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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 || dark!joel miller x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 || he told you he'd never let you go, but it hadn't sounded like a threat at the time— it sounded like pillow talk, like sweet nothings. you should've believed him; you should've known escape wasn't an option from a man like joel miller.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 || a bit over 3k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 || smut (18+ only; noncon/heavy dubcon, bondage, forced breeding), stalking/yandere, possessiveness, past/described character death, "bunny" as a pet name (with a couple "baby"s and "babygirl"s in there), angst, gaslighting/manipulation

“How’d you find me here?”

His face was straight and stoic. Last time, he’d smirked when you asked that— like he was proud of himself. Now, he was just tired. Tired of chasing you, tired of your constant yet fruitless search for freedom.

Tired, and angry.

“I’m persistent,” was his flat reply.

“Well, doesn’t matter,” you shook your head, “doesn’t change anything— same as before, it’s over.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” you shot back instantly, “and I’m not explaining this shit you again. You don’t fucking own me.”

“So all those things you said— that we said?” Joel hissed, stepping forward, making you feel cornered in your own tiny room. It wasn’t much, but it was your own, and you loved it for that. You’d spent the last month making it feel like home, and now you’d have to leave it all again, have to run from him again. “What was that, then? All just bullshit?”

“I— that was a different time, I was a different person,” you sighed. “So were you.”

“Said you loved me,” he recalled.

“I didn’t even know you,” you snapped. “You aren’t who I thought you were…”

He stepped up to you again, and you reached for your belt— but he grabbed your wrist before you could grab the knife. “Whatcha gonna do with that, bunny?” he cooed, sickly-sweet.

“Don’t call me that,” you whimpered, trying to wriggle out of his grasp but only hurting your wrist more. “You can’t call me that anymore…”

“Gonna hurt me, bunny?” he continued, pulling you closer until you had to bite down on your shaking lip— you didn’t want him to see you cry, again. Because even after everything, when you cried, you still wanted him most— you still craved his comfort, even knowing that it was all lies. He was sick and twisted, you knew that, but he looked just like the man you fell in love with— he smelled like him, he had his warmth and strength, and your body sometimes longed to wrapped up in his arms again even if your heart ached remembering what he’d done. “Y’already hurt me as bad as you ever could. And I still love you.”

You shook your head, tears starting to roll, as he pressed his face against your head and took in a deep breath beside your hair. “You never l-loved me,” you hiccuped, “you don’t— you don’t do what you did to people you love—”

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he defended, “just made sure nobody would try to keep us apart, s’all. M’sorry for what happened to your brother, too, but you know I only did what I had to.”

“Shut up,” you pleaded, trying to pull away again.

“You know he stepped up on me,” he continued anyways, “you know he said I couldn’t be trusted, that I wasn’t good enough for you— and I couldn’t just let him say that shit.”

“Stop, stop talking,” you begged, shutting your eyes tight and trying so hard not to see it again— your brother on the ground, his face red and bruises already forming on his neck, Joel standing over him catching his breath. “Y-you just did it b-because he was all I had left,” you said, mostly reminding yourself. “That was the only reason my brother died. Because you needed to be the only thing I loved.”

“He was a piece of shit!” Joel barked, making you cry harder. “He was nothing, okay? I’m your everything—”

“No, no—”

“You said that! And he was gonna try to take you away from me!”

“Because I told him I was scared of you,” you explained.

“So it’s your fault— you killed him,” Joel insisted as you tried to cover your face with your spare hand. “Shouldn’t’ve told him that, bunny… shouldn’t’ve let him try to steal you, you know I couldn’t let you go— you know I can’t let go of what’s mine…”

He always got in your head so quickly; he'd carefully built his control over your mind in the year you'd been together, and it took a while to break out of it once you'd left. But even still, you'd never stopped looking over your shoulder— every time he tracked you down, you made another escape and started all over. But it didn't usually last too long.

“That’s why I’m just gonna keep finding you, bunny. ‘Cause you’re mine. So will you just stop runnin’ from me?”

You tried to take a deep breath, fighting to get enough air in your lungs to speak, but it all still came out as a shaky whisper: “I’m not… I’m not yours anymore,” you informed him weakly.

“Let me tell you somethin’,” he said— calm at first, but suddenly getting angrier as he sneered and yanked you closer. “Somethin’ you’re gonna be better off the sooner you accept it: you’ll always be mine.”

You whimpered as he spun you around, embracing you— or was he constricting you? — as your back pressed against his broad chest.

"Need me to remind you?" he purred in your ear, and you struggled harder against his grip.

"No, Joel— don't—" you pleaded.

"Need to remember who you belong to?" he pressed again, reaching down to start unbuttoning your jeans. "M'gonna help you, bunny, it's okay— you're not gonna forget again."

"Please," you whined, shivering when he started to tug your pants down— it was cold in here, and even his warm fingers weren't enough when the draft hit your bare thighs. "Joel, don't have to do this— let's just talk, we can talk—"

"Too late for that," he shook his head, groaning as he cupped your sex in his rough hand. "Tried to talk to you already, when we talk you start fuckin' lyin' to me— callin' me a monster just 'cause I love you. Sayin' you don't love me anymore… but your body doesn't lie, baby, feel that?"

He'd pushed your panties down and was sliding his fingers between your lips, purring as he roughly explored the slick folds of skin. Your stomach sank and your chest felt hollow— even with everything he'd done, you never thought he'd do this to you…

"Oh, fuckin' wet," he noticed with a sickening grin that you could hear in his voice. You turned your face away but he grabbed it with his free hand and turned you back to look at him. "Kiss me," he ordered.

Slamming his lips on yours, you whined and tried to pull away. He kept kissing you anyways, lips and tongue overwhelming yours, indifferent to your resistance.

"Don't be like that, bunny," he pouted when you managed to wrench your head back— he started kissing your jaw and neck next, rubbing circles on your clit with two fingers. "You just need to remember how good it is to be mine— just relax, baby, just let me help you—"

But when you tried to kick at his legs, a desperate attempt for a chance to flee, he got angry again and threw you face-down onto your bed.

"Please, don't," you sobbed, but he was already behind you, grabbing your wrists and holding them down over your head.

You cried harder when he let go with one hand, and you heard the slide of leather on denim as he took his belt off.

Crying harder, you felt him lean over you and wrap the belt around your wrists, tying them together tightly. You were begging incoherently, too scared to try to fight against the leather on your wrists but hating how it felt to be restrained (especially in such a crude way).

A moment later, he tugged you down so that you were bent over the side of the bed while he stood behind you, and he started to open his own jeans.

A shudder crawled over you when you felt his cock rub up against your ass, a low groan coming from behind you as he ran his hand over your back— maybe just to touch you, maybe to hold you down.

"Joel, I'm sorry," you whispered, "I'm sorry, I won't leave again, I swear…"

He hummed happily, but didn't stop.

"Just please stop," you requested weakly. "I'll be yours again, but you— you're hurting me…"

"Only 'cause you made me," he accused with a growl. "If this is what you need to know whose you are, then I'm gonna hurt you."

"No— you don't need to do that, I-I know now, I swear…"

You heard him spit, then the wet sounds of him spreading the fluid on his cock, and you buried your face in the sheets. "It's gonna be okay, bunny," he promised, just before he shoved himself inside you.

He used to be so tender, so delicate with you. For all his mood swings and violent tendencies, he'd always made love to you so sweetly. You couldn't believe that was the same man as the one holding you down now, forcing his cock deeper and grunting loudly as you whined in pain.

"You can take it," he informed you coldly, already moving far too fast and slamming to the deepest parts of you each time. "Same dick you used to beg for all the time, don't act so fuckin' hurt when I know you like this."

His hands moved to your shoulders, holding them tightly as he found his pace; you heard every moan, every heavy breath, even though you wanted so much to try to ignore it all. The most difficult thing to ignore, of course, was how it felt: the sting of being stretched around him, the soreness where he dug his fingers into your skin, the sick pleasure you hated yourself for noticing.

"God, I missed this," he groaned. "Missed having this little pussy around me— I'm gonna make you feel so good, bunny, gonna take care of you like I promised."

He laid himself down over you, pressing you down deeper into the mattress, and spoke right by your ear.

"Used to say nobody else ever made you feel like I did," he purred. "You remember that? Was that even true, or were you a liar then, too?"

"N-no, I never lied to you, Joel," you tried to defend yourself— but then he moved his hips just right and forced you to take even more of him than you thought possible, and your voice fell into a whine.

"What about when you said we'd always be together, huh?" he prompted with disdain in his voice. "I told you I needed you, bunny. M'fuckin' nothin' without you, you know that— and then you left me. How could you break my heart like that, babygirl?"

"I'm sorry," you cried, "I-I was just scared… you… you killed my brother, Joel. I hate you for that."

"I know," he soothed, "I know— but I can't lose you. I'm sorry, bunny, I can't let you go."

Unfortunately, that you knew; and in a way, you understood. You just wished this wasn't your fate, that you might have a chance to be free— that just wasn't in the cards for the girl Joel Miller loved. He'd let a lot of things slip away from him in this life and you were not going to be next on that list.

After a while, it started to feel familiar; it reminded you of how it used to be, when things felt so simple and you had no idea what was around the corner. Your body relaxed under his, your legs stopped flailing and your grip on the sheets loosened… you went limp, the struggle leaving you as another instinct took over.

Slipping his arms under you, he held you tightly, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck. The sickest part was how easy it was to let his praises wash over you.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered to you, “that’s my good bunny— just like that, lemme take care a’you…”

All your energy was focused on not letting him hear how it affected you, how easily he could reclaim your body. You’d been running for months— almost two since you’d seen him last, when he tracked you down to Michigan and you only got away cause you had a friend with a car— and he had you back under his thumb in minutes. Maybe he was right: you’d always be his, no matter what anyone did. Even your own brother couldn’t save you.

“I betcha missed me, too,” Joel mumbled in your ear. “Betcha got lonely, huh, bunny? I’m here now, never letting you go again, I swear— can’t live without you… we need each other. You need me.”

It was so strange to you, how he could sound so sweet and then so livid in just a moment.

“Just admit it, baby,” he encouraged— but it was an order, you weren’t too far gone to know that.

“I need you,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Louder,” he demanded.

“I ne—” you choked, having to stop and start over because your voice was broken from crying. “I need you, Joel.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and his thrusts picked up in speed. You could hear the sound of skin slapping on skin— of your wet channel betraying the way you actually did need him. “Yeah, fuck,” he repeated, “s’my girl… always ready for me, huh? Such a needy fuckin’ pussy y’got…”

He was moving harder and faster than ever, but his thrusts were more shallow than before— he usually started by savoring you, pulling out to the very tip and sliding back in so he could feel you on every inch of his cock. But then he got into this sort of mood, where he could barely bring himself to pull out at all— said it felt too good inside you to leave— and so it was more like grinding, staying deep in you and letting just the base of him thrust in and out. It was so deep it made your head spin, but you couldn’t do anything but lay there. Lay there and realize that it was too late to stop him, or to stop yourself from what was about to happen.

You hoped if you didn't make a sound, he wouldn't notice. You used to always tell him when you were coming, because he told you to: coming, Joel, you're gonna make me come— please don't stop—

But he noticed, even without all that fanfare. Even if only a suppressed whine echoed in your throat, he felt the way your body reacted when he brought you to the peak.

"Mm," he hummed proudly, "y'see? See how your body remembers? Fuck, love feelin' it when ya come, babydoll. Love feeling that li'l cunt squeeze me."

After you’d come, though, you became far too sensitive— everything was just too much, all at once, and your whole body began to shake. He didn’t slow down, he wasn’t fazed at all, but you were so overcome you could barely choke out your plea for mercy: “J-Joel, please… s’too much, I jus’... I need a second—”

“Shh,” he interrupted. “Still teachin’ you your lesson, bunny.”

“No, fuck,” you gasped, “Joel, I… I can’t…”

“Can’t take it?” he finished for you. “Can’t take any more of this? This is what you wanted, though. Isn’t that why you made me come all this way? Made me chase you all over the fuckin’ country just so I could get my girl back?

"I won't leave Joel, just stop—"

"I know," he groaned. "I know you won't leave me again, especially when you're pregnant."

"What? Joel, no—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed, gripping your hips tighter.

"Joel, don't—"

Your begs were accompanied by your shaking hands trying to somehow wiggle their way out of the belt, but both were useless. He was so much stronger, his weight kept you pinned so easily that you felt like you couldn't breathe; his hips drove into yours over and over, every movement like another punch to the gut and a stab to the heart. “Just take it, baby,” he demanded, though the tone of his voice was sweet— rough, but sweet. “Just trust me.”

I don’t trust you, you wanted to scream, I can’t trust you. But it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, if you could even pull yourself together enough to speak.

