrown back, woefully unable to dissipate the pleasure through movement.

Suddenly full of unbridled rage, the years of grief and abandonment pouring out of you, you snapped, certain you wanted to hurt him as he had hurt you.

The glinting madness in Kento's eyes, the way his hand worked his rigid cock harder as he released his grasp on the dildo, now ramming it back into you with his knee...he wanted this. He wanted you pouring with spite. With rage. He wanted the venom and the hatred. He wanted the raw unbridled loyalty that you promised him through this humid obsession.

"--let me go-- KENTO. I'm warning you--"

Kento laughed, rich and earthy, as he gripped you by the throat, pinning you to the bed. Your body was exhausted, groaning, all bone-deep and guttural aches. By the time your third orgasm hit, you were floppy, the whiskey glass tilting on you just too sharply--

--before being snatched up by Kento, who drained it in one thirsty gulp. Pulling the sex toys out of you and tossing them aside, Kento moved to line his cock up with your entrance. Full of tearful anger, you kicked, hard, fighting back against him as he laughed, encouraging you-- "Fight me-- come on girl, COME ON--"

Kicking out again, spitting acid at Kento, berating him for leaving you, berating him for the twisted hatred you had endured alone for the miserable job you did, you cried, all bitter spite and loneliness. Kento caught your legs, forcing them open, pressing himself between them. He jabbed his cock between your folds as you squirmed, struggling up the bed, until Kento folded over you, grasping you by the back of the neck, and pulling you up for a searing kiss-- the first time you had tasted him in years.

Kento took advantage of your gasp, and invaded you with his tongue and cock, fucking sloppily between your legs, cursing into your mouth, until he met your entrance, slamming himself in to the hilt. Kento gripped you by the hips, thrusting into you while he slammed your pussy against him. He immediately set a feral pace, intent on claiming the last scraps of you, if he couldn't get you out of Jujutsu society alive. "--not gonna-- haaah-- let you die here-- fuck, good girl, good fucking girl, take it-- FIGHT ME--"

Every time you tried to buck and kick, and throw him out of you, Kento cupped your jaw, kissing you just like he used to, disarming you as you bit into his forearm planted beside your cheek. Kento kept up his punishing pace, reaching up to release the belt as he groaned into your throat, biting the delicate skin there. The briefest flicker of warmth passed over him, to feel your hands clutch at his chest, still trying weakly to push him off you. Kento reveled in your fight, your incessant struggling beneath him making his need to cum, to fill you again and make you his, urgent. You felt this in him, in his trembling arms and sloppy thrusts, all at once splitting you in two and completing you. Relenting, you allowed him to claim your mouth again, lips smooth and supple against yours, whiskey on his breath. Kento couldn't last any longer, and didn't want to; he finished with a broken rumble, all groans and whispered curses in your hair. Crushing you to the bed beneath his hulking body, you whimpered to feel his cock twitch and bound inside you, filling you again with sweet ache and seed. Kento rested on you, ignoring your gasping little breaths as you saw stars, buried beneath him. Swallowing away the lump in your throat, your mind swam with your fates; killed in battle or executed or on the run or hiding with filthy curse users or begging the higher-ups for mercy but all alone every one of them alone-- "...come with me." You blinked. Kento's back still heaved with exertion, his face buried in your neck. You felt a twinge, a prickle down your spine-- Cursed energy, approaching from a distance. "You have to decide...there's no time. I lie. I steal, and extort. I blackmail. I murder. I live in...in absolute luxury. You will never want for anything, while you're with me-- but you must be with me." You smiled. Another door had opened. Kento was the easiest decision you ever made.

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mssalo · 2 months ago

Text

Hummingbird - Part: II

11k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, dark!Joel, obsessive!Joel, manipulation (emotional and psychological), gaslighting, power imbalance, age gap (not specified), stalking, dubious consent, daddy kink, breeding kink, possessive behavior, noncon elements, oral (pussy eating), unprotected PIV, creampie, voyeurism, possessivel controlling dynamics, trauma exploitation, Joel using your vulnerabilities against you, power play, obsessive desires, Joel blurring lines between protection and ownership. Joel is a huge red flag and reader has major daddy issues. Enjoy!

long&intense

Here's Part I.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel’s days had settled into a new rhythm, one that orbited around you.

Every moment spent outside Jackson’s walls, on the lookout for threats, was consumed by a burning impatience to return. The dangers he once faced with such resolve now seemed trivial compared to the intense need he felt for you. His thoughts were constantly on you, wondering what you were doing while he was gone. He imagined your gentle smile as you taught the youngest children in the settlement.

His patrols, once a predictable routine, now felt like an unwelcome interruption—an unwanted separation from the focus of his obsession.

You.

And now, he was determined to make you love him.

When he wasn’t on patrol, Joel made excuses to cross paths with you. He’d drop by the schoolhouse under the pretense of checking on repairs or offer to carry supplies for you.

At first, you were taken aback by his attention—after all, the quiet, gruff man who led patrols through the wilderness outside Jackson wasn’t exactly known for being sociable. But your innocence worked in his favor. You didn’t question why he lingered a bit too long when you spoke or why his gaze followed you so intently whenever you were near.

“Mr. Miller,” you greeted him one afternoon, flashing that soft, sweet smile that stirred something dark in him. “Here again?”

“Just Joel,” he corrected, his voice low and rough as he leaned against the doorframe of the classroom. “Figured I’d check in. See if y’all needed anythin`.”

You laughed lightly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Always so helpful. I think we’re good today, but thank you.”

Joel’s eyes wandered to the children seated on the floor around you, their attention fixed on makeshift toys. He watched as one of the toddlers tugged at your dress, seeking your attention.

You were made for this. Made to be a mother.

He had seen you with them, crouched down, your voice soothing as you explained lessons or comforted tearful faces.

The way the children gathered around you, their trust unwavering, only heightened his primal urge. There was something about the way you nurtured and cared for them—the tender touch, the encouraging words—that stirred a desire in him beyond mere lust.

The sight of you, so gentle and attentive, sparked a deep, almost possessive longing in him. He imagined you with a child of your own. His child. The fantasy of you, swollen with his baby, your body soft and round, consumed him.

