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wh0rrorb4by · 7 months ago

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birthday wish - kuroo

tw: stepcest, virginity loss, very slight mention of food play, size, says big brother so many times srry, brief mention of panty stealing, brief mention of a cnc roleplay fantasy, creampie

word count: 3k

18+

a/n: i KNOW i'm late to kuroo's bday but i got too busy 😭 but happy birthday to my scorpio king 🩰🎀. this was a lovely request, so sorry it's late but i had so much fun writing it. 💗💗

older stepbro kuroo who only wants one thing from his baby sister on his birthday.

he smirks to himself when the door to his room cracks open, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway. it’s midnight now, and he’s officially one year older. he doesn’t have to turn to know it’s you walking towards him. he recognizes the patter of your feet against the hardwood floor, smells the perfume he likes most on you fill the room. his mattress dips as you sit beside him, careful not to disturb him.

“happy birthday,” you whisper. “are you awake?”

he cracks an eye open to see a light in your hands that illuminates your pretty face. a cupcake piled with pastel pink frosting and a single lit candle stemming from it.

“yeah, i’m awake,” he mumbles, turning onto his back to get a good look at you. “what’s all this?”

“it’s for your birthday, silly. quickly blow it out, though, it’s melting.”

he shifts to sit up, closely watching as you turn your gaze and flush at the realization that he’s shirtless. he'd normally tease you, but decides against it, closing his eyes for a moment to pretend he’s thinking of a wish. he already knows what he wants. you both do.

he blows the flame out quickly and you smile, pulling the candle out and dropping it in the waste basket near his bed.

“i hope you like the cupcake, there’s a whole batch of them downstairs. and i hope you don’t mind the pink frosting, it was the only color i had. it’s extra sweet, though, the way you like it.”

he likes when you ramble. you do it when you’re nervous, which you seem to be now that you’re alone with him. you haven’t let him this close to you in a while, nowadays always squirming and fidgeting and finding excuses to get away when he comes near. he was worried he’d have to hold you down like he did when you were kids, not let you up until you were ready to be sweet again, maybe make you give him a couple kisses to make it up to him. he couldn’t blame you for being skittish, though. you’re a shy thing — always have been. and since your last talk about his birthday gift, it seemed appropriate that he let you come to him.

“go on, taste it for me. tell me if it’s sweet enough.”

he obliged you, scooting closer to you on the bed and wrapping his big hand around yours, guiding it up to his mouth as he slowly bit into the small dessert. it was sensual. he held eye contact to make you squirm.

“mmm,” he hums, tracing his thumb over yours. “that’s good, baby. delicious.”

it’s true. he loves when you bake. makes him want to play house with you, envisioning himself coming home after a long day to find you in the kitchen wearing your cute little apron — he imagines bending you over the counter and fucking your brains out, or licking frosting off of your clit until you cry.

“i know you didn’t want much for your birthday, but you should at least blow out a candle on your big day.”

you haven’t quite relaxed yet, still a little twitchy as he sets the cupcake aside on his beside table and scoots even closer to you. you’re hyper aware of his shirtless body being so close to you, towering over you even while sitting down, his muscles making him feel even more intimidating. you took a breath and leaned into him, trying to calm your racing heart. if it beat any faster you were sure he’d hear it.

“don’t remind me. your big brother's getting old,”

you giggle at that. he says it every year, always complaining about how every birthday is a reminder of his "aging." he swears his birthday isn’t a big deal, that he never wants a fuss about it. this year, he encouraged your parents to take the trip they’d been planning early — he practically shoved them out the door to convince them that he really didn’t care that they’d be gone the whole week of his birthday. they finally conceded, leaving the two of you all alone — the birthday boy and the only gift he’d ever asked for.

“but really, thank you for the cupcake. it’s sweet, just how i like it.”

and before you know it he’s leaning in, cupping your face in his big hand and pressing his lips to yours. it's a sweet kiss, tastes like vanilla. it’s not unusual, either. your big brother always kisses you on the lips, even when he’s shirtless or walked into your room unannounced and found you only half-dressed. he sometimes makes you sit on his lap and press your chest against his and give him long kisses, his big hands rocking your hips back and forth until you’re all flustered and sticky down there, and then he teases you endlessly. you like the affection, though. he’s always been comforting to you, and he’s always reminded you how important it is that you two are close, that physical touch is just another way for brothers and sisters to bond. but you’ve been avoiding that closeness recently, ever since he came to your room late the other night and told you what he wants for his birthday.

he traces your bottom lip with his tongue before pulling away, leaving you breathless and flushed.

“was that the only present you have for your big brother? hm?”

his voice is lower now, sort of raspy, and you’re fighting not to whimper at the way he talks in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. your fingers are tangled together in your lap because you feel like you have to hang onto something to ground you. your heart is pounding against your ribcage again.

“n-no, i’m… i wanna give you something else.” you can barely speak. you’re cursing yourself because you wanted to be sexy. you wanted to get this right.

“oh? what’s that?” he kisses your jaw and you gasp. your palms are against his hard chest now, and you’re stuck between bringing him closer and pushing him away. but that’s how you’ve always felt about him. torn between what feels good versus what feels right. but at this point, pleasure is winning the fight against your morals. it always has.

“my… my— don’t make me say it,” you whine, reaching forward to hide into his chest. he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and laying back down against his pillows. you’re on top of him, face buried into his neck in embarrassment, his hands rubbing up and down your back and tangling in your hair. “gonna give you something special.” you mumble, and he lets out a soft groan.

“yeah? my baby sister’s gonna make her big brother happy? hm? look at me,” he tugs your hair so you have no choice but to gaze into his dark eyes. "you gonna let your big brother stuff you full of cock?"

you whimper, nodding your head as best you can with his firm grip on your hair. you were already wet before you came into his room, anticipating how the night would go. you'd been planning it ever since he told you it's the only thing that would make his birthday a good one. you wanted to please him, wanted to make your big brother happy. you wanted to stop feeling like a dumb little virgin who can't even get herself off properly after her big brother teases her 'til she's crying from frustration. you were sticky now, could feel your own wetness in the frilly panties you wore -- the cute little white ones that go missing from your drawer all the time. you figured he'd like you in them tonight.

"y-yeah...i'm gonna let you take my... my virginity. want you to do it, 'c-cause i love you so much." you're stuttering and stammering, blushing furiously. you hardly recognize your own voice, sounding all whiney and desperate because you want it so badly. you've never been able to put it into words, but you're forcing yourself now. you're all shaky and your heart's racing, but you feel better at the way he grunts at your words, jerking his hips up to let you feel his hard cock through his sweatpants. you gasp, and before you know it he's flipping you over, pinning you beneath him as he grinds his bulge into your crotch.

"that's it, baby," he says, his voice low. he helps you slide your sleep shorts down your legs and throws them somewhere behind him, gazing down at your cute little panties. the only light in the room is from the hallway, but it's enough to see the way the fabric clings to the wetness of your pussy, and the sight of your bare breasts when he pushes your camisole up. "tell me you wanna be full. tell me you want your brother's big cock to stretch you out."

he slides his own sweatpants down, revealing his full length to you. it's so big you gasp, shyly reaching out to run your much smaller hand up and down it gently, making him throw his head back with a low moan. you can feel the individual veins running along it, and the way his fat tip bulges out and leaks precum. you're all teary-eyed now, worked up and squirming because you're getting nervous. but you say the words anyway because you want him to give it to you, you wanna take him all and make him proud.

"w-want my brother's big cock to— to fill me up," he grips your hand in his and makes you run the length over your clothed pussy. "oh, feels so big. 's not gonna fit." you whine as the tip softly prods at your much smaller entrance through your soaked panties.

“don’t worry, little one, i'm gonna make it fit.”

he pushes your panties to the side and uses his thumb to play with your pussy, smearing your wetness around and giving your clit a gentle rub. you buck your hips up involuntarily to meet the stimulation.

“always wanted to push your panties to the side and make you take me whole, bratty girl always walking around in short skirts and cuddling up next to me,” he breathes, now dipping his thumb into your entrance. even that’s an adjustment for you, and he groans as you whine and squirm at the intrusion. “but, oh, baby, you’d hate me if i did that. i’d have to hold your face down to keep people from hearing your screams. or maybe just choke you really hard.”

you shake your head, pouting up at him.

“no, don't say that. could never hate you, i love you.” you cry, not really registering what he was telling you. he replaces his thumb with his pointer finger, thrusting it a couple times before adding his middle. you’re gasping, spreading your legs a little wider as he curls them inside you. he reaches deeper than you ever have with your own.

“you can hardly take my fingers, baby. if i held you down on my big cock and fucked you the way i want to, you’d never be able to look at me again.”

you still think he’s wrong, but you’re in no position to argue. you’re lightheaded at the way his fingers are pumping into you, the heel of his hand repeatedly bumping against your throbbing clit. it’s messy, and you’d cringe at the sound of your pussy gushing every time he sinks back into you if it weren’t for how good it feels. you feel an orgasm building, slowly started to burn through you as you moan.

“i-i’m gonna— i’m gonna cum,” you breathe. “don’t stop, please.” his lips are on yours as soon as you get the words out, his tongue sliding into your mouth and tangling with yours. it’s enough to push you over the edge, cumming around his fingers with a squeak. he helps you ride it out, moaning into your mouth as you clamp down on his fingers before he pulls them out. you’re breathless, only half-aware as he breaks the kiss and smears your essence all over the crotch of your panties before sliding them off you and tossing them to the side. you’re not aware of it in the moment, but you’re never getting them back. you’re not aware of anything, actually, still recovering from your climax. you’ve never been able to release like that on your own, always crying out of sheer frustration because you can’t get yourself to that point. shame was the only thing keeping you from knocking on your brother’s door late at night and asking for help — he’d never let you live it down.

“that’s it, baby, breathe. feel good?” he chuckles as you only nod, still a little twitchy in the aftermath. “good, baby, i want you to feel good. this next part is gonna hurt, okay? so just relax for me,” he says softly. he grips your legs and pulls you closer to him, spreading them a little wider and lining himself up.

"ready?" he asks, and you nod. you can’t imagine anything ruining the blissful state you’re in right now, but the stretch that comes from his fat tip nudging itself into your entrance brings you back to reality. he pushes in slowly, carefully watching your face for signs of distress as he fills you. he can feel your walls clamping down on him and it makes him dizzy, even more so when he meets a little resistance.

“here we go, baby. big stretch, that’s it,” he grunts, bringing his hand to the side of your face. he can feel the tears slipping past your eyes, sees the way your mouth drops open in a silent scream as he pushes deeper into you. your gasping, panting as you try to adjust to his size. he’s as gentle as he can be, but he feels the sweat running down his back as he fights the urge to drive himself in to the hilt. it’s better than he imagined, warmer and tighter than he ever thought possible. and your watery eyes gazing up at him, your arched back and trembling legs and small hands kept cutely to yourself, they all make it so much better. your innocence is laid out before him, and he’s destroying it with his bare hands.

“i’m almost all the way in, baby. you’re doing so well for me, taking your brother’s big cock so well.”

you both gasp at the way you clamp down around him, his body shuddering and almost collapsing on top of you. he almost feels like a virgin himself, feeling like he could shoot a full load of cum into you before he’s even started thrusting.