"We're gonna be together, like you said," he promised, his voice a deep growl as he fought his way to the peak of pleasure, slamming into you ruthlessly. "Me an' you, and our baby. Gonna make you so happy, bunny, gonna take care of you— and we're gonna be a family—"

"Please,” you breathed, “let's just— just talk about this first…"

"And you'll be mine forever, y'hear me? You're never gonna try to fuckin' leave again."

You shook your head, exhausted and overwhelmed and giving in completely to the fact that he did own you, even after you insisted that he didn't.

"Say it."

"I won't try to leave you again," you promised, the words like poison in your throat but music to his ears. "I love you, Joel… you know I love you…"

"I love you too, bunny," he returned, holding onto you tighter. "So much— more than you can imagine."

You were numb, barely in reality, as he filled you; you could feel his cock flexing inside you and you hated the way it made your walls pulse— it showed how your body craved what your mind feared.

“Baby…” he groaned, that heavy satisfaction in his voice as he sunk down on top of you. You’d been waiting for him to pull out, disgusted that he was still inside you and hoping that you could sneak off to the bathroom to try to clean yourself out; but, he stayed inside, and relaxed even further as he stayed laying on top of you.

Staring off into space, you tried to shut your eyes but it burned. So you just blinked through the pain and wished against everything that this was some horrible dream.

If it was, it felt more real than anything ever had. He kissed your face gently, wiping the last of your tears away with his thumb. "Shh, it's okay, little bunny… everything's gonna be okay now," he soothed in a whisper. “You won’t have to be alone anymore. It’s gonna be how it’s supposed to— how we said it would: you and me, forever. Okay?”

It wasn’t a dream, but the way you spoke and moved without even thinking first sort of felt like one; “Okay,” you mumbled weakly as you nodded.

He smiled proudly down at you. “Now let’s get you home, bunny.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller dark fic #dark!joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller smut #dark!joel miller hbo #joel miller hbo x reader

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kakujis · 8 months

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looking glass;

synopsis: suguru's words are always so sweet, but his actions are not.

warnings: afab!fem reader, dacryphilia, subby reader, implied multiple rounds, pet names, choking, a teensy bit of manhandling, suguru is a lil mean. not proofread since i wrote this in like 2 hours lol

ft+ wc: geto suguru, around 700.

network: @enchantedforest-network!

an: i woke up today, then immediately took a nap, and then had my 4th dream about him within the past cpl of weeks and figured i'd finally just write for him T_T. be kind to me pls it's my first time writing for him! honestly this was self indulgent and i apparently can't stop writing mean charas. anywho, i hope u enjoy :>.

geto suguru has always loved seeing you cream around his cock, from the way your mouth hangs open to the twitching of your body. but the first time he pushed you a little further off the edge, where pinpricks of tears fell from your eyes, he became obsessed. but geto is always “nice”, coaxing you into another orgasm with his sweet words that drip honey into your veins.

“suguru..” you sniffle, pawing against him, “no more.” you’re weaker than him though, your pushes against him not doing much.

“hm?” he hums, tilting his head before swiping away at a tear trailing down your cheek. he gives you an easy-going smile that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. “we’re gonna keep going, okay? you can do it, baby.”

you’re propped up on your elbows, legs looped around his waist as he stares down at you. maybe it’s the fogginess in your brain, but you always submit to him easily. or maybe, it’s the fact that you can’t escape anyway, pinned down to the bed underneath you.

you nod and he leans in, grabbing the back of your head to bring you in for a kiss. his lips are soft, just like his voice, smooth and easy. geto is sweet, he’s nice, he’s kind. but the hand that shifts from your hair, fingers trailing across your jawline before settling around your neck is not.

you whimper and gasp when he squeezes, mouth falling open just enough for him to slip his tongue in. you struggle to keep your balance, falling back onto the bed but he follows you, tongue still intertwined with yours. he also readjusts, cock deep inside your pussy.

he pulls away only to litter wet kisses onto your teary face. “sugu-!” you try, some drool trailing from your lips, but he squeezes again, cutting you off as your hands fly up to pull at his.

“shh,” he reassures, “it’s okay, you’re okay.” his hips start to move and you whimper again, your walls already squeezing around his cock. “you like that huh?” he smiles and you nod, unable to speak.

he starts to thrust harder, heavy balls slapping against your skin and the grip you have on his wrist tightens. your swollen, wet lips hang open as you moan and gasp. suguru is big, so big that you always ask him to wait when he first slips in to give you time to adjust. but after multiple orgasms, you think he fits perfectly, slipping in and out of your pussy.

“you’re so cute, y’know that?” he says, smiling down at you. “and so pretty when you’re crying and screaming on my cock.” you’re almost too hazy to notice the “screaming” part, but your eyes widen as you look up at him. he smiles brighter, before he angles himself, slamming in and making sure to go as deep as possible. you squeal and thrash, toes curling.“yep! just like that.”

you claw at his arm, the one that’s currently trapping your throat. but he’s strong, not even budging as your nails dig into him. it’s too fucking much, you think, as your eyes roll back. but suguru simply brings one of your knees further up, spreading you even more and your thighs tremble.

“go on,” he coos, eyes narrow, “cum for me.” he squeezes one last time before you’re coming undone, flailing and seeing white. your pussy twitches around him as he fucks you through it, before he slowly comes to stop.

he releases the grip on your neck, his hand once again soft as it trails up to caress your cheek. you hiccup and pant, as you come down from your high.

“good girl,” he praises, pulling out, and you press your cheek further into his hand, opting to suckle on his thumb. he chuckles, “was that so bad?”

you shake your head, the tears finally starting to stop. you don’t realize that he still hasn’t cum yet and close your eyes anyway, thinking it’s over. it’s not till he removes his thumb and flips you over onto your belly that you realize it’s not.

“that’s good,” he says as he pulls your hips up, flush with his, slipping inside. you sob out, trying to crawl away, but he places a palm between your shoulders, locking you in. “cause we’re not finished yet.”

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #pibby writing #im so nervous to post this bye

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floshav · 6 months

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part 2 to my last rodrick fic which u can read here !

summary: Rodrick proves his likeness for y/n through a spontaneous kiss leaving her smitten and dazed. However, thoughts of Heather still lingered in her mind, constantly being reminded of the blonde girl whenever she passed by. "Does Rodrick still like her?" "Does he even like me?" What happens when Heather suddenly takes interest in Rodrick after ignoring him for years just because she can't let y/n get what she wants.

wc: 2k plus

warnings: allusions to smut, heavy make out

2 weeks later...

the kiss, no not just the kiss but the two kisses rodrick and y/n shared that night resulted in their relationship. She had been left smitten and the feeling was one of those that even if you wanted to forget, you couldn't. The heart racing, blush inducing feeling of getting kissed on by rodrick the boy she'd been crushing on for years, with his rough boy lips which still managed to be soft and plush because well, he was Rodrick after all.

It was now a plain old Monday and she was lost daydreaming in her Calculus class, or was it english? She couldn't bother to take notice.

"Alright, take out your calculators and flip to page 56. We'll be grinding through the workbook today class!" Ms. Smith yelled whilst her big buggy glasses fell down the tip of her nose bridge, stopped by her finger which shoved them back in place. Y/n couldn't care less. Her mind was swarmed with what happened 2 weeks ago.

His lips grazed hers one more time, this time softer and one might say more lovingly if she was in a state of delirium. She felt his slender hand creep up the side of her hip brushing it against her shirt so so gently. He broke off the kiss and his face was so close to hers she felt as if she might faint right then and there. The boy who was rough, impatient and borderline rude crumbled in-front of her. She'd never seen Rodrick like this before. Each freckle, each fine line, each perfect imperfection visible to her now. She'd imagined this image thousands of times before, but never had she imagined it to come true. Rodrick hesitated before saying his next words "I- I really like you y/n. And- and i just want to set that clear before you try showing up to my house drunk silly again. You were being so wreck less you know that?" He chuckled dorky-ly ever so slightly which made her heart pound just a little harder. Her heart fluttered at how he cared for her.

"M'sorry I-i just, m'just so jealous." She slurred as her eyes began to tear up with a mix of happiness, jealousy, anger and most of all, sadness. "Why? You know i'm here for you and you only, stupid." Rodrick whispered so softly against her lips but y/n's mind swarmed with confusion. "B-but you always *hiccup* talk about Heather." She sighed as she let herself fall into her hands. "Makes it *hiccup* hard to believe" She said again. "I-" He moves further back and a familiar ache rises to her chest, one of abandonment. "She was just someone I was infatuated in. Nothing more. Fuck. If i really liked her, would i have kissed you back? Let alone kiss you again?" He said making eye contact this time. He looked absolutely illegal. The way his hair was his usual mess, his blown out eyeliner smudged beneath his fox eyes. His puffy lips. Everything about him made her feel unreasonably hot in the cool weather. "S-so no more feelings for her?" "No. no more." he said so seriously it made her scared. "In fact, she's an asshole and i don't want any part of her in my life." He said whilst memories of what Heather did earlier fled his mind. Rodrick plants a kiss at the corner of y/n's lips and this time she knows it was meant lovingly. Still, at the back of her mind, the one aching question lingered, didn't he say he loved her?

"Y/n?" "Ms y/n?" She blinked and the memory was interrupted by an annoying voice. "Do you care to open your workbook? Or do you intend on staring at the cover for the next hour?" Ms Smith's breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck waking her from her daydreams of what happened that hazy night.

"Yea, sorry ms smith." She smiled tightly before flipping to page 66 or 57 the page number was was a blur to her, but an open book would do.

He planted a soft kiss at the crook of her neck.

suddenly her mind wandered to what happened later that night.

Hand riding up under her shirt. "is this okay?" His voice was earnest and soft against the skin of her neck.

her thighs clenched together unintentionally and she felt ashamed for imaging such lewd things. She'd been daydreaming about that night for the past few weeks. Each week making her crave for more until she felt sick. Rodrick hadn't made a move like that on her ever since, and she was just too shy to even ask so images in her mind would do for now.

He unclasped her bra in one swift motion and it made her question if he'd done this before, with... Heather? No, can't be, she doesn't even care for him. Right?

The kissing started to turn into making out and y/n felt his breathing falter when she brushed her pinky against his crotch by accident.

"Fuck do you even know what you're doing right now-"

"Ms. y/l/n!" Just as quickly as it started, her daydreaming had come to a halt.

"I've been calling your name for the past 5 minutes. Care to share your answer to the whole class? I assume you didn't even hear the question number i gave you. Number 5! Now." Ms. Smith tried to hush her yelling down to be more precarious.

"Sorry Ms." Y/n sighed before making her way to the black board with a dumb empty mind filled with Rodrick.

------------------

The same could be said about Rodrick. His usual sleepiness that was met with classes vanished ever since that night. Instead of sleeping, he was putting his pretty dumb brain to use by thinking. Thinking about y/n. Every night, everyday, every moment. He'd be lying if he said that she was the only girl he'd ever gained feelings for, because Heather Hills did exist. But it was true when he said he didn't like her anymore.

"Mmm- Aaah- R-rodrick p-please not my neck."

"Shhh, just one more kiss y/n, please."

"F-fuck!"

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUC-"

Before Rodrick's dream could get any steamier he was awoken to the sound of Heather cursing just beside him, clearly to get someone's attention.

"FUCK! how am i going to do this!!!" Heathers voice was painfully exaggerated and Rodrick couldn't help but cringe. Was this the girl he was smitten by before?

"Oh- Hey Roddy!" Heather smirked as she twisted her body to face him.

Rodrick's head was rested on his arm and he couldn't help but look at her with dead eyes, clearly annoyed.

"You.... you play the drums right?"

"Mmm" Rodrick groaned as he scratched his temple, he was surprised at how much he didn't care for THE Heathers presence anymore.

"Was wondering if.... You'd wanna play a gig at my birthday party?"

Rodrick's eyes lit up. A gig? That was a once in a blue moon occasion to rodrick's ears. But reality struck him when he remembered it was Heather who was asking.

"Mmm sorry Heather, don't think i can." Though it ached him to decline the gig, he knew you wouldn't like it so he sucked it up. Rodrick felt a sense of pride when he realised he didn't stumble over his words around her anymore.

"Awwww but why! I'll pay you 50 bucks an hour, and you know my parties last long." She feigned a girly voice as she batted her long eyelashes which icked Rodrick out.

50 bucks an hour..... The offer was tempting but, you were even more tempting.

Before Rodrick could answer, you walked in the class with a goofy smile, ready to see your Rodrick with..... Heather.

Heather shot back daggers through a fake soft smile. The type she'd give to a teacher after almost being caught doing something.

"Oh... Hello there y/n! Sorry, Rodrick was just telling me about how he'd love to play drums at my party. Isn't that right Rodrick?"

"Wh- No?" Rodrick scoffed out, eyes squinting at the mischievous blue eyed blonde.