Joel pictured you in your small home, barefoot and glowing, your belly growing larger with each passing day.

The thought twisted something deep inside him, merging his desire with a possessiveness that bordered on madness.

You were too pure, too kind to grasp it, but Joel knew. You were meant for him—to bear his children, to belong to him in every sense.

His gaze darkened as he envisioned taking you right then and there. To bend you over one of the small desks, your soft curves pressed against the rough wood, his hands gripping your hips as he filled you—over and over.

The thought nearly overwhelmed him, the raw, primal urge almost too strong to control.

His hands flexed at his sides, clenching and unclenching as he fought for control. This wasn’t the time. Not yet. You weren’t ready. You still smiled at him with those innocent eyes, unaware of the dark hunger building inside him.

Joel wanted more than to claim you physically—he wanted to own every part of you. He wanted your mind, your heart, your body. He wanted you to be consumed by him the way he was by you.

He could wait. He’d be patient.

For now.

“Joel?” Your sweet voice cut through his haze, pulling him back to the present.

He blinked, realizing he had been staring. Your eyes met his, and you tilted your head slightly, concern touching your features. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, clearing his throat, his voice thick with a rough edge. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You smiled again, that same sweet, innocent smile that made his blood boil, completely unaware of the filthy thoughts running through his mind. You were so trusting. So naive.

Joel forced himself to return your smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“If you need anything,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “anything at all, you just let me know, alright?”

Your smile widened, and for a moment, his heart skipped a beat. “I will. Thank you, Joel.”

He nodded, turning to leave before his control slipped any further. As he walked away, he felt the weight of your gaze on his back, innocent and oblivious. He clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he stepped out into the cold air. His cock already throbbing again. His mind raced with plans, ideas forming and reforming. You were going to be his—he was going to make sure of it.

But first, he had to make you need him as much as he needed you.

· · ────────

In the weeks that followed, Joel's plan took shape with meticulous intent. Every interaction was calculated, every word carefully chosen to weave himself deeper into your life.

He began lingering outside the schoolhouse after his patrols, finding small tasks to do—fixing a loose door hinge, offering to carry supplies.

Always nearby. Always watching.

You began to smile at him more often, a soft glow in your eyes whenever he appeared.

Joel knew he was becoming a part of your routine, a constant presence you started to rely on without even realizing it.

The simple greetings, the quiet moments—each one brought you closer to him.

You started seeking him out.

You’d ask him for help with things around the house, questions about Jackson, and slowly, unknowingly, you let him into your world. Joel played the part of the dependable neighbor with ease, masking the deeper hunger that burned underneath.

It wasn’t just about being near you anymore. It was about making sure you needed him—emotionally, physically.

He wanted to become the one person you couldn’t live without.

One late afternoon, he found you sitting on the porch of your house, the sun casting a soft, golden light over everything. You had a worn notebook in your lap, absently humming a soft, familiar tune as you scribbled something down.

The sound was sweet, gentle, and it tugged at something deep inside Joel. He paused for a moment, just watching you, captivated by the way the melody seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace.

When you finally noticed him, your face lit up, and his chest tightened at the sight.

“Hey, Joel,” you greeted him with a soft smile, the tune fading into the quiet evening.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice rougher than usual as he approached, the wooden porch creaking under his weight when he sat down beside you. “What’re you workin’ on?”

You glanced down at your notebook, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Oh, just some lesson plans for the kids. Busy day.”

Joel’s gaze softened as he watched you.

The way the light caught the soft strands of your hair, the way you absentmindedly tapped your pencil on the edge of the notebook—everything about you was so gentle, so perfect.

His hand twitched at his side, aching to reach out and touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips.

Instead, he kept his voice steady, though the desire simmered just beneath the surface.

“You’re good with them. The kids, I mean.”

You smiled again, a little shyly this time, the compliment making you blush just slightly. “Thanks. I try.”

The way you smiled at him, the trust in your eyes—it was all he needed to know that his plan was working.

You were beginning to let your guard down, to lean into his presence. Every time you looked at him like that, so open and unaware, it drove Joel further into his obsession.

my pretty little hummingbird.

The melody of your earlier humming lingered in his mind as he sat next to you, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have you all to himself—to be the one to hear you hum as you moved about your shared home, maybe with a child cradled in your arms.

The image of you, round with his child, your body soft and full, made his heart pound, once again.

He wanted that. He wanted everything with you.

You had no idea just how deeply he wanted to be your everything, just like you were becoming his.

For now, he would keep playing the part of the protector, the one you could count on.

But it wouldn’t be long before he’d make sure you needed him just as much as he needed you.

He could already see the shift—the way you sought him out more, the way your eyes softened when they met his, how you were humming more often, especially when you were near him, like you were already growing comfortable in his presence.

You were slipping into his grasp, slowly but surely.

And soon, you’d realize just how much you needed him—how much you craved the protection and the stability he offered.

He watched as you turned back to your notebook, your lips parting slightly as you absentmindedly hummed again, lost in thought.

Joel clenched his fists at his sides, the desire to claim you in every possible way nearly overwhelming. But he could wait.

For now.

· · ────────

That same evening, as the two of you sat on the small, worn sofa in your living room, the air between you seemed heavier, more intimate.

Joel was sitting close, the warmth of his body radiating toward you as the low light from a nearby lamp flickered softly against the walls.

There was a strange comfort in his presence, a grounding sense that you hadn’t expected to feel. Yet there he was—always there.

You hadn’t planned to talk about it, not with Joel, not with anyone.

But something about the quiet of the evening, and the way he sat so close, made you feel safe enough to let it out.

You shifted, pulling your knees up onto the couch, hugging them slightly as you stared at the floor.

“My father… I don’t talk about him much,” you began, your voice low, almost a whisper.

Joel didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his fingers barely grazing your arm, his touch subtle, steady.

He was patient, waiting for you to open up.

“He was never really the same after my mom died. He was… distant, like he was there, but at the same time, he wasn’t. I kept trying to reach him, to get him to see me, to just… care.” You paused, the lump in your throat growing harder to swallow.

“But no matter what I did, no matter how hard I fought for his attention, for his approval, he just... pulled away more.”