“j-just push it in— ah, s-so big, wanna take it all." you whine. fuck, he thinks, you're perfect. before he can really think about it too much, he's thrusting his hips forward, burying his length inside you to the hilt. you both gasp at the feeling, and you almost scream when he pushes down on your tummy to feel how deep he is.

"oh, fuck, baby. you feel me right here?" he presses his big hand down on the bulge again and you think you might faint. the stretch still stings and the depth of him still aches, but there's pleasure in it. "'m gonna get you used to it, baby. gonna break you in, keep you cockwarming me every day from now on. never wanna leave this pussy."

you nod along dumbly because you want it, too. never wanna go without his cock again. wanna be a good little sister and take it forever.

he gives you a slow, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back, then another. it's still not a perfect fit, but you're getting there. the dull pleasure starts to grow with each slow roll of his hips into you, and before you know it you're weakly mumbling for him to go faster. you hear him chuckle, but you don't care. all you can focus on is the way he curves upward inside you, his cockhead nudging the spot that makes you whine every time he thrusts into you. you think about his big cock leaking precum against it, against your womb, and you feel dizzy.

"f-faster, please... i can take it."

he obliges, less concerned for how it might hurt you and more concerned about how he's going to keep from cumming early. you've got such a tight grip on him, he's in heaven. he's already thinking of round two — maybe he'll make you ride him, or he'll bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you from behind. he wants you in every position. he wants to fuck you in your own bed, on those pretty pink sheets, and maybe he'll make you hold your teddy bear while he stuffs you full. he'll make you tell him to stop, that you don't want it, that big brothers shouldn't touch their little sisters down there. you'd do it, because you love him so much. you like what he likes. you do what he tells you — you always have.

he's nearing his end just thinking about it, sweat running down his abs and his temples. he's pounding into you now, and you're starting to sound like a squeaky toy, high-pitched noises escaping every time he pumps into you. he can tell you're getting close.

"h-hurts," you choke out, and he almost stops. "hurts but it feels s-so good. i'm gonna— oh, i feel like i'm gonna cum. i'm gonna cum again."

his thumb finds your clit, massaging circles into it to get you there faster. he can't hold out much longer, so he's relieved when your back arches and your legs start to tremble again. and the grip on his cock gets impossibly tight around him, sending his own release crashing through him. he cums with a groan, quickly pinning your thighs against you to fold you into a mating press. you're crying and gasping and babbling about how much you love him as he empties his load into you, and he can't think of a better way to kick off his birthday than with his baby sister thanking him for taking her virginity.

#wh0rrorb4by #dark content #haikyuu smut #haikyuu dubcon #haikyuu noncon #hq smut #hq noncon #haikyuu stepcest #hq stepcest #kuroo stepcest #kuroo smut #kuroo dubcon #kuroo noncon

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vulpisnocturna · 2 years ago

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Masterlist

Naruto:

Bribe for chores 🍷

How he sleeps with his s/o HCs 🦋🌸

Shisui:

Mirror Sex 🍷

How he sleeps with his s/o HCs 🦋🌸

Ideal girlfriend HCs 🦋

Cringe habits 🦋🔮

Secret Turn-ons 🌹🌸

Sasuke:

Ideal girlfriend HCs 🦋

Being best friends (massacre/non massacre AU) HCs 🦋☕️

Itachi - Sasuke brotherhood HCs 🦋🌸

Madara:

Office sex 🍷

Corruption kink, virgin reader 🍷

Fucking louder than the neighbours to establish dominance 🍷

Dirty talk 🌹🍷

Yandere Madara dealing with you breaking up with him 🦋🌹

How he sleeps with his s/o HCs 🦋🌸

NSFW Alphabet 🍷

SO with PTSD 🦋🌸

Kakashi:

Rope play 🍷

Humiliation kink/Bratting 🍷

"I don't want you to be gentle, I want you to ruin me" 🍷

Aphrodisiac 🍷

Mirror Sex 🍷

Lingerie 🍷

Biting 🍷

NSFW Alphabet 🍷

How he sleeps with his s/o HCs 🦋🌸

Ideal girlfriend HCs 🦋

Obito:

Teasing while he plays videogames live 🍷

Yes, Sir 🍷

Fake Dating 🍷

NSFW Alphabet 🌹🍷

Itachi:

Lesson learnt - Power imbalance 🍷

Hate Sex 🍷

Edo Itachi meets his s/o and their child ☕️🦋🌸

Itachi Jealousy HCs 🦋

Reaction to an Edo s/o 🦋☕️

With a nerdy/STEM s/o HCs 🌸🦋

Somnophilia 🍷

"I don't want you to be gentle, I want you to ruin me" 🍷

Dirty talk 🌹🍷

Mirror sex 🍷

Interrogation (CNC fantasy) 🍷

Leash 🍷

Surprise 🌸🦋

College Professor Itachi x College student reader 🍷

Insecurities 🌸

Pining Itachi (HCs) 🌸🦋

Reader breaking his heart ☕️🦋

Reader has ADHD and Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria 🌸🦋

Drunk Itachi and horny reader 🌹🍷

Dealing with reader having a panic attack (HCs) 🌸🦋

Dealing with reader ignoring him on purpose (HCs) 🦋☕️

Yandere Itachi when reader breaks up with him 🦋☕️

First date HCs 🦋🌸

Itachi likes you, you are Sasuke's best friend 🌹🍷

Hot mannerisms HCs 🦋🌹

How he sleeps with his s/o HCs 🦋🌸

Somnophilia II 🍷

Dating an emo s/o HCs 🌸🦋

Ideal girlfriend HCs 🦋

Squirting/bratting 🍷

Itachi in a relationship HCs 🦋🌸

NSFW Alphabet 🍷🌹

Secret Turn-ons 🌹🌸

Itachi - Sasuke brotherhood HCs 🦋🌸

Uchiha Clan:

How they would react to finding out their s/o has an IUD HCs 🦋🔮

Who has the best sex game? HCs 🦋🌹

Captured S/O who develops PTSD HCs 🦋☕️🌸

Akatsuki:

Beach Shenanigans HCs 🦋🔮

Reacting to reader wearing a pink bonnet to sleep HCs 🦋🔮

Where they like to have sex HCs 🦋🌹

There was only one bed HCs 🦋🌹

Who is actually good at sex HCs 🦋🌹🔮

Ideal partner’s personality traits HCs 🦋

Chrollo:

Binding Vow: Part I, Part II, Part III (Yandere Chrollo) 🍷☕️🌹

Bloodstained Rubies: Part I, Part II , Part III, Part IV (Yandere Chrollo) 🌹☕️

Thigh Riding 🍷

Overstimulation 🍷

Requited love hcs 🌸🦋

Nanami:

Make-up sex/Corruption kink 🍷🌹☕️

Toys & Voice kink 🍷

Gojo:

Sensory Deprivation 🍷

Voice kink 🌹🍷

Hate sex&Corruption Kink (virgin reader) - Part I, Part II 🌹🍷

#masterlist #this took forever #but here you go #i have written 41 fanfics #and 31 headcanon lists #dear lord #itachi smut #kakashi smut #obito smut #naruto smut #madara smut #shisui smut #chrollo smut #nanami smut #gojo smut

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squinch-depraved · 8 months ago

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hi. i couldn't help myself and had to come back you should write lc!schlatt and reader at his friends halloween party,you can pick the costumes because i have no idea for that..it should totally stem off of intoxication etc whatever you want to put for your idea on this and another reason was because halloween month is here:)

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

i hope this is good i kinda just let this one take me where it wanted to take me idk

CW: intox/cnc/dubcon kinda

you knew as soon as you saw him across the party that the night would end with you two hooking up. he was dressed in a knight costume (it was a simple one, but he pulled it off really well) and you were in a cute little witch's outfit. the two of you were stealing glances at each other all night, and whenever you went to refresh your drink, he would walk up to the alcohol table just to get a chance to talk to you.

"some party, huh?" he asked awkwardly, refilling his cup with way more whiskey than he had any business taking.

you snorted, smiling, and eyed him up and down as you tried to decide what beverage to grab. you settled on taking the whiskey from him and filled your cup up almost as much as he did. "you've been eye-fucking me all night and that's your opener?" you teased him as you clinked your plastic cups together and took a big gulp.

schlatt's face flushed as he held eye contact with you. "what the fuck else am i supposed to say??" he fumbled, making you giggle. the melodic sound stuck in his mind for the rest of the night- he loved when he made you laugh like that.

"you're fine, jay, i was just messing with you. fuck, my head is spinning," you assured him before taking another long sip. about half of the contents of your cup were gone now, and he raised his eyebrows at how drunk you must be- he had been watching you for most of the night, this had to have been your fifth trip to the table.

"maybe don't drink that much that fast?" he suggested in a joking tone. he hoped you were too far gone to detect the genuine concern in his voice.

"don't tell me what to do," you squinted at him. "i'm fine." you were almost swaying at this point.

"alright," he agreed reluctantly, putting his hands up to show he believed you. "you wanna go sit down somewhere, though? it's kinda loud in here, maybe we can find somewhere to sit and talk or something."

you eyed him suspiciously. "just talk?"

he nodded and tried to look sincere. "yeah, if that's all you want."

and so he led you to the only space the two of you could find that wasn't crowded with your drunk friends- a small, dimly lit bathroom. schlatt felt a bit weird sitting down with you on the floor, backs to the bathtub, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

after a bit, you traded your cup for his so you had more to drink.

"hey!" he objected, but you weren't listening. you were just taking long gulps of the alcohol, grimacing as it burned your throat on the way down.

"y'know, i really don't mind that you've been staring at me all night. makes me feel special," you slurred. "i like when you make me feel special."

his face reddened and he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "what about it makes you feel so special? i'm just admiring you." his voice was shaky.

"just the way you stare. you've always got this hunger in your eyes when you look at me; usually, i try to ignore it, but tonight, i'm too drunk to shove the feelings down."

schlatt smirked at your admission. "so there's feelings?" he sounded more sure of himself now.

with a chuckle, you nodded and took another sip from your cup. "there are definitely feelings. i've just been ignoring them for a while because i didn't know how you felt." after swallowing a large mouthful of the amber liquid, you sighed deeply. "can't believe i'm actually telling you this, i'm gonna regret it so much in the morning. if i even remember..." you muttered.

he shifted on the floor next to you uncomfortably, moving his legs in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension in his groin. "listen, i'm not as drunk as you, but," he took a long gulp from his plastic cup, "there are some feelings on my end, too, if that helps. i dunno..." he sniffed and inspected a framed painting that was hanging on the wall.

you felt your cheeks heat up at his confession and finished off your drink hastily. "can you fuck me?"

"w-what?" he sputtered, turning to stare at you.

"can you fuck me?" you repeated. "tired of waiting for you, j. i know i'm wasted, and maybe i won't have any recollection of this happening when i'm sober again, but i need you right now."

schlatt blinked a few times, running over your request in his mind, and ran his fingers through his hair. "isn't that, like... taking advantage? ted said something about drunk people not being able to fully consent," he mumbled. you sighed frustratedly and grabbed his chin, turning him to look at you.

