#unwanted lust | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muntitled · 5 months ago

Text

Poor thing ♡

Jake Sim x Fem!Reader

Summary: sleepy gf ♡ horny bf

♡ Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Smut +18 (Minors DNI) dumbification dollification, Slight ddlg, Brief Daddy Kink, Somnophilia, which means dub/con, Breeding Kink, Domestic Kink, Corruption Kink, Unedited, Mentions of Bondage

This might be tmi but I got turned on writing this and that's probably because I didn't realise how much I love this man. It's so bad girl, pray for me

You'd spoken about kink since the peroration of your relationship. It had been something you'd both decided was very important.

Although Jake admits he only thought kink was a few whips and rope, you assured him it was indeed a whole other world.

“What about somno?,” you'd asked him, while you both sat lazily on the comfort of your living room floor, soaking in the idle 808 beats of some Metro Boomin track while you both had a notebook out in front of you.

Although Jake craved for nothing more than to close the large distance between the two of you while you jotted down your sexual boundaries, even if it was just a hand placed on your thigh, he stopped himself.

He knew that distance was necessary when discussing sexual do’s and don'ts.

There couldn't be any sort of touching involved while you both fleshed out and divulged what would and would not be allowed within the sexual confines of your relationship.

All this talk about sex, however, had regressed his adult brain back into adolescence and he nursed an annoying boner the more you spoke.

“What's that?” He asked with his head tilted unconsciously. All you could do was chuckle softly as you eyed your boyfriend sitting on the floor adjacent to you. Your legs were splayed out and running parallel to his but still evaded the possibility of touch. You did not only find it adorable to witness just how much your boyfriend was trying to behave for you, you also found it so incredibly attractive.

“C'mon,” you had said as you shyly spun your finger on the rim of your glass containing a mild coke zero (no intoxication when discussing boundaries. Another infuriating rule, Jake found). “I do not have to explain to you what somno is,”

Jake only shrugged as he eyed you from across the small room. His back leaning against the couch was tense as he said, “afraid you do, babe,”

It was the way he was looking at you, with his eyes carelessly conveying just how turned on he'd managed to get during this short time of abstinence.

Your eyes never leave him when you talk. Hoping to convey your own need as you said “You can google it, Jake.”

“I can,” he nodded almost immediately, “Course I can, but I don't want to.”

What he didn't say is that he much rather preferred it when you used your words to divulge your knowledge on every filthy little detail about a particular kink. It turned him on to know what slept inside your mind and it made him uncharacteristically unhinged with lust when such dirty words left an unusually dignified mouth.

Corruption Kink. You had given him that diagnosis sometime throughout the evening.

“Jake,” you shake your head again, feeling the heat seep into the worn fabric of Jake's old Tupac shirt. It was probably unwise to be dressed in nothing but his oversized graphic tee and you're only made aware of this dire mistake right now. “You know.”

“No, actually, I don't.” He breaches the rules. Fuck the rules. And he lets his hand reach to tentatively rub at your cute little toe before returning his hand to his notebook.

“Tell me what somno is-”

“Sleep play.” You eventually shoved the words out of your mouth like unwanted visitors.

The second they registered in Jake's head he was sitting just a little straighter.

“Jesus…” Is all he said as he downed the rest of the 100% orange juice which he had really wished was 60% straight fucking vodka.

“Y-Yeah, but we don't really have to go into this one. I could just write it down in the ‘not interested’ list and we can just move on-” at the sight of you bending your head to furiously scribble inside the notebook containing the safety guidelines of your sex life, Jake reached out once again until his hand was perfectly encapsulating your entire foot.

“Nah, hold on.” He said, with a hint of a smile and nothing but sheer intrigue swimming in his eyes, “don't get rid of it yet.” He said. “Let's talk about it.” The devil shrugged. “Give it a fair chance.”

And although the evening had ended with Jake ravishing you on the living room floor -you were folded in half as he ate you out with the fervour of a starved man- Jake Sim did not incorporate any of the kink you two had just spoken about into the act.

In fact, all of your sexual escapades have been fairly vanilla with added hints of praise and degradation here and there before this very night.

Let it be clear that Jake Sim did not expect sex on this particular Thursday evening.

He had been having a particularly cursed day with nothing at all going right for him except the prospect of seeing you after dance practice. The possibility of you cradling him against the plushness of your breasts while you sang to him with your fingers running through his hair kept him afloat until he let himself into your apartment by the end of the day.

“Yo? ‘anyone home?”

Instead of finding you tapping away at your laptop or consuming a starkly provocative HBO original, Jake found you asleep, in your room. Fairy lights on while the sound of crashing waves bled through your phone speaker.

Before he got horny, let the record reflect that Jake was perfectly content with climbing into bed with you and dozing off himself. But he couldn't help how his body responded to the softness of your curves pressing into his side the moment he lowered himself onto your bed and into your warm pink quilts. He should be closing his eyes, dozing off alongside you but the longer he stares at the miniscule details of your face, the more his stomach tightens and warms.

Perhaps, venturing into more sinister territory, Jake's eyes skate down to your slightly open mouth and then- down to your frame nestled under his armpit, where you lay in a foetal position with your stuffed animal held in an almost primal grip.

It is then that the first beginning of guilt seeps into his lower stomach, feeling that he doesn't really wish to dissect, especially given your very persuasive reassurances that “kink should never feel icky if it's consensual.”

And you gave him your consent.

Jake still remembers your slightly laboured breathing when you admitted to being turned on by the idea of somnophilia.

The smile on Jake's face as he bends down to nestle his face in your headwrap is placid, like calm still waters on a Sunday afternoon. Doing a very good job at hiding the tempest within.

You stir in your sleep and Jake swallows thickly. With his lips still pressed against your head, he stares into space with a vague look of worry and discontent. He knows, logically, that he should not feel bad for what he's about to do. It was only human, after all, to feel sexual desire for your partner. What did not feel normal, however, is how he managed to grow impossibly hard in his sweatpants, and all you've done was sleep, you poor thing.

This time when you shift again, it's to hike your leg up further along his torso, and unbeknownst to you, a broken moan seeps out of Jake's mouth because your leg is now brushing right up against his tense and hardened cock. Jake attempts to regulate his breathing through his nose (in and out, in and out) but his brain loses sight of how unethical this all is under the realisation of just how warm you are underneath him. The arm he had wrapped around your frame flexes as he brings his hand up to the curve of your voluptuous hips. It's then when he thinks about them… you having his kids, and suddenly, he's manoeuvring you even closer into his arms.

“Jakey? Baby, you home?”

Home.

It felt so domestic and it didn't help the heat seeping out of Jake's tense body.

Your groans perpetuate through the confines of the bedroom. You're slowly waking from one of those ghastly kinds of naps. The kind of nap that existed outside space and time and everything else in the known universe. The kind of nap that had you groggily opening your eyes crowded with crust as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

His voice is raspy as he whispers back, “I’m home, Bunny,” Everything in the universe begins to right itself when Jake presses a warm, slightly sloppy kiss to the top of your head and you can feel yourself coming to grips with your surroundings. A warm sigh leaves your mouth and you melt into the sensuality of Jake's second kiss which he displays across the side of your face, moving lower and lower and hiking up your leg still splayed over his lap.

Jake's eyes are closed, brows furrowed and his kiss is lingering. His lips never stray from your skin and you can feel your limp, half asleep body being pressed in further against his warmth. You're suddenly becoming all too aware of your core pressed against Jake's hips at this angle; you and your boyfriend's limbs are practically intertwined.

His warmth is all encompassing.

“Ja-What…” a sleepy little yawn squeaks out of your throat and you unconsciously bring a limp hand up to wipe away all the sleep.

Jake watches you with grave, grave admiration. The kind of feeling that squeezes at his heart and, perhaps more shamefully, his cock. “What time is it?”

“Not important, Bunny,” he kisses you again. Heaven's he was brimming with kisses for you. They felt like a lullaby, coaxing you back to bed. “Just go back to bed,”

Those particular words have you blinking up at your boyfriend who begins to come into focus under the hazy orange glow of the fairy lights. Your body stretches ever so slightly as you crane your head up to meet his half lidded eyes.

“What time is it-” you begin to answer again, but Jake stops you once again.

“You don't need to worry your pretty brain about stuff like that,” he nudges his chin towards you as if beckoning to play along with this scene he's orchestrated for the two of you. Despite feeling your heart strings tugging at the idea of playing along, you're still very much plagued by rationality.

“Jake- Baby, you have practice tomorrow. I don't think you can sleep over-”

“But pretty girls don't think,” he nestles his head into the crook of your shoulders and he squeezes. Once again, begging you to play along, “You never have to think when you have me.”

You could feel the better part of you being dragged into the safe, plush wonderland of your subspace, just from his words alone. When Jake doesn't get a response he pulls back to make eye contact with you once more, Sickeningly satisfied to see the fog beginning to fill your pupils.

“But, Jakey-” he has you. He knows he has you.

“You still sound so sleepy, Baby,” he whispers, and you're quite shocked to find yourself being lifted off the bed, “You want Jakey to help take the sleepiness away, don't you?”

Another kink you two had discussed ad nauseum but had failed to ever orchestrate in real time. It happened flawlessly between you both. A torrid yet natural dance. Ddlg, you called it.

Jake is still lying supine on the bed as he manoeuvres you to straddle his legs. Your hands anchor yourself by the rough skin of his torso through his pitch black shirt while his hands find home on your thigh, “I need you to help me out and then you won't be sleepy anymore, yeah?” The smile he gives you is enough to get any person to bend to his every will and so you find yourself nodding dumbly, with your eyes still half lidded, and a part of your brain experiencing a sleeplike calmness. “Jakey needs you to be good for him, okay?” You swallow thickly and yelp when Jake lifts his hips, subsequently lifting you as if you weighed nothing at all. His eyes are pained when he uncovers his hard, leaking dick from his sweatpants. You're not sure if it's the sleepiness still raining heavily on you but you're suddenly plagued by the need to enclose his cock in your hand.

So that's what you do

With your limbs operating on autopilot, your hand falls lazily over his cock while you tiredly rub your left eye with your other hand.