Joel’s fingers tightened slightly around your arm, his silent way of telling you he was there, listening. Right?

“We survived together for a while, just the two of us, after everything fell apart. He wasn’t much of a father by then, more like… just someone I had to follow, to keep up with. I was always trying to prove myself to him, to show him I could handle it. But it was exhausting.”

Your voice broke for a moment, and you felt your breath catch in your chest.

Joel shifted closer, his arm resting behind you on the back of the sofa, offering you the comfort of his presence without a word.

“And then… he died,” you whispered, the pain of the memory washing over you like a wave.

“We were out there in the wilderness, trying to survive, just like always. He got hurt, and I tried—I tried so hard to save him, to keep him alive.

A silent tear slipped down your soft cheeks, "But, again, it wasn’t enough. I wasn't enough. He died, and then he really left me. For good.”

A shudder went through you as you recalled those final moments, the coldness of his absence washing over you again.

"He left me, Joel. After everything. I was so alone after that. Completely abandoned.”

You took a shaky breath, the weight of your confession settling between you. "The anniversary of his death is soon."

You could feel the weight of the silence between you, the raw emotion of the confession hanging in the air.

You hadn’t spoken those words aloud to anyone, not since it happened. The loneliness, the helplessness—it had all stayed locked away inside you for so long.

Joel’s grip on your hand tightened, his thumb stroking the back of it in slow, soothing circles.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to you on the couch until his thigh pressed firmly against yours. His other arm, warm and strong, wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you toward him with a gentle but insistent force.

“Come here, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with that unmistakable Southern drawl that had become so comforting.

Without thinking, you leaned into him, your head resting against his chest.

The solid weight of him, the quiet rise and fall of his breathing, made you feel grounded in a way that nothing else had. His fingers tangled in your hair, stroking lightly as he held you close.

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that,” Joel whispered, his lips brushing the top of your head.

“Your father… he should’ve seen how hard you fought for him. But he didn’t. He failed you.”

The words struck a chord deep inside, and you felt another tear slip down your cheek, quickly absorbed by Joel’s shirt as he held you tighter.

He made it sound so simple, so black and white, and in this moment, it was comforting to believe that maybe it really had been that way.

· · ────────

He’d watched you closely in the weeks that followed, noting your increasing need for support, how you seemed to lean on him more and more.

It was all part of his plan, a strategy to make you depend on him, to crave his presence in ways you hadn’t before.

He saw the cracks in your composure, the way your smiles were less frequent, and how your gaze held a kind of forlorn hope whenever he was near.

And then he began.

Joel had put his plan into motion, slowly pulling away over the past week—just enough to make you feel the cold sting of his absence.

The timing wasn’t random; the anniversary of your father’s death was looming, and he knew the weight of that grief would come crashing down on you.

It was the perfect moment.

He could see it already in your face, the way sadness mixed with confusion, the subtle flickers of desperation as you searched for his familiar presence.

You leaned on him more in those days leading up, seeking comfort, but now, with him gone, you were left alone again, the emptiness creeping in.

Joel understood what that feeling of abandonment could do—it would remind you of the ache of being left behind.

But this time, instead of pushing you away completely, it would draw you closer to him.

You’d start to wonder where he was, why he wasn’t there, and with each passing day, your need for him would grow stronger.

And that’s exactly what he wanted.

The power of it fueled something dark inside him, but Joel didn’t flinch from it. It wasn’t cruelty, he told himself.

It was necessity.

· · ────────

The night of the anniversary, he knew you’d be at your most vulnerable. The idea of you coming to him, desperate and broken, fed his twisted satisfaction.

And sure enough, as he watched you from his porch, he saw you approaching his house, your posture hunched and hesitant, your eyes red from crying.

You were exactly where he wanted you: fragile, yearning for comfort, and completely under his control.

When you knocked on his door, your voice barely more than a whisper, Joel paused deliberately, savoring the moment.

His face stayed cold for a beat longer, a flicker of something darker dancing behind his eyes.

He knew it was you—he had expected this.

The satisfaction of your inevitable need for him made his chest tighten, not with tenderness, but with a twisted sense of control.

His mind wandered briefly, picturing you on the other side of the door—fragile, vulnerable, and craving him in the way he wanted.

The image sent a rush through him, his hand flexing at his side before he reached for the doorknob.

Joel knew what you would look like, how you would be standing there with those wide, innocent eyes, pleading silently for comfort.

It was exactly where he wanted you.

As he turned the handle and slowly opened the door, his gaze traveled over you, drinking in every detail.

You were wearing one of those soft, simple dresses he loved—the kind that hugged your curves in just the right way, brushing against your thighs.

The fabric clung to your chest, outlining the subtle rise and fall of your breath.

Your hair, slightly tousled, framed your face, and the way the fading evening light touched your skin made you look even more delicate. Almost ethereal.

Joels eyes lingered on your body a little too long before he forced them back to your face, taking in the sadness in your eyes.

You were so beautiful like this—small, fragile, clearly aching for someone to hold you.

The thought of you being this broken, this dependent on him, sent a pulse of something darker through his veins and all his blood rushing to his cock.

He let a slow breath out through his nose, shifting his expression into something softer, more concerned.

But underneath that, there was a twisted thrill.

You didn’t even realize how much you needed him, how perfectly you were falling into the trap he had set.

"Hey," he said, voice low and calm, his gaze flicking up and down your body before settling back on your face. "You alright?"

But the way his eyes darkened just a fraction as they swept over you again hinted at more.

His need to consume you was barely hidden beneath the surface, masked only by the false tenderness he had learned to wear so well.

You hesitated, a mix of hurt and confusion on your face.

“I… I don’t understand,” you said, stepping over the threshold and into Joel’s home, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

“You’ve been so distant lately. I thought—” Your gaze flicked up to him, pleading for answers. “I thought we were closer than this.”

Joel closed the door behind you with a deliberate, measured movement.

His eyes followed your every action, noting the way you hesitated at the entryway, clearly unsettled.

The sight of you, standing there with your heart exposed, only intensified his dark satisfaction.

He could see the raw need in your eyes, the desperate hope that he might provide the comfort you were seeking.