"i don't give a shit, schlatt. fuck me." the demand caused his pants to tighten, and you glanced down at his lap just in time to see his bulge twitch slightly. grinning, you scooted closer towards him, savoring the look of desire in his eyes. "i can tell you want it just as much as i do. c'mon, baby, please. take advantage of me." his breath hitched in his throat, and in an instant, he was standing up and extending a hand down to you to help you rise as well. as soon as you were both on your feet, he pressed you against the counter and pulled you in for a deep kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth after biting your lip. you yelped and jumped up onto the surface behind you, sitting down on it and spreading your legs open so he had easier access for whatever he wanted to do.

"mm, you're so eager," he breathed into your ear before taking it between his teeth gently. a whimper escaped your lips, any confidence you had now gone from how flustered his dominance was making you. "you've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

another whine slipped out, and you wrapped your legs around him in an attempt to hold him close.

"yeah, bet you've just been dreaming about being used by me. sounds like it, judging by how easy it is to make you moan for me." his velvet smooth words coated your eardrums, rendering you helpless as he reached and slid your stockings and panties down. using his thumb to collect your slick, he brought it up to your mouth and pressed it onto your tongue. the taste of yourself being forced upon you like this left you rolling your eyes back into your head.

"good slut," he whispered with a slight smile. withdrawing his thumb, he swiftly dove in to replace his digit with his tongue, swirling and exploring your mouth with such passion that it made you dizzy. after he had enough of the taste of whiskey on your lips, he lowered himself between your thighs and stared up at you, eyes full of longing.

"you don't know how long i've wanted to do this for you," he said earnestly.

for me. not to me, you thought fleetingly.

"then do it." the words were barely audible, but they made him grin and duck his head under your dress. as soon as his tongue met your folds, clumsy and desperate to taste you, you were a moaning mess. you tried to cover your mouth, but he reached one arm up to reach for your hand and pulled it off.

"lemme hear you," he mumbled against your core. "you wanted to be fucked here so bad, you get to be embarrassed by your choices."

a whorish noise spilled from your lips before he continued, "and say my name, too. want people to know who's makin' you feel this good."

he sped up his tongue, circling your clit over and over, and inserted two fingers into you one by one. the speed at which he pumped them in and out of you would have been cruel if it didn't make you feel so euphoric. it didn't take him long to make you cum, you were so worked up- not to even mention how drunk you were; that always made it so much easier for you to orgasm.

"please, schlatt!! ohh, fuck, oh my god!" you screamed as your legs trembled around his head. he smiled against your cunt and pressed a few messy kisses to it before pulling away to stare up at you. his face was covered in your juices, although you almost didn't notice it due to his expression of pure adoration.

he rose after a few moments of admiring you, undoing his pants just enough to expose his length and positioned himself between your legs once more. "god, this is gonna feel so good," he babbled as he fished a condom out of his pocket.

"you don't have to use that," you offered, snapping out of your daze of staring at his cock.

"'s fine. wanna make sure i'm sober the first time i cum in you. don't wanna even risk not remembering it." his words sent a shudder down your spine; did he want to do this again? would this be more than a one-night stand? you prayed that it would be as he slid the protection onto his shaft.

schlatt made eye contact with you as he pressed his tip against your sensitive bud. you drew in a small breath and clutched onto his shoulders, trying to keep the room from spinning.

"you ready?" he asked, planting a warm kiss on your neck. you nodded as you let out a sharp gasp and braced yourself for him to enter you. it hurt a bit when he did, but the hiss you let out didn't make him stop. he just kept pushing in until he was buried to the hilt between your velvet walls.

he gave you a few seconds before he started moving. it was awkward at first; you were both intoxicated, so it was bound to be a little clumsy, but every second felt incredible. once he established a rhythm, rolling his hips so hard they smacked against your ass, you were clawing at his back and chanting his name. the doorknob rattled loudly and some people laughed on the other side of the door- it sounded like ted and a few of your other friends, but you couldn't be sure.

"fuck," he grunted, gripping your hip with one hand and using the other to cup your face and bring you in for a kiss. "so fuckin' good for me, you stupid little whore." the mixture of praise and degradation made the knot that was forming in your stomach tighten, and you groaned into his mouth. "you gonna cum for me again, doll?"

with a vigorous nod, you leaned your head back against the mirror and surrendered to the endless pleasure schlatt was giving you. "i think i'm gonna cum, too," he grinned. "you keep gettin' tighter and tighter around me, it's gettin' impossible to- nnggh, keep, it together, holy shit! fuck, i'm gonna cum!"

with one final slam into you, he bit down on your shoulder through your dress and groaned loudly, chest heaving. you yelped as he did so and wrapped your arms around him for a hug, which he immediately reciprocated. after pulling out of you and discarding the very full condom, he helped you down and assisted you in fixing your costume so you could return to the party with at least a little bit of dignity.

"wanna come sleep at my place?" he offered. "i feel like it's the least i can do after... that." he smiled softly and adjusted a strand of your hair that was out of place.

"only if we can do it again," you bargained.

"deal. i'll call an uber." he stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him, leaving you to have a second to yourself. you made the final fixes to your costume and applied a coat of your lip gloss before taking a deep breath and exiting the room, ready to face whatever else was in store for you that night.

#x reader #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt smut #schlatt smut #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you

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stemmingspark · 18 days ago

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C/W: Rape, impact, mention of piss (no actual piss) (sozzles to all my regular cuckquean readers <3)

You've always known not to visit dark, scary places, especially not alone. But this time, you're going with me. You can trust me, right? Your best friend in the whole world. You know I'd keep you safe.

So we venture into the forest, our own little adventure. Perhaps, we joke, we might find some treasure or a holy sword. The journey is filled with a mix of loud conversation, excited laughter, and comfortable silences. Just like any good friendship.

We see interesting-looking trees and skittish forest animals dancing across moss and stones, sending flakes of dead wood down overhead. We find a small stream trickling through the forest, quietly carving its own path, and eventually find a large, dry rock to sit on, sharing a couple snacks we carried while we chat.

Before you realise it, the sun begins to set. Perhaps we should have set back half an hour ago, you worry. You catch my eye and your worries are quelled. I'm here. I'd make sure you get home in one piece.

Of course I would.

Because I love you so much. I tell you that I've always had a crush on you. That every night I scroll through your instagram account and stroke my cock to you, because I love you. Because I think your perfect tits might not be as big as our friends but they're all I want. That I dream about what my cock would look like buried inside you while I bend you over.

You freeze. Perhaps you might feel like throwing up. You might have seen me like a brother. Certainly never someone who'd think all these gross, vile thoughts. If you're smart, you might ask for some time. Perhaps you'd like to sleep on it. "Let's get home first and then I'll give you an answer". Perhaps you'd simply reject me. Thank me for my feelings and tell me I'm not your type.

It wouldn't really matter what you say. I push you down there and then. You struggle against me before finally realising how strong a man can be. "Stop, please stop, this isn't you." You say, as if you truly know me.

If you truly knew what I thought of you, you wouldn't even be here in the first place. If you knew that I've wanted to jerk off over your face while you gargle on my nutsack for years now, you would have ghosted me. If you knew that I wanted to turn you into my pretty little punching bag or a filthy, little urinal, you would have blocked me.

But you don't know me. That's why I'm raping you now. That's why I can tear off your top and laugh at and spit on your pretty, fuckdoll face as you choke back sobs.

The setting sun cuts through the treetops and casts a dying beam of light across my face. Slowly, like your hope, that too dies, and in the darkness your strength leaves you. You surrender to my violent hands.

"It's okay, baby, just accept it," I whisper against you, as I maul at your pretty tits. "Accept that no one will want you more than me. Ever." As you cry and try to bite me. Darkness flashes, followed by a streak of pain. "Stop making me hurt you. I love you." I say, as I look sadly at my closed fist. "Don't make me punch you again, my love."

You can feel my cock throb against your thigh and you do nothing. There is nothing you can do. I pin you down, a hand against your throat, another flipping up your skirt and roughly playing with your cunt. As if I'm going through the motions. As if we really are a loving couple fucking in the middle of the woods and not a rapist and a victim that trusted him the most out of everyone in the world.

Minutes pass before you feel my cock plunge into your cunt. "That's a good girl. Just take my cock like that. You're doing such a good fucking job. Fuck..."

I groan as you lay there, eyes hollow, clothes torn, dusk dampening any previous screams and any current emotions. You don't realise it yet but I'm traumatising your pretty cunt with my sick, rapist cock. With every thrust and every groan, I'm carving myself into your memory.

I grope at your tits and slap your face, asking you if you like that and taking your numbed silence as confirmation. It doesn't matter. I'd do it anyway. Because I love you.

Finally, years of pent up, intense lust spew out of my cock into you. I slide myself out of you and admire my work. "Do you mind if I use this to wipe my cock?" I ask, as I pick up your hair. No response. Like some used cumrag, I carefully wipe my cock clean before looking at my watch.

"Oh dear, it's getting quite late. Shall we head home?"

#stemming-cnc #free use cnc #cnc k!nk #rapekink #r@pe k!nk #r@pe kink #r@petoy #r@pe play #r@pe fantasy #r@pe wh0re #r@pe slvt #attention wh0r3 #degrading k!nk #bd/sm blog #bd/sm relationship #bdsmkink

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sweetshrew · 6 months ago

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maybe i should have her clitwarm me while i’m asleep, bring my knees over her shoulders so my thighs are pinned on either side of her head and she can’t move. sure, she could get off if she wanted to, but if she wakes me up, she better hope she hasn’t cum yet.

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aforestescape · 11 months ago

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kidnapper simon - gn!reader. no smut or romance

next.

i’ve come to a fun conclusion that i most enjoy cnc/dubcon when the reader/kidnapped party is just too touch starved and has low standards to the point where they don’t even care

like sure, you weren’t expecting to be kidnapped by some six foot something, bulky man in a skull faced mask. you scream and cry and try anything you can think of to get away as he drags you to the back of his van. nails digging into and leaving rising red scratches on any exposed flesh you can find. he just lets out a grunt, brown eyes roaming over you as you squirm with tears burning your cheeks after he’s tied you up. tenderly running rough fingers over your cheeks to wipe the wetness away. it’s the last thing you remember before your vision goes hazy and you’re out like a light

you even fight and cry when you first wake up. some dimly lit room, wallpapered and cozy furniture under your ached form. tears and sobs choked up in your throat when the man returns to you. your mind screaming at you and body tense as you try to prepare for whatever may come to you. he comes over again to wipe the tears from your cheeks. this time lifting the bottom of his mask enough to expose a scarred chin and cracked, cleft lips. a pink tongue dashing out to lick the salty taste off and you whimper in terror

he brings over a bowl that he placed down, forcing you to eat the food he’s made. you’re surprised it tastes edible, good even

there’s the time when he came in to give you your first bath. more tears than water in the tub as he swipes a towel covered in lavender suds down your back. cooing sounds escaping his lips like he’s attending to a wounded animal

but after a while your tears dry up. it doesn’t take long. you’d hazard a month of time but really you wouldn’t know past the rising and setting of sun through the window in the room that’s all yours. you stopped being scared whenever he’d drag you into his lap and pet your hair. holding up a book and having you read out loud for the both of you. if it weren’t for the fact you were dragged here against your will you’d think it was almost nice. sweet

something you’d imagine a home would feel like. warm, hearty soups and fresh bread. cuddling against a big, warm body as rain splattered outside onto the dirt, a fire roaring near you. he even lets you go outside sometimes. taking you on walks through the endless trees along the mountains face. breathtaking views of iced caps and you know you could never escape this place that you used to spend time imagining a home like

so you smile whenever you see him again after a day spent collecting firewood. you bug him until he gets you seeds to start a little flower garden, doodling in your journal everytime you spot a new growing bud on a stem

you seek out his warmth, scratching at the inside of your bedroom door on days when he leaves you locked inside. waiting until you hear that heavy press of footsteps on creaky boards and pouncing him once the doors open. burrowing your face into his chest and feeling the world quiet to the low hum of his voice

#aforestescape #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod fanfic #kidnapper!ghost

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sanakimohara · 1 year ago

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“GAME OVER” [Stalker/Ghostface] K.S. + Y.J.