“F-Fuck, Bunny- What're you doing?” Jake looks up at you with wild, pained eyes and you peer down at him with a tilted head. Ever so clueless. Ever so beautiful, “I wanna help,” You whisper and his cock immediately twitches in your hand, “I wanna help,” You mumble as you lower your front against his, nuzzling into his neck while you sleepily begin to pump his cock.

Your chin hangs over his shoulder as your eyes flutter shut, all the while, Jake bites his bottom lip until he's on the verge of breaking skin.

“You're trying to off me, you know that?” Jake whispers into your ear as the warmth of your palm struggles to keep him thinking rationally. Unable to stop himself from lifting his hips slightly to grind against your hand, Jake hopes for more friction, more fucking pressure, but it never comes. Not when you've basically passed out on top of him.

“F-Fuck me,” Jake whispers as he lift his hands to lightlyoaw at your hips. “You're making me fucking insane, you know that?” Jake's voice is coated with singsong need as he shuffles you lower on his torso until your hips meet his. “You said this is okay, didn't you baby?” The only answer he gets in return is a few lightly snores as he lifts you up, having you hover djrectly over his aching cock, twitching to be inside you.

For a while Jake is perfectly content with humping lazily against your pyjama pants as you shuffle intermittently.

His hands rub over your back, feeling your chest pressed against his before drifting his hand down to the curve of your ass and the thin pyjama shorts hugging your hips.

He immediately decides he can't do it.

“Daddy needs to be inside you, Bunny.” Your breasts push against him as he reaches down to swipe your pyjama pants and your oantjes to the side, “Your hands and mouth…They just won't do, baby. I need to fuck you, d'you understand?” he asks with so much concern and so much consideration it would have your heart clenching in its cage if you were conscious.

Jake's breath is caught in his throat as the head of his cock prods at your tight opening. As he tries to guide his cock in, you shift a little over him, causing him to pat lovingly at your back, coaxing you to sleep as he forced his cock into your cunt. Instead of swallowing him like you usually did, your cunt is vehemently trying to push out the intrusion, which only succeeds in turning him on more.

Jake buries his head into the crook of your neck, sniffing in your scent as he pushes himself in despite the tight fit.

“You're gonna make me cum so quick, Princess,” he whispers into your hair.

You barely made it 10 pumps before your shuffling above him with your cunt was split into two.

He wanted to use you, he needed to make you his dumb, unresponsive toy and Jake shivers as a bead of precum streams down the side of his cock.

“You're doing so good for me,” his hips lift as his hand on your ass presses down, forcing you to meet his steadily growing thrusts“You don't wanna disappoint me, do you?” he asks your cute, sleeping form. As if in response to his words, your body subconsciously reacts and your cunt tightens around his cock, immediately sending Jake into a bitter delirium.

Soon, his head is thrown back into the pillows and both his hands are firmly on your ass as he begins to fuck up into you with less care. “F-Fuck Princess, I think I could cum like this,”

You're shuffling again. Threatening to wake up. It only has Jake fucking you harder, bringing him closer to the edge.

“F-Fuck-this fucking pussy-” You were being split in two. You on top of him somehow felt like he was going deeper than how he usually went. “Oh God, you're so warm, Bunny,” He exclaims, looking up at the ceiling with his own pained expression, completely and utterly trapped in his dom space as he begins to move you up and down on his cock.

Your limp body followed, unable to conjure up the strength of your own movements. He had all the control over all your movements, kinda like-

“Y-You're my toy, aren't you, Bunny?” Jake is so completely fargone as he watches your ass bounce with each of his rabid thrusts, completely uncaring over whether you're awake or not. “Fuck, you’re my fucking toy,” Jake's a blubbering mess and it only makes you wetter as you slowly blink open your eyes, in the very middle of one of your most prized fantasy’s. Your cunt squeezes around his cock. Your heart hammering in your chest. Your orgasm crests along with his.

You had never thought you'd ever know what a sleepy orgasm would feel like but somehow you knew it would ram through you with way too much intensity.

“You like me deep inside, yeah? You like being split open while you sleep, Bunny? Hm? You're so fucking perfect you know that? So fucking pretty- J need you to have my babies, yeah?” The more he talks, the more it's difficult to pretend to stay asleep. A groggy and tired moan slips out of your mouth while your arousal slips out of your leaking cunt. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? Us having babies.”

Jake's hips stutter against yours. His jaw is locked tight as you clench around him, “F-Fuck you would like that-” It is then that you're starkly aware of the hidden narcissism that this kink bred. Here he was, using you to get off with only himself as the audience. Jake was guiding himself to orgasm with his own dirty words as if he were God and somehow that thought succeeds in bringing you to orgasm.

“Oh God, Jake-”

“You need me to get you pregnant, don't you?” Your head nods almost unconsciously, without the permission of your rational brain and Jake speeds up his fucking into you, as orchestrating a new form of movement. He was always leading you, even when it came to his pleasure.

“Just like that, Bunny,” he always praised you without a second thought…

Jake is working himself to orgasm with short, shallow breaths. His hips lift to thrust into your dripping cunt and in his mind he's about to come to the fact that you really are his toy.

“Fuck, you're gonna make me cum,” he whispers into the side of your head, “Your leaky fucking pussy's going to make me cum, Bunny-”

His orgasm triggers another one of your own and both your legs spasm, locking around him as Jake releases his cum deep inside you. His hand clenched down on your hips, forcing you to take in every single drop until it's forcing itself out of your dripping cunt, trailing down your thigh. After riding the high of his orgasm, Jake looks bright eyed again, like he's gotten rid of something very dark and very oppressive until the sunny Jake Sim was back.

“So good,” he smiles down at you, “You always do so well for me”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake sim smut #jake x reader #jake smut #sim jake #sim jake smut #sim jake x reader #sim jake fanfic #jake sim fanfic #enhypen x black reader #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun smut

2K notes · View notes

mostly-void-partially-song · 1 year ago

Text

Something I love about Fizzarolli/Asmodeus is how clearly they serve to show the difference between wanted and unwanted sexiness.

They’re shameless and kinky and hopelessly in love and- importantly- that doesn’t mean either or both of them are up for anything!

From the jump Fizz has been clearly shown to be uncomfortable with the Fizzbot weirdos projecting onto him

and in this ep we actually see how much the parasocial sexual relationship with his fans causes them to over step and touch or talk to Fizz in ways that make him uncomfortable. This is in spite of him being loudly sexual and comfortable with being sexy onstage and publicly, but this ISNT in contradiction to that!

Asmodeus, Ruler of the Lust Ring, has strong feelings about consent! Consent is sexy and it’s not sex without consent.

It makes Mammon’s commodification of Fizzarolli and his sexuality all the more stark. 🤢

#helluva boss #fizzarolli #mammon #asmodeus #helluva boss fizzarolli #helluva boss mammon #helluva boss asmodeus

7K notes · View notes

erosiism · 3 months ago

Text

𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐘 | yan!priest x male!reader | nsfw

WARNINGS: extremely dubious consent, graphic and explicit smut. please do not read if you are not comfortable, or if you are triggered. In no way is this disgusting yandere behavior meant to be romanticised. This excerpt is taken from my fic on wattpad, twisted faith.

PAIRING: yandere!priest x male reader

SCENARIO: after one too many attempts of rebelling against him, the priest (anton) decides to punish you.

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

You knew. You knew the minute you were brought to Anton's home — you knew the minute you were washed and fed by several maids, and was brought right before the priest.

A sickening part of you knew.

You had always wondered when. When Anton's obvious desire for you would finally break, when the final straw would be until Anton would take you

And now you stood right before him, washed—your hair still a little damp—robed, trembling.

Shit. It was about to happen. It was about to happen. It was—

You didn't know what to do. You were utterly terrified, utterly helpless.

"To first cleanse your sins," Father Anton said quietly—his hands resting on your back, tracing circles, "you must purify the body." The motion was smooth, gentle, supposed to be comforting, but instead all you felt was an unwanted heat traveling up your spine, along with deep seated dread. Thick, sludgy dread.

This was part of the plan, you thought, swallowing. This is part of my plan.

Someone had already warned you, had they not? That with the priest, he was looking for something else with you. Something deeper. Something akin to lust, akin to desire.

"Yes, Father Anton..." you whispered. You wanted to close your eyes, but you feared the consequences that came with it. Instead, your own trembling (e/c) eyes were forced to stare at pools of liquid diamond—the color that belonged to the priest's eyes.

"You want this, don't you?" Anton purred, "you want this. You admitted it yourself. You needed purifying. And now I shall give it to you. Everything. I will purify your heart, your soul, your body..."

First, your shoulder. You found breaths shallow and quiet when Anton used one finger to slowly undo your clothes, starting from a simple slip of the shoulder, until your collar bone was exposed.

Exposed, for the priest to see.

You no longer felt like it was you. Your mind was growing hazy, your body was responding to Anton's touch in such a way that you were horrified by it. You could feel his own unwanted arousal slowly burning your insides, and before you knew it, you were pressed down onto the cool sheets of the bed, stripped of your clothes—Adam and Eve once roamed the Garden of Eden in their naked form freely, you recalled, before the serpent made them sin.

Was this what Anton meant? To return to the roots of mankind, before sin had existed?

It wasn't long before the priest started to undress himself, and you nearly wanted to kill yourself there and then when you saw just how—just how huge Anton was—because fuck, how the hell were you supposed to fit him inside?

You watched as Anton dipped his fingers in sweetly scented oil—perhaps even the liquid from a while back, in the confessions room—and coated it liberally on his own cock. The oil was costly, but perhaps, to Anton, there was no better purpose than to anoint one of heaven's own.

Fuck, you started to breathe heavily, feeling Anton's hands slowly grasping at your hips, his touch bruising, and lining his arousal up—you could feel it. Every inch of him.

Deep breaths. In and out...

"Ugh—" you let out a soft sound that was quickly muffled when you pressed your face down onto the pillow, ears burning with shame.

There was no greater pain and pleasure than this.

Anton pushed forward ruthlessly into your body. Anton did not stretch you out or give you advance warning. If the initial intrusion was painful, it was meant to be, as part of your penance.

"Cleansing," Anton purred, his voice sending shudders running down your spine, "punishment. This, my dear Y/n, is divine punishment."

Fuck, you teared up as you gripped the sheets, yes. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps this was an atonement of your sins, your crimes towards your own humanity. Perhaps you deserved this for spitting such cruel, careless words at your sister, for showing his weaknesses so blindly to your friend...