“Come on, baby,” he said softly, his voice laced with a false warmth that barely masked his true intentions. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”

As you settled onto the couch, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap, Joel took a seat beside you, his proximity charged with a subtle tension.

His gaze remained steady, almost predatory, as he observed the way your defenses were weakening.

The dim light in the room cast a soft glow over you, highlighting the vulnerability in your features.

Joel’s eyes lingered on the curve of your profile, the way your shoulders seemed to slump in defeat.

For a moment, he stayed quiet, eyes flicking down to where your fingers fidgeted in the fabric of your dress.

Then, in a voice that was strangely soft, he broke the silence.

"I thought maybe..." He paused, his jaw tightening slightly as if weighing his words carefully. "I thought maybe you'd gotten too used to me."

His words caught you off guard, and your eyes shot up to meet his. "Too used to you?" you echoed, confusion evident in your tone.

Joel nodded slowly, his expression shifting to one of thoughtful hardness.

There was something in his eyes, a shadow of frustration mixed with a dark calculation.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “Maybe I’ve just been around too much. Maybe you’ve been handling things just fine on your own.”

His gaze was steady, almost penetrating, as he watched your reaction.

You could feel the weight of his words, a subtle threat hidden in the casual tone.

The idea that he might pull away, leave you to handle things alone again, seemed both daunting and unsettling.

“Joel, I didn’t mean—” you started to say, but he cut you off, leaning in closer.

His hand rested on your thigh, his touch a mix of warmth and intensity, grounding yet unsettling.

“I’ve been thinking,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “about how you’re managing. Maybe you don’t need me as much as I thought. Maybe it’s time I stepped back and let you handle things on your own. Alone.”

The way he spoke made you feel the absence of his presence even more acutely.

His hand on your thigh was a stark contrast to the coldness in his words, a reminder of what you could lose.

Joel’s gaze remained locked on yours, his expression a careful mix of concern and something darker.

Joel’s fingers traced a small, deliberate path on your thigh, each touch a reminder of his influence and control.

“Maybe it’s time I let you prove it. All on your own”

As his words sank in, a rush of fear and vulnerability overwhelmed you.

You felt a cold, biting loneliness creeping in.

The memory of being abandoned, left alone in a world that felt hostile and unforgiving, came rushing back.

“Please, don’t leave me alone,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “Not again. Not like this.”

The desperation in your voice was raw, a stark reminder of the pain from your past.

Joel’s expression softened ever so slightly, though the darkness still lingered in his eyes.

He watched as you struggled, the fear of abandonment triggering old wounds.

You could see the glint of something almost satisfied in his gaze, a cruel sort of pleasure at the way you were unraveling before him.

His hand on your thigh remained steady, a reminder of what you stood to lose if he followed through on his threat.

Joel leaned in, his voice a whisper of false reassurance. “I don’t want to see you suffer, baby. I just need to know you really want me here. That you need me.”

"You don’t know how much I need you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The words came out before you could stop them, a slip of your guard that Joel pounced on immediately.

He smiled, but there was nothing soft about it. "Yeah?"

His thumb, again, began to trace slow circles against your thigh, the touch deceptively gentle, though the look in his eyes was anything but.

"Because, baby, I’ve been needing you. More than you realize."

His voice dropped lower, and he shifted closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity.

"And I’ve been thinking... maybe you didn’t want me the same way. Maybe I pushed too hard, too fast."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off again, his hand moving from your thigh to cup your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"But I get it now," he murmured, his voice dark and possessive. "I see it. You need me just as much. You’re just afraid to admit it."

His words hung in the air, heavy and laced with meaning, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. Joel leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"You don’t have to be afraid," he whispered. "You don’t have to hide how much you want me."

His hand slid from your chin down to your shoulder, then lower, grazing the fabric of your dress in a way that made your breath hitch.

He was testing the boundaries, pushing them, seeing how far he could go before you pulled away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

"I just needed to know," Joel continued, his voice soft but insistent, "that you want me, too. That you’re as hungry for this as I am."

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Joel’s fingers trailed down your arm, intertwining with your own, holding them still.

His grip was firm, grounding, and yet there was that undercurrent of dominance there—the same unspoken claim he always made, like you were something precious and fragile, yet wholly his.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, though the apology didn’t feel entirely sincere. His voice was calm, soothing, but the darkness in his gaze remained.

"I didn’t mean to push you away. I just needed to make sure you wanted me like I want you."

His hand brushed over your cheek, the gesture tender, though you could sense the raw desire behind it.

"Tell me you want me, baby," he coaxed, his thumb stroking the side of your face. "Tell me I wasn’t wrong."

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, the intensity in his eyes almost too much to bear.

He was pulling you in, breaking down every last wall you had left, making you crave the very thing you’d been trying to deny.

"I need you," you breathed, the confession spilling from your lips before you could stop it.

Joel’s smile widened, that dark, twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

His grip on your hand tightened, his other hand slipping around your waist, pulling you closer.

"I knew it," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. "I knew you couldn’t resist."

Joel’s eyes darkened with a twisted satisfaction as he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against your arm with an intimacy that belied his words.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, but with a dark undercurrent. “I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

You shifted slightly, feeling a mix of relief and unease as you looked up at him. Joel’s gaze was intense, his expression one of smoldering desire masked by a veneer of concern.

He watched as your defenses crumbled, your need for comfort making you more vulnerable to his manipulations.

“Just let me be here for you,” he continued, his hand moving to your cheek, his touch almost tender but charged with a possessive edge.

“You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ll take care of you, baby. You just need to trust me.”

You nodded slowly, your resolve faltering as you leaned into his touch.

His words, though laced with a veneer of sympathy, were a seductive promise of control.

Joel could see the way you melted under his gaze, your need for him growing stronger with each passing moment.

He let his hand slide down your arm, his touch deliberately lingering as he coaxed you into his embrace.

“You’re safe here with me,” he whispered, his voice low and sultry.

“You don’t have to think about anything else. Just let me take care of you.”

You were too overwhelmed by your emotions to resist as he gently pulled you closer.