PREQUEL ATTRIBUTES

[ MDNI ] { NOT PROOFREAD…yet }

WARNINGS: Blood, gore, stalking, cnc, drugging, and primal play (later on in pt.2)…?

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin isn’t friendly to at first. You’re the new girl, from a smaller town, and stick out like a sore thumb from the rest of the girls he’s around. Not in a bad way. No, you’re prettier than most in his opinion, soft spoken, but headstrong. That’s what makes you different from the rest. He doesn’t easily understand you and your aura the first time you meet him in the hallway during free period. It throws him off a bit when you smile and joke about how you’re new and haven’t found you’re footing yet. New. So shiny. So guidable. Manipulating you is all he can think about from that day forward, mind running scenario after scenario on how he’d get to you, or what you’d sound like screaming your lungs out for him to stop. Stop what? He doesn’t know or care, but it’s rotting his brain with desire. All. The. Time.

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin is the first friendly face you meet at your university. He’s energetic and kind. Very aware and confident in himself as well. All the things any girl feels attracted to -most already do- but unlike the rest Jeongin takes a liking to you first. You’re so down to earth, curious about things you shouldn’t be, and unknowingly reining him in with your witty humor that’s always followed up by a shy smile. It’s so obvious he’s into you, always teasing, and lingering. Sometimes he’s right by your side, arm over your shoulder as he walks you back to your dorm. Other times you don’t even realize he’s trailing your every move. He’s constantly fighting the urge to drag you into the nearest dark alley or seminar room just so he can do whatever he pleases to you. Oh, the fantasies Jeongin has are indeed sinful. They worsen over time, turning from innocent day dreams about taking you on picnic dates to locking you in an abandoned classroom for the sole purpose of defiling you at any given time. It’s all he wants. It’s all he needs. There’s nothing wrong with that in his mind… nothing at all.

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin refuses to admit his growing crush on you when Jeongin brings you up in a conversation. The younger presses his roommate for an opinion, considering the idea of dating you, but Seungmin derails it with an eye roll, “We have other things to worry about. Liking some random girl will fuck our plans up.” Jeongin knows he has a point but can’t let you go that easily. He bugs Seungmin constantly, referring to you any chance he gets, and one night while sharpening their knives Seungmin snaps at him as he once again brings you up. “Would you shut the fuck up about Y/n?! Every goddam minute she’s on your mind! Fuck! We have a load of shit to worry about…a pile of assholes to kill, and here you are crushing on the new girl! Get a fucking grip Jeongin…” and for once the younger is speechless, it’s only a few seconds, but it’s long enough for him to put two and two together. He starts to laugh hysterically, realizing all too quickly Seungmin’s outburst stems from his own attraction to you. “Jesus fucking Christ…you like her too don’t you hyung?! That’s rich!” The older is burdened with listening to Jeongin’s gloating for the rest of the night, angry at himself for giving way to his emotions, and a little jealous his partner in crime shares the same feelings for you.

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin invites you over to his dorm after only getting to know you for a month. You don’t think anything of his offer, all smiley as you accept it, and excited at the prospect of getting to know more about his personal life. Jeongin is kind to you, but never reveals much about himself. He’ll redirect any question you ask to a compliment or an inquiry about your life instead. Pure flattery. He uses it well, subconsciously molding you to accept his diversions as innocent interest, which leads to your curiosity about him heightening. Why not spend the evening with him and his roommate and quell that curiosity. Why not take the chance? What could possibly go wrong…?

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin lets his anger shift into envy rather quickly. He’s determined to beat Jeongin to the punch. Researching everything about you, inspecting your social media, learning your class schedule, and even breaking into your dorm room once or twice. The fact that you were new, a mid year transfer, and involved with many extracurricular classes made it easier for him to lurk there unbothered. You had no roommate to bypass which left Seungmin with a lot of time to invest himself in your private space. You don’t realize how many pairs of panties you’re missing, the occasional displacement of your plushie collection, or the random makeup products that mysteriously disappear from your vanity. Seungmin collects the items like sentimental trophies. Leaving the items strewn around his dorm to agitate Jeongin. The gesture has the exact effect he’s hoping for, creating a somewhat friendly competition between the two men, and amping the stakes of their shared affection to a dangerous level. “Really, her lipgloss too? You’re a sick fuck Seungmin,” Jeongin glares at him, tossing the expensive tube of gloss on their kitchen island, and the older smirks as he picks it up to admire. “I’m sick? You’re the one wanting to know what….cherry chocolate…tastes like on her lips. I’m just one step ahead of you..” he smugly replies.

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin is elated later that same evening when you knock on the door. Seungmin doesn’t pay his roommates’ newfound energy any mind, typing away at his laptop with AirPods on full blast, but when he catches the sight of you from the corner of his eye he freezes immediately. Jeongin leads you straight to him, engaged in conversation with you already, and inwardly cackling at the upper hand he has on Seungmin. “Y/n, this is my roommate -and best friend- Kim Seungmin. I think you met him once before, right?” he beams a smile as he needlessly introduces you to Seungmin -who is gritting his teeth to keep from punching the younger straight in the jaw. You nod your head, oblivious to the tension between them as you hold out your hand to shake Seungmin’s. His eyes flicker from your outstretched hand to your hopeful smile, ears tingling as you speak to him softly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…again.” You laugh nervously, unsure of why his stare makes you blush, but hoping he doesn’t notice. Unfortunately, both men see it and as Seungmin takes your hand in his Jeongin can’t hide his glare while the older places a kiss on the back of it. You arrogant son of a bitch, he thinks to himself as Seungmin achieves his goal of flustering you. “Glad to have you over Y/n. The pleasure is all mine..”

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin sheds his anti-social shell entirely the first night you visit, inserting himself into your time with Jeongin, and slowly changing your first impression of him. He’s charming, possessing a sharp sense of humor too, but calmer than Jeongin. You joke about how much they contrast each other, five shots of tequila deep into a drinking game they suggested, and unaware you’re spilling your guts to the two men who are unnervingly obsessed with you. Seungmin can’t hide the cocky smirk on his face when you gaze lustfully at him and Jeongin, unable to hide your emotions under the influence of the spiked drinks he’s been serving you all night. He’s careful with the dosage of drugs he puts into your alcohol, tallying the amount you can take before you pass out sitting in Jeongin’s lap. “75 milligrams of ketamine will work on her,” he tells his roommate later that night as they tuck you into his bed. Jeongin nods, biting his lip as he stares down at you, trying to stick to their agreement of keeping their hands off you until the timing is right.

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin fills in the gaps of the previous night for you when morning rolls around. He reassures you nothing sketchy happened and you believe him. He’s never lied to you before, they both were sweet to you the whole night too, and nothing feels out of place on your body…..so he must be telling the truth. Right?…plus it felt good to relax with them. So, when Jeongin invites you over more regularly you don’t refuse him once, unknowingly conditioning yourself to his and Seungmin’s mind games. You don’t think to reconsider staying with or near them more often when the news of gruesome murders taking place on campus start. If anything you draw closer to Jeongin, sticking to his side with each new body that turns up, and inevitably getting attached to Seungmin as well.

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin upholds the pact to not lay hands on you for as long as possible. Taking his sexual frustration out on his victims, frequenting your dorm more often, and jerking off with your panties works for a while. He bores of those outlets soon after you begin hanging around in their dorm on a daily basis. You’re comfortable there, lounging around in their shirts that are way too big for you while rummaging through the kitchen for snacks, and spending the night asleep in one of their beds after a long movie marathons. Sometimes he doses you. Other times your exhaustion come naturally. Either way Seungmin watches you sleep when Jeongin isn’t doing so himself. Seeing you so peaceful, under the impression they’re the safest people to be with while a string of murders happen turns him on. A twisted type of lust he’s keenly aware of…It would be so easy to reach out and drag you underneath him at any time. Use you for all your worth with no one there to stop him. Jeongin surely wouldn’t try -he’d join in. However, outright aggression wasn’t Seungmins taste…no, he wanted you fully committed to their “friendship” first. That way you’d break easier, beg more, and fight for your innocence a little longer. A prized victim, in his opinion. One he could be patient for…

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin has a shameless erection more often than you realize. His victims suffer a blood rage as a result. He starts to kill more often than Seungmin, blood thirst surpassing his partner’s the longer he buries his urges, and the frustration starts surface when he interacts with you. He can’t focus, dazing off as he watches your lips move while you talk, and struggling to keep his eyes focused on your own. His skin goes cold when you place a gentle hand on his arm or leg, wide eyes full of concern as you stare at him. “Everything okay?,” you ask him politely and Jeongin stifles a groan as his cock twitches hearing your sweet tone. Why hasn’t he tied you up already? Why hasn’t Seungmin agreed to taking you yet? Why couldn’t he just kiss you now?! All those questions racked his mind as he swallowed thickly, forcing his usual smile to adorn his face, “I’m fine. Finals week is just kicking my ass. That’s all.” You study his face, not believing him, but assuming he’ll tell you what’s actually bothering him eventually…”Okay…just checking…”

Stalker Jeongin/Ghostface Seungmin come to the conclusion that you’re a liability for them both. An unknown wrench in their grand scheme that needs to be..eliminated swiftly. In one way or another. The two discuss their options while you’re in the bathroom during one of your weekly movies nights with them. Voices barely above a whisper as they plot your fate and plan the rest of the night out in intricate detail. “We won’t kill her, hyung..” Jeongin states matter of factly, eyes glued to the credits rolling on the TV in front of them and Seungmin blinks thoughtfully before nodding in agreement. “No…we won’t. We’ll keep her for a while. I’d like a pet anyway….” His response brings a smile to Jeongins face, both men smirking as the sound of you washing your hands echos from the bathroom. Seungmin rises to his feet first, leisurely walking into the kitchen, and pouring you another ‘drink’. Jeongin waits, observing him for a moment, then opens the bottom drawer of the coffee table to retrieve the knife hidden there. He stands up hearing the bathroom door open, slipping the blade behind his back between his belt and pants’ loop, intently listening to your voice carry through the hall as you make your way back to the living area. “So, what movie should we watch next, guys?” You smile at them both as your gaze shifts from Seungmin to Jeongin. The older hands you the drink in he’s made, watching you take a sip before answering your question. “I was thinking we should do something a little more exciting for the rest of the night, hun..” His suggestion makes you perk up, “Mm, okay, what’d you have in mind?” You take another sip, still not unsettled as he shifts to hug you from behind while Jeongin approaches you with that familiar charming grin. “You’ll love it, Y/n. Me and hyung planned a surprise just for you…”

Stalker Jeongin/Ghostface Seungmin share a knowing look, one you don’t understand, and can’t attempt to comprehend as the room starts to spin. The glass in your hand slips, shattering on the floor with a loud “crack” , and your breaths slow rapidly as Seungmin trails a hand up to your mouth, muffling the panicked cry you let out from the alarming loss of body control. Jeongin’s voice is the last things you hear before everything goes dark and the distinct chill of a blade is pressed to your neck. “75 milligrams worked perfect, hyung…”

+++++++

…uhm so I really enjoyed writing this…. Idk I’m partial to darker themed stories and fanfics. I know a lot of people may not like this but it’s been on my mind lately. If you’d like a part 2 please lmk… 🖤

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

….”oh please don’t kill me mr. Ghostfaces I wanna be on the sequel!…” 🥺🖤 I know I need help lol…but like…LOOK AT THEM THEY’D BE GORGEOUS AS SLAHER MOVIE KILLERS RIGHT?!? 🖤 credits to creator 🖤

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handful0fteeth · 2 years ago

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sexy when you scream

stranger kinks 2: roleplaying

summary: you told eddie you wanted him to stalk you. he obliges, and makes your wildest fantasy come true.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: slight 90s!au, smut, minors DNI, explicit language, lots of dirty talk, A LOT of cnc, stalking kink, kidnapping kink, bondage, fearplay, (slight) knifeplay, rough sex

words: 9.7k

Oh, you are so fucked.