"Anton," you gasped out, the delicate flesh of your insides was battered and pried open by Anton's enormous girth, "I—I..."

Anton pressed into the hilt and then stopped, giving you time to adjust, and enjoying the trembling shudders of the bruised and violated muscles clenching around him.

"Give it all to me, turn everything over to the Lord and let me purge the sin from your flesh. Let me morph you; Y/n; let me purify you.”

"Slower," you begged him, tears starting to roll down your cheeks. You felt so utterly helpless—so pained, yet there was that deceitful pleasure crawling up in your insides, telling you this was what you wanted. This was what you asked for.

In a way, it was. In a viscerally twisted and distorted way...yes. You had planned this, did you not? You had orchestrated this plan to seduce the priest for your own survival, and you would fall down into the abyss with it.

There was no foreplay. Nothing. Nothing that could have told or prepared you of the pain that had shot up in your stomach—nothing that could have told you that you would be throbbing with pleasure, aching with sin. Your body felt filthy instead of pure, and the tears staining your face felt like they were burning. Anton kissed it all away—but that did nothing but to send feverish heat and silent hatred worming into your insides.

"Oh, Y/n," Anton cooed, his fingers trailing every inch of your skin, exploring every curve, every flat, "you were made for me. Made to be a vessel for me. You saved me, Y/n...you saved me."

Anton felt God would forgive the sin of his omission—after all, he was the closest being to godhood, and you were so beautiful and precious and pure. God's creation and the wonders of nature—from your mesmerising eyes, from how the arch of your back highlighted the delicate curve of your spine.

You made a strangled sound, biting back your moan that was about to slip past your lips. The pace remained brutal; relentless, and when you tried to grip on the sheets for some sort of stability to the madness, it failed.

"Confessing," Anton whispered, "is something you were never good at. But perhaps this gives you clarity. Perhaps this will help."

With suddenness, Anton stopped— instead, he pulled out, leaving your walls empty and clenching around for something. Just anything. Anton pressed one finger to the opening, almost like he was teasing you. Teasing you with inviting warmth, but not giving it to you. The priest was the one who reduced you to such a state, so how dare he? After stripping you of your innocence, claiming he would purify you…

You had never hated someone so much before. You hated him.

"C-Confess?" You managed to choke out, voice hoarse, "y-you want me to..."

Anton pressed the finger in deeper. More. You wanted more. It was not enough.

"Confess, yes." Anton tilted his head, his other hand pressed against your shoulder, the touch firm and gentle. It was strange how he seemed to treat you like you were so precious, like you were made of glass, but then his actions would contradict and you would feel the lower part of your body searing with deep, hot pain.

Blood. You could feel it trickle down your leg.

Anton waited until your breathless pants slowed and then spoke, "You may begin."

Your voice was thick with tears as you spoke, "Bless me father, for I have sinned."

The priest's hips began a slow and steady pace, pressing in deeply and then pulling out until the head of his cock caught on the thinly stretched rim. It kissed it slowly, slowly pushing until half way inside. You let out a strangled gasp, sobbing.

"Continue."

Oh, but how? You found it hard to find words scattered here and there, when your brain was a mush and you didn't even feel like you were you anymore. You weren’t yourself anymore—you weren’t innocent. Anton had ripped away any last remnants of sanity and purity that you had, claiming it for his own, marking you as a sinner.

Y/n...Y/n...who were you even, now? The feeling of derealization pierced your chest.

Anton's cock looked impossibly large as he pressed it against your gaping hole. It looked like it could split you open. You trembled from the stretch — you wanted more, in a horrible sense, and the only way you could get that was to atone. To confess all your sins to the greatest sinner in the world.

Your stunning (e/c) eyes went wet with tears, but it only made your submission sweeter and it only made the priest's cock throb harder as your body worked to accommodate him; flesh clinging and gripping deliciously as he pushed deeper with each second, but never quite hitting the end.

It was a tease, a long drawn punishment.

Anton's hot gaze dropped so he could watch your belly bulge each time he entered you fully. The evidence of his physical penetration into you— his innocent, innocent savior—only made the dark feelings in his stomach swirl, twist, knot.

"I'm sorry," you found yourself begging, "I'm sorry, Father Anton—I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have—"

I shouldn't have existed.

"I shouldn't have went outside the church walls," You sobbed, "I shouldn't have met anyone else, I shouldn't have—"

"Don't even say that." Anton's voice was serene yet so damned. "What else?"

"I shouldn't have murdered the man." You babbled on like your mind was shattered; broken beyond repair.

"I shouldn't have talked to her—"

You felt another sharp pain crawl up your spine when Anton rammed inside you. The priest's hands went to cover your mouth, stifling your moans that threatened to slip out.

"Ah, no," Anton whispered, his voice sultry and deep, "we can't have you making such noises, can we?"

"Just—just..." You felt the tears roll down your cheek, felt the way your chest heaved and your hips ached — all this felt too much; too overstimulated.

You released; arching your back and feeling your fingers grip on the sheets with reckless abandon. Your thoughts were pounding in your head and so was the slow, subsiding heat: what have I done? You thought with misery, with fuzziness and dazed eyes, what have I done?

Anton smiled and leaned forward.

"You have been purified."

The second time, it was because you had disobeyed him. You ran away — at least, you attempted to. But it had been foolish, and now you had to face the consequences of your actions. You willed your trembling form to straighten, choking down a sob.

“I’m sorry.”

"That's what I thought." Anton smiled in amusement. "Here I was praising you, darling," Anton tipped your chin up and you swallowed, fear started to flood within you. "But it seems that once again my trust in you has been misplaced."

"I'm sorry," you started to say—to beg—"don't put me back there. Don't!"

Fear rotted between your teeth and gave you that toothache feeling: the slow thudding of realization, the slow ache of cavities worming into your insides, staining your mouth. The sweetness had been too much. Too painful.

"I won't."

"...Then..."

What will you do?

"It's been long since you were purified."

Inwardly you shattered once again.

"Slow down," you gasped, feeling Anton's cock enter in, unrelenting, brutal, merciless—you dug your fingers into the expanse of his back, taking it down, causing a soft sigh to elicit from Anton. "Please," your voice took on a begging note. "Please."

Anton paused for a while. His fingers cupped your cheek, and his eyes were almost dazed with pleasure.. But they still held a certain maddening clarity that you were afraid of.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Anton tilted his head. You felt the cock inside you press further still, your walls squeezing it, your body welcoming it, with pleasure spilling in your gut. Unwanted pleasure. "You wanted this, darling. And so I give it to you."

How long had it been? The tears were running down your face but your body betrayed yourself. For there was your own answering arousal between your legs, the way your hips lifted and responded to Anton's fast, full thrusts, the way moans slipped off your mouth like nothing. You wiggled your body a little, squirming, trying to find a better position—but another ram into you, another buckle of your hips and a sharp cry—stopped you from being able to do so.

"Slower," you repeated once again— begging him, before Anton shoved his fingers down your throat, causing the yoo choke on your words. Saliva coated the priests's fingers but he did not seem to care. Kisses were planted on your bare form—the shoulders, the nose, the lips—Anton seemed satisfied, actually. More than that. Darkness was twisting in his eyes. Anton loved it—loved ravaging your, loved having sex with you. He pulled those fingers out and your mouth felt empty.

"You're doing such a good job," his voice was so gentle, so sweet—you could have cried. Yes, there was the constant pleasure in your body that Anton managed to induce—the kind of pleasure that made you yearn for more, the kind of pleasure that made you moan into the kisses that Anton provided, obscene and all, but oh, it betrayed your mind. "Continue on. You have barely managed to take me yet."

I'm disgusting, you wept, oh, someone save me. I'm so disgusted with myself.

"I can't," you panted, your fists gripping the sheets. "Anton...I really can't."

The only answer was a push that pressed you flush against the bed. Anton's fingers wrapped around your jaw slowly and turned your face to the side, peppering kisses on it. It was a soothing gesture—Anton was marvelous at what he did. He would torture you mentally, sexually, but treat you like porcelain physically, treating you with such tenderness and gentleness at times that you werebdazed by it. And it worked now.

"Good job, darling." Anton cooed, almost relishing in the soft moans that you were desperately trying to keep down your throat. You felt tears roll down your cheeks slowly, you felt the pain down there, swollen and overstimulated. You knew the sheets were stained with your earlier releases, and now would be what, the third? Fourth? Fifth? Anton was brutal in his pace.

How far had you fallen, already?

Behind Anton you could make out through your teary vision, a small cross. And now that cross taunted you. Watched you ws your purity was slipping away from you.

Tears rolled down your cheek, and you felt yourself slipping into darkness.

To feel anything would make you deranged.

After Anton had…purified you — you had scrubbed endlessly at your skin, hoping to remove any memory of him. But with that purification, also came a change of treatment. Anton grew gentler, kinder, and you grew more tired, more willing to be deceived.

Simply put, you didn’t know how to place your rage anymore: there was the rage that was simply rotten, incurable love—there was the rage which were all the tainted truths and desires—and then there was the rage that was like a unanswered prayer, rattling in your mind, ricocheting off the walls.

You had learnt a long time ago that your body betrayed your mind. That your mind betrayed your heart. You feared that you had grown to love Anton, in some sickening, undeniable way: but was that not inevitable? A human will crave fire, though deadly, in the light of cold. And in this case Anton had stripped you of everything you ever had, and now you were craving warmth.

And Anton. He was that very warmth. You wanted his embrace — you wanted it so desperately, the feeling of being loved, cared for, tender and sweet. After all, Anton had never hurt you before, did he? Everything earlier had been some sick farce, some disgusting aversion to all things good. But it was alright. You had learned your lesson.

You needed only Anton, and yet Anton seemed to withhold from sex, like he was dragging it on. You wanted it carnally, biblically. You could feel the sins and evil swarming under the layer of your skin. You wanted it. You wanted to be made pure again, you wanted that sin purged from your flesh. You wanted it eviscerated. You wanted it to be painful, almost.

But as luck had it, Your purification this time was not one of pain. Anton was always tender with you —but the purifications were always painful, rightfully so, as penance.

The sheets were soft and silky, as luxurious as you remembered. It was the same bed that you had laid in during your first time. Oh, how rebellious you had been. How unwilling. But now you are older, wiser. You knew to behave—you knew this was for your greater good.