"Oh c'mon, don't lie to y/n just because you pity her! You're a man! Act like one." Heather said as she got up from her chair slightly agitated at the fact Rodrick didn't play along.

"See you there Roddy." Heather said before smirking and popping out her ass dramatically.

roddy... That nickname made y/n's blood boil and she never wanted to hear it again.

"I swear! I-I did not agree to any of the shit she just yapped about." Rodrick panicked whilst stumbling over his words like a nervous teenager, that familiar feeling rising again but this time towards y/n.

"Hard to believe Rodrick. Or should i say Roddy... God! i shouldnt have been so naive. I'm so stupid! I thought you were over her." Y/n lashed out before storming out the classroom in a hurry, not thinking straight.

"Wait! Fuck. That fucking bitch Heather." Rodrick sighed out as he reached for the class door.

You found yourself slanting against a crusty brick wall beside a half broken vending machine. You don't know why you overreacted so fast without even bothering to hear Rodrick's explanation but maybe it was because you were so stupidly insecure. You quickly fumbled around your pants pockets to find an old packet of ciggs you remembered you left there. There were 2 left so you lit one up and breathed in the pure comfort. It felt nice to not care just for a second with the cigarette around. When it could have gotten more peaceful you heard a set of obnoxious dorky feet approach you.

"Hey." Rodrick said lightly as he squatted down to your eye level, lanky hands hanging by each sides of his knees.

It made you jump a little and your facade of wanting to remain mad slowly revealed itself. You couldn't help but suppress a tight smile from leaking out.

"What" You said as you blew a whiff of smoke away from his face. His heart fluttered at the small gesture.

"I really did not agree to what Heather told you." He said seriously which was a rare look on Rodrick.

"Are you sure? Cuz it seems like you two are getting along just fine" Y/n sighed as she pushed her hair back, Rodrick's heart beat pounding harder by the second.

"Please, believe me I- I really did not agree to anything, I-I really want you to believe me please." Rodrick was pleading which was something she only saw when he was lovesick. At that moment she knew he couldn't harm her emotionally.

"Alright. Fine, I believe you." Y/n said with a tired voice, though deep down she was glad she could read Rodrick like an open book.

"Im so sorry." Rodrick sighs before nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, still a nervous wreck whenever he handled her.

She releases her cig and reaches in to hug him back tightly and lovingly before breathing in the intoxicating scent of him. Far better than a cig.

Just around the corner was a cheeky little Heather, listening in to every single decibel of the convo. Heather tightly rolled her eyes and scoffed before it turned into a smirk. Something clicked in her head. She knew what she had to do.

She was going to fake it till she made it.

---------------------------

lol i feel like this story deserves a pt3 so if this does well i will continue it! I know this has been a long times worth of progress but i've been procrastinating writing like crazy lately and i've only started getting back into it. Anyway please do request because i'm always bored and free !

#rodrick fanfiction #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick imagines #rodrick smut #smut #rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick fanfic #rodrick heffley #rodrick x reader #rodrick rules #rodrick x y/n #not my rodrick

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awniie · 3 months

Text

PRAISE W/ SUGURU GETO ୨ৎ

꒰ summary: geto fucking the absolute daylight outta you ♡

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ content: porn no plot, praise kink, crybaby reader, fem!reader, sub?readerrr, kinda rushed so not proof-read <33

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ notes: tysm @d0nk3y-k0ng for the req, ly pooks :3

"Sugu…feel s-soso good..” you hiccup, stealing breath in between each thrust, just for him to fuck it out if you again. He had you saddled on top of him, this position allowing his cock to reach spots you didn’t even know could be reached. You struggled to keep up after a while, and just held on. He kept a hand on each side of your hips, squeezing into the fat of your ass which was sure to leave if mark but it’s nothing you cared about right now. “Taking me so well baby, aren’t ya’? Pussy squeezing me s’ tight….fuck” his heavy hand quickly fell on your ass, stealing a strangled moan from your wet lips. This duality made you crazy, his was pounding up into you with no remorse leaving no spot in your cunt unfucked, but then he would say things like; “Doing so well for me baby. Love you ‘n this pussy so much.” or “Good girl” with that undeniably sexy purr that rolled off his tongue, almost making you cum on cue. His words made you want to keep pleasing him, as if that was your sole purpose. You greedily took in all his sugary-sweet words, leaving you wanting more. You’d get on your knees for this man, just to feel that moment when your stomach flipped at the smallest bit of attention. Another harsh slap on the your read brought your back from your lust-hungry thoughts. You let out a whine to which he replies to another deep thrust. Wayyy too deep. “F-fuck sugu…sugu..sugu..” you babbled, his name the only thing that could spill out of your cock-filled brain. You were close, you could feel the build up of your impending release. You squeezed tighter around his length, drawing out a loud groan for him. That only egged him on though, ruthless thrust after thrust in your cunt. You were sure you were nothing more than dead weight that way he fucked the light out of you, but if you were he showed no struggled in bouncing you up and down on his cock.

“O-oh m’ go-odd…suguuu…m’ gonna cummmm…” was the most coherent sentence you’d let out in the last few minutes. “You gonna come baby, gonna come all over m’ cock right?” He asked, as if that wasn’t something that was settled on a while ago. You’d only let out a sob in response, which was good enough for him.

He was familiar with the way your body worked before an orgasm. The way your breath hitched and made your fits bounce, and the way your cunt spasmed right as you were on the delicious edge. He thrusted even harder, echos of skin meeting skin filling the room. “hey, hey baby. Look at me, look.” your boyfriend suguru instructed, before grabbing your fucked-out face and made you look him. His voice was breathy and your stray hairs stuck to his forehead, but god he’s never looked better. “Go ahead and cum f’me baby, finish all over my fucking cock.” He’d groan, and that’s what fucking sent you. You let out a series of moans and cries, eyes squeezing shut and breathing all heavy, pussy fluttering and pulsing before you finally slumped against his chest. After a couple more sense-muting thrusts, he finished, heaving and feeling the way his dick softened while inside pussy. He watches the way your closed eyelid twitch and how her breath is ragged, surprising still (mostly) conscious. He pets the top of your head and peppers it with kisses. “Did so good for me baby. J’s like you always do.” He smirked at the way you squirmed at his praise and lifted your sweat-glistening face to look into his eyes. “Thank you su-gu..” you murmured, eyelashes drooping with crystal-clear tears. “L-love you.”

“Love you too baby, love you so fucking much.”

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snoringkitty1 · 12 days

Text

Nightmares (1)

Tw: Fluff, a bit of nightmare comfort. To celebrate his release, enjoy.

༺☆༻

It had just been a long day, and Aventurine and you had finished off the day with a nice couch date with dinner and cozy blankets. He may have spent more time teasing you then watching the movie but, all's well that ends well? And now, here you two were in bed, on the brink of falling asleep, mumbling sweet nothings to eachother until you each fell asleep. But not everything was all that great, nor was everything so peaceful.. Aventurine doesn't wake up from nightmares very often, and when he does, he usually doesn't wake you. But tonight was very different, he was stirring and grumbling in his sleep..He was balled up in the fetal position, covering his ears and scowling as well as tearing up..though that was harder to see nor would he admit that even when he wakes up. "Aven..?" You whispered softly and sat up a bit and rubbed your eyes, looking down at him in confusion before gently rubbing his back to ease him out of his slumber. "Wake up.." You called softly and gently shook him but received no response. This nightmare seemed to be rooted deep in his mind, persistently tormenting and invading his thoughts even in the safe space of his own bed. He trembled slightly when he was touched until he opened his eyes and realized his nightmare was just that, a nightmare. "Hey-" you pulled him close once he sat up, gently rubbing his back and making sure he felt safe. The way his arms trembled and the way he sobbed made your heart ache, it was rare to see him so..broken. "You're alright..you're safe, i'm here." You reassured softly and kissed the side of his head, your voice and words of reassurance seemed to ease him and his sobs gradually were reduced to soft sniffles and hiccups. He squeezed you tightly before leaning back, "I don't know what game i won to have you." He muttered softly and held your face. You leaned into his touch and chuckled, "i would've ended up with you even if you lost." you smiled and held his hand before gasping as he suddenly pulled you into a kiss that he immediately deepened. He squeezed you again, furrowing his brows briefly before leaning back and smiling smugly seeing you out of breath. But even if he was smug, his grin was loving and playful, though the aftershock of that nightmare still lingered in his eyes. "You can just say i love you, y'know?" You teased and pecked his lips before flopping back and pulling him down with you. He gasped, but in the end wasn't very surprised as he looked at you, blonde hair messily framing his face as he tilted his head, "But i think my tongue works better in your mouth." He mused softly, chuckling seeing you pause. "Shut up!" You huffed and pinched his cheeks before squeezing him, "Aw~ You don't like when i state the truth?" he grinned, like a cheshire cat and pushed up a bit to kiss your forehead, smiling down at you. "You-!" Aventurine was so good with his words, and flooding you with embarrassment so much so that you couldn't muster the heart to respond. It clearly was his favorite form of entertainment, "Just- just go back to sleep!" You demanded in embarrassment. He tilted his head before scooting down again, setting his chin on your chest and smiling up at you. Those hauntingly beautiful eyes burrowed into your own, as if to get a good look at your own soul. "Your eyes are beautiful." You hummed and set your hand on his head, beginning to brush your hand though the messy golden locks. His smile seemed to disappear for a brief moment, but returned too fast for you to point it out in your sleepy state. "Hm..I like yours more." He muttered, the soft silence in-between words of love and praise along with your warmth seemed to be doing just the trick, lulling him back to sleep slowly but surely. Seeing him starting to nod off, you didn't respond..just brushed your hand through his hair until, finally, he was off to sleep..hopefully without anymore nightmares.

Thanks for reading.

#headcanon #fluff #boyfriend #honkai star rail #x reader #hsr x reader #star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #boyfriend scenario #nightmare comfort #Angst

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bakubunny · 5 months

Note

omgggg aizawa and "you are doing so well"

🐈

ughhhhh nonnieeee

hitting me right where it hurts with aizawa + praise. 😮‍💨 gonna go with “reader who’s still not used to his (huge) dick” trope.

“i ca-can’t sho, ‘s too b-big,” you say with a hiccup. heat flamed your cheeks hearing how pathetic you sounded in your own head.

you’d thought when you met shota that - because you’d had sex plenty of times before - you wouldn’t be too phased after seeing his size, but your clenching pussy told another story. his thick cock was a bit over halfway in your cunt, his length already feeling like the first two thirds you had was too much even though he was gently pushing deeper.

“shhh, it’s okay. you can do it, baby,” shota said as he pulled back and slowly fucked you.

you whimpered at the sound of his voice, fingers digging into his shoulders as your poor cunt tried to accommodate him. shota kissed you as you fucked partially in an attempt to distract you from how full you felt. slowly but surely, he pushed deeper still as his thumb rubbed gentle circles into your clit until he eventually bottomed out.

“‘m so f-full,” you whined.

“i know, it’s a lot, huh?” he replied. “you ready?”

you nodded dumbly.

“that’s my girl,” shota cooed, giving you a kiss on the nose.

his hips pulled back and thrust into you fully for the first time, and your eyes went wide. even in the dim light, you could see his grin. shota thrust again, a gasp on your lips before he set an easy pace, pulling a high pitched whine from your lips.

“oh shit, fuck-”

your buried your face in your hands and bit your cheek, wishing you could hide the fact that you were already a mess as his hips smacked into yours. you hadn’t known that getting fucked by a dick like his could feel so overwhelming and so good.

“aww, don’t be shy, baby,” he said. “let me see that pretty face.”

a shudder ripped down your spine as your cunt fluttered and squeezed him, another stifled moan on your lips. you took a chance and tentatively met his gaze. a heavy moan left your chest when you were rewarded with shota fucking you harder and faster as your mind fell into an empty haze, pleasure washing through your body as he did.

“there she is. you’re doing so well,” shota said, leaning down to give you a kiss.

@dcsiremc eat up

#also sorry these are taking longer than expected to get out 😭#this is probably so ooc but idc rn #also i recognize you as 🐈 anon but could you dm me so i know who’s actually asking for smut lmao #i love me some scrungly man praise 😳🫣#aizawa smut #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #x reader #bnha smut #bakubunny #requests

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jhoneybees · 3 months

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Sweetly Drunk

I hope you like it! It's a little different from my other age regression fics but it's still really cute!! It's a pretty short one, sorry about that!! My brain isn't cooperating again😭

Tags: @elvisalltheway101

Characters: Drunk!Elvis X little!reader

Warnings/triggers: Little lifestyle, age regression, littlespace, intoxication, alcohol, drunk person(the fic is nothing terrible!)

There are a lot of 'babies' and 'sweeties' in this😅

_____________________________________________

It’s one of those very rare nights where someone like Elvis who isn’t a big drinker, has a few too many drinks with the guys. Elvis doesn’t get loud like many other drunks but the moment your name unknowingly slips out of his mouth, that’s when things break loose.