The cold, hard metal of your keys bite into your palm as you clench your hands together, pressing them against your chest as you slowly take inventory of your porch.

You wouldn't believe it if you weren’t standing here and seeing this with your own eyes. But here it is, in all its terrifying, thrilling glory. You worry your bottom lip with your teeth and take a step back.

Hundreds of daisies have been sprinkled on your front stoop; some rest in clumps atop the seats of your wicker chairs and a dusty metal table, while others are threaded through the thin whorls of metal within your iron porch columns. A path of daises led you to this discovery in the first place, smatterings of pink, white, and red petals and long green stems guiding you to your home from the driveway. In front of your door, pink clusters have been arranged to form the first initial of your name inside of a crude heart.

A cold wind blusters a few flowers across the tops of your tennis shoes, and you retreat down the concrete steps leading up the porch a little further. This egregious display was most certainly not here when you left for the gym an hour ago. You adjust your duffel bag on your shoulder and swallow hard despite your suddenly bone-dry mouth.

You know who did this. You spin on your heel, scanning the sparse forest encasing your home for anything - or anyone - who shouldn’t be there.

“Hello?” Your voice is small, scared, fluttering away on the autumnal breeze with all the conviction of a mewling kitten. The forest remains defiantly silent.

You see it when you’ve stepped onto your driveway, back turned to the floral explosion blocking your door. Nestled about one hundred yards away from your house, mostly camouflaged beneath a tapestry of oak leaves that have gone red and orange with the October chill, is the white-brown front bumper of a car.

No, not a car - a van.

Your stomach flips as you ascend your porch steps. The trees are blocking the windshield, so you can’t see if anyone occupies the van’s interior, but it feels like eyes are on you. Trying to find your house key proves difficult as your hands shake, and you keep glancing over your shoulder to ensure the van doesn’t move. Losing sight of it somehow feels scarier than knowing it’s there.

You finally slip the correct key into the lock, but when you turn it, there’s resistance. You try again - no luck. You hold the knob and lift, shimmying the key inside the door to dislodge whatever lay inside, but nothing gives. Sweat beads at your hairline and pools in your palms, and just as you’re about to throw the keys down in defeat, you notice your silhouette is pasted against the door. The world is suddenly much brighter than it was moments ago, and when you chance a look behind you, you realize why.

The van’s headlights have flared on. You blink against their harsh yellow light as your stomach drops into your shoes.

Shit. You bend, trying to peer inside your lock's narrow channel to figure out what’s jamming it. The dying evening light doesn’t give you much clarity, and you curse yourself for forgetting to switch on the porch light before you left.

A loud rumble pierces the air, disturbing a few nesting birds nearby into flight; he’s revving the engine.

Yep, definitely fucked.

You scrape the tip of your key along the rim of the lock, hoping you can dislodge whatever’s inside to unlock your door. White and pink petals crumble out, and it dawns on you as the glow of the headlights abruptly shuts off, and the engine cuts out.

He’s stuffed daisies in the door.

“Motherfucker!” you growl, slapping your hand uselessly against the doorjamb.

The sound of a car door slamming shut makes you whip around. The oak trees still obstruct your view, so all you can make out of the figure now slowly stalking toward you are a pair of dingy white sneakers crunching over the carpet of rotting leaves.

You don’t think - you just act. You swing your duffel back off your shoulder, offloading the unnecessary weight, and hear it crash into one of your wicker chairs as you dash down your porch steps. You fly around the side of the house, mud squelching and slipping beneath your tennis shoes, and just before you reach your backdoor, you trip.

All the air in your lungs whooshes out as you collide with the cold, wet ground, and mud squishes up between your fingers as you skid forward on your stomach. Pain zaps through the knee you landed on like lightning, and you gasp, but you don’t have time to sit here. He’s gaining on you. You can feel his presence at your back, if you can just get inside before he reaches you…

You scrabble forward, clawing at the mud and flinging clumps behind you as you struggle back up to your feet. Footsteps squish behind you, measured, slow.

The screen door crashes against the wall as you fling it open, but you hardly hear it over the blood rushing through your ears. Luckily, or stupidly, you never lock your back door, and though you have a hard time grasping the knob with your mud-slick palms, it gives way quickly as you barrel your entire body through it. When you slam it shut, your whole house rattles. A silence settles over you, thick like smoke and just as suffocating. Over the roar of blood in your ears, all you can hear is your own ragged breathing.

Then, you laugh.

You bend over, hands gripping your knees, lungs still burning, heart still pounding, and you start laughing. Mud is drying on your skin and clothes, and as your body quakes from the force of your laughter, flakes drift to the floor in front of you. Adrenaline throbs through your body, and something stirs in your stomach, intermingling with the fear that’s still got your teeth on edge and your hands shaking. Before you can name it, the doorknob in front of you jiggles.

He’s trying to open it.

You slap both hands over your mouth to stifle the giggles still pouring out. You wonder if he can hear you, if your girlish sounds of mirth are amusing or irritating to him. The knob wiggles harder, more insistently, forcing the door to tremble on its hinges, and just when you think it’s going to shake itself loose - it stops. The quiet creeps back in as you lower your hands, giggles under control for now. Seconds bleed into minutes, and you’re just standing by the door, watching it expectantly, like at any moment, the lock will magically fail and allow your unexpected guest inside.

Bangbangbang!

You can’t help the scream that bursts from your lips. The sound of a demanding fist pounding on your door rings out like a shot, and you aren’t even aware that your feet are whisking you away and into your kitchen until you’ve almost run straight into the counter. When you whip back around, ready to threaten the presence at the door and bluff your ass off, the banging stops as suddenly as it started.

Oh, he’s good.

You scurry to the living room and snap the curtains closed on all the windows, but not before peering outside. You eye the spot where the van is supposed to be parked and are met with nothing but empty forest.

Where did he go? He couldn’t have driven off that quickly, could he? Surely you would’ve heard the tires squeal over the forest floor, and surely he couldn’t have disappeared in a matter of seconds? You nibble your bottom lip again and back away from the windows.

You rub your bare arms, trying to soothe the gooseflesh that’s apparated over your entire body and take a deep, shuddering breath. Your heart still thunders against your ribcage, so much so that you’re sure it’d be audible from across the room.

You only notice the envelope taped to your fridge when you turn to face the kitchen.

You almost scream again. The writing on the outside is a familiar scrawl, addressed in black ink to a “Sweetheart.” Your legs are like lead as they shuffle over to the fridge, and when you bring the letter to your face with trembling fingers, a blend of cigarettes, weed, and something earthy-sweet wafts into your nose. Your resolve melts a little when you peel open the envelope and read the note within:

Hope you liked the flowers. I picked ‘em special for you. I’ll be seeing you soon, sweetheart, even if you don’t see me. Behave yourself.

A shiver ripples down your spine. You run your fingers over the letter, feeling where he’s pressed the pen into paper so hard it’s left indentations. God, you’re so tempted to run outside and call for him now, to end this little game before it’s even truly begun - the heat in your cheeks and the throbbing between your legs demands it. But where’s the fun in that?

You hug the note to your chest, chewing your lip, and slide down to the floor like a smitten schoolgirl instead of someone who should be terrified that their house was broken into and that whoever broke in left you a note promising constant observation. And on some level, you are scared. But the fear is the best part of all of this.

When Eddie asked you weeks ago if you ever had any fantasies you’d be interested in roleplaying, you’re sure he was expecting you to say you’d love to be the naughty student to his seductive professor or even something in a fantastical, magical vein that he could really sink his teeth into, but you didn’t. You hadn’t wanted to answer him at first, truthfully, because for all the dark, wicked things you’d already confessed made you embarrassingly wet, you didn’t think Eddie would be very on board with the idea of acting like some psycho stalker while you pretended to fear for your life.

Oh, how wonderfully wrong you were.

You hardly had to elaborate on the finer details of your fantasy before he emphatically agreed to participate, and he didn’t allow you to leave anything out, either. When you tried, when you curled in on yourself or tucked your head out of shyness, Eddie was there, grabbing your chin and crowding into your space, encouraging you with his velvet-soft tenor to keep going. The words tumbled out of you so freely it was like you weren’t even thinking about them - you confessed to wanting to be desired so fiercely that nothing would stop Eddie in his pursuit, not even you running from him. You wanted him to obsess over you, to make it clear that he was always there, always watching and waiting for another opportunity to express his devotion, whether you liked it or not.

You admitted, with Eddie’s deft fingers rubbing tantalizing circles around your clit, that you wanted him to make you scared. True, bone-chilling fear isn’t what you were after; you just wanted that thrill, that dump of adrenaline that kicked your body into overdrive, like when you’d watch a scary movie. In the face of mundanity, the dreary day-to-day that was living in Hawkins, that jolt of fear let you know, doubtlessly, that you were alive.

The shrill chime of the phone tears you from your thoughts, and you yelp. You back into the fridge reflexively, eyeing the phone on the adjacent wall like it’s a wild animal rearing to bite if you make a move toward it. Your heart batters so hard against your chest that you’re sure it’ll burst free at any moment and plop on the floor in a bloody, steaming heap. Gross.

You don’t move, and the phone rings out. The house isn’t silent for a full second before a second call jars the receiver, and you swallow thickly. You wonder how many calls you’d have to ignore before Eddie came banging around the house again, and for a moment, you consider doing just that. But that’s not part of the game. You’re supposed to be a poor, helpless victim who does just the wrong thing at just the wrong time. So you stand, your thighs quaking with the effort of keeping you upright, and pick up the phone.

“H-Hello?”