You have made life miserable for yourself. Why did you bother trying to resist? It had taken coaxing—and you had been so delightfully and wonderfully patient with you. Anton had already been so sweet even when you had been feisty and sharp-tongued, but the priest treated you with honeyed, saccharine sweetness. See, Anton seemed to tell him. See, you should have obeyed me earlier. This way, no one would have died. You could have carved out your own ending.

And now Anton bit at your lip until you could only groan. Supple, strong hands removed whatever clothes you had on— you were kissed until you were lightheaded and breathless, until the only thought that remained was the priest. Anton, Anton, Anton—until those thoughts flooded your mind, strong and vicious.

The priest’s hands were warm as they trailed down your bare skin. You wanted to lean into the warmth: you wanted to tattoo it on your flesh, you wanted it imprinted, made permanent. You could have said that these desires were ignominious, even, humiliating, hideous. But you were no longer blind by the evil that had blinded you. This was good. This was good for you. You had utter faith in Anton.

Your feelings once had been raw and ambivalent. And now they carried on within you, strong, unwavering, comforting.

Anton pressed onto your chest, tapping at where your heart was. “This, Y/n,” Anton’s voice was heavy and commanding. “This belongs to me.”

You took a hitching breath, swallowing.

Anton moved to kiss your neck. “Only I can purge your sinful urges. And only I, my darling, can consecrate you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” you whispered, “yes, I do.”

Anton smiled. His gaze was heavy, like his words: shadowed, dark, dangerous. It was clouded with haziness, and his arousal was pressed against your thighs, his arms spreading your legs apart. You whimpered, but offered no protest. Your muscles shook from the stretch, but you remained obedient. Sweet, darling lamb. Yes. You would be a sweet, darling, obedient, loving lamb.

“You have been so good lately,” Anton purred, “and there are no more lies. You have changed—I was right, wasn’t I? Around you there was only a plethora of distractions. And now it’s just…” He pressed his forehead against yours. “You and I. You have morphed, Y/n, you have become perfect.”

Hell was a man’s own creation, so was heaven. And you were a piece of heaven that had been carved out for himself. You were his, fully his — you were no longer anyone else’s. His, his, his.

Anton pressed his fingers against the wetness of your hole, slowly slipping into it. You gave a startled pant: where was it? Where was the pain you were expecting? This was no penance, this was—

“See,” Anton said softly, pressing further until you gave another strangled sound, breathier this time, when his fingers brushed against your prostate. “See, Y/n? Your sins have been absolved. By submitting yourself to me, there is no pain. No penance.”

“Please,” you panted—the fingers were not enough. Where were you? You were still so impure, so dirtied— you wanted it.The pained ecstasy. The purification. The Anointment. “Why won’t…why won’t you give it to me?”

Anton tilted his head, smiling. “I thought you wanted this. I remember you begging me last time: to be gentler, to be tender. What’s wrong, Y/n?”

You could not even place it in words. Breathless moans left as your throat when Anton pressed deeper still: you swallowed, before you shook his head. “I…don’t…know,” was all you managed to choke out, “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” Anton murmured. “Very well,” he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “you are loose, Y/n—you are so loose. Were you thinking about me? Were you waiting anxiously for this? Did you want this?”

“Yes, Anton,” you managed out in between your breaths, quick and dirty. “Yes.”

Anton pulled his fingers out abruptly, and you were left trembling. Your eyes were watery, almost: your back arched, your fingers fisted around the sheets. You almost caught your breath before you felt the same feeling again: the feeling you wanted, of origination and sin and purification—You could feel the delicate flesh battered and pried open again. You gave a soft moan—Anton pressed to the hilt, and thrusted. You started to scream—but it was of pained ecstasy.

It was nowhere as painful as the first time. This time was more mellow. Anton’s touch was bruising against your hips, leaving behind imprints of blue and black. The thrust pinched everything from you, all your breaths and your thoughts and all that horrifying, twisted doubt—all those reservations.

Anton continued. That same feeling plunged all the way up to your gut—it crushed your prostate entirely. You felt yourself start to release guttural, muffled sounds: you tried to swallow back your sobs, unable to discern between the wretched desire and pleasure that kept pulling, yanking at you—and the pain. Anton was still certainly gentler than last time. And this time round, Anton had prepared you.

You screamed, your hands flying out to claw at Anton’s back. You could feel yourself nearing your first orgasm; so painful, so soon, and tears flowed freely down your fever red cheeks. Your hole stretched painfully around the girth of Anton’s cock—Anton continued this pace, but oh—he was so gentle with you.. It was almost like the priest was praising you.

Good job, Anton seemed to be telling you, with the kisses peppered on your face, with the gentle, supple tugs of your hair whenever you started to wobble—good job.

“You are doing so beautifully,” Anton cooed, “so, so well.”

You could barely think through the hazy pleasure. Anton set up a rhythm like this, Anton sliding out just right to see you clinging almost whorishly to his cock—then pressing, pushing, spreading you open with a force that made your throat raw from the obscene sounds you made. Anton’s voice was calm and soothing, low, almost menacing, a juxtaposition to the violence below. But it wasn’t his fault. Anton had wanted to be gentle, you had refused. You wanted the pain, it was your punishment. You would claw Anton’s back, Anton’s lips would capture your own with each cry you wanted to release. His kiss was always breathtaking—literally, in a sense that all coherent thoughts and all your breaths were ripped away from you; and then Anton would chew on your bottom lip, biting it, allowing a stream of crimson to bleed out.

“Anton,” you moaned out feverishly, “Anton.”

The priest continued to fuck you with a blind frenzy, eyes dark and hooded and the grip on your hips so tight—so that you wouldn’t dare to even crawl away. So that you wouldn’t even dream of it. So that you would remain pilant and soft and warm and obedient.

“I’m sorry,” you started to say, your words punctuated by sobs, “I’m sorry I was so…”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Punish me all you like. I deserved all of it. I deserved every single bit of it. Every inch. Everything. Everything Anton did—was it not what you were practically begging for? Anton had given you so many chances, but you had failed him each and every time.

“There is nothing to apologize for,” His voice was calm and soothing, not matching the violence below. “You have repented. And that, Y/n, is the most important.”

Anton pushed again—and this time the sound you made was almost inhuman: when you finally, finally—felt the warmth flooding into you, when you finally felt your insides being filled, your sin being washed away. And you were filled so completely, so much of it that some spilled from your hole, that you felt like you were choking on it. You released at the same time—the electrifying heat spread all the way to the tips of your fingers, enveloping you whole, leaving you dazed and weightless from the ecstasy of it.

Anton kissed your tears away, and his face was one of pride when he touched your forehead gently.

“Good job,” Anton whispered, his voice lilting and insidious. “Good job, Y/n.”

like and reblog if you enjoyed it. comment too!

#male reader insert #yandere x male reader #male reader #yandere male #x male reader #dark yandere #mlm smut #yaoi bl #bl smut #x bottom male reader #male reader smut #eroswrites

914 notes · View notes

defmaybe · 27 days ago

Text

Reticence

aespa x Male Reader

1.9k words

A/N: This blog is fully comprising of bfh at this point, thanks @friskyriskywhisky for the ask!

—

“Tsk, slut.”

Jimin looks down at your pliant body sitting on the sofa. With her are the other three women that were just on the stage, moved so fluidly—alluring to your eyes. And now, you’re in the dressing room, surrounded by them—all sweaty and panting. Every curve and contour of their bodies is shining.

“You think you could just fuck Seungwan for her to brag that to us and still show up at this concert?” Yizhuo asks with her face leaving a little distance from yours. Her voice laces with anger… and something else.

“I–I–”

“Oh, fuck off with this victim card. I know you loved calling a thirty-year-old woman mommy, didn’t you?” Yizhuo continues her interrogation. Your hands grip the fabric of the couch tighter.

“‘Oh, mommy, you’re so tight’, ‘I love your abs, mommy’”

You try to object, “B–But–”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not done with ya,” Yizhuo shouts. “Or, or, ‘You moan like an angel, mommy’.”

You’re flabbergasted as to why Seungwan could remember that encounter in such detail. And why are these four women so in rage at your seemingly inconsequential actions?

“Wh–Why, me?” You point to yourself, face showing as much curiosity as possible to them. Maybe they’ll let you go if you can feign disinterest.

“Because you have a good cock, baby boy,” Aeri replies, as she strides towards your litheness. “And we want our share of it.”

She plants herself on your lap, feeling that unwanted erection. “God, baby boy, you’re so, so hard already,” she whispers.

“A–Aeri, what are you–”

“Shhh, tell me, baby–” she grinds her supple rear on your pants, and you’re doing your best to not let a moan out. “–do you want mommies to take care of you?”

You are lost in the sea of answers, unable to find any satisfying words for them. “I–I–”

“O–Or do we have to fuck an answer out of you, huh?” Minjeong chimes in, trying to keep her resolve, but vulnerability shines through that façade.

“Alright, fuck it. I’ll fuck an answer out of him. Get off his lap, Aeri,” Jimin commands, unbuckling her belt.

Aeri groans, but she complies with her leader’s command. The feeling of her luscious thighs leaves your lap, robbing you the sense of comfort you felt, leaving you unsated.

Karina

“J–Jimin?” you stutter.

Jimin then puts a finger on your lips. “Hey, it’s mommy, understand?”

You sheepishly nod. It’s like you’d pass on a chance right now.

��Now, be my little good boy, and sit still for me, alright, slut?”

You sheepishly nod. It’s like you’d pass on a chance right now.

“Good boy,” Jimin says, before kneeling down and languidly peeling your lower garments off. Your cock springs out in excitement.

“Ngnh, mommy,” you groan, unable to bear the weight of your lust.

“I know, I know. Just wait, alright?”

“Ngh.”

She leaves you with your shirt on, softly putting your pants and boxers beside you. And she undoes her tight-fitting shorts and her panties in a single motion, revealing her unshaved cunt just for you.

“M–Mommy, I–I–”

“I’ll fuck you now, okay?” she asks, getting on top of you, ready for the ride of your life.

You nod.

Jimin welcomes you with an otherworldly tightness. The walls squeeze the life out of you. You can’t think of anything but her sweet, sweet cunt. Every path in your mind leads to her.