“Y/n? Babyy..where is my baby, Joe? Where?” Elvis whipped his head around at Joe, his eyes growing heavy and body jolting now and then from hiccuping. “At home E, she’s at home” Joe answered with a chuckle, patting his back. Elvis groaned and rested his head in his hands “I wanna see her… My darling…darling..so it goes SOMETHINGS ARE MEANT TO BE” lifting his head up, Elvis leaned back in his chair with his arms lifted in the air “TAKE MY HAND, TAKE MY WHOLE LIFE TOO” slurring his words and singing loudly, making the others laugh “E?” Charlie chuckled with a shot glass in his hand. His energy levels changing, Elvis groaned again and rubbed his eyes “Lord…” he sighed as he fell further into his chair with his legs spread out.

As time went by, the guys decided to send Elvis home. Leading him to his black Lincoln limousine for only him to make their lives harder by pushing them away and sprawling his arms out as if he’s an eagle but after some time, they eventually got him in and Joe volunteered to drive him back to Graceland.

Finally arriving back home, Elvis shuffles himself out of the passenger’s seat, stumbling up the steps with Joe watching him from the driver’s seat “Baby, baby…Babyyy” barging in, Elvis looks around “Where’s my baby… DARLING I’M HOME-” getting cut off abruptly by Jerry who was watching over you while Elvis was away “ Jeez E! Quiet down, she’s sleeping man!” he whispers. Elvis in his very drunk state, doesn’t listen and pushes Jerry away as his arms sprawl out once more. Walking up the stairs towards his bedroom “Wittle sweetie!” Jerry shakes his head whilst sighing as he leaves the house.

As Elvis walks into his bedroom, he snickers quietly, seeing a small lump on his bed “Sweetie…” prolonging his words in his silly voice.

Elvis kicks his shoes off and climbs onto the bed. A big grin on his face as he lays down and shuffles closer to your sleeping figure. Elvis wraps his arms around you, making you stir and soon opening your eyes. “...Daddy?” rolling onto your back, peering up through squinted eyes. Elvis letting out a breathy laugh “My baby! Hello..” he hiccups.

Your eyebrows furrow as you notice something’s different but your thoughts get interrupted by Elvis rolling himself on top of you in an attempt to give you a bear hug “How’s my darlin’ been? Hmm?” the size and weight difference being very visible, you gasp out for air “Daddy! I can’t breathe!” pushing your fists on his shoulders, Elvis chuckling he rolls off “Aw c’mon you love those hugs!” you huff out a breath and sit up, frowning confused at why he’s acting like this but then again Elvis interrupts.

Sitting himself up to pull you into another unexpected hug “C’mere Daddy wants a hug, a hug f’om my baby” he rests his head in the crook of your neck and playfully munches at your skin, making you giggle. “Daddy! What are you doing?” humming softly as he pulls away, looking at your eyes with his dazy ones “I love you so much” he whispers and you smile gently but soon fades as you watch his eyes close and slump back down onto the bed. “Daddy?” feeling concerned, then out of nowhere, his arms go up in the air “C’mere..” hesitantly you lay down against his side while placing your head on his chest, he sighs contently and wraps his arms around you again to make sure you don't go anywhere.

Soon drifting off to sleep, not knowing he'll be suffering from an awful hangover tomorrow morning but that's alright, he's got you.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fans #60s elvis #70s elvis #elvis imagine #i love him #elvis presley x reader #elvis fanfiction

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

Something to Fight For (Series) Part 18 Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: 18+ THIS CHAPTER'S TRIGGER WARNINGS: Emotional Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Drug Addiction, Mentions of Death A/N: I rewrote this fucking chapter about 8 times. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. It was a real hard one to write, ya'll. A lot of my own shit is mixed up in there with the story. MC is part me after all (and part all of you). So it was hard. Harder than I think I expected it to be. So I dunno how it ended up. Couldn't re-read it too much. I really need your reviews on this one folks. It's real important to me, 'specially now. I need to know how you feel, the good and the bad. I gotta get this right.

Story Masterlist HERE

You're overcome.

There's no other word for it. You've been sobbing in your shower for the last hour. After running from the barn, taking a taxi home and bursting into your suite you immediately fell to your knees, the warm water pelting down onto your back.

It's as close to being held, at being soothed that you can manage right now.

You can’t stop replaying tonight’s events. The song Joel chose. The one of longing and deep yearning.

"She may be the reason I survive

The why and wherefore I'm alive

The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years"

But also of a love gone by. A regret.

"She may be the face I can't forget

A trace of pleasure or regret"

Is that how he views you? A love gone by?

Of course he does.

Paul's engagement ring is in the velvet box it came in. It's being returned tomorrow. You'd have done it tonight if it weren't so late.

You need to end things. It's the only way forward. No matter what, no matter if Joel is in love with Tess, no matter if you'll never be with him, you *can't be with Paul.

You don't love Paul. It's obvious to everyone including yourself. It's been obvious for so long. You've wasted so much fucking time and energy on him.

You think of all the boxes packed here, the ones you were going to move to Leander. You think of how strange and sad it is that your whole life can be put into less than twenty cardboard boxes.

And even though Joel can't be yours and even though that hurts more than words can begin to say, you are so fucking grateful for him. You are so grateful you met Joel Miller because he's shown you what love is. True, caring love.

Even if it's not yours to keep.

You will never forget the way he looked singing tonight. The goodbye song from his heart to yours. You'd felt it. The bittersweet finality of your time.

More tears are coming.

"I love him," you say to the tile in front of you. You need to hear the words spoken out loud in the universe, even if it's hidden in the fall of the shower and heard only by you. "I love Joel."

You need to see Joel. You need him to hold you. Need his calming presence. You need to wrap your arms around him and press your face into his neck and just feel breathe that sweet, spicy scent of home.

He's not yours.

You don't get to see Joel. You don't get to have him. He's Tess'. You can't be his friend, you want him too much. So what does that leave?

That leaves you replaced and alone.

You pull yourself from the shower, shivering as you towel off, drying your hair the best you can. You go to your dresser and pull out one of the few remaining pieces of clothing there.

Joel's shirt.

You've washed it so it doesn't smell like him anymore. Doesn't smell like the laundry detergent he uses or that wood shavings scent he sometimes carries. But when you put it on it feels like he's there in some small way. You pull it on over your sleep shorts hiccupping a soft cry.

You remember so long ago, standing in Joel’s den as you pondered if he just played guitar or if he sang as well.

“S’weird how something can make you feel so good and then outta nowhere become the pain”

That’s how it feels now. Joel, the thing that makes you feel good has also become the pain. The wedding is tomorrow. You need to collect yourself by then. You'll see Joel and you need to be controlled. You need to be okay. You need to not ruin this for him.

Because you do love Joel. You love him in a way you never expected to love or be loved. You love him so much that you are determined to make his life better. Determined that you will not take away what he has carved out for himself.

You crawl under the covers, your face buried in the pillow.

"I l-love Joel," you whisper it again into the pillow only now it's broken by sobs. You curl up under the covers, your body trembling. "I love him I love him."

You feel lost. So hopelessly lost.

And then the phone rings.

///

It's late in the Miller house. Quiet. Sarah's been asleep for hours thanks to the sugar crash Bill's cupcakes provided.

Tommy's asleep in the basement apartment, exhausted from the evenings festivities and anticipating a long day tomorrow.

Or, as Joel glances over at the bright neon numbers of his digital clock, later today.

He's laying in bed, one arm behind his head, one hand over his sternum as he stares at the ceiling. In this pose he feels every breath in, every breath out. The studying rhythm bringing him peace. It's impossible to shake the image of you free from his mind.

He'd done it out of love for you. Out of a need for you to know how much you'd changed him. Changed his heart, his outlook, even his fucking idea on the concept of romantic love.

But the look on your face? The way it had fallen before you had dashed out?

Sarah had been bouncing up and down in her seat when he finished his performance, hugging him tightly and throwing things at him as he tried to contain his disappointment ("Daddy you sing so pretty!" And "Daddy will you teach me guitar?") Everyone was clapping him on the back, telling him it was wonderful, so romantic, that Tommy and Maria loved it.

He refused to let his eyes search for you, knowing you were gone. He refused to let his heart believe that you'd come back.

Joel knows he has to stay away from you.

Knows that singing tonight was a terrible idea because not only did he make it so obvious to everyone that he’s so deeply in love with you, but he also made you cry.

Watching your face crumple, watching the way your eyes fell to the ground at the last string. He’d thought you’d be happy singing, Maria had said how often you’d felt happy when you did. But that wasn’t happiness he saw tonight. It was pain.

Joel doesn’t know what to do. He feels so lost.

And then the phone rings.

///

"Joel, I need you."

Four little words over the phone at 2 am.

Four little words that have Joel stumbling out of bed, murmuring he'll be there before he's pulling on his jeans and a t-shirt.

He's half asleep, his mind whirring. He goes to the basement, rapping on the door. An equally tired Tommy answers, blinking in the light.

"She- I gotta go," Joel tries to explain in a rush. "I'll explain later. Can you come watch Sarah?"

Tommy gives a few bleary eyed blinks before nodding and following his brother up the steps.

Tommy settles himself on the sofa as Joel runs out the door. And all the younger Miller can think before he falls asleep is:

Finally.

///

Joel's shoulders nearly take up the doorframe. You notice this when the rap of his knuckles pulls you sniffling from the sofa and you open the door to him.

His eyes are sleepy, but wide. His hair is tousled from sleep and you can see the indent of his pillow faint in his left cheek. He scans your face, concerned.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry," you say as soon as Joel takes a step towards you. "I never should have called so late. I’m so so sorry, Joel."

"Just let me in," Joel insists, his hand coming to go to your cheek and then dropping. He doesn’t want to overstep. "Tell me what happened."

You try to make the words come out; you force them crackling and trembling out into the world.

"I don't want... I don't want to go back."

Joel doesn't have any context, but that doesn't stop him from rushing in. He closes the door behind him gently before bringing you into his arms. Your forehead drops against his sternum as he does this, your tears warm and free flowing.

As he rubs a soothing hand along your spine he realizes you're wearing his t-shirt again. For some reason this small thing makes Joel's eyes wet.

You're so warm in his arms, trembling against him as you hold in sobs. He wants to kiss away the tears rolling down your cheeks. He wants to carry you to bed and strip every bad memory and experience from you with his mouth and body.

That's not what she needs right now. She needs a friend.

He takes your hand in his, leading you to the sofa. A place where you can talk. The fireplace is on, bathing you in a warm flickering glow that makes his breathing hitch when he glances over at you.

Your eyes are puffy, your nose red and he thinks you might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

He can't help himself but reach for you, bringing you to his lap as he sits. There's nothing sexual about it, just the need to hold you close, to make you feel safe there. Your arms wrap around his neck and he rocks you, his arms banding around your waist.

"Honey," Joel whispers into the crook of your neck. "What's wrong?"

Honey.

You melt into him just as easily as the word. This was a terrible idea. What had you been thinking? How could you ask Joel here?

Because of the song, your traitorous heart cries. Because you love him! Because his face is the first one you want to see!

You hold him tightly to you, unable to break from him just yet. Unable to tell him the awful ugliness. Instead your mind drifts to the rehearsal dinner. Your hand plays with the fabric of Joel's shirt, twisting it under your fingers.

"Joel . . . The song."

Immediately he tenses and you can't see his face, but you can imagine it. Eyes nervous, mouth hooked slightly to the side. The same way he’d held his face that night in his den, your hand around a glass of soda.

"Maybe one day we'll have reason to make music again.”

Joel smiles softly around his glass. "Maybe."

"Did you like it?" he murmurs into your hair. You can't help but hold him tighter, your eyes filling. He sounds so unsure of himself, so worried about what you’ll say.

"Yeah, I loved it. It was beautiful."

You feel him physically relax in your arms at this admission. The tension, the uncertainty is drained from him. You force yourself not to tilt your face to his, not to search for his mouth with yours.

"I thought you didn't play anymore,” you tell his shoulder.

"I don't. One time performance I guess. Shoulda charged for tickets."

There, the humor you both needed to break the intense spell that weaves itself when you're in Joel's arms. You're thankful to him for that. Now you can pull back, still seated in his lap, but in control of yourself.

"I hope you keep playing forever."

Joel smiles wistfully at you, nodding. You let his dark eyes search your face. You let his hand cup your cheek, his wide thumb brushing away the tears there.

"I never told you about why I went back to Chicago," you sniffle. "Why I didn't call."

"You don't have to tell me," Joel insists. "It doesn't change why I'm here. I'll stay here all night just holdin' you if it's what you need."

He doesn't want to push you, doesn't want you upset because of him. This time in Chicago, the separation, it feels like an ugly part of your shared history that he just wants you both to forget.