“Why’d you run from me, sweet thing?” Eddie croons. His voice is dark and smooth, and even through the receiver, it rumbles right down into your core. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Who is this?” you ask, and though the tremble in your voice is real, it isn’t from fear. You’re so fucking excited. You have to chew on your thumbnail just to suppress the giggles building in your throat, and you’re glad, for once, that Eddie can’t see the smile on your face.

“Aw, what, you don’t recognize me?” Eddie pouts, and you can practically hear him jutting out his bottom lip. “That hurts, sweetheart. Really stings.”

“Who…who the fuck are you?”

Eddie sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth. “Ouch, such foul language from such a pretty girl. I should wash your mouth out for that.”

The thought is, confusingly, very arousing. You decide you’ll table that and bring it up to Eddie at a later date.

“Anyway. D’you get my note?” he asks, as cool and casual as ever.

“I…How the fuck did you get into my house?”

He laughs. “Let’s not pretend you live in Fort Knox here, sweetheart. All I needed was a few tools and five minutes, and boom - it opened up like it was waiting for me. Just like you will.”

Fuck. You choke on your tongue as you press your back to the wall, knees buckling and threatening to drop you to the floor. You wonder where he’s calling from, if he drove away from your house, or if he just retreated further into the woods. If he’s out there now, watching, waiting.

“I’m not doing shit for you, you fucking weirdo,” you snarl, and Eddie laughs again.

“I am definitely gonna have to teach you some manners, aren’t I? Rude little thing, you are. I wonder if you’d be so keen on mouthing off if I was standing right in front of you.”

“I’m not scared of you.” A lie; you’re most definitely scared, but you’re also so fucking horny you’re having a hard time thinking straight. By sheer force of will, you don’t beg down the phone for Eddie to just come and take you now. You want to wait and play this whole thing out just as you two had planned, but God, it is so hard to have patience when he condescends to you.

“You should be,” Eddie purrs. “‘Cause you know what I like to do to mouthy little brats like you?” You hear him shift wherever he is, and the sigh that billows past his lips sends a shiver down your spine. You know that sound intimately, and how his breath hitches as he speaks confirms precisely what you’re thinking.

“I like to make them scream. Break ‘em ‘til they beg for mercy. And it’d be so easy to do, tiny little thing like you can’t even run two feet without tripping over herself.”

Your mind goes blank. An embarrassed flush rises high on your cheeks, but you hardly notice; Eddie’s low, almost imperceptible groan is bouncing around the inside of your skull, and you know for a fact you heard the jingle of his belt coming undone. He’s touching himself, maybe pulling his cock out of his jeans as you speak, so aroused at what he has planned for when he gets his hands on you that he can’t help himself. You clench your thighs tightly, pretending your panties aren’t getting wetter by the second.

“I-I’m gonna call the cops,” you threaten weakly. “I’m gonna c-call them right now, and when they get here they’ll-”

“They’ll what, sweetheart? Hm? C’mon, don’t be silly, you know they won’t believe you. Not like they’d be faster than me anyway. By the time they busted in, I’d already have my cock down your throat.”

You have to bite down on the back of your hand so hard it hurts to stop the moan that wants to spill out. This side of Eddie, this arrogant, cold, mean side of him, is unexpected but dizzyingly sexy. You can’t help the image that trickles into your brain: you on your knees, your hair fisted in Eddie’s hand as he thrust himself so deep in your throat that you’d have no choice but to gag on him, blinking tears from your eyes as your supposed “rescuers” came face-to-face with the very man you called to report in the first place.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Y/N,” Eddie promises, his voice gruff with arousal. “But I’ll make sure you don’t see me ‘til I want you to. Think you can be a good girl for me ‘til then?”

“Fuck you,” you spit, and he laughs.

“I thought so.” There’s a pause, and when Eddie speaks again, it’s softer, quieter, like he’s afraid someone is eavesdropping. “Are you okay, by the way? Like, really. That fall looked like it hurt.”

You smile, twisting the phone cord around your fingers. “I’m okay, baby. Just muddy. I don’t even think I scraped anything.”

“Good. Do you remember your safeword, angel?”

“Mmhm. Mercy.”

“And what happens if you call mercy?”

“Everything stops, right there and then,” you say, repeating what you’d gone over probably dozens of times before tonight. As excited as Eddie was, he refused to participate in anything risky like this without a safeguard, for both of your sakes. As he’d put it, “If the whole point is you sayin’ ‘no,’ how am I supposed to know when that really means ‘no?’”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s my good girl. Alright, go get cleaned up. I’ll be watchin’ you.”

The line goes dead without another word.

You stare at the receiver for what feels like a long, long time. You’re half expecting him to call you back, maybe to taunt you some more, but he doesn’t.

You’re still so fucked. And you’re thrilled.

~~~

Days pass without much incident.

When you wake up the next morning, the daisies have all mysteriously disappeared from your porch, as if they were never there. Your duffel bag has been propped up in one of your wicker chairs, but when you unzip it, it’s empty, save for a single pink daisy at the bottom. You don’t know if Eddie’s around or watching, so you stealthily pluck the flower out of your bag and tuck it close to your chest. You suppose it sort of ruins the illusion if you keep your “stalker’s” creepy calling card, but beneath that, who are you to throw away the flowers your boyfriend gifts you?

You try to go about your life normally but catch yourself constantly looking over your shoulder, flinching at every twig that breaks in the woods, running to the window to fling the curtains open if you think you hear a voice on the breeze outside. There’s never anything there, but you always check. Nighttime is when Eddie’s decided he’s going to mess with you the most. He doesn’t need to break in, as you gave him a key ages ago, but you’d discussed that feeling more authentic for the fantasy, so he does it.

He comes in at around three o’clock every night - you awake to footsteps creaking along your floorboards, shadows rippling over your wall, and dissipating in the blink of an eye, but when you gather the courage to storm down the hallway, he’s nowhere to be seen. You only know he was there because his scent lingers behind him, earth-sweet and smokey with cigarettes. The anticipation makes it harder to fall asleep every night, like a kid waiting to catch Santa Claus in the act.

After a week, he amps it up. You awake to daisies in front of your bedroom door, and when you return home from work that night, a white one is on your pillow. He’s edging closer and closer to you, circling like a vulture readying its descent toward its meal. You start waking up to calls in the middle of the night, but when you pick up, Eddie doesn’t speak. He only breathes, deep and slow, into your ear until you scream at him and hang up. You toothlessly attempt to brat at him, perhaps bait him into just doing whatever the fuck he’s planning already, but he remains cool-headed. When you swear at him, he merely chuckles, a knowing, expectant sound, and any insults you can conjure during your calls go unheeded.

That’s possibly the scariest part about this - Eddie does not, and has never, taken your bratting lightly. He enjoys nothing more than putting you squarely back in your place should you decide to put even one toe out of line, so the fact that he’s permitting abject disrespect and taunting from you means he is biding his time. You know he’s running a mental tally in his head, and you will soon reap the consequences.

That thought runs rampant in your head when you doze off one night, too exhausted to keep your eyes open. The book you’re reading lays askew on your lap, and the rain pattering against your window lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. You don’t know what time you drift off at, nor how long it is before you’re jostled awake, but when you regain consciousness, you’re immediately cognizant of three things.

First, you are upside down. Blood pools in your skull, making it very hard to concentrate on anything but the dull, persistent throb in your head.

Second, you can’t move. You thrash uselessly, but your arms burn in the position they’re forced into behind your back, and your legs have been bound at the ankles.

Lastly, your mouth is full. You try to scream, but the sound comes out garbled behind a thick, round hunk of something that’s been shoved so far into your jaw that it aches. You can feel thin straps on either side of your face, digging into the tender flesh of your cheeks, and when you poke at the strange object with your tongue, all you feel is smooth, rubbery roundness.

The fog of sleep stubbornly refuses to clear quickly enough for you to orient yourself, so all you can gather for a moment is that you’re cold. When you shiver, a dark, gleeful sound slithers up your spine, one you’d recognize any day.

“Well, good morning, gorgeous,” Eddie hums, and when he shifts, you glean a better understanding of what’s going on. He’s thrown you over his shoulder as if you weigh less than nothing and brought you outside somewhere. You can’t tell if you’re just outside your house or if this is a different part of the woods - all you can see are the dark, spindly shadows of dying trees against the velvet black of the night. You thrash futilely, screaming obscenities at him as best you can as buzzing heat cracks through your veins like lightning.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Didn’t order a wake-up call, huh?”

His voice sounds oddly muffed, though you can’t discern if that’s due to the blood roaring in your ears. Something clatters open ahead of him, and before you can blink, you’re being tossed through the air. You shriek and land on something warm and soft; when you flex your fingers against it, you realize it’s a pile of thick, fuzzy blankets laid atop what appears to be a mattress. You don’t need to look further to realize where Eddie’s dumped you - you’re inside his van.

He’d modified the back of it ages ago, when you first started dating, partially because having sex on the floor was murder on your back and hips, but mostly so you two could have somewhere private to sleep and hang out. Eddie didn’t have anything against going to your place, but he always seemed…stiffer, somehow, inside the four walls of your home. Like he was acutely aware that he didn’t belong there, or at least didn’t feel like he belonged. Your house's tidy, eclectic decor was so different than the cluttered, shabby interior of his trailer, and that had never bothered you, but it so clearly bothered him.

When your eyes fall on Eddie’s face, you realize why he’d sounded so strange. He’s wearing a mask, one he no doubt procured from a Halloween store - the long, white face appears perpetually frozen in a mournful scream, and its black eyes are narrowed at you in apparent anguish. A black shawl hides Eddie’s long hair, blending in with his all-black outfit tonight. He tilts his head at you slowly, crossing his arms and leaning against the van’s open door.

“Whatsa matter, pretty girl? You look so scared. You scared of me?” His voice is cloyingly sweet, deliciously patronizing. You whip your head from side to side, viciously denying it, even though your entire body is shaking and your heart is hammering against your chest. You’re coming to regret your choice of pajamas tonight, as the thin, silky nightgown you’d chosen before slipping into bed does nothing to protect you from the frigid air trickling into the van.

You’d also forgone panties entirely, something you aren’t sure Eddie’s noticed yet.

How long had it taken him to tie you up? You wiggle your arms within their bonds and glance down at your legs, noting the white, plastic sliver encompassing your ankles. Zip ties? Where the fuck did Eddie get zip ties? And how did he manage to use them without you waking up? Surely, no one was that careful.

Drool oozes from the corners of your mouth, dribbling embarrassingly down your neck, heedless of your attempts to rub it away with your shoulder.

“If you behave, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Eddie coos. He bends toward you, and a single, black-gloved finger crooks beneath your chin. He angles your face toward him, expression entirely indiscernible beneath his mask. His thumb brushes over your cheek so gently, mopping up some of your saliva, and you have to remind yourself of the part you’re playing so you don’t lean into his touch.

Then, Eddie’s hand is gone from your face, only resuming occupancy on your body when it closes around your throat. You squeak, a wet, pathetic sound from beneath your gag, and your eyes go wide as saucers.

“Although, you seem fucking incapable of behaving yourself lately,” he snarls, jostling you back and forth. “What’d you think was gonna happen, hm? Acting all fucking high and mighty, talking to me like I’m some scumbag? You need to learn some fucking respect, girl, some goddamn humility.”

You whimper, Eddie’s threats tingling pleasantly down to your pussy. Tears well up in your eyes, and you desperately try to communicate an apology, but it all comes out as broken nonsense. You knew this was coming; you knew he wouldn’t let you off scot-free for anything you’d said over the past week, but something about the white-hot indignation in his voice makes the fear smoldering beneath your arousal burn that much brighter. You try wrenching out of his grip, but all that earns you is a fist knotted in the hair at the back of your head.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Eddie mocks, pitching his voice higher. “Yeah, I bet you think you are. But you’re gonna learn what sorry looks like soon, what it really feels like. I told you, breaking little brats like you and making them scream for mercy is one of my favorite pastimes.”

Eddie shoves you onto your back, and the faint light from the yellowish bulb inside the van vanishes as he crawls on top of you. The chalk-white features of his mask hover just above your face, shiny and thick and reeking of powder. You wail in protest, hurling muddled insults at him while trying in vain to tug yourself free of the zip ties. The struggle feels good, cathartic, in a way. It helps to alleviate all the jittery, excited energy pent up inside your body, and it thrills you to know that Eddie won’t stop fighting you right back unless you call mercy. He’ll take what he wants from you as roughly as he pleases, and in turn, you’ll give him everything you have. You trust him implicitly, so when he grabs your throat again and squeezes until you’re gasping around your gag, you lay there with raw, feral arousal roiling in your belly instead of fear.

“How’s my angel?” Eddie whispers into your ear, and you relax further into his hand. His fingers slacken just enough to allow you a small, shallow breath, and you nod vigorously. You hope your eyes can communicate what your mouth can’t right now.

“Good girl, you’re doing great. If you need to tap out, I want you to kick your feet down three times, okay?” He raps his knuckles by your head to demonstrate his point. You nod again.

When he lifts his body off yours, cold air sweeps you up in its grasp, and you shudder. Wordlessly, Eddie hops out of the van and slams the door shut, leaving you alone in the back. He jumps in the front and revs the engine just as you’ve begun to scream and flail around again.

“Scream all you want, sweet thing,” he encourages. “No one’s gonna be able to hear you anyway. Nobody’s comin’ to save you from me.” The metallic squeal of a guitar suddenly bursts into your eardrums; Eddie’s turned on the radio and cranked it almost full blast, effectively drowning out all your cries for help. If anyone were outside the van, they wouldn’t even know you were there.

Eddie hits the gas, and the van thunders to life before speeding off into the night.