“Wouldn’t be complete without these tits, would it?” she toys with you, hips rocking on your raging cock faster.

“Please, mommy,” you plead.

“Sure thing, baby boy,” she replies, as her fingers grab the hem of her tight-fitting, revealing top, and pull them up. Her voluptuous mounds slowly spill out of the fabric cage. Her brown nipples are sitting in glory, erect, excited, all for you.

Without a word, you latch your lips onto the eager nubs, eliciting moans and whimpers from her.

“Yes, yes, just like that, baby boy,” Jimin screams at your touch.

The taste of her sweat lingers on your dirty tongue—salty. Her breasts feel angelic, the softness resting on your mouth. You make sure to give them equal ministrations to keep her satisfied with her baby boy. And she mewls back—a signal that you’re doing it right.

Slowly, her body writhes—a sign of the impending doom. Her motion becomes more rapid, lost in the promise of ecstasy.

“Ngh, ngh, I’m gonna cum, baby boy.”

“Please cum on me, mommy. Give me your squirt, please.”

And your desperate plea seems to do wonders for her.

“Ah, fuck!”

Her whole body tenses on yours. Torrents of juice flow onto your lap—warm. Your mouth latches onto her divine breasts. She moans and squirm on you. It’s enrapturing, really. And with the sight, your orgasm becomes close.

“C–Can I cum inside you, mommy?”

“Ah, y–yes, baby boy. I–I don’t mind,” she moans through her high.

And you let go.

Giselle

“We should’ve done a Drawing Lots for this,” Aeri sneers, before striding towards you. “You draw all of his cum out.”

Jimin chuckles.

“Aeri, y–you don’t h–have to–”

She seals your lips with a torrid kiss, invading your exhausted mouth so easily. She moans into that slut mouth of yours, and her hands find where Karina failed to—your ass. She squeezes them, knead that supple rear of yours. Until she pulls back. And you’re in her embrace, protected, yet still used.

“M–Mommy.” Your mouth is still trying to close the distance between you two.

“Good boy.” And she strokes your hair, each brimmed with an undeniable care. “Now let me ride you, okay? I promise I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“Y–Yes, mommy.”

“Oh, and–” she slides her dampened purple panties down, before bringing it close to your mouth. The scent of her sweat, her essence, they’re all there. “–put this in your mouth, please.”

You are too happy to oblige, opening your mouth to take in the taste and scent of her core just immediately. You feel the texture of the fabric. God, her aroma just gets you up and running again.

“Good boy,” she says, before straddling your legs in the same fashion as Jimin did. She’s riding you just like her.

“F–Fuck me please, mommy,” you plead with the garment in your mouth.

She sinks down your useless dick with gentleness. She goes slowly, making your pain more tolerable.

“Hhngn, mommy~”

“Good boy, good boy,” she says. Her rhythm grows more impatient to make you cum again. And in mere seconds, you feel it, that aftershock. It runs through your body. It seeps everywhere.

“M–Mommy, I–I’m gonna cum,” you state.

“Oh, baby boy, not so soon~ I’m just starting to have fun with you.” Aeri giggles.

“I–I’m sorry, mommy, but I really have to, ngh.”

Aeri is still giggling.

“Fine, baby boy. But remember–” she leans closer to your ear. “–I’m the best.”

Winter

“G–Girls, do I really h–have to do this?” Minjeong stammers. Her fingers are toying with the hem of her tight shorts.

“It’s up to you, Minjeong,” Jimin responds, bringing her hands to rest on the edge of the sofa. “We’re doing this for fun, after all.”

“Hmm… eh, not much to lose, anyway,” Minjeong says, shrugging, and she takes her shorts off promptly, uncovering her black panties underneath.

“Minjeong, come on. Do you really–”

“Yes, baby boy, I’m fucking that cock!”

“That’s the spirit, Minjeong,” Jimin adds.

Minjeong pushes her panties down, revealing another bare, unshaved cunt you’re taking for the night. She looks mouthwatering, but that’s not going into your mouth tonight.

“Minjeong, please, I’m–”

“Sh–Shut up, slut.”

She strides towards you, hands shaking as she does.

“M–Mom–”

“Nuh uh, b–baby boy. Get ready again.”

“Yeah, like that, Minjeong!” Yizhuo cheers, her hands up in the air.

She closes her distance until only a hot breath separates you two.

And she plants her lips on yours. Her tongue slots into your mouth smoothly. You feel her wet, berry-flavored lips. Her hands roam on your tight body, feeling your sweaty abdomen.

“Damn,” Jimin says.

Within the deep kiss, she impales herself down your used cock, sending another wave of indescribable pain through your body.

“Hngh, mommy!” you scream.

“J–Just stay quiet, baby.” And Minjeong starts her tango. She moves up and down so smoothly on your dick, all while snatching another kiss away from you, piercing your whore mouth.

Her cunt is so damn tight. Every centimeter of her walls hugs you with dexterity, grazing every vein and every ridge masterfully. And you can feel your cum leaking out yet again, after Jimin and Aeri fucked that useless cock out.

“M–Mommy, I–I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“Hey, i–it’s okay, baby, you don’t have to–ah!”

Ningning

“Fucking finally~” Yizhuo sings, getting up from her chair, as your groans fill the room, eliciting giggles from the other three women.

“Give us a show, Yizhuo!” Jimin says. “Make him pass out!”

Dread passes through you. You can’t anymore, you can’t do this, fuck.

“P–P–Please, Yi–”

And a slap lands on your cheek. That shit stings.

“Ugh, god, how many times do we have to tell you that mommy is the only acceptable term!” she says with an incomparable annoyance.

You can only whimper.

“I gotta fuck some sense into this slut, don’t I?” Yizhuo rhetorically asks the laughing Jimin, and that only sends her into a bigger laughter.

Yizhuo snatches her performance shorts and takes them off, revealing her pale, meaty thighs. “M–Mommy, p–please.”

“Shut up, slut, if you’re going to pass out, I don’t fucking care.”

“Ngh.”

“Now, let me–” she pushes her panties aside, trying to give her cunt easy access for you. “–get this shit off.”

You watch in awe—this fiery, raging woman trying to get her pussy fucked by your useless cock. Again, by a miracle, your length twitches in excitement, despite having its essence squeezed out for three times in a mere twenty minutes.

“Ready, bitch boy?” she playfully asks.

Her muscular legs straddle yours, and without a warning, she sinks down.

Her cunt feels utterly indescribable. You moan as loudly as imaginable, from the sensitivity of your dick and the tightness of her walls. “Ah!”

“Yes, yes, yes, stretch me out like that, boy toy,” Yizhuo says as she slams down your length. Her movement is aggressive, determined to milk your cock dry. “God, you aren’t so useless after all.”

“Nghhn, m–mommy, can I suck your tits?” you ask.

Yizhuo bursts out a laugh. “Sure, slut.” Before she pulls up the thin piece of fabric to give you the access.

You’re so eager to put those tits into your mouth as you immediately lock your lips on her taut nipples.

“G–God, you’re such a fucking whore, don’t you?” Yizhuo moans.

“Yes, mommy.”

Yizhuo chuckles. God, you’re so pathetic at this point. She keeps relentlessly slamming her thighs onto yours, whimpering at every rhythm played.

And you can feel it .Her hoarse moans and whimpers only send you into an upward spiral. Each graze of her cunt on your cock only drives you to the hopefully final climax.

“M–Mommy, I–I’m gonna cum.”

“Fucking hell, you pervert. I was just having fun,” Yizhuo scoffs. “Guess I’ll just have to take your cum, won’t I?”

“Y–Yes, mommy.” You thrust upwards with her motions. Your body is almost going limp right now.

“Ugh, paint my insides with whatever’s left, you fucking whore.”

Your cock sends spurts of cum into her cunt, or whatever that is left. Her movements are determined to milk you dry.

And your vision turns black.

—

#karina smut #giselle smut #winter smut #ningning smut #aespa smut

764 notes · View notes

admirxation · 3 months ago

Text

彡 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫.

ʚ 𝐟𝐭. 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 — 18+ MDNI, pure smut (porn with little to no plot), NSFW, established relationship (f/m), college au, dirty talk, nipple pinching and sucking (f receiving), praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m & f receiving), unprotected, creampie (multiple), and spanking. (by continuing to read after the cut off you’re consenting to see the content I have warned. Continue with your own discretion).

Choso: he's gone for the weekend, please come over baby <3

You: Don't need to tell me twice ;)

It took only a few minutes for you to race from the bottom floor to the top, where his dorm room was located, after you got the text confirmation. His roommate had gone home to visit his family for the weekend, and ever since Choso had shared this news, you had been eagerly anticipating this perfect opportunity to spend uninterrupted time together—being able to have all the fun without any unwanted knocks or phone calls begging for you two to finish up.

As soon as you knocked on his door, you could hear his excited footsteps approaching, the sound grew louder with a clearer clarity until the door swung open and revealed his eager face looked upon your smile. Before you two could even exchange greetings, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you inside; letting the door slam shut with a resounding bang that echoed and rattled the connecting walls in the college dorm hallway.

Choso wasted no time as he dragged you to his bed, smothering you with hungry and desperate kisses; his lips moved fervently over yours and he trailed from your glossy lips to the soft and warm skin of your neck and collarbone. The more his tongue swirled against your skin, the more you melted to his tongue with soft and sensual moans drawing from your lips as let your eyes flutter shut, biting your lip—god you loved it when he touched you like this. He gripped onto your hips and pulled you closer, his need for you was evident in every touch and sound he gave to you. The week of anticipation had built up inside you both, pent up in frustration you both needed to indulge in the finality of the given moment.

“F-fuck, I missed this,” he whispered between his wet kisses.

“Mm, I want you,” you gripped onto fistfuls of his shirt, looking up at him with those lustrous sultry eyes that he could never deny.

His hands explored and draped along your body, smoothing over every curve before stripping off your top, grabbing onto your lace-covered breasts, squeezing them with lustful intent; hardening against his sweatpants as he felt the exposed plush of your skin squeeze and pop out in between the gaps of his fingers the harder he grabbed.

“Mm, you feel so good, baby,” he whined into your lips, releasing a soft moan as you gave him a soft bite and tug on his bottom lip; you drove him wild, and feeling his hardened tent push against your thighs was sending a heat wave that pooled within your core.