His hands roamed over your body with a possessive urgency, each touch calculated to deepen your dependence on him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve wanted this for so long. You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

The warmth of his breath, the intensity of his gaze, and the possessiveness in his touch combined to create a heady mix of pleasure and apprehension.

Joel’s manipulation was complete—he had broken down your defenses, making you crave his presence as desperately as he desired to control you.

As his hands explored your body, his touch became more insistent, his words a blend of comfort and dark desire.

“You want me, sweet girl, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

As Joel's words and touch sank in, you felt a wave of relief mingled with your desperation.

The fear of being abandoned, of losing the small comfort he provided, made you cling to him even more.

Despite the unsettling edge to his words, the fact that he was showing you kindness again brought a surge of gratitude.

You wanted to feel cared for, wanted to be held in a way that made you forget the fear of being left alone.

"Please, Joel," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "I want you."

Joel’s touch became a tangled mix of comfort and possessiveness.

He held you close, his hands roaming over your body with a growing insistence, reinforcing the notion that you were his and his alone.

His whispers and touches were a heady mixture of dark desire and a twisted form of affection, leaving you both comforted and caught in his web of manipulation.

Joel’s voice was low and soothing, yet carried an undercurrent of dominance.

“You’re just a girl who needs someone to look after her,” he said, each word dripping with arousal.

“Let me take care of everything for you. You don’t need to worry about a thing while you’re with me. Just relax and let me handle it all, baby. I’m here to make sure you’re okay.”

His touch was slow and deliberate, slowly tucking up your dress, his words designed to reinforce both his control and your vulnerability.

You shivered as his lips pressed against your skin, your mind clouded with a mix of longing and confusion.

Joel’s voice was soft, almost tender, but with an unmistakable edge.

“You’ve been so lost and vulnerable,” he murmured, drawing you closer.

“You need someone strong to guide you, to make you feel safe. Let me be that for you. You don’t have to handle any of this alone. Just let go and let me take care of you.”

His lips brushed against yours, soft and insistent.

"Let me be that for you, let me take care of everything. You don't have to do anything but trust me."

As his lips pressed firmly against yours, he deepened the kiss, each movement reinforcing his words, pulling you further into his control.

His tongue slid into your mouth, exploring and claiming you with a possessive fervor.

"You're so sweet," he murmured between kisses, his voice raw and heated.

"I've been waiting for this, needing to feel you like this." His hands roamed possessively over your body, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his desire unmistakable in every touch and caress.

Joel’s lips remained locked on yours, the kiss growing more urgent and desperate.

His hands wandered over your body, exploring with a mixture of hunger and tenderness.

One hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while the other slid down to your waist, pressing you firmly against him and his pulsing length.

His kisses were relentless, each one deeper and more insistent than the last.

He traced the contours of your lips with his tongue, his touch turning more possessive.

“You feel so perfect,” he whispered between heated kisses, his breath hot against your skin.

“I can’t get enough of you.” His fingers roamed over your body with increasing boldness, every touch stoking the fire between you.

Your body responded instinctively to his touch, even as your mind struggled to catch up.

Every caress, every lingering touch made you shiver, a mixture of confusion and pleasure rippling through you.

Your breathing quickened, each kiss and stroke sending waves of warmth through your veins.

Though you were unsure and your thoughts swirled with uncertainty, the sensation of his hands roaming over your skin felt undeniably good.

You leaned into his touch, your body betraying your confusion with a need that grew stronger with each passing second.

Your fingers clung to him, finding solace in the way he held you, even as a part of you grappled with the intensity of the moment.

You just want to finally feel safe again.

You clung to him, breath shaky and eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and need.

“Please,” you whispered urgently, voice breaking, “I need you to take care of me, to make me feel safe. I can’t do this alone anymore. I need you to be the one to make me feel good, to give me what I’m missing. I want you to be everything for me.”

Joel’s eyes darkened with a mix of lust and satisfaction. He pulled you closer, his voice a low, seductive murmur.

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for you to say that. You need me to take care of you, to make you feel safe? I’m going to give you everything you’ve been craving. You don’t have to worry about a thing anymore—just let me be the one to fulfill all your desires.”

His hand traced a heated path along your side, each touch designed to ignite your senses further.

“Yes, please” you whimpered into his mouth.

That’s all he wanted.

Joel’s touch became reverent, his hands exploring your body with a possessive hunger. His lips followed the path of his fingers, kissing every exposed inch of skin as he spoke with a fervent, dirty intensity.

“Fuckin‘ perfect, every part of you is just for me,” he whispered against your collarbone, his breath hot and tantalizing.

“I want to worship every curve, every soft spot. you’re so fuckin beautiful, and you need me to show you just how much. Let me savor you, baby—every touch, every kiss is for you. You’re mine now, and I’m going to make sure you feel that deep in your bones.”

Joels lips slowly traveled down your body.

His breath was warm and heavy against your skin as he knelt before you. His gaze was dark, filled with an unrestrained hunger as he whispered, his voice a sultry murmur.

“so sweet, so irresistible,” he said, his fingers grazing your inner thighs with a teasing touch.

“I’m going to show you just how much you need me. You’re like a little princess who needs to be worshipped, and I’m more than happy to oblige. Let me taste every part of you, baby. I want to make you feel so good, so full of pleasure, you’ll never want to leave my side.”

Joel's hands were deft as he slowly peeled away the rest of your dress, his touch both deliberate and reverent. His lips traced a path along your skin.

"Need someone to think for you, hm?" he murmured, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"To make every decision, every choice for you. You just need to surrender to me, let me take care of everything. I'll make sure you’re completely taken care of, baby. Just relax and let me handle everything."

His fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration, each movement fueling his deep, perverted desire to have you wholly in his control.

Joel carefully lifted you into his arms, carrying you toward his bed with a purposeful stride.

He lowered you gently onto the mattress, his hands lingering on your waist as he took in the sight of you in nothing but your underwear.

His breath was warm against your exposed skin as he settled beside you. "You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice a mix of tenderness and unspoken hunger.

"Just relax. I'm going to make sure you feel good."

His fingers traced lightly over your exposed skin, each touch both soothing and charged with a possessive intensity.

The sight of you, vulnerable and exposed, ignited a primal hunger deep within him.