~~~

You must be more tired than you’d initially thought because somewhere between your initial “kidnapping” and the van finally skidding to a stop, you doze off again.

It’s hard not to - Eddie blasts the heat, probably because he can see you shivering in his rearview mirror, and the blankets pressed beneath your nose smell just like him. How can you not bury your face in them? And you only intended to shut your eyes for a second, honestly.

A hand caressing your cheek pulls you from your sleepy haze, and you blink at Eddie’s still-masked face. Having briefly forgotten he was wearing it, he startles you, and you suck in a sharp breath as best you can through your gag. He chuckles.

“Just me, pretty girl. Look at you, drooling all over yourself already.”

You feel the slimy wetness of your saliva coating the side of your face as soon as he mentions it, and you self-consciously try to wipe some of it away by rubbing your face into the blanket. He lifts the corner and dabs it along your cheek and jaw.

“Do you need a minute, baby?” he asks. “You look so comfy.”

You shake your head. You can sleep back here whenever you want, but Eddie’s gone through all the trouble of dragging you out here (wherever here is) for a reason. You’re dying to see what it is.

Satisfied with your answer, Eddie wraps his fist in the front of your nightgown and pulls so hard he forces you into a sitting position. Your arms tingle and your head spins with the sudden decrease in blood as he tugs on the loops holding your gag secure. As they fall away, the rubber ball in your mouth plops into your lap, but your mouth isn’t empty for more than a moment before Eddie’s gloved fingers slide across your tongue and press into the back of your throat. You gag and gasp in surprise, trying to flinch away, but Eddie holds your head in place with his free hand.

“If you scream, the next thing going in your mouth is gonna be my boxers,” he warns, and you wrinkle your nose. That’s a soft limit, something you’re not entirely willing to try but are open to having your boundaries pushed about, especially for a punishment. Admittedly, a dark, perverse thrill slinks through your gut at the thought. Having Eddie on your tongue like that, inescapable and unavoidably pungent, is equally humiliating and intriguing. But you don’t have time to try and weigh that thought out, so you just whimper and rock your head from side to side as much as possible.

“That’s what I thought. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

He drags you out of the van by your gown, swinging your body in front of his as you settle unsteadily on your feet. You squint into the surrounding darkness and realize with a cold squeeze of dread that you have no earthly idea where Eddie has driven you. The trees are thicker here, dying leaves black in the moonlight, and there are no stars when you look up at the sky, only bulbous clouds. The air is still and cold, dense with the threat of rain.

The edge of something scintillatingly sharp drags itself down your spine, dangerous even through the fabric of your nightgown. You don’t dare turn around, but you can feel Eddie pressing himself closer as he allows that pointed edge to linger on your flesh.

“Feel that?” he asks. He taps it against your thigh, and you gasp.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak.

“That’s my knife.” Fuck. You have to hold your breath to prevent the moan that wants to spill out.

When Eddie kneels by your legs, he takes a moment to drag both hands appreciatively down either side of you, fingers flexing and kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as his blade pokes menacingly through your skirt. Then, in one swift motion, he slices through the zip tie around your ankles.

As if sensing your inclination to bolt away immediately, Eddie stands and snatches the plastic loop still ensnaring your wrists and tugs you backward against his chest. He wraps his other arm around your neck and the steel of his blade glints from the corner of your eye. You refrain from inhaling his scent, leather, cigarettes, and sweet earth, but just barely.

“Hold on, bunny, don’t hop away just yet,” he murmurs against your hair. “I haven’t explained the rules of our game yet.”

“Game?”

“Mmhm. And if I hear one bit of attitude from you, I’m gonna cut this pretty little dress off you and make you run around these woods stark-naked. Do you understand me?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you bite, not entirely understanding why you feel the need to do the exact opposite of what he’s just told you to do. He laughs, a downright sinister sound.

In one fluid movement, his knife cleaves through the front of your nightgown, splitting it open all the way down to your belly and allowing your breasts to spill out. Your nipples harden immediately from the frosty air, and you gasp, hands instinctively trying to cover yourself up.

“What were you saying? I wouldn’t dare?” Eddie teases. He nudges the torn fabric aside purposefully, further exposing you and taking the opportunity to grope your soft, chilled flesh. Warm breath washes over your ear, and he grinds shamelessly into your ass from behind.

“Now, our game. I’m giving you the chance to run, run, run aaall the way home. If you can find the way back through the woods and make it there before I find you, you’re free, sweetheart. I’ll leave you be and won’t darken your doorstep anymore. But…” Eddie bends you over forcibly, ghosting his lips across your skin as he speaks. You want to beg for him; your body cries out for it, but you don’t. You’re so fucking wet from all of this, from his threats and the glaring danger of his blade, that your thighs stick together every time you adjust your stance to gain some semblance of balance.

“If I find you before you make it home,” Eddie purrs, “I will spend the rest of the night breaking you, bit by bit until you can’t remember why you ever wanted to run from me in the first place. You’ll be my perfect little victim. Sound fair?”

“I…I…” You’re certain your brain just split clear down the middle. Something inside of you, something ancient, urges you to flee, to make your way back to safety by any means possible. But something else, the very same need that demanded it be known all those weeks ago when you first told Eddie about it, desperately wants to be caught. You want to streak through these woods, possibly getting yourself hopelessly lost in the process, only to have Eddie successfully hunt you down and make you suffer so beautifully for him. It’s so overwhelming that you don’t notice Eddie’s cut through the zip ties on your wrists until both arms have fallen limply at your sides.

He steps back, leaving you uncomfortably cold all over again, and lands a hard swat on your ass. You yelp and twirl around to face him, glaring heatedly at that morose white mask. His arms are folded, his posture is relaxed - you haven’t even started running yet, and he’s already so confident, the bastard. You pinch the sides of your shredded nightgown together and step back from him.

He flaps the hand clutching his knife at you, waving you off. “Go on,” he says. “Run along. I’ll even give you a thirty-second headstart since I’m so nice.”

When you, stupidly, don’t move a muscle, he heaves a sigh and pulls the sleeve of his jacket up to look at his watch. “Twenty-eight, twenty-seven-twenty-six…”

Shit. You pick a random direction and sprint.

The sound of him counting fades as distance mounts between you, and once you’re alone, in the total silence of the forest, Eddie is not the only thing you’re afraid of. You’ve heard stories about these woods, the frightening disappearances, and general odd goings-on that happen within. As you leap over a dead, fallen log while determinedly holding your rapidly disintegrating nightgown together, you recall what happened a few years ago to the kid Hawkins deemed Zombie Boy. Supposedly found long dead in a reservoir, bloated and green with decay, his family even held a funeral for him - only for him to turn up, alive and well, weeks later. What could’ve caused such a terrible misunderstanding? What’s worse, who’s to say that whatever - or whoever - caused that misunderstanding isn’t still out here? Who’s to say that they aren’t listening to every branch that snaps below your bare feet, that they haven’t picked up on your scent by now and are tracking you with all the stealth and efficiency of a wolf?

You shake the thought from your head and persevere.

You can’t remember, for the life of you, what direction home is in. You must start down half a dozen different paths before you think better of it and double back to the place you started, and none of your options seem correct. You curse yourself for dozing off in Eddie’s van instead of trying to count how many turns he took, what direction he was going in, anything that might help orient yourself now.

Something rustles the bushes a few yards behind you.

You don’t think - you pick a path and fly down it, swatting low-hanging branches out of your way and ignoring the brambles that hook into the fraying hem of your nightgown. Maybe you should’ve let Eddie cut this cumbersome thing off you when you had the chance. All pretense of trying to be sneaky, of trying not to attract attention, is gone - you are running blind, panting, heaving, whimpering, slapping down tree limbs, and crunching over dead leaves in the hopes you manage to stay just out of Eddie’s reach.

You are terrified. You are exhilarated. You’ve never felt this free in your entire life, and you can’t believe it’s taken you so long to ask Eddie for this.

You weren’t sure before, as you’d tried to tell yourself it was just the sound of your own footfalls echoing in the woods, but you’re certain now that you can hear Eddie’s boots striking the ground as he gains on you. Your thighs burn with the effort of propelling you forward, and every pull of ice-cold air into your lungs is like swallowing needles, but you press on. You want him to catch you, but he needs to work for it, and as you swing a hard left over fallen logs, his hysterical laughter explodes into your ears.

You chance a look over your shoulder. Eddie’s lithe body weaves and slinks through the forest behind you, seemingly unaffected by the foliage that’s presently slicing open the bottoms of your feet and legs; his mask bobs mournfully above his black clothes, a bloodless beacon reflecting what little moonlight leaks through the thick stormclouds above. He’s so close that if he really wanted to, he could reach out and snatch you up by the nape of your neck like a kitten.

You scream. The sound reverberates through the trees, shrill and elated, and another round of laughter booms from Eddie like thunder.