Choso pressed more desperate and needy kisses onto your lips as his fingers tucked into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, his heart racing as he tugged them down; you shared the same intimate need for him as you pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, feeling his hardened exposed cock press against your thighs, biting your lip as you felt his tip leak onto them.

“I need you,” he begged as your fingers wrapped around his length, feeling him twitch and hearing him shuddering under the slightest touch; it was so much fun having him melt, whimpering for more of your touch on his body.

You gently pushed him on the bed, watching him look up at you with those gorgeous eyes, begging to feel every part of you, to hear every noise, and make you feel so good; you circled your hips around, feeling his cock against your slick folds as your grinded against him, getting wetter as he kicked his head back and released a guttural moan: “F-fuckkk baby, s-stop teasing, mmph,” he was already grabbing fistfuls of the bed sheets as he bit down on his bottom lip and produced laboured breaths, looking at you with those dark, half-lidded, puppy dog eyes that were clouded by desire, want, and need; you could never say no to him like this—even if it was a lot of fun watching him squirm with anticipation.

“How much do you want me?” you asked with a teasing tone, continuing to spell your name out with your hips, letting your hands rest on the clasp of your bra, your final bit of clothing; waiting for his words, to hear him blabber out in desperation for your sweet pussy to wrap around him.

“S-so much, ahh~” he tried to control his breathing, “please, please, please, baby, I’m begging you… let me feel you~”

“Mmm, that a boy,” you whispered with a smirk as you took your bra off and threw it to a random corner for future you to worry about, focused on watching his pupils dilate as his shaking hands grabbed onto the swell of your breasts. His thumbs circled your puffy and erect nipples, in a trance at how you were already making him feel.

“You wanna feel me?”

“God fuck yes, baby,” he whispered.

You smirked as you lifted your hips, only pushing his already leaking wet tip along your wet folds.

“Mmm, nnghh... I wanna feel all of you… please,” he begged.

“Come on, you can ask better than that,” seduction and teasing were laced within your words, and Choso could feel how your wet hole was already leaking on his erect cock, inviting him to just bury himself further in and rut against your walls.

“Please, please… I-I wanna fuck that pretty pussy.”

“Good boy,” you slammed your hips down, bouncing on his cock with no grace period.

“Ooooh fuck… yes… just like that,” he kicked his head back, loving the feeling of his fat cock stretching your slutty tight hole out, just for him, feeling like you belonged to him and only him as you two filled the room with wet, sinful, and lewd noises in your shared intimacy.

“Ahh~ mmm Choso!” you moaned.

“Oh my god—” That was it, that was the thing that had always sent him over the edge; whenever he heard you moan and scream out his name, it made him crazy for you.

You gasped as you felt him already start to push his hot leaking cum inside you, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck.

“Don’t stop, I want more of you,” he pleaded as his arms wrapped around your waist, bucking his hips to meet your bouncing rhythm, fucking his hot seed deeper inside your soaking and aching cunt.

Your arms were around his neck, staring into his eyes with love and need: “You feel so good, Choso,” you continued to moan for him, loving the way his cock hit right at your g spot, making your cunt already sputter out along his length the more he thrusted inside your tight walls.

“Ahh!” you gasped as you felt his hand grab at the fat of your ass, accompanied by his spare hand squeezing and pinching your hardened bud, sucking the other and making your eyes roll to the back of your head from the overwhelming pleasure you felt with him.

“O-oh Choso,” you were lost in the overstimulation, your pussy aching and spasming around him, your bottom lip already being indented with the markings of your front teeth the more he sucked, pinched and grabbed at you, spanking your ass red raw as he whispered how beautiful, sexy and amazing you felt the deeper he fucked you.

His groans only got louder, muttering your name between lapping his hot wet tongue on your nipple, both of you sharing another orgasm and release; it felt too much, you were already filled to the brim with his hot release, the feeling of your tits stuffing his mouth and his large hands pawing at you, you were squeezing your eyes shut from this but god you didn’t want this to stop, you’d endure anything with how good he made you feel.

His balls were already tightening, feeling drained after another finish stuffed deep inside of you, bruising your cervix with every rut, but all he kept saying was “I need you more, just one more time,” as he continued to grip onto you with a tighter grasp as he fucked you harder.

Taglist: @bratbby333 @styrofoamplat3s

Please note that the best way to support writers is by liking and reblogging. All interaction is never forced but always greatly appreciated, whatever you do I am thankful you took the time out of your day to read my content. Thank you.

a/n: heart divider by @/cafekitsune and header is from @/lewdkittymia on twitter (X) but i added the pink gradient through editing on canva// I've been reading so many oneshots of this pookie and ugh I needed to write him I LOVE HIM. Hope you enjoyed this and if you're interested in more JJK content or other fanfictions from other fandoms please consider following me and/or being added to the taglist here [x].

#choso kamo x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #choso x reader #choso smut #jjk #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso oneshot #jjk x reader smut #anime smut #anime

971 notes · View notes

winged777 · 2 years ago

Text

also not to be horny on main but,…. man i would love to feel wanted and desired

#my heart does a little flip in my chest just thinkin about it like…#i have felt very deeply unwanted for Years because i was unwanted #and now its a core belief that i am working to change but like i also dont want to be wanted with lust #i want to be wanted out of love.#love for me and for my body AND desire to have and tohch me #ok enough naomi #personal

0 notes

thewickedjazzy · 12 days ago

Text

Level 3: “Stay Still!” [Dry humping] for Kinktober.

⤷⊹₊fyodor d. x afab! reader.

⊹₊Synopsis: it's your own roman empire, where you and fyodor continually indulge in lust-fueled escapades during important meetings.

⊹₊Warning: ņsfw, mdni, smųt, dry humping, agoraphilia, risky sex/secret sex, orgasm control, praise kink..etc.

⊹₊Word count & a/n: 1k, animated lines by @/cafekitsune. this was a very fun level to write honestly, a sweet thank you to bb rem @remlionheart for beta reading, ilysm<3

“stay quiet, дорогая (dear). if they notice, i’ll stop, and you wouldn’t want that, right?”

that might be the last coherent thing you hear before fyodor starts his meeting with nikolai and sigma. you’re face-down on the cold, rough metallic table, wobbling body pressed between him and the edge, feeling a familiar, simmering need flooding through your senses. three agonising months of work have kept him busy, and you’ve missed him terribly. so, if this is the closest you can get to feeling him? then fucking be it.

you grind your bare folds against his clothed bulge, the friction sending your whole body numb with pleasure. it feels too good, almost overwhelming, and you can’t hold back the quiet whine that escapes your lips.

“...we'll need a distraction, something to divert their attention while nikolai can execute our plan.” the russian states calmly as if your pussy is not soaking the hell out of the fabric of his trousers at this very moment. honestly, you can't fathom how he maintains such composure while you squirm beneath him, desperately trying to stretch out the pleasure that’s building quickly in your lower belly. maybe you can hold out until the meeting is over.

you’re doing your utmost to hang in there.

“the weretiger is an easy target...”nikolai exclaims, on the other hand, sigma is already rolling his eyes in boredom, clearly frustrated that they still haven’t addressed his casino issues yet.

you squeeze your eyes shut trying to drown out their conversation, focusing solely on the one command fyodor has given you: “don’t cum until I say so.”

such a cruel man he is. why? because he's slowly grinding his hips back against you, he knows that you're desperately close, it's in his nature to push all the right buttons, only to leave you mourning the loss of his touch afterwards.

you do your best to stifle a moan, but a soft whimper slips past your lips instead.

his slender fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just enough to make you tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his devilish gaze as he shoots you a warning glance, seeing you nod obediently, trying to stifle the needy whimpers that escape as you force yourself to slow down, biting your lip to keep quiet.

“their unity is what gives them strength; without it, they're weak,” fyodor continues, his left hand tightens around your hips, guiding your rhythm with maddening control, while his other hand slides down to tease your aching clit, circling it with deliciously slow, torturous strokes.

your eyes roll back, vision blurring from the overwhelming pleasure, and you’re caught between trembling restraint and the impossible need to let go. fuckーhow can he expect you to hold back when he’s sinfully pleasuring you like this?

It's been half an hour, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out. an aching need swells within you as you clutch his hand, fingers intertwining with his, silently begging him to quicken his pace, desperately craving that sweet, sweet release that feels just out of reach.

once the russian has his mind set on something, no amount of begging, sweet words, or tears will sway him. his long, pale fingers slip between your folds, thumb tracing lazy circles over your clit hood to add to your mounting pleasure and you can’t help but roll your hips against him, grinding harder with each passing second. you're acutely aware of the risk that his body might jolt, drawing the unwanted attention of his oblivious subordinates.

you can't hold back anymore, the pleasure has woven itself tightly within you, each pulse layered like bricks in a tower that only fyodor’s permission keeps standing, until the same bricks of bliss snap at the base of your spine once his hand, which had been gripping your hair, taps against the cold metal table twice.

it’s the sign you’ve been begging the heavens for. you're now rolling your hips faster against his hard cock, finally riding out your long-awaited release—jaw slack, eyes rolled back, a trace of drool slipping from your parted lips as you soak his fabric, bliss coursing through you like the light of a thousand stars from the milky way.

as you shudder in ecstasy, the three of his fingers continue bullying your swelling clit—coaxing you through the rest of your release as he draws sharp shapes on the puffy nub.

“that’s it, my love keep that orgasm going for me.” he leans down out of the camera's field to pressing searing kisses to the nape of your neck.

ironically, the meeting continues, oblivious to your plight.

nikolai’s enthusiastic breaks through your sweet bliss. “...and that’s how i’ll handle the weretiger situation.”

while sigma rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “can we move on? i still need to discuss my casino issues.”

clearing his throat, fyodor straightens up, his trademark icy professionalism settling back into place once more. “then let’s wrap this up. we’ll reconvene later to finalise the plan.”

you try to regain your composure, still feeling the aftershocks of erotic pleasure, as the meeting draws to a close. fyodor casts you a sidelong glance with a small loving smirk as he adds, “i trust everyone will stay focused now.”

frankly, you can’t shake the feeling that your relationship won’t stay a secret for much longer. especially given how risky you both are being by engaging in sexually-driven activities like this.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @perlaslibrary

445 notes · View notes

mssalo · 2 months ago

Text

Hummingbird - Part: II

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.