Every curve of your body seemed to call out to him, each subtle movement you made only heightening his intense need.

The way you looked, soft and eager, made his pulse race with anticipation.

He imagined the many ways he could take control, shaping your need and dependence to match his desires.

The thought of making you entirely his, of fulfilling his fantasies and watching you respond to his every touch, filled him with a dark, thrilling excitement.

His cock, leaking and pulsing inside of his - now too tight - pants.

He couldn't help but notice the way his body reacted to you-how every time you were near, his pulse quickened, and that familiar ache stirred deep inside him.

It was unexpected, really. At his age, he thought those days were behind him, but being around you had changed everything.

His body responded to you in ways he hadn't felt in years, his cock hardening almost every time you so much as smiled in his direction.

It was like his body refused to let him forget just how much he wanted you-constantly reminding him, throbbing with need whenever you were close.

He lowered himself to the bed beside you, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice laced with both tenderness and an unspoken hunger.

“Just relax. I’m going to make sure you feel good.”

His lips brushed softly against your stomach, his kisses slow and deliberate, hinting at the path his hands and lips might take.

“Let me show you how much I care,” he whispered, his breath making your skin tingle with anticipation.

Joel's hands moved with deliberate patience, his touch growing more assured as he pressed your thighs to open.

"You don't have to think about a thing. Daddy's got you."

Your breath caught in your throat when the word left his lips—daddy. It hit you like a shock, a jolt of something both unfamiliar and undeniably magnetic.

You weren’t sure how to process it, weren’t even sure you should. But it stirred something deep inside, a part of you you hadn’t acknowledged in so long.

The air between you thickened, your heart racing as the room suddenly felt smaller, warmer.

You knew you should say something, stop this before it went further, but your body betrayed you, leaning into the heat of his touch, the promise in his voice.

The word echoed in your mind, twisting through your thoughts, confusing you with how natural, how right it sounded in his mouth.

You wanted to push him away, to ask what he thought he was doing, but you didn’t.

Instead, you stayed—silent, wide-eyed—because part of you wanted to hear him say it again.

Part of you wanted to be taken care of, to be small, vulnerable, safe in a way you hadn’t been since...

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you couldn’t deny how the word sent a rush of warmth through you, settling low in your pulsing cunt.

Joel's lips hovered just above your skin, each kiss trailing lower, igniting a soft, trembling need within you. You moaned.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire as his hands gripped your hips gently, holding you in place.

“Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

His mouth moved slowly, deliberately, his breath warm as he teased you, each moment making your body tense in anticipation.

“You’ve been needing this, haven’t you?” he murmured, “My poor baby“, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Needed daddy so bad, hm?”

He paused, his lips hovering dangerously close, his voice dropping lower.

He lowered himself with a deliberate slowness, his gaze locked onto you with a mix of fervent anticipation and adoration.

“Let me show you just how much I want to take care of you,” he whispered, his voice a husky murmur, slowly taking of your damp panties - leaning in close.

His prominent nose brushed teasingly against your pulsing clit, sending a shiver through your entire body.

Each delicate nudge felt almost like a promise, hinting at what was to come.

The sensation left you both confused and intrigued, your breath quickening as you struggled to process the mingling of shock and unexpected pleasure.

His tongue made a tentative, deliberate swipe against you, licking your pussy gently, sending a shiver up your spine.

The sudden warmth and wetness made you gasp, your body reacting instinctively to the unexpected sensation.

A mix of confusion and pleasure swirled within you as your breath hitched, your fingers gripping the sheets, trying to steady yourself amidst the overwhelming, unfamiliar pleasure.

Joel noticed your inexperience in every hesitant gasp and shiver. It only made his cock harden more in his Jeans.

Joel's focus remained intently on your little cunt, his every touch purposeful. He moved with deliberate slowness, savoring the reactions you elicited.

His tongue traced light, teasing patterns onto your twitching clit, his breaths warm and soft against your skin, making you shiver with every delicate touch.

His lips lingered on your most sensitive part, the sensation of a subtle, rhythmic suction, barely perceptible yet unmistakably suggestive, creating a wave of shivering anticipation through your whole body.

You, already, were so close to the edge; Joel could see it clearly.

Your breaths came in rapid, uneven gasps, and your body quivered in response to his touch. He noticed the way your muscles tensed and the subtle tremors that ran through you.

The urgency in your breaths and the way your legs slightly shook were unmistakable signals of your nearing climax.

He pulled back just enough to watch, relishing the heightened tension as your eyes fluttered open, a mix of frustration and anticipation evident on your face.

Joel’s voice was low and filled with a dark, seductive promise. “I can feel how close you are, baby,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“I want to feel you come undone, baby. I want to watch you lose control. Just give in and let Daddy take care of you.” His voice was a seductive whisper, every word designed to heighten your need, as his touch lingered, coaxing and teasing.

Slowly taking off his pants.

As Joel’s pants fell to his ankles, the sight that greeted you was both startling and mesmerizing. His leaking cock was noticeably larger than you had imagined, with a thickness that made your eyes widen in surprise.

The smooth, dark skin of his shaft was veined and visibly engorged, hinting at the intensity of his desire.

It was already leaking a glistening bead of pre-cum, which pooled at the tip and gave it an almost ominous sheen.

Joel's gaze never wavered from you, his eyes dark and filled with an unsettling mix of satisfaction and dominance.

“This is what you’ve done to me,” he said softly, his voice rough with need.

Cock jumping every time you looked down at him. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this way.”

You hesitated, a mixture of confusion and reluctance evident in your eyes. “I don’t know, Joel…”

He paused, his voice taking on a more commanding tone.

“If you don’t let go, baby, I might just have to leave you to figure it out on your own. You don’t want that, do you? Daddy’s here to take care of you, to make sure you’re okay. Trust me and let me help you.”

His words were wrapped in a mix of persuasion and a subtle edge of threat, aimed to coax you into surrendering.

You felt a flutter of apprehension mixed with a yearning need for his touch. His whisper, dripping with both authority and promise, coaxed you into a state of surrender.

“You don’t want me to leave, do you?” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Say it, baby. Tell me you want me to stay.”