"No, I want to tell you," you say in a sorrowful voice. "You deserve to know everything."

Joel nods and he wants to keep you there in his lap. But you shuffle back from him, sitting across from him on the sofa. It takes several minutes of staring into the flames of the fire before you feel you can begin.

"My dad has been in and outta the hospital a lot," you explain, looking at your hands in your lap. "It's because he's waiting for a liver transplant."

Joel is shocked. The way you spoke of Chicago, of your family, he'd assumed your father was dead.

"The thing is," you continue, unaware of his shock. "He can't get one unless he stops using and, uh, he won't."

"Using?" Joel is still taken aback by the revelation, not thinking clearly.

"Coke and heroin mostly," you say with a wince. "He's a drug addict."

Your father has been a junkie for most of your life.

And it's in part because you exist.

The same year you were born he'd gone to a party without your mom. She was tired, still breastfeeding you and encouraged him to go out and have some fun.

He did.

The kind of fun that had started as a party drug passed around and ended with him burning through the family savings and growing gaunt in the coming years. The kind of fun that had him doing eight balls during your soccer games and shooting up on your graduation day.

You were four when he first went into rehab at the insistence of your mother. A few weeks before your fifth birthday he'd come home sober and ready to change his life back around. You hadn't really understood what was happening. You'd just been so happy to be a family again.

That photo on your desk, the one the flood destroyed, the one that meant so much to you is from the only birthday party of yours that your father ever attended sober.

In the passing years he turned to drugs again but he hid it well from you and your mother. You never knew the severity of it until you turned fifteen.

Until you came home one day from your part time job at the Chicago humane shelter to find him covered in piss and his own vomit and barely responsive.

He died on his way to the hospital, a full forty two seconds he was clinically dead. Until they revived him and he sputtered back to life. You remember all of this because it was you in the ambulance with him.

Your mother was at work, unreachable. Your dad's sporadic unemployment meant she worked two jobs.

So it was a fifteen year old you with tears running down her cheeks that watched this unfold, completely terrified.

You were sixteen when he got out of rehab for the second time and promised his life was changed forever. He and your mother had almost two years of no fighting - a change of pace for you who had grown up to their constant shouting matches.

You were eighteen when he relapsed at a friend's house party. Twenty two and twenty five when he went back to the various rehabs that your mother always paid for in more ways than one.

And then he just stopped trying in the coming years. Still using, but not enough for your sweet mother to kick him out.

It's like he's infected by some insidious being inside him. A forever hungry thing that takes and takes, warping your once sweet father into something subhuman. A being that is frighteningly underweight, hollowing his cheeks and making his eyes bulbous in his face. He isn't your father anymore, not really.

But he is. That's the worst part.

Because if he wasn't your Dad you could hate him.

You tell Joel all of this, it spills from you like a stream and he sits across from you, nodding and never speaking. When your voice hitches or the tears begin fresh he instinctively moves towards you on the sofa, stopped only by your raised palm. You need to get all of this out and if he holds you, you never will.

"That night you left, like, two hours later my mom called me to tell me that my dad had a really bad seizure," You shake your head, wanting to stop the memory. "And she sounded so scared on the phone and I just had to get back. I had to get there, back home to help. I was on autopilot."

Joel recalls the hollow look in your eyes when he went to see you that day.

"I know you came to see me but I don't even remember it," you tell Joel. "All I could think of was that I fucked up, that I should have been there in Chicago with my mom."

Joel is stiff, watching you without speaking.

"And I got home and it was just as awful as I thought it would be." You start to shudder at the memory. "My dad could barely talk. And when he did all he wanted to do was blame me for leaving. Telling me I was selfish for leaving my mom and him. Telling me that without me around to help pay for things that there was more pressure on him and my mom to afford their place."

You break off only to hold in a sob, breathing deeply and continuing.

"And he was right, you know. Coming to Austin for school was so selfish of me. I could've just as easily gone to school back in Chicago." A look of disgust crosses your features as you talk now to yourself. "So fucking selfish."

"No," Joel's voice is quiet but firm. "That's not true."

You're ignoring him though, so caught up in your own devastation. Your eyes are shut tightly and your head is giving short jerks.

"I just run from everything, Joel. I ran from Chicago and I ran to Austin because I thought that if I kept running far away enough that, that his ugliness could never touch me. But it lives in me, Joel. That ugliness is in me forever."

Joel's eyes have grown glassy, even now he remains sitting there looking at you with unending patience and his hands twitching to hold you.

"I stayed there for a month,” you continue, not even aware that your head is tilted so low Joel has to lean forward to hear. “A month of my dad telling me I was selfish. A month of my mom trying to tell me that it's just his disease talking. A month of seeing your name come up on my phone and wanting so badly to talk to you but just thinking about how horrible I was and how you and Sarah deserved better."

You force yourself to breathe between sentences, your air hitching in your chest. Joel is staring at you, his eyes swimming over your features. Horrible? You?

"So when I eventually got back to Austin I was just so fucking sad, Joel. So tired. I couldn't get out of bed. I didn't want to be around anyone. Not you, not Sarah. I couldn't do that to you guys." You swipe at your eyes with the wrist of your sweater. "I should have called you and seen you but I was so selfish only thinking about me and how I felt.

Your eyes jerk open when you feel the warmth of Joel's hand on yours. He's leaning across the sofa, his wide hand placed gently over yours. A thumb gently strokes your knuckles.

"No," Joel breathes in a voice of gentle warmth. "Never selfish. Never. It was me that fucked up."

"No."

"Yes," Joel tells you and you can see the way his dark eyes are damp. "You are the least selfish person I've ever met."

"Oh yeah?" you challenge, your chin wobbling. "You know why I called you tonight? Because my mom just called to beg me to come home again. Apparently my dad's saying that if I move back to Chicago that he'll go to treatment again. That he'll stop using. That he'll be able to get the transplant."

Joel's eyes widen but he remains silent.

"And I don't want to go," you say, lips trembling. "I don't want to go back there. I don't want to fucking go even if it would mean helping because I'm a horrible, selfish cunt."

The sobs that burst out of you are pure anguish that you muffle in a pillow to keep Maria from hearing all those floors above. Joel is physically holding himself back, dying to embrace you but giving you your space.

All he can do is stroke your head, desperate to convey all of his care and affection for you through the gesture.

"He was always promising he was going to get clean," you say hollowly, moving away from the pillow and Joel's touch. "And my mom, she just, she just kept carrying on like there was hope. But there is no hope. Just this endless, bleak, fucking pain."

Your eyes meet his and you're overcome. You stand abruptly, feeling the scrutiny of Joel as sharply as if he were stabbing you.

"Joel, just go. I'm sorry I called. This was a terrible idea to have you come here. This isn't your problem. I'm so fucking sorry."

Joel stands and for a moment you think he's going to leave. You think that might be a relief because you're feeling too vulnerable, too exposed.

You aren't expecting Joel to quietly close the distance between your bodies and wordlessly pull you into his arms. You're shocked more however at how willingly you allow this, how easy it is to fall back into his embrace. To tangle your arms around his neck and hold him as tightly as you can. He's warm against you, his cheek resting on the top of your head as you press your face to his shoulder.

"I hate him. I hate what he put my mom and me through." Your chin is trembling as you blink back the onslaught of more tears. "And I hate that I love him so much because he's my fucking dad."

Your hands are gripping Joel around the middle as he holds you, his broad shoulders curling, his arms tightening.

"I hate that I just want him to die," you cry through clenched teeth. "To stop holding on. To bring my mother some fucking peace."

More tears come.

Joel thinks of James and the cocaine and how upset you'd been. He'd thought you were justified in the way you'd acted, the heated punch across James slimy face for treating you so rudely. But now he realizes why you'd been shamed, so terrified of your own fury.

"And I hate that I'm just like him."

You break off as Joel's large hand is cupping the back of your head, and he's gently swaying you, the way a mother would a newborn.

"It's okay," Joel murmurs in your hair. "I've got you. I've got you."

You don't know why, but this quiet utterance from him is that breaks you, and the wall against him that you've built so high for yourself collapses. Heavy sobs break free from you, stark mournful things that you muffle in Joel's shoulder. They make your body jerk, causing Joel to hold you tighter against him.

"Shhh," Joel soothes. "Just breathe, baby. Slowly, like me."

He takes a few steadying breaths, urging you to match the slow pace. After a few shuddering exhales you do so, your breathing staggering into a steady, even rhythm.

"Good," Joel whispers. "Good."

"I'm just like him," you again whisper the words you've only ever thought into Joel's collar. "I'm selfish and horrible and -"

"You're nothing like that," Joel assures you, pulling you back so that he can look into your eyes when he tells you this. "Not at all."

"Really? What do you call what we did in your kitchen?" You scoff. "Knowing that we were with other people? Or how about when you pushed me up against that wall over there?"

Joel is silent, only his eyes move around your face while the rest of him is like a statue. He doesn't need to look at the wall to know what you're talking about.

"I can't stop wanting you," you say with a look of torment in your eyes. "I can't fucking stop, Joel. I try and I try and I can't. I'm just like my dad. I want what I shouldn't. I want what's only going to hurt other people and hurt myself."

"Honey-"

"I can't stop," you repeat weakly, trying to step back from him. "So I have to stay away."

Joel hands are on either side of your face again and he's peppering your face with soft kisses and everything in you wants to rejoice because Joel is here and he's holding you.

"Don't stay away from me," Joel's tells you as he rains compassion down on you. "Never."

You can't keep him. He's not yours.

Both of you are being incredibly selfish right now. Tess is probably at home right now taking care of Sarah and Daniel. Tess who was made to be a mother. Tess who understands Joel. What is wrong with you?

Selfish.

Horrible.

"Stop, Joel," you say twisting from him, out of his grip. "I told you all of this so that you can understand why I won't be around as much. But I'll call Sarah every other night, if she still wants to speak to me. And when I come back for visits I'll take her to the movies and-"

It's like Joel is only just now noticing all the moving boxes. He's glancing around as you talk, his eyes widening.

"You're not actually thinking of moving back to Chicago," Joel interrupts in a horrified voice. "You can't be."

"Just for a few months, just until he's settled in rehab-"

"No," Joel is wild-eyed shaking his head, his eyebrows saddling. "You can’t. You just. . . You can’t do this. You can’t sacrifice everything. Your work - that sanctuary. You won’t come back. I know you, you’ll feel like you have to take care of your dad. You’ll stay there."

"It's complicated-"

"It's not."

"Joel, my dad needs me."

"That was a horrible thing to lay on your shoulders," Joel says and he looks furious and sad all at once. "And I'm sorry for your parents, I really am, but no. You can't go. You can't do this to yourself."

"I have to go," you tell Joel. You falter, pulling back from him, needing to be out of his orbit.

Joel stands there as you pull back from him, looking so out of place in your suite with its low ceilings, the space almost emptied of furniture. He’s like this beam you can’t look away from, this tall broad angel with eyes that look at you as if you’re actually worth something.

He breaks off, uttering a pained "Jesus Christ" and you're sure he's going to yell at you about Paul just like Maria did.

You’re sure he’ll run from the room shouting that you’re selfish. Positive that he’ll tell you that you’re not worth all this hassle.

Instead Joel does something you're not expecting.

He crosses the room over to you and slips to his knees, holding you around the middle before he presses his forehead gently against your abdomen. It shocks you, this action and this pose from him. He sits like this in silence for several minutes, holding you, breathing against you in heavy shudders. Your hands are on his broad shoulders, glancing down at him in confusion.

"I'm so sorry," he finally whispers, a little murmur against you. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

"I didn't need you to be," you insist, your hand going to his neck, urging his face up to look at you. He won't move his face from where it is lodged against your stomach. He can’t.

"But I should have been," Joel insists, his voice a low rasp.

“It was so long ago.”

Almost six months since the awful incident. And you don’t carry it with you, not like Joel apparently has because now his head tilts back from your abdomen.

"I never should have walked away that day. I should have stayed. If I had none of this Tess and Paul shit would have happened. I would’ve gone back with you to Chicago." Joel's voice sounds thick with escaping emotion. "I ruined us."

His beautiful eyes open and you watch as tears slip down his cheek. You suppose that's what makes you freeze up, your heart sinking. You've never seen Joel cry before and the sight is as shocking as it is heartbreaking.

"Forgive me," he whispers brokenly. "Please."

You can see the anguish in his features and realize he's been living in it since you got back. This hellish landscape of grief and regret. He's been wearing it like armor weighing him down.

"Nothing to forgive," you tell him honestly, your knuckles trailing down his cheek to wipe the tears away. "Joel it was never a matter of fault. It was just how things happened."

His head drops against your stomach again and you can feel his strong shoulders begin to quake jerkily.

"I was fucking weak."