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?

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

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!

714 notes · View notes

chaptersleftunwritten · 3 months ago

Text

Down on all fours

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Blurb: After you unwillingly come clean about your undying love for Eddie Munson, your life is swept into a whirlwind of deceit, lust, confusion and regret… and glitter that Eddie can’t seem to shake from his pockets.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham

Warnings: 18+, slight angst (?), alcohol consumption, reader referred to as girl, cheating/unfaithfulness, drugs mentioned (weed), mentions of blood, depictions of violence, cursing, bodily insecurity, implied sexual themes. Character are 20+ and in a college setting!

divider by @cafekitsune

The movie theatre would never be the same anymore— not to you. Not since that day. A place once associated with joy and child like wonder, where you watched your beloved characters come to life on the big screen and where you could laugh openly, unattractively and purely with your friends.

Tainted. Forever changed.

But not forgotten. Never forgotten.

The memories have been eating you alive, feasting on your insecurity and your shame. Despite the look of fearful regret on Eddie’s face, you still thought about him.

Day and night— morning and noon. Before you slept and before you awoke each morning. He even infiltrated your dreams. Dreams are meant to be sacred, private affairs and yet, Eddie Munson still ruled them like the King of all of your desires. His ring clad fingers were still clutching onto your heart— squeezing and loosening his grip around the vital organ as he saw fit. He had the upper hand; the control.

He always did. He always has.

You couldn’t bring yourself to face them— any of them. Not Steve, not Robin, not Chrissy and especially not Eddie. It was peculiar, the addictive need to see Eddie no matter the cost— no matter the humiliation. It out weighed every sane thought you had.

You would steal glances at him from across a room, hiding in plain sight. Desperate for the shadows to claim you as their own; for the walls to hug you back. You felt other worldly, as if your soul was floating outside of your body and you had no rational feeling. No say. No voice.

Confessions should be freeing; but you have never felt so trapped. Chained. Soul tied.

Love conquers all, but love also might just conquer you.

It’s mid-week, and although college parties always attract unwanted attention you could never have prepared to see this many people crashing your family home. Precious photos were knocked over, the smashed glass from the frames line the top of shelves and cabinets- glittering them in a forbidden pixie dust.

Your bedroom has been occupied by a couple you didn’t recognise and if it weren’t for the pleasant buzz of alcohol coursing through your blood you most certainly would have screamed at them to leave. The sicker parts of you were envious of their engagement. Their human closeness and connection.

Why couldn’t you have that? Didn’t you deserve that?

So instead of blowing your top, you roll your eyes and scoff before slamming the familiar door obnoxiously loud and coke to nest at the bottom of the staircase; the wood is hard and cold against your bare thighs which causes you to pay some uncomfortable attention to your outfit. Sparkly, twinkly and stupid.

Your heart sinks to the abysmal pit at the bottom of your stomach at the realisation that nobody here really knows what this party is for. Who it is for.

Your birthday streamers that once decorated the walls proudly have become unpinned from the concrete, cascading down the wall in a massive spiral and hiding the message written on the plastic.

Happy birthday!

Not a single person had uttered those words to you the whole night. Even on a day where you were meant- born to be celebrated, you have been forgotten. A bystander in your own life. An observer in a theatrical play written for you. About you.

And the humour of it all?

You were used to it now.

Nothing could break your heart; because it was already in pieces.

Shreds. Splinters. Fragments. Puzzle pieces never to be solved or mended again. A heart shaped hole stamped into your chest where someone once lived.

Cobwebs inhabit the vacant crevasse, dust gathering on the sensitive walls. The sensitive walls that have hardened into a volcanic crust.

The only thing left behind in your impenetrable fortress? A single crumpled envelope with Eddie’s name written on it in cursive. The ‘i’ in his name punctuated with a loveheart.

He was the only tenant you wanted living there. And in reality, he should have been evicted a long time ago.

But nobody said love was easy. Nobody warned you that it would be this hard, though, either.

Was love supposed to make you this low? Was it supposed to make you find your bearings at the bottom of a red fizzing cup? The carbonated bubbles in your drink seemed to be your only friend tonight.

Would it really be your birthday if you didn’t cry at least once? Or twice… or thrice.

“Hey! Does anyone have any weed?” Your quiet attempt at a yell comes out of your mouth in the form of a drunken hiccup and you are debating the possibility that you may have stood up too fast, “Anyone? No?” Frustrated you pinch the bridge of your nose as you sigh loudly into your hand, your ears met by silence from your peers.

“I might.” You can hear a comedic tweak in his voice and you swear you can feel part of you die on the inside.

“Steve,” You say through clenched teeth, forcing a smile, “I didn’t know you smoked?” You also weren’t aware that he would be here— but you can’t deny the attention that this party is demanding from the neighbourhood. You are partly surprised that the police haven’t been called yet, but your neighbours aren’t known to be snitches.

“I don’t usually,” he shrugs dismissively, “I didn’t know you were throwing a party? Thankfully word travels fast in this town, huh?” His elbow gently nudges into your arm playfully, “There’s no better time for me to give you this.” He hands you a small box that has been wrapped all too perfectly in a sage green wrapping paper; brought together with a pretty black tulle bow. For a moment you are totally stunned, eyes inflated as you gawk down at the gift in your slightly shaky hands.

“You…” you search for the words, lost in his kindness and when you finally gather enough courage to meet his sweet brown eyes you nearly drown in their depths, “You got me a gift?”

He flashes you one of his signature Steve smiles and your drunk brain can’t seem to comprehend if this is a joke of not.

“Of course I did? You’re one of my best friends!” His voice is a happy chime as he ruffles his fingers through his chestnut gelled hair, offering the stiff strands some movement. You notice his pupils flicking between your face and the present in your hands, one of his eyebrows raise with subtle confusion, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Yeah- yes! Yes, of course!” You set your empty cup down on a nearby table before your nimble fingers come to wrestle with the sticky tape, painted fingernails clawing like an animal to get to the goods inside. There is a nervousness that comes with the unwrapping of the gift and you don’t quite understand why. The moment feels significant… special. You finally feel somewhat special tonight.

Eagerly, Steve keeps his warm amber eyes trained on you. A soft, dreamy smile itching at his lips as he awaits your approval. You and Steve had been friends for such a long time, you even opened your college acceptance letters together in his family dining room with his parents. He had always been there for you, through everything. One of your best friends— possibly your only friend.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while— how have you been?” His voice is laced with genuine concern but all you can do is ogle at what is displayed in front of you. A shiny silver necklace that had been personalised to have your name dangling from the chain with small colourful charms decorating the metal plating sit inside of the small box that Steve had handed to you. It was beautiful. It was you. And not to mention… it perfectly matched your outfit.

“Shut up!” You gasp, picking up the chain from the safety of its box and dangling it in front of Steve’s face, the neon stream of lights from the party reflect off of its pristine surface, “Steve!! What the Hell? This is stunning!” You become a fit of excited girlish giggles and Steve shakes his head at your outburst, finding it adorable.

“You like it?” He is booming to be heard over the increasingly loud music and you squeal, fumbling with the latch on the chain.

“Like it? I love it! Thank you so much!” You reach around your neck, fighting to clip the necklace and Steve offers you a helping hand accompanied by an amused chucklez, “It’s perfect, Steve, truly! I love it, I love it!” You brush your hair over your shoulder, allowing Steve to access the chain and clasp it securely.

“There! Pretty as a picture.” He winks at you and you toy with your name displayed across your chest; an honest smile gracing your lips.

“Happy birthday.” His large palm rubs the flesh of your shoulder and you nod at him in acknowledgement. There is an after glow that lingers after Steve’s touch disappears and you are not even aware of where he wanders off to but when you realise that you are stood alone… you feel that all too familiar feeling start to creep it’s way back into your chest. An icy chill. A storm brewing.

“Steve?” You call out to him, however your voice is wasted with how small it was and goes totally unnoticed. Your eyes drink in the sea of dancing, sweating bodies around you. The number of people in your home is multiplying— like a deathly virus.

The perky smile falls from your cheeks and only then do you remember why you were even talking to Steve in the first place— you wanted some weed. You needed some.

Or did you?

You wanted to escape life. To feel free from the bounds of Eddie Munson, free from the shackles of your mind. This is the only way you knew how… sleep wasn’t an option— he could reach you there.

Even the darkest corners of your mind, where even the ghosts refused to venture, were haunted by Eddie— there was no fleeing from him. You were his.

But he was Chrissy’s.

You find yourself outside, sitting in the cool night air by the side of your house. Your face is flushed from the alcohol and your skin feels as though it is prickling with heat; fiery.

Your mini skirt hugs your hips and thighs and you fist the fabric, suddenly uncomfortable with the way your body looks in the garment. The way the flesh of your thighs squish the ground beneath you has you stifling a scream and you wrap your arms tightly around your torso to shield the rest of your body from the world.

Your eyes flicker and blaze with the mirrored light from the street lamps, the orange hues meeting the chunky glitter that dominates your eyelids. The heavy makeup was starting to irritate your eyes, but you would do anything to seem half presentable. Anything to feel and look your best.

A choked laugh emits past your lips; it was ludicrous. How you had been exiled from your own birthday party. Left to the wolves of the wild. You didn’t mind too much— it meant you could finally take off this weighty mask you had been hiding behind all night. No more untruthful smiles, no more biting back teary eyes.

You could finally feel. And breathe.

However, your reign of peace and solitude doesn’t last long as your ears perk involuntarily at an all too recognisable thundering chuckle. This whole time, you had been preparing for him to show face and yet you have never felt so startled. A deer in headlights.

The chains around your wrists tighten as you stiffen, unable to move. Unable to respond or breathe or think.

Eddie had arrived.

“Woooah! Lookie’ here! If it isn’t the birthday girl,” Even in the dim light of the garden you can see his Cheshire smile examining you, “What you doing out here all alone, Sweetheart?”

Your breath remains lodged tightly in your throat, wound up like a coiled spring and you are unable to speak. It’s almost as if you are paralysed— has he hit you with a tranquillising dart? Or was that just his cologne that had you so wrapped up in everything that he is.

He called you sweetheart…

He called you sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

His sweetheart?