Your breath hitched as you struggled with the rising tide of vulnerability. Scared of being left alone again.

With a soft, hesitant voice, you finally whispered, „I want you to stay.”

His eyes darkened with a mixture of satisfaction and hunger as he heard you utter those words.

He cupped your face gently, his fingers tracing along your jawline as he continued to whisper soothingly, “That’s a good girl. Let me take care of you. Just relax and let me handle everything.”

His touch, though tender, carried an unmistakable edge of possessiveness, making it clear that he was in control.

He gazed at you with a warm, tender smile, his eyes softening as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he murmured, his voice gentle and affectionate.

“Such a good girl for me. I’m so proud of you.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his tone filled with genuine adoration.

“You’re perfect, just the way you are. Let me take care of you.” His words were laced with a blend of endearment and possessiveness, wrapping you in a comforting cocoon of reassurance.

You felt a surge of warmth at his words, a mix of relief and comfort flooding through you.

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with vulnerability.

A shy smile tugged at your lips as you leaned into his touch, finding solace in his praise.

The reassurance of being called "pretty" and "good girl" felt like a soothing balm, calming the storm of confusion and fear within you.

In his presence, despite everything, you felt a strange, tentative peace.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing softly against yours.

The kiss began gentle and tender, filled with a careful exploration of emotions.

His touch was both reassuring and passionate, gradually deepening as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

The heat between you intensified, the kiss becoming more urgent and consuming. Every caress of his lips was a promise of intimacy, blending comfort with an insistent desire.

As the kiss deepened, his hands began to explore your body with a gentle, possessive touch.

His fingertips traced a slow, deliberate path down your sides, moving closer to your chest.

With a careful, almost teasing touch, he caressed the curve of your breast through the fabric of your bra, savoring the way your body responded to his every movement.

His voice was low and commanding, his breath hot against your skin.

"Let me see all of you," he murmured, his hands already starting to slide your remaining clothes off with a mix of urgency and reverence.

"| want to see you all laid bare, just for me."

His eyes burned with intensity as he eagerly worked to reveal more of your body, his touch lingering with every movement.

As the fabric slipped away and your bare breasts were revealed, his eyes darkened with a primal intensity.

He gazed at you hungrily, his breath catching as he took in the sight. His fingers roamed eagerly over your skin, their touch lingering and possessive.

"God, you're incredible," he groaned, his voice dripping with desire.

"|'ve wanted to see you like this for so long." His hands explored your breast with a ferocity that left no doubt about his hunger, his gaze fixed on you with an almost obsessive fixation.

He couldn’t help but revel in the sight of you, so exposed and vulnerable before him.

His hands roamed possessively over your breasts, fingers tracing the curves and contours with a reverent touch.

His lips finally descended, capturing one of your nipples in a gentle, teasing kiss.

He nuzzled and licked, savoring the softness and warmth, his tongue flickering with a hunger that made his intentions clear.

Each delicate brush of his lips and tongue was an unspoken promise of his complete adoration, his perverted fascination with every part of you laid bare.

As Joel's tongue traced over your nipples, he couldn't help but let his mind wander.

The sensation of your skin against his lips, your warmth radiating through him and your sweet moans only fueled his thoughts.

He imagined you carrying his child, his own mark on you in the most intimate way.

Each teasing lick and gentle suck was accompanied by the fantasy of you pregnant, fulfilling a desire that went far beyond the present moment.

His mind drifted to the idea of you nourishing him in the most intimate way, the anticipation of tasting your milk driving him wild.

His cock throbbed incessantly, each pulse a painful reminder of just how much he yearned for you.

The ache grew with each touch, each kiss, until it became a near-constant throbbing, demanding release.

The sensation was overwhelming, an almost unbearable pressure that seemed to grow with every inch of contact, his desire for you mounting with every second

Joel’s breath grew ragged as he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire.

He looked at you with a mix of need and intensity, his voice low and gravelly.

“Daddy needs to be inside you, sweet girl” he murmured.

He stared at you with a burning intensity, his voice a hushed whisper of urgency.

His movements were deliberate and filled with a raw desire that was impossible to ignore, his body pressing closer to yours with each passing moment, his breath hot and uneven against your skin.

You could feel the unmistakable pressure and heat of him as he positioned himself, at the opening of your tight pussy.

His eyes locked onto yours, a fierce determination in his gaze.

“I’ve waited for this moment,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

Silently your voice whispered out to him, “Daddy,”

The sound of your voice seemed to unlock something deep within him.

Joel groaned as he pressed deeper, feeling the way your body clenched tightly around him.

The stretch was almost too much, and you could feel just how thick he was as he slowly sank inside, inch by inch.

"God, you're so tight," he rasped, his voice thick with strain and something darker, almost possessive.

He paused, giving you a moment to adjust, his breathing heavy as he fought for control.

"You feel so perfect around me," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, the weight of him settling heavily against you. "Just relax, baby. Let me in."

As Joel pushed deeper, your body reacted to the overwhelming sensation—a mix of pleasure and a sharp, lingering ache.

Each inch of him brought a new wave of heat that burned through you, the stretch almost too much, yet somehow not enough.

You gasped, your body tensing under the pressure, unsure whether to pull away or draw him closer.

The pain ebbed with every slow movement, replaced by a growing warmth that made your pulse quicken.

“Easy,” Joel whispered, his voice thick and soothing, his lips grazing your neck.

“I know it’s a lot… but you’ll get used to it. Just let me take care of you. My sweet, pretty girl”

Your body responded instinctively, a wave of pleasure crashing over you with each deliberate thrust, making you feel completely and utterly exposed.

He pressed into you with a steady, deliberate force, each thrust deep and insistent.

The sensation of him moving inside you was both overwhelming and all-consuming, his control evident in every motion.

His thrusts were measured but powerful, pushing and pulling with an intensity that made each moment stretch, filling you completely.

The way he moved was both commanding and passionate, amplifying every sensation and hinting at his unrestrained desire.

Joel's sounds were raw and primal, each groan and sigh escaping him with a deep, guttural intensity.

His breaths came in short, ragged bursts, every exhale a mix of pleasure and need.

The way he grunted and muttered, his voice rough and strained, made it clear how much he craved and needed you.