"You were human," you reply, rubbing at his shoulders, wanting to soothe him as much as he wants to soothe you. "You couldn't have known."

"I just left you there, all hollow and quiet and I walked away," Joel's voice is ragged. "I should have stayed. That's what you do when you love someone."

Love.

It hits you with a strong, visceral acuity. Starting in your rib cage and then spreading outward, causing everything in your body to wake up. It makes you breathless to hear it, though you've long suspected it, secretly hoped for it.

"Joel-"

"I'll never stop being sorry for it," Joel tells you simply, his face tilting up to look into yours. "Never."

Without thinking your hand is gently carding through his tousled curls. His eyes shutter closed as he leans into your hands. The moment is overwhelming in austerity and you need to break it.

"Not even if I asked nicely?" you say with a teasing lilt to your voice.

His eyes open and he gives you a small, watery smile before he stands. He towers over you again, taking your face in his wide hands and now it’s you leaning into his touch.

"I'd do anything you asked."

And all at once you know he's going to kiss you and that you want him to.

He tilts his head forward and lips move over yours so gently that you sigh into his mouth. Your entire body sags towards him and instead of the fervent kisses from not that long ago, this kiss is different. It’s soft and sweet and unhurried. His soft lips move over yours, taking time to memorize how your pliant mouth moves under his, the way you inhale softly when you break apart, his wide hands still cupping your face.

Tess.

Marmalade.

Selfish.

"I'm sorry I called," you sniff, tilting your face from him. "I never should have done that. You should go, Joel."

"You want me to go?" Joel's voice is a low aching sound. You can't look at him. You can't look into those intense, beautiful eyes of his so instead you face away from him.

"Yes."

You feel yourself floundering, that unmistakable voice in your head screaming to run. Run from the conflict. Run from your feelings.

Run. Run.

"You're lyin'," Joel insists.

"I'm not."

You feel his strong fingers on either side of your chin, dragging your face to meet his. But still your eyes remain closed.

"Look at me."

You shake your head the best that you can in his grip.

"I can't have you here, Joel. I'm sorry I called you, it was wrong.”

Joel's hand is flying to slide around the back of your neck. "Stop."

"You’re with Tess," you insist with a shake of your head, pulling back from his sweet touch. "She's perfect for you. She'll make the best mom to Sarah. It makes sense, Joel. You have to see that."

"I broke it off with Tess," Joel bites off. “I don’t want Tess.”

Your eyes fly open."What?"

"How could I keep dating her? I knew I couldn't stop wanting you. I never will." Joel feels his neck growing warm. "And she told me what she asked you to do, to stay away from Sarah."

You nod brokenly, feeling the tears gathering just at the memory compounded by this new guilt.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I just want what's best for you and Sarah. A chance at a real family."

You've ruined this for him. Joel's chance at a family, something for himself. Something for his own. Selfish like your dad.

"Go back to Tess, Joel. Tell her it was a mistake."

"I'm not gonna do that."

"You have to, Joel. She wants you."

“And you don’t?”

It hangs there, the truth between you. If you admit it, it’s over. Any pretense you would have carried is gone. He’ll choose you because of this unknowable, untenable connection. But you’re not good for him. You’re not the kind of woman Joel Miller needs. You’ll take and take from him, leaving him with nothing in the end. It’s how your father operates, and you are your father’s daughter. Your engagement isn't even officially off. You're moving to Chicago. So what? You'll confess you love Joel? Make him feel compelled to follow you to Chicago? And what about Sarah? You're going to disrupt her life too? How is that not the most selfish thing in the world?

“No.”

Saying it physically hurts.

You love Joel. You love this man in front of you. And it’s precisely that love that sends you pushing back from him. But you’re stopped by his hand on the back of your neck again, holding you there.

"Don't," Joel says through clenched teeth."Don't stand there and lie to me of all people. You wanna lie to yourself? Fine, but not to me. Never to me. I don’t deserve it."

It is. It is a fucking lie.

"Tell me the truth," Joel urges gently, pleading. "Tell me to my face that you don't want me as much as I want you.”

You try to form the words that tell him exactly that, but you can't.

They don't exist.

Joel nods in understanding, his warm eyes even warmer. But he can see the fear in your expression, the panic.

"Just let me take care of you tonight," Joel whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Please."

You're trembling against his palm, tears coating your lashes. "Okay."

Joel seems surprised by your easy acceptance but he nods, reaching down to take your hand in his.

"Let's go to bed."

You follow him without question to the bed. He shrugs off his jacket, watching you watching him. You're eyes are owlish in your face, the tension clear. Joel brings himself up on the bed still dressed in his jeans and shirt. He lays overtop the sheet before bringing it back for you to crawl under.

You hesitate. There is nothing more enticing than the thought of Joel making love to you right now. But it feels wrong, rushed. Too many things going on in your mind.

"I just wanna hold you," Joel explains when he sees your eyes nervously move from him to the bed. "If that's okay?"

Relief floods you and you nod, moving under the covers of your bed. And all the aching loneliness, all the terror of being lost? It’s gone. It’s gone the second you snuggle up against Joel in your bed.

His broad hand moves through your hair gently, moving it back from your flushed face before stroking it in tenderly. He stares at you, barely blinking. You muse that you could have entire conversations like this, just staring into each other's eyes. That perhaps you're having one right now.

His eyes are so soft. How can a man made up of sharp angles and broad planes look at you with eyes so fucking soft?

"How can you look at me like that?" you ask blinking through new tears. "After everything I've told you how can you lie there and look at me like I'm not a piece of shit?"

"Because you're not," Joel replies swiftly. "None of what your dad did is your fault. How could it be?"

"If I was there-"

"He'd still be using," Joel tells you simply. "And he'd have a new thing or person to blame for it."

"Even if that's true," you insist. "I'm his kid. I should go back."

"You're telling me if I told a grown up Sarah she had to move back home to take care of me, even if I'd barely been in her life, even if she had a whole life somewhere else, you'd tell her she was selfish for not doing it?"

Your eyes widen. Sarah. Sweet, genuine Sarah. No, you wouldn't blame her. But that's Sarah.

"She's just a kid-"

"Same age as when your dad started." Joel's eyes are watery. "How come you're so unkind to yourself? Why don't you think you deserve good things?"

"A lifetime of experience," you reply darkly.

///

And for a moment there is sudden clarity for Joel that hits him in such a way he's shocked he never understood it as easily before.

In the job you chose, in the immediately natural way you were with the screaming Daniel, even quicker than you were with his sweet and calm Sarah.

In the way these animals, hurt and abandoned and ignored are so much more than just pitiful creatures that pass along your desk in files.

You see yourself in them.

You see yourself in their haunted eyes and terrible histories. You see it in the plaintive cry of the frustrated Daniel. In this world that turns its back and its ears to them you want desperately to embrace them, to hold them to you and communicate a perfect, unending love for them.

Because no one did that for you.

Your mom tried, Joel is sure of it. But love is hard to share when so much of it is reserved for a husband in constant crisis. When you're a frazzled mother working two jobs to keep your mortgage and your marriage and family together. Love is there of course, but it's not overt. Not like you crave.

The kind of love that Maria gives you without question. The kind of love Joel would give to you every fucking day if you said you wanted him to be yours.

"I know I have no right to ask you to stay or demand anything from you, but, fuck, please don't do this," Joel whispers earnestly. "Don't move back to Chicago."

You're silent.

“If you do you’ll never come back,” Joel murmurs, his voice full of so many emotions it would be impossible to pick just one. “I know you. You’d sacrifice everything for him.”

“I. . . I don’t. . .”

Your eyes are so heavy, almost as heavy as your heart. You’ve shared so much with Joel, brought up so many painful memories it feels like you’ve run a marathon. Your head tilts against the pillow.

"Go to sleep, baby," Joel tells you, holding himself back from kissing you. "I'm here. Just sleep."

When you finally fall asleep Joel continues to look at you. His dark eyes travel the curve of your cheek, takes in the length of your lashes and the way your mouth looks half open in sleep. He memorizes each part of your face knowing that this may be his only chance to do so.

You’re engaged. You still have that connection to your parents in Chicago. There is so much that exists in this world to take you away from him.

He still sees it this way, outside forces wanting to rip you from him, as if he has some claim on you. He doesn't care if Paul gave you a ring. You’re his. You’re his and he has never stopped feeling this way, even though he's tried. He doesn't know he'll ever stop.

He stops himself from kissing your sleeping mouth on more than one occasion during the night, desperate for that contact if this is really the end.

It can't be the end. It can't.

You sigh in your sleep, shuffling closer against him for warmth or for comfort. Joel allows this, his eyes skipping closed at the calm your nearness brings him.

I'll never ask for anything as long as I live. Just let her be mine.

He finally falls asleep with your soft breathing in the crook of his neck

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #smut #dad joel miller #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal

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elvenisms · 1 year

Text

drunk on you —; s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader [2.4k]

summary: Steve is a needy, needy drunk, and you just can't get enough of it. 18+ MDNI

cw: smut, fluff, established relationship, no use of y/n, sub!steve, dubcon (they are both drunk), unprotected p in v (don't try this at home), mention of oral (male receiving)

author's note: always need more sub!steve in my life, so i got a little carried away. my first piece of writing on tumblr in, like, 5 years. enjoy!

masterlist

Tonight was one of your favorite kinds of nights.

Eddie’s trailer was littered with empty bags of snacks, beer bottles, and nearly bursting at the seams with how loud the music was playing. In the middle of the room, Robin and Nancy were holding hands, jumping around in a circle, screaming out the lyrics to I Wanna Dance With Somebody; they were just drunk enough to go full slumber party mode, which was highly typical. Coincidentally, Eddie was just drunk enough to sing along, sat back on the couch with a huge grin on his face.

You would’ve joined the pair, had Steve’s arms not been so cozy around you. You were sitting in his lap, hips between his thighs, his arms snugly around your waist. Now and then, he’d drunkenly rest his head on your shoulder, nuzzle his nose into the side of your face, or press a kiss to your neck. God, he’s adorable, you thought. You thought that every day, but when you were drunk, it turned into every minute or so.

During one of his nuzzles, Steve’s lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. “Take me home.” His voice was breathy, higher in pitch.

There were lots of reasons tonight was one of your favorite kinds of nights, but one in particular: Steve was a needy drunk. Needed to kiss you, needed to touch you, and needed you to take care of him. It was a special, wonderful change of pace from being constantly cared for by him—one that sent a warm, jittery feeling down your spine.

You could feel his arms around your waist tightening as he began to pepper soft kisses behind your ear, down your neck. It made thinking through the logistics of getting your drunk selves back to his house harder, to say the least. And speaking of hard…

You turned your head towards him, trying to keep it together. “We’ll have to walk. There’s no way either of us are driving.”

“I don’t care.” He replied immediately, his lips coming off of your neck just long enough to say it.

Unsure if you could last another minute without taking him on Eddie’s couch, you redirected your attention to the group; a lull in the music made for perfect timing. “I think we’re gonna head out.” You bit back a smile, trying to be discreet. Oh, who were you kidding, Steve was still mouthing at your neck, he’d just moved to the other side now.

Eddie laughed out loud when he noticed the spectacle, kicking his feet like a little kid. Robin did much the same. “No driving!” Nancy, as motherly as she could in her state, wagged a finger at you. “Why don’t—” She hiccuped. “Why don’t you just use Eddie’s room?”

“Absolutely the fuck not!” Came from Eddie, causing Robin to drop to the ground in an even bigger fit of giggles. Even Steve was laughing now, all five of you trying to catch your breath.

“We’re walking!” You managed to get out, patting Steve’s leg to signal you were getting up. “And I would not be caught dead banging in your room, Eds, no offense. I don’t think you’ve cleaned in… like… seven years.”

“Eight, actually.” He held back more laughter, the stupidest things hitting everyone’s funny bones at this point. Within a few moments, you and Steve were saying your sheepish goodbyes, the rest of them poking fun until the door was closed behind you.

Absolute idiots, you thought, and I love them to death.

The walk to Steve’s was cold, but the promise of what was to come paired with the alcohol in your systems made it bearable. He was all smiles and gentle touches; at one point you said you’d race him, but you both nearly fell flat on your face, so that stopped pretty quickly.

By the time you reached his door, he could hardly keep his hands off of you—clinging to you anyway he could, kissing any spot he could reach. His silly grin had been replaced with a furrowed brow and a desperate look in his eyes. He had no idea how crazy it drove you to see him like this, needing you so deliberately, hair messy, nose red from the outside air. So, as soon as you were inside the house, you kissed him with a ferocity you’d been holding back since Eddie’s.

It was enough to make him stumble backward, but he immediately adjusted, gripping you like you might float away any moment. It was messy, a little rough, not how you’d usually handle him in this state, but you needed to get it out. Your hands slid into his hair, grabbing the strands with your fingers, and he practically whined. “Need you, baby, please.”