“Hello? Are you okay?” His hand waves in front of your face, causing you to blink and flinch momentarily at the sudden action, “Aren’t you cold out here?”

“No…” a whisper is all you could manage. It’s all you could afford to give him.

There wasn’t much of you left to give. Soon you would be this vacant polished shell of a human being— beautiful on the outside and hopeless on the inside.

“Okay, well… Happy birthday.” He nods at you enthusiastically, his voice like a siren song lulling you to your demise. He shoves his hands into his ripped jeans pockets, letting out an exaggerated shiver before he says, “Hey, have you seen Chrissy? She came here an hour ago and I haven’t really heard from her.” He tries to disguise the worry in his voice, but you can read him like a book. The way his hands are twitching from his pockets to rub anxiously at his neck, or how he bounces on the balls of his feet— the adrenaline causing him to be restless.

You wish Eddie could do the same with you. You wish he could see past this makeup and this charade. You wish he could recognise just how much that simple sentence had ruined your evening.

Of course he was here looking for Chrissy, why else would he have showed up? For you? Please. The thought alone was laughable.

“I didn’t even know she was here.” Your chin tilts to your shoulder where you can eye the large window looking on into your kitchen. The lights are out but there are neon fairy lights twinkling and illuminating the darkness. It’s almost as if you are looking through a kaleidoscope.

It had taken you hours to hang all of those lights, only to watch other people enjoy their warmth instead.

“You should come back inside, you don’t seem like you’re having a lot of fun out here in the dark.” Eddie takes a leisurely seat next to you and out of instinct you shuffle a few inches away from him, trying to create as much distance as possible, “Are you wasted? You’re being eerily quiet.”

“It’s a party, Eddie.” You sigh, answering him without leaving a single beat, an abrupt newfound confidence helps you to untangle your voice, “People get drunk at parties— I just wish I had some weed.”

It was ironic, wishing for weed as you talk to a weed dealer.

“Is that really your birthday wish? To have weed?” His shoulders bounce lightly as he laughs, his hands coming to find his coat pocket. You shrug in response to his question, tipping your head back and swallowing the last of what was left swirling around in the bottom of your cup.

The truth was, you hadn’t even lit your birthday candles yet. There hadn’t been a right time and you didn’t want to be that person. But if you had sparked those candles… you would have wished for him.

Not for weed. Not for money. Not for beauty or brains.

You would have wished for Eddie Munson.

“Here.” He is careful to take your hand into his, gently prying your fingers open and dropping a bud of weed into your palm before he is securing your fingers back over it, “It isn’t much, I know that but… if I could make your birthday wish a reality then I suppose that’s pretty alright, huh?” He holds your wrist loosely in his grip and your fuzzy brain can’t compute if you are dreaming or not.

You had expected fireworks from his touch— a massive explosion of technicolour and bright blinding lights.

But what you got was far more sensual than that. An electric shockwave travelled along your skin from your arm to your back, zapping down every vertebrae in your spine and coating your body in a blanket of goosebumps. Every single one of your hairs stood on end and this might have been the most alert you have felt all day. You felt awake. Resurrected. Alive.

“Are you sure?” You gulp, mouth suddenly dry, “I can pay you…” You start to frantically search your person for any sign of loose cash— your bra, did your skirt have pockets this morning? No. Where the Hell is your purse?

“No- no! This is a gift, from me to you! It’s your birthday for crying out loud!” Eddie is holding both of your wrists now, his attempt to still your nervous jittery movements, “Just enjoy it, okay? Just… just smile.” His deep pleading voice is painful as it enters your ears.

Just smile.

Smile? Weren’t you smiling?

“Thank you…” up until this point you hadn’t fully perceived just how close of a proximity you and Eddie were nestled at. His slight body leaning in closer to yours, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. He was within kissing distance and all you could do now was stare at his dimpled smile. The sight alone was enough to cause your own lips to tweak up at the corners.

“Do you know how to roll a joint?” Eddie could evidently sense the growing tension and he pulls away from you, not in a moment of disgust and terror— but out of respect. Attraction was clear but Eddie was like a loyal dog to Chrissy. There’s no way he would betray her.

“Oh- uhm… no, no I don’t.” You laugh slightly as you look down at the drugs held captive in your hand. Your skin being tinged with the ponging smell.

“Luckily for you, I’m a bit of a master at it.”

“Eddie?” A whimper. A whisper. Weak. Sorrow filled.

“Yeah?” His heavenly eyes had you questioning why thieves ever bothered to steal art— when you were looking at a masterpiece.

A pause. Nothingness. Expectation. Shadows.

“Why do you hate me?” The question is shuddered out through constricted teeth and you find an ungodly comfort in that familiar ache inside of your sternum, “You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you-“

“But you don’t love me. You don’t… like me.” You push your feet into the soft earth, coming to stand shakily in front of Eddie’s seated frame, “Every time I look at you, I can't help but hope you feel the same butterflies in your stomach when you look back at me.” Your eyes settle on the empty street, the only noise circulating the neighbourhood was coming from inside your house. Thumping bass beating in harmony with your heart, “But deep down, I know all you feel is pity."

“That isn’t true and you’re being cruel.” Eddie launches to his feet, darting to stand in front of you, “Where is this coming from? If I have hurt you, I assure you that it was never my intention— I could never hurt you purposely.”

“You didn’t have to purposely hurt me, Ed’s. All I had to do was sit back and watch you love someone else. Someone better than me… that was enough to break my spirit.”

A disruption shakes the interior of your house, a commotion surfacing and you can hear the cheers and whistles from your peers. Eddie clocks it as well, and you can see a panic distort his puppy like features.

“Please can we talk about this tomorrow, when you’re sober and… and we can both just figure this out? Please?” His hands find your shoulders, holding you steady as his chocolate orbs bear into yours. His attention is on you, but you can tell that his feet are ready to sprint indoors.

Quietly, you nod. Anything to please him. Anything to make him happy. Plus— you were also intrigued as to what was happening behind in you. Whatever it was, it had stirred up a whirlwind.

Eddie is quick to leave your side, like a whippet released onto a race track, taking the porch steps two at a time and you are hot on his heels. You are clumsy in your kitten heeled shoes, but you are right behind him.

‘I’ll follow thee and make a Heaven of a Hell.

To die upon the hand I love so well.’

William Shakespeare, Helena

“What’s going on?” You stagger into the shoulder of a Frat member, whispering an inaudible apology as he turns to glare down at you. Though, after he takes in your appearance his solid and annoyed expression softens into amusement and what you can only assume as blind lust.

“Harrington and Cunningham got caught banging in the bathroom— can’t believe you missed it! It was fucking priceless.” He drapes his heavy muscular arm over your shoulders and your knees nearly buckle beneath you at his weight pressing down on you.

“What?” You peek up at him through your eyelashes, clearly dazed. You have to make sure— you have to hear him say it again.

“Cunningham? Chrissy?” He is laughing rudely into your face and your nose scrunches distastefully at the stench of beer on his breath, “And Steve Harrington! They were fucking! He had her bent over the bathroom sink, man! His hands full of her hair— pretty sure the mirror is gonna be covered in lipstick!” Finally he unhooks his arm from around your neck and you feel like you may just float up to the ceiling.

You push away from him, using his massive hulking body to propel you further into the mob, your eyes desperate to find Eddie in the crowd. And when you do… it’s ugly.

Anguish, rage, indecision and fear blaze in Eddie’s tear glossed eyes. The gears inside of his head were working like clockwork and you knew where this was about to go as he stares murderously at Steve. Jaw wired tightly shut, nostrils flaring into bullet sized holes and fists so punishingly rigid that you can see the bones of his knuckles straining against his skin; turning his skin to a snow like shade of white.

Steve descends from the top of the staircase alone. His hair is tossed into a messy heap upon his sweat soaked head and you can read from his slumped and lazy stance alone that Steve is totally gone. His hands grasp the bannister, clinging onto the wood for dear life in hopes that he won’t fall down the steep steps.

“Eddie- no, don’t do it!” You try to move toward him as quickly as your boozy brain would allow, but it’s too late. Eddie is flying toward Steve like a bat out of Purgatory.

Time appears to speed up as you watch the violence unfold in front of you alongside the rest of chanting crowd. Eddie has smashed Steve against the wall by the collar of his shirt and you swear you hear some sort of cracking noise come from concrete from the connection of Steve’s back hurling into the plasterboard.

“Fuck! Guys, stop it!” Not only are you terrified of Steve getting beat to a pulp— but your parents would kick you out of the house if things got tarnished beyond repair. And that includes the paint work.

A brutish punch thrown by Eddie bursts Steve’s cheek open and you squeal in horror at the stream of pure gore that spurts from the gnarly wound, “Jesus Christ, Eddie!!” Marching up the staircase you wedge yourself between the two men and Eddie’s movements still. He allowed himself one punch. One good punch, as a warning and also as a courtesy. He didn’t want to frighten you and he also didn’t want to take advantage of Steve’s inebriated state.

One punch is all he needed to satisfy the sickening anger bubbling within him.

And then he fled— like a killer at a crime scene.

“Eddie! Wait- fuck!!” You curse, your hands finding your hair as you tug on the roots of the delicate strands. You are beyond stressed. All you can do is watch as Eddie weaves his way through the mosh pit of bodies who had all quickly gone back to dancing— like nothing had happened.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Steve blubbers next to you and you turn to him, your eyes widened with shock and distress but it doesn’t take long for your glare to become vexing.

“What did you do, Harrington?! If you weren’t already bleeding right now I would slap you in your goddamn face!” Your grip on him is scolding and hurried as you manage to help him down to rest on one of the wooden steps, your eyes unable to waver from the crimson leaking gash on his face.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” His face rests in his hands as he breathes deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth. And just as you prepare to give him a bollocking of a life time, Chrissy emerges from sanctuary of the top floor, desperately trying to rescuer her bra straps back onto your shoulders. Her clothes are twisted sloppily around her body and she, too, is undoubtedly, totally, 110% fucking hammered.

Both your and the blondes eyes meet and your lips pinch downwards into a frown. Your head shakes disapprovingly and your mind is clouded with nervy thoughts for Eddie’s wellbeing and all you can conjure up to say to the dishevelled woman is;

“How the fuck did this happened?”

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae

509 notes · View notes