His movements were urgent and powerful, driven by an almost feral desire that made him seem less controlled and more driven by pure, unfiltered instinct.

As he continued to move, he couldn't help but notice how perfectly you enveloped him.

Every shift and thrust seemed to be met with an almost intoxicating tightness, making each motion feel even more intense.

Joel's voice was rough, almost primal, as he spoke through gritted teeth.

"You're driving me crazy," he growled, the need in his voice palpable.

"I've been waiting for this, to have you just like this. You're so perfect, so tight...I want you to scream my name."

Each word was punctuated with a forceful thrust, his eyes dark with a perverted hunger.

"Tell me how much you need me, baby. Let daddy hear you."

You moaned softly, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and surrender. "I need you so badly. I want you to take care of me, to give me everything."

His grip on you tightened, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

"That's right. Tell me how much you crave me, how much you want me to make you feel good. I need to hear you beg for it."

Each thrust was deliberate, designed to push you to the edge of your limits, to make you feel every inch of his need.

He watched you intently, eager to hear every plea, every expression of your deep desire for him.

“Please,” you begged, your voice breaking with raw need. “Please, just—make me feel good. I need you so badly. I want you to take me completely.”

He thrust harder, a dark satisfaction in his eyes.

“Beg me. Tell me exactly what you want. How you want me to make you feel. I want to hear it.”

You whimpered, your body trembling under his relentless pace.

“I want you to touch me everywhere. Make me come so hard, I don’t know my own name. I need you inside me, every inch. Please, Daddy, don’t stop.”

His smirk widened, a cruel thrill in his voice.

“That’s it. Let me hear how much you need me. Tell me you’re mine.”

Your voice was a desperate, pleading whisper as you gasped, “Please, take over. I can’t think straight—just make me feel what I need.”

His eyes blazed with a primal hunger as he heard your desperate plea.

A low growl escaped him, filled with raw, unchecked desire.

"You want me to take over, baby?" he rasped, his voice thick with lust.

"'Il make you feel everything you need. Just give yourself to me completely."

His grip tightened, and his movements grew more urgent, driven by an insatiable need to dominate and fulfill your every desire.

His thrusts grew more insistent, every motion deliberate and filled with a primal urgency.

He pressed deeper, feeling the tightness of you enveloping him, each movement stirring an intense reaction within him.

His hands roamed over your body with an unrestrained hunger, lingering on your breasts as he traced their shape with a feverish touch.

He cupped them firmly, his fingers gently kneading and teasing, feeling your sensitive nipples.

He leaned closer, his voice dripping with possessiveness.

“You’re my perfect little girl, aren’t you? Let Daddy make sure you feel everything you’ve ever needed. I’ll take care of you in ways no man could ever do. No man ever did. “

Something about the way he said it - the promise, the claim - ignited something deep within you.

Your body responded to his words before your mind could catch up, and a wave of pleasure washed over you, muscles tightening around him as you trembled, overwhelmed by the release.

As Joel’s movements grew more insistent, his breathing quickened, the tension between you palpable.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch both commanding and tender.

Every thrust, every caress seemed to draw you both closer to the edge of an all-consuming release.

His eyes locked onto yours, dark with an intense, almost primal desire.

“Tell me you need me,” he rasped, his voice rough with the effort of holding back. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The pressure of his body against yours, the heat of his breath, and the intensity of his gaze all combined to overwhelm you.

You felt your own need rising, a reflection of his own desperate hunger.

“I need you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both emotion and desire. “I’m yours.”

Joel’s grip tightened on you, his control slipping as his own climax approached.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a dark satisfaction. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

His movements grew more urgent, his body pressing against yours with an almost unbearable intensity.

You could feel the unmistakable heat of his cock, deep inside. The rhythm of his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared the point of no return.

With a final, deep groan, Joel’s body tensed, and you felt the surge of his release, his warmth spreading inside you.

His hands held you tightly, his breathing ragged as he let out a low, satisfied sigh.

The moment was both primal and intimate, a profound culmination of the need that had driven you both.

As his movements gradually slowed, you could feel the lingering heat of his cum inside of you, a reminder of the intense connection you shared.

Joel’s voice, now soft and breathless, whispered against your ear. “I needed this… I needed you.” His hands continued their slow, lingering caress, as if unwilling to let go of the moment, of you.

You lay there, caught between the afterglow of your shared intensity and the deep, unspoken understanding of what you both had given

Joel turned to you, his gaze dark with an intensity that made you shiver.

His hand wandered, brushing lightly against your lips before sliding down to gently caress your breast, a possessive touch that left no room for misunderstanding.

You looked up at him, a mix of confusion and an unspoken need flickering in your eyes. “But what happens now?”

“You don’t have to worry about anything, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

“Tonight was all about showing you just how much you mean to me—and how much I need you.”

Joel’s fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, his touch both tender and insistent.

“It means you’re mine,” he said, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “And it means I’m here to take care of everything. You don’t need to think about a thing.”

You shivered as his thumb brushed over your nipple, the sensation sending a jolt through you. “I just want to feel like I belong somewhere.”

Joel’s smile was a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness.

“You belong with me. I’ll make sure you never feel empty again. We both have our voids, but together, we fill them.”

His fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration, making your breath catch with each gentle touch.

“You’re not just filling a space, baby. You’re giving me everything I need.”

You felt a strange blend of relief and anticipation. “I guess... I needed this too. I can just let go.”

Joel’s hand lingered on your breast, his grip firm yet reassuring.

“That’s right. You don’t have to think about anything else. Just be here with me, and let me take care of you. I want to see you happy, feel you close.”

The way he spoke, his voice thick with desire, made you feel a mix of comfort and excitement.

His touch was a constant reminder of the connection you now shared, both physical and emotional.

As you settled into his embrace, you felt a strange sense of completeness, knowing that, in this moment, you were filling the emptiness for each other in a way that was both intense and deeply satisfying. It’s all gonna be okay. Right?

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These two really need therapy! Hope y’all enjoyed x

Probably will only do oneshots & smut scenarios with these two fuckers- from now on.

Also, I had no beta, so if you see anything that needs correction, let me know!

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