“I’ve got you, Stevie.” Your voice was warm and low as you thumbed across his pouting lips. “Gonna take care of you, babe. Let’s go upstairs.”

He nodded, entwining your fingers with his and leading the way to his bedroom. He immediately flopped onto the bed, causing you to giggle as you fumbled with your shoes, tossing each one aside. Soon enough, you were crawling into the bed as well, lowering yourself so that you were lying on top of him.

You put your lips on his gently, and he brought a hand up to cup your face, deepening it. “You’re so pretty like this,” You whispered between kisses, feeling him harden against your abdomen. “Needy for me.” You needed to tell him now, instead of sober, when he’d get all shy and embarrassed about it. One of these days, you’d convince him it was the sexiest thing ever.

His hips softly bucked up against you, unintentionally, and he made a beautiful noise. “Couldn’t stop thinking…” He pushed some of your hair aside to kiss your jaw. “...At the party.”

“What were you thinking about?” You asked sweetly, hand traveling down to palm him through his jeans. “About—oh—about you r-riding me,” His hips began moving to meet your hand, fingers squeezing your hips. “Cumming in you.” God, help me, you thought.

“I can make that happen.” You bit your lip, resisting the urge to absolutely ravish him right now. It’s always better when you wait. “Need some of these clothes off, though.”

Steve nodded, already completely lost in you, and pushed himself upright, allowing you to grab the edge of his t-shirt. You pulled it over his head, and quickly did the same to yourself, his hands immediately finding your chest as he laid back again. His eyes were open wider than they had been the past three hours, and it made you chuckle.

“I love this one,” His fingertips traced over the red lace on your bra. “S’my favorite one.”

“I know it is.” You preened, consistently amazed at how you’d bagged the sexiest dork in history.

His fingers traveled around your back, and it took a bit more effort than usual to undo the clasp. Once he did, though, he was kneading at your breasts, his hips beginning to cant up again. “Fuck, baby, so gorgeous,” His eyes squeezed shut, and the combination of his hands, hard-on, and praise made your breath hitch. “Need you so bad, so, so bad.”

Your head fell back, enjoying the sensation for a few more seconds, until you started toying with the button on his jeans. You were trying with all of your might to go slowly, to fight against the way your brain was going fuzzy, but Jesus Christ, you just wanted him mewling beneath you—and you knew he would be soon enough. The role reversal was intoxicating.

Both of you were nearly nude within a few moments, Steve straining even harder against his briefs as he felt the warmth pooling in your underwear. You leaned down to kiss him, lifting your hips to keep him from grinding against you, though everything in you screamed to let it continue.

“Want you in my mouth, Stevie,” You breathed against his neck, kissing the moles there. “You want that?”

He whimpered then, at both the loss of contact and the proposition. “I do, but, don’t think I’d last,” His hands ran down you wildly, your neck, stomach, thighs, as if they wanted to be everywhere at once. “Close just from this.”

Embarrassingly, a small noise left your lips just from hearing that; it almost sounded like a beg. You quickly decided that you couldn’t deny him anything else. “That’s okay, baby.” You cooed, brushing some stray hairs away from his forehead. “Want you so bad, gonna take care of you, okay?”

He was all uh huhs and pleases now, and you moved down to slowly remove what was left between the two of you, chests heaving in anticipation. Steve was achingly hard, which made him look even larger than usual—you wanted to take a photo of him like this, a sheen of sweat on his skin, hair mussed, lips kiss-bitten and pink. A piece of heaven.

“D’you need me to,” He panted, far too gone to form a full sentence. “Don’t want it to hurt.”

On a normal day, he was insistent about getting you ready for him, opening you up with his fingers; he refused to let you experience any kind of discomfort, unless, of course, you asked for it. You found it highly endearing that he considered it now, as desperate as he was.

“No, baby.” You laced your fingers with his, a small smile on your face. “I’m ready for you, promise. Sit up for me, yeah?”

He nodded quickly, removing his hand from yours to push up from his palms, his back now against the headboard. You moved forward to straddle him, and his hands found your waist, squeezing the skin there. “Love you so much,” You cooed, drunkenly, pressing more kisses to his jaw. “My boy.”

“My girl.” Was all Steve could manage, though you knew that meant I love you, too.

You reached between the two of you, rubbing the head of his cock between your soaked folds, and it made him keen beautifully, jaw slack, eyes closed. Finally, you began to sink down on him, elliciting a long, low moan from both of you.

“Baby, baby,” He whined, his face finding the crook of your neck, and your hand slid up the back of his neck. “I know, Stevie, feels so—” A groan broke through your lips, feeling yourself filled to the hilt. “—so good, you feel so good.”

You moved your hips, beginning to slowly grind against him. His fingers immediately dug into your back, pulling you as close as possible. His skin against yours was warm, safe, perfect. The small, choked noises he made caused you to clench around him, making his cock twitch in return. You were both completely adrift in each other, sure that the house could be burning down around you without notice.

His hands began to wander again, searching for purchase, and you could feel his breathing grow more labored against your neck. “What do you need, baby?” You whispered softly, hips still moving at an agonizing pace. When his head tilted back, you had to choke back a sound at the way he looked. A complete and utter mess.

“Need—just,” Words failing him, his fingers gripped at your hips, pushing you down on him even harder with each grind. It hit you right where you needed him, and a filfthy sound fell from his lips, the combination making you wonder how longer you’d last.

“Shit, baby,” You breathed, your fingers coming up to card through his hair. “Need it harder, yeah?” Steve nodded furiously, nosing against your cheek. There was no way you could deny him this way, pupils blown, jaw slack.

Your fingers wrapped themselves in his locks, like an anchor, before picking up the pace with your hips. He cried out immediately, pressing himself even deeper in you, making that familiar warm feeling spread through your abdomen. “Sh-shit, fuck, thank you, thankyouthankyou,” He babbled, fingertips certainly leaving bruises on your hips, and you relished in the feeling, your mind an endless stream of Steve Steve Steve.

“M’gonna, fuck,” He sounded almost pitiful, and it made staving off your release difficult.

“Let go, Stevie, c’mon,” You coaxed, giving his hair another tug, and that was all he needed to turn white-hot.

The noise he made was obscene, hips stuttering up into you, face pressed to your chest. It sent you straight over the edge with him, your walls squeezing him desperately, amplifying the near-pornographic sounds between the two of you. You clung to each other through it, coming down slowly, entirely blissed out. Your grip on each other subsided, but you stayed where you were, chests heaving, tangled together sweatily.

“Thank you.” Steve kissed your collarbone, coming to rest his forehead against your own. He was smiling sweetly, eyes hooded from drunkenness and exhaustion.

“Thank you.” You emphasized, probably looking much the same. “You’re… God, you’re something else.”

He chuckled at that, and you slowly rose from his lap, careful not to overstimulate either of you. You grabbed one of his t-shirts from the dresser, sliding it on, and padded your way to the bathroom for your responsible, post-sex pee. Once you’d returned, Steve was tucked beneath the comforter, already asleep.

You took a moment to admire him from the doorway, shaking your head softly, before climbing in beside him, drifting off just as fast.

“Last night was amazing.” You smirked, seated at Steve’s kitchen table the next morning, tucking into some breakfast. “Love it when you get like that.”

“Like what?” He asked from the kitchen, feigning innocence. He rounded the corner, holding his own plate, and took a seat next to you. You gave him a look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The smug look in his eyes said he definitely did know what you were talking about, and he had enjoyed every second. You decided two could play at this game.

You shrugged, taking another bite. “Maybe you should ask Eddie, Robin and Nance.” He choked a little on his food, making you grin. “You started pretty early.”

He groaned, bringing his hands to his face. “No I did not.”

“Oh yes,” You stifled laughter, “But, it’s alright, I’m sure they’ll have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His fingers parted over his face, one eye peeking through. Your smile was enough to break him, both of you dissolving into a fit of giggles, his face slightly redder than it was before.

#eeek can't believe i'm posting writing again #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things smut #sub!steve harrington

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royal-bubble-tea · 2 months

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Ateez - Seonghwa - Imagine

Helloooooo, I hope all of you had a nice weekend. I personally fell in love with Bunny! Seonghwa and just had to write something about this topic to get my current obsession out of my system.

Enjoy! 😊

Bunny!Seonghwa x gn! Reader (smut)

Imagine Seonghwa being your partner but also a bunny and desparate, caught up in the feelings of spring and a new year. But spring does not always has those nice sunny days. Today is one of the rainy ones, a day were you just want to curl up on your couch and drink a nice cup of tea. And this is exactly what you two are doing right now. However this relaxed atmosphere does not seem to calm down Seonghwa's rising libido. You notice him squirming back and forth. Trying to rub is legs together in a subtle manner. In the beginning it was amusing to you but now you only want to lay down in peace and enjoy the free time with your cute bunny boyfriend. So your solution to this problem is to lay flat on the couch and pull him with you and wrap you legs and arms around him in an attempt to stop him from moving. It was not your smartest decision in hindsight.

Seonghwa starts rubbing himself against you, even rutting against you thigh. First you are to stunned to speak, letting him continue in hopes that once he got it out of his system he would be calm again. But you soon notice that he was cumming from rubbing against you. High pitched whines leave his mouth and he throws his head back in ecstasy. He even starts to cry because it feels so good and does not seem to be stopping, which very soon turns is pleasure into overstimulation. Something in you shifts while watching him and instead of being soft and understanding you start to tease him from cumming so easily just from rubbing against your thigh. Seonghwa looks up at you with big blown out eyes, his lower lip wobbled at your words. But you see something new flicker in his eyes. He slowly makes his way down your body, his eyes never leaving yours and stops just above your heat. He looks up at you, waits and as soon as you give him a tiny nod he nuzzles against your core. He inhales your scent and starts to lick you trough your clothes. You card your hand through his hair, pulling it lightly. This sends a shiver down his spine, making his cute little tail twitch. He makes his was up your body again. Seonghwa is nipping and licking at your chest and whining when sucking on them. When he finally gets to your mouth you seal your lips in a heated kiss. Seonghwa imediatly tries to push his tongue into your mouth and when you open for him he moans loud in pleasure. He starts again to hump and rub against you, getting more wild and desparate trying to pleasure himself but also trying to make you feel good.

But still being very sensitive from having just come Seonghwa starts to cry again. You lick the tears running down his face, grab his butt and encourage him to rub harder, play with his soft ears and pull his little rabbit tail, make him go cracy and moan even louder.

He comes while rubbing into you hard. You move your core against his causing him to cry out and try to move away from you. But you grab onto his butt again and continue moving. He hides into your neck but his moans and whimpers never stop, even going so far as moving against you with renewed vigor. You pull his tail and also bite into one of his long fuzzy rabbit ears lightly.

He comes again, and seeing him so ruined, tears streaming down his face, hiccupping, and babbling nonsense is was pushes you over the edge as well, moaning his name more silently head thrown back.

He just slumps and lays down on you, still shivering from having come so often in such a short amount of time, long bunny ears twitching, you rub his back trying to calm him down, whispering praises into his ear.

Well, there you go. I hope you like it. 🤭

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #ateez hybrids #seonghwa smut #bunny seonghwa

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ilys00ga · 3 months

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𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀.

➞ pair: yoongi x reader.

➞ genre: hurt/comfort (why do I keep making these lmao), established relationships, I'm so bad at tagging sorry.

➞ warnings: angst and fluff cuz we all need that (we really do). reader has anxiety and abandonment issues, yoongi is trying his best for the sake of both of them, just relationship things.

➞ A/N: requested by @parkjennykim, this was very fun to write! thanks for yet another idea <3 I hope u like it. I'm organizing this blog/post (?) while listening to mono, and let me tell yall, it's such a vibe omg. I think you should read this while listening to that album, I love it sm, I can't even begin to explain UGH- if namjoon ever goes on a world tour, he better perform every single song in that album, cuz imma be losing my mind in the crowd, esp during moonchild. my vocal cords are already getting sore. yeah. if u want this to hit that spot, maybe u should do what I said (this is a friendly order, if u will). if not, just enjoy and pls ignore any mistakes, english has been challenging me recently (for the last 10 years lmao)

ps. I am in a dire need of a yoongi in my life. specifically the one I wrote in this one. oh how I love being a lonely fanfic writer <33

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

God knows how long it had been after it hit midnight when Yoongi stood in the kitchen. His eyes were red and heavy with drowsiness, but he couldn't sleep that night.

How does one sleep through a restless, biting night?

Surely not with a bad headache, or overflowing thoughts, and especially not with guilt chewing on his core.

He gulped, throat begging to be quenched as it held onto a slight, delicious, yet bothersome burning sensation. He opened the fridge and filled a glass with some water, raising it to his lips when loud a cry of his name, followed with a thud and a number of sobs, disturbed the quiet of the night and made him jump, startled.

His limbs froze in their place, glass almost slipping his hand and crashing on the floor when his sleep deprived brain realized that the muffled cries were yours.

Wide awake, he dashed after the sound. Thirst and sleep no longer occupied his mind, all he could think of was holding you in his arms.

He found you on the stairs, trembling as you wailed into your hands.

He hated it so much: seeing you in pain. He wanted nothing more than to shield you from the rainfall of your gloomy sky, from his own rainfall, from the world. How could one be an umbrella and the rain at once?

He blinked, once, twice, then gulped and heaved a deep, tired breath.

One storm doesn’t require another storm to be calmed down, that he knew. One needs to be composed and collected to stand still during a storm, that he knew as well.

With worried eyes, he gently called out your name and walked up to you, “darling, what’s wrong?”

You looked up as soon as you heard his worried voice, some tiny sense of relief washed over you when you saw him right there. A hundred daggers digged so deep into his heart and bones, aching, the moment a broken whimper of his name fell from your lips.

Without a second thought, Yoongi hugged your face to his chest. One of his hands was patting your back and the other affectionately caressed your head.

As he listened to his name that never left your lips, Yoongi held you there on the cold of the stairs with nothing but sweet nothings whispered back to your ears.

Everything he did and said was so gentle and soft, like he was so afraid you'd crack and come to tiny bits and pieces at any given moment. It all made you want to cry even harder, to hold him so tight and never let go.

Soon, when your tears started winding down, pulled away and cradled your face with his hands, palms faintly pressing on your cheeks as if he hoped to share their warmth with you.

Tender eyes met your wet ones and stared as their owner’s voice made its way through the noise of your sniffles and hiccups. He said, “It’s alright. I'm here. Talk to me, hmm?”

You answered his plea with a small nod, before wiping your tear stained skin and hugging him again. He smelt like home. You took a deep breath, greedily feeding your lungs with his lovely scent.

He hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his. He pressed light kisses on your temple, patiently waiting for you to talk.

“I had a really scary nightmare. so, so scary- I woke up, didn’t find you there- then…then I remembered the fight we had earlier. I…I thought I lost you- I'm sorry. sorry for the stupid things I said earlier. I love you so much! please don’t leave. please..”

Your voice quivered with fresh tears ready to be spilled again. Yoongi started hushing you as soon as he noticed that you were working yourself up.

Squeezing you in his arms, he whispered “I never left, and I never will.”

“I’m all right, nothing happened to me, see?” he leaned away just enough to allow you to take a quick look at his body, then added, “a stupid fight is not going to make me leave. I love you way too much for that, and I'm sorry for hurting you too.”

He could still read fear and uncertainty all over your face, and he didn't like that. He knew that you trusted him, and he didn't doubt your love for him.

At first, he didn't get it. He didn't understand the insecurities, the anxiety and the nightmares you suffered from especially after the inevitably worst of arguments that happened between you and him. But after longer and deeper talks, with you expressing your feelings and him listening with careful ears, it made much more sense to him.

Sometimes he hated himself for triggering your alarms and making it harder for you, but he knew it was neither his fault nor was it yours.

Growth and pain are two key elements that come arm in arm with love, and fights are an unpreventable part of any kind of relationship. For all that, he always ended up blaming himself for making you question your worth to him when he can't even sleep without you happily cuddling his side.

Softly, lovingly, he started prepping tender kisses over your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, temples, all over your flushed face.

It worked like watching waving fields of green wheat dancing with the wind, your storm started to slowly die down and your heart felt at ease again. slowly, but definitely.

Smiling ever so affectionately, Yoongi sealed his reassurance with a loving kiss that consumed you whole, and it left the corners of your mouth curving up in a dazzling smile. You nuzzled his chest and sighed.

“I really hate fighting with you.” you mumbled into his clothed chest, drained and light headed from all the crying and nearly-a-panic-attack you went through.

“I know, I'm sorry. I hate it too." he whispered back.

There was a pause of comfortable silence, with both of you breathing each other in, before he wondered aloud: “did you fall down the stairs? are you okay?”

You chuckled breathily at his question, recalling the hysteria he had to deal with just a few minutes ago. But Yoongi was there, right beside you. your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, right by your side.

He had some kind of exceptionally irrepressible magic in those fierce eyes and that gummy smile of his, you inarguably couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“I'm alright. Was too busy crying, I didn’t even feel a thing to be honest.” you said, and he giggled.

“I love when you’re clumsy like that, but please be more careful, muffin. Can’t have you hurting yourself because of me even more." Even with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you could feel and hear the heavy pout in that comment.

Huffing, you leaned away with furrowed brows and a strict gaze. Yoongi gulped. Hesitation took over him, yet he knew that honesty is the only thing that must be present to drive this conversation to an end.

Honestly brings clarity, he found himself reminding himself of that very often.

"as long as we take care of each other, it's okay. I love you." you affirmed, and perhaps Yoongi almost teared up because of the way you looked at him right then and there. He wouldn't utter a word to spoil that information out loud, though.

The shy grin and the flushed cheeks you were met with were worth risking the entire world and its eight billion residents. You couldn't help but smile and pull him into another hug.

"This is great and all, but my butt is numbed. I think there's no blood flowing down there anymore," he said, his heart swooning when you giggled at his humorous change of topic, so relieved that he was finally able to hear your brightness again.

"Let's go back to rest, darling." He stood up, grabbed your hand and squeezed it in his, then gently pulled your body up and dragged you to your shared bedroom, where everything and everyone else meant little to nothing at all as you laid in each other's arms.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #yoongi angst #hurt/comfort #suga fluff #bts fluff #suga angst #suga fic #abandoment issues #bts imagines #bts fic

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sherwees · 3 months

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i need more of manipulative yangyang, just gaslighting u and u falling for absolutely everything he does

I put it as first person at first bcs it helps me write better so if you see an I or my anywhere,pls ignore it.. and tell me.

THIS IS CONNECTED TO THIS

cw: manipulation, forced breeding, the smallest daddy kink (literally mentioned once), rough sex, yangyang has a breeding kink, dumbification, baby trapping, DEGRADATION, dubcon elements.

Your toothbrush laid discarded in the sink, veins sprawled and protruded through your hand gripped on the sink for dear life. Yangyang's thrusts were quick and relentless, chasing his own pleasure as his cock never left within 3 inches of your cervix. You were drooling and murmuring curses and pleas under your breath, going dumb to his advantage and liking; your finger tips turned pale as your mind melted away to pure bliss.

“yang–” you attempted to hiccup but his unyielding hand found your poor scalp. Your teeth clenched, an electric shock sprawled from your scalp to your neck, your walls clenched and unclenched around his rushed thrusts. The ridge of his tip kissed your cervix, pounding and abusing it. There was an illusioning (? forgot the word) popping sound of his length tearing through your narrow passage and the slick that provided the easy slide, caked around your two holes.

“yang– plea–” his thrusts halted. His cock stayed nudged deep inside of you, your hole tried to size up around his wide base. The humidity of the bathroom that clung to your skin was a big contrast to the wind from the opened window, showing a view of the bustling city of Taipei.

“I give you everything you want but you can't take a simple fuck? no wonder why he couldn't fucking deal with you.” his eyes, for the first time meet yours. His glare sent alarming butterflies to your stomach. “you don't fucking care about me, huh?” he pushed your dizzy head over the sink, birds and stars flew above and around it.

“s’ too early–” you slurred, the saliva bubbling up in your mouth once his hand yanks your hair even harder; spine strained as your head tried to meet wth his hand. His eyes widened, eyebrows furrowed in absolute rage; protruding a slight whimper from your lips at his newfound aura. “I spend thousands on you everyday and you treat me like this?!” the tip of your nose burned before unwanted tears brewed and fell into the sink, blending in with the running faucet water.

“you're so fucking annoying when you cry. well guess what, you can't get everything you want sometimes, pretty face.” his sharp canines glinted through the clean, white light of the bathroom, more butterflies started to bloom in the pits of your stomach.

You felt nauseous knowing that this was the words coming out of the mouth of the male that bought pendants and took you out shopping whenever he could, the same man that you were even willing enough to leave your friends and family for to a foreign country was just as willing to trap you.

You scrutinized the taunting jade gem ring on your finger, it looks dull. The said finger folds unconsciously; tucking the shame away but the slight burn of the intricate silver swirls and details of the ring only stung into your knuckle.

You'll never forget.

“'m sorry, you just caught me off guard and you scared me..” you mustered up a small mumble before he slammed his hand on the sink. You flinched away with a yelp; pushing his cock out of your leaking hole slightly with a clench.

“you're fucking overreacting again, stop that!” nodding your head mindlessly, but you won't even bother to look at the reflection. It'll just shove that guilt deeper down your throat, seething and burning. You sniffled, chest heaving painfully as tears fell relentlessly from your red, irritated waterline; if it wasn't disgusting enough, snot lined the top of your thick lip.

“fucking disgusting–” his hand pushed the back of your neck, maneuvering your head rather aggressively towards the sink; your shoulders at a strained angle. His hips met with your ass once more, your walls ached pleasurably once his tip knocked into your cervix and your nails scratched against the marble. The warmth of his cock now feeling more intruding than pleasing to a point but the line between the two was blurred and unknown.

Your hipbone became rashed and abused against the counters edge, mind starting to mush into nothing again. You found yourself muttering and blabbering all sorts of things, having no fucking idea what you were doing.

You were an incoherent mess, screaming, whimpering, moaning, thighs clenching and unclenching along with your plumate walls.

But in reality, the thought of children terrorized you. Being too young to even be a mother, barely even living your life to the fullest before you were trapped with him.

“m’ gonna cum inside ya, yeah? gonna be stuck with me forever..” he said, one of his vacant hands travels to the lone ring before sliding it off without you even knowing. “please.. I want it– I want it so bad~” yangyang snickered at the pleads, his hand travels to your neck; pushing your back flush against his clammy torso.

Your tits bounced with the rhythm of his thrusts, clit throbbing consistently; “mmf– fuck!” he grunted loudly, his balls slapping then slipping into your passage. You screeched at the tense feeling of being practically torn as you tried to accommodate to his harsh gyrations and the new incursion of the two flesh.

you could only emit a guttural cry, thrashing within his grip but his arms wrap around your mid waist, circuits of pain and nirvana ran through your body.

“you're gonna take it, sweetheart.. I know you could..”

He suddenly stuck his salty thumb past your lips, drool accumulated around your lips and at the back of your throat. “suck.” he demanded lowly, you obviously obliged; wrapping your lips around it.

“you're prettier when you obey..” he stuck the digit slightly further, causing your gag reflex to recoil and his cock to twitch, releasing bits of precum at your pure submission.

“daddy's gonna fill you so well, princess.. gonna be plump and m’ gonna walk around with you like a prize. everybody's gonna know what we've done, some will even look at you in disgust because you were willing to open your legs for me..” he whispered into your ear, breathless but managing to keep his eyes on your half lidded ones. Your gaze weary and unfocused, the usual whites of your eyes red from crying.

He grinned whilst sliding your hand to your navel, feeling his cockhead protruding under the digit's tip and you slightly winced at the feeling of his slimy canine brushing against the lobe of your ear. “don't you feel me baby?” his thumb finally leaves the back of your throat, brushing against the tonsil, causing your throat to recoil.

“can't wait to finally have control, baby. the first time didn't work, but it'll surely work this time..” he remarked, before he stilled and marked your walls with his warm seed. Inhaling and exhaling, exhausted; your own weight became your own enemy before you collapsed onto the counter but slid into the ground eventually. Your toes curled with discomfort as you shriveled against the corner, both of your releases leaked out of you.

Your mind was dazed, your body wasn't your own. You looked up at yangyang, vision blurry from the aroma of unconsciousness that'll soon sweep over you.

“yangyang– why'd you do that..?” was the last thing you said before everything went pitch black.

Yangyang was mesmerised in full awe at the scene, your pretty lashes wet with tears and his seed dripping out of you and your hole fluttering with every breath and heave.

Yangyang grabbed your waist, lifting&carrying your limp body bridal style before laying your battered body on the bed.

Your body was like a painting of the pretty night sky, the stars being the bruises,marks and scars from today and times before.

He believed you were beautiful like this and he'll keep you like this forever, his eyes stayed on your stomach and his neck crawled with warmth.

He giggled knowing that soon enough, you'll be truly his.. not kunhang's.. definitely.

You'll bare his kids and he'll make sure that you'll definitely forget about him.. even if it meant beating your memories out of you. he wanted the best for him you.

You wouldn't even mind to utter his name in this house.

He opens the drawer, finding that miniature velvet box, his thumb caresses it lightly before popping it open. He admires the ring before sighing with content triumph before pulling it out, the gem was a ruby. red, his favorite color.

This'll be the new beginning for you both.

You'll soon forget about him.

Especially with the new ring he finally slid on your finger.

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