You’ve just managed to leap over a gnarled root without tripping over it or slipping in the mud when you feel fingers at the back of your neck. You squeal and swat aimlessly, which is a stupid fucking idea - Eddie nabs your wrist and pulls, forcing you to come to a skidding halt.

“Let go of me, you fucking freak!” you wail, thrashing against him as he gathers your hands together and snickers into your ear.

“Looks like I win, pretty girl,” he breathes. Something jingles just beyond your head, and before you can wonder what it is, Eddie shows you - steel handcuffs, silver and glittering, dangle in front of your eyes. You whimper and drive your elbows backward, fighting with everything you have to force Eddie off you. You succeed, albeit minimally, and can free one hand. You swing and claw at him, fingers scraping for something to grab hold of until they finally pinch one of his mask’s eye sockets. Lightning cracks across the sky overhead as you rip the mask off Eddie’s face.

The brief flash of light gives you a full look at his face. His brown eyes are wild and bright, crinkled at the edges from the maniacal grin splitting his cheeks apart. His skin is pink and glowing with sweat, and you can’t help how your heart swells as you stare at him. Perhaps if you ever do this again, you’ll set a shorter time limit - you don’t know if you can handle not seeing him for over a week again.

“If you’d stop squirmin’, this’d all go so much faster, sweetheart,” Eddie huffs, trapping your hands together again as you uselessly pound them against his chest. Despite your best efforts, Eddie snaps one cuff around your wrist with a soft click and, as he works on the second one, pushes you both up against the broad trunk of a tree. The bark scrapes painfully along your shoulder blades as you shriek and try to kick him off of you, but it’s too late. He wrenches your arms above your head by the thin chain connecting the handcuffs, and browning leaves descend onto your face as he loops them over a branch.

It’s so high up that you must stand on your tip-toes to avoid burdening your arms with all your weight. Because of that, you can’t gain enough momentum to swing them back down, and Eddie takes a leisurely step back to admire how well and truly stuck you are. He pants, leaning forward on his knees and staring at you through his dark lashes.

“Goddamn, you are a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, giggling breathlessly.

“Get me down from here, right now,” you growl. Admittedly, it’s very hard to be intimidating while your tits hang out of your shredded nightgown, but you still try.

“That’s not what we agreed on. I told you - I catch you, you’re mine. Good thing, too, my dick was just achin’ watching your cute little ass running from me.”

You whimper as Eddie straightens himself out, heaving one final, deep breath before passing a hand through his hair. You don’t realize he’s flicked his knife out again until he’s got the blade right beneath your nose.

“Now, let’s get this shit outta the way.”

You gasp and reflexively bend your body away as Eddie plunges the sharp edge down through what remains of your nightgown, hacking away at it as if it’s personally offended him until it’s reduced to nothing but a pile of silken scraps by your feet. You shudder, wholly unprotected from the cold now and utterly incapable of hiding the arousal smeared down your inner thighs from him.

His breath clouds in front of him as his eyes roam over your naked body with all the hunger of a predator eyeing its meal. The pink of his tongue darts across his bottom lip as he stalks up to you, already making quick work of his belt.

“D-Don’t touch me, don’t you fucking touch me!” you howl, even though the idea of his hands on you right now makes your stomach flutter. He ignores you, of course, and casts his gloves aside before resting both hands on the trembling flesh of your biceps. He’s so wonderfully warm, blood pumping right below the surface of his skin.

“I can’t wait to split this pretty pussy open,” he murmurs, mouth hovering just above your cheek as he drags his fingers down, down, down until they’re slipping between your hips and cupping you. You try to disguise the pathetically aroused sound that falls from your mouth by shrieking in faux disgust.

“Stop it! Get off, get off!”

“Dirty girl, you’re soaking wet for me already.” Without warning, Eddie plunges two fingers deep inside you, chuckling at how your eyes roll into the back of your head, and a scream tears itself from your throat.

“S-Stop it,” you sob. You throb around him, unable to disguise your body’s physical reactions, and it only sweetens everything for you. The way your cunt betrays everything you’re saying, twitching and clenching and gushing around Eddie’s fingers in the face of your pleas for him to stop, your insistence that you don’t want him, pulls you deeper into this fantasy.

“I don’t think you really want me to stop,” he muses, thrusting in and out of you so slow you’re confident you’ll go bat-shit insane soon. “If you did, you wouldn’t be dripping for me. What a nasty girl you are, all worked up for the big, scary man who chased you down in the woods like a scared little bunny rabbit.”

“Fuck…fuck you,” you say weakly, and stars explode behind your eyes as Eddie curls his fingers inside you. You screw your eyes shut and press your lips together to trap the noises threatening to burst out of you.

“Oh, I will,” he promises. “I’m gonna fuck you stupid. And then, I think I’ll keep you all for myself. Take you home and keep you tied to my bed like a good little pet. I’m sure you’ll learn to love it.”

You could cum just from listening to Eddie talk. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it beneath your tongue, and if it weren’t for the steel around your wrists forcing you upright, you’d sink to the ground and beg for him to fuck you already. You don’t care if it’d break the illusion, if it doesn’t coincide with the game - you are desperate, dripping just as he said, and the lust fogging your brain makes it impossible to consider anything but your own arousal.

“P-Please,” you whimper, hoping all you need from him is conveyed in that one word.

Something hot and hard nudges between your legs, and you gasp - you didn’t see him do it, but Eddie’s removed his cock from his jeans. The hand not buried against your pussy is fisted around the base of it, pale against his red, wet shaft and thick head. You gulp hard.

“Please? What a sweet word out of that filthy mouth.” He crushes you harder against the tree and lifts one leg over his hip, stroking himself slowly as you struggle to keep your eyes forward. His fingers leave your weeping cunt painfully empty for a brief moment, and then he slides his cock through the slick puddling just below your hole and teases his head around the rim.

“Oh, darn, looks like I forgot a condom, too,” Eddie says, sucking his teeth and shaking his head at his apparent negligence. Your stomach clenches, and heat pools between your hips. “I’m sure you don’t mind, do you, dollface?”

When Eddie enters you, you tip your head back and moan. It’s been a criminally long time since you’ve felt him inside you like this, hot and raw and forcing your muscles to stretch around his thick cock. It burns just a little, but the lack of prep and the pain hueing your pleasure makes it better.

“God, God, oh God…”

“Nope, just you and me, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s teeth latch onto the flesh below your jaw, pinching and sucking it into his mouth as he bullies his cock deeper inside you. Usually, he’d take his time getting you ready for it, loosening you up around his fingers and drawing a few orgasms out of you until you were perfectly pliant for him. Right now, though, he doesn’t have it in him to bother with all that, and you are so grateful.

Fat drops of rain plop onto your hair and dribble down the sides of your face as Eddie starts fucking you in earnest. His hands come around to grasp greedy handfuls of your ass and pull you in tighter against him, and he quickly litters the side of your throat with hickeys as his hips snap forward. You can’t help how you squeal and groan as you’re jostled against the tree, and you realize with a shudder of humiliation that you’re getting close already.

“P-Please…please, Eddie, please…” You don’t particularly know what you’re begging for; you just hope he’ll take pity on you for it and give you more. You need impossibly more. You need him to ruin you properly. The way he throbs inside you reminds you of the lack of protection, and you beg for him again.

“What a fuckin’ whore. I knew you wanted it,” Eddie snarls, the edge of his teeth rasping against your jaw.

“I…fuck, Eddie, please, it’s so much,” you whine, choking on air as he buries himself as deep as he can get. He shushes you, and another flash of lightning in the sky illuminates his handsome face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Do you need mercy, baby?” he asks, blinking rain from his big brown eyes. Your hair sticks wetly to either side of your face, and you can’t tell if you’re shivering more from cold or pleasure. You whip your head from side to side.

“N-No, no mercy,” you mewl, “I-I just…please, please just fuck me, break me, I need it so fucking badly, baby, please.”

He doesn’t respond, not verbally, anyway. He yanks your other leg around his hip, settling your weight entirely in his lap, and the slight change in angle pushes him just that little bit further inside your twitching cunt. Your mouth drops wide open as he quickens his pace, the denim of his jeans slapping against your bare ass so hard it burns, and the way he grunts from the effort makes your toes curl.

“I didn’t think you’d be such an easy fuck,” Eddie teases. “Guess you’re just a dirty slut after all, huh?”

“Fuck, oh God, fuck, I’m cumming, I can’t stop, E-Eddie!”

Your orgasm scorches through you like molten lava, burning you from the inside out and robbing you of enough air to scream. As Eddie continues pounding into you, you claw at the branch beneath your fingers, desperate for something to anchor you to reality. You don’t think you’ve ever cum this hard in your entire life, and the fact you did so without even once touching your clit fills you with an odd sort of pride.

“Fuckin’ squirting all over me, fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie growls, and you only realize he’s right when warmth starts trickling down your thighs. You blush, trying futilely to bury your face in his neck out of embarrassment. When he doesn’t stop fucking you, and your orgasm ebbs enough for pain to start lapping at the edges of your pleasure, you whimper.

“H-Hurts, hurts.”

Eddie shushes you. “I’m not done with you yet. Just shut up and take it, like my good little victim.”

He crushes you tightly against the tree, huffing and panting into your ear while he desperately chases his own pleasure inside you. You cry out openly, the chill of the rain intermingling with the heat of his body against you so deliciously that you think that if lightning struck the pair of you right now, you’d die a happy woman.

“You’re gonna take every drop of my cum, understand?” Eddie snarls. “If even one drop leaks out of you, you’re gonna lick it up.”

“Yes, fuck, I understand.”

“Your pussy clenches so hard when I threaten you, baby, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Thunder claps overhead as Eddie presses stills inside you, cockhead pressed as deep as it’ll go inside your throbbing slit and starts cumming with a wanton howl into the night. Liquid heat floods into your core, and though you weren’t even aware of it building again, your second orgasm crashes into you as you realize the risk you’ve just partaken in by letting Eddie cum inside you. It feels so right, allowing him to claim you this way, bearing his mark on the deepest part of you, and you know for a fact that after tonight, you will beg him to never use another condom again.

When he’s finished, Eddie sags against you, trembling hands digging into the globes of your ass as he shakily supports your weight. You pant, blinking rain out of your eyes, and kiss the wet curls beside your face.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

~~~

Turns out, Eddie didn’t take you far from home at all.

In fact, he drove only a mile away and spent about forty-five minutes doing circles in the woods because he didn’t want to disturb your nap. He tells you this as he leads you out of the forest and back to the van, holding his leather jacket above your head like a makeshift umbrella.

He retrieves a towel from inside and wraps it around your shivering, rain-soaked body before planting you in the driver’s seat. After he drapes a thick, flannel blanket around your shoulders and points all the vents toward you as the heat blasts, he cups your face in both hands and kisses your forehead.

“You did such a good job, sweetheart,” he murmurs, trailing his lips down over both eyes, your cheeks and finally landing on your trembling lips. His mouth, despite everything, is still so warm.

“I did?” you ask sleepily. He nods and rubs your arms to inspire blood flow back into your extremities.

“You did. I’ll draw a bath for you once I get you home, okay?”

“Join me?” Eddie smiles and pinches the sides of the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“I would, but someone’s gotta feed us both.”

When he hops into the driver’s side, you note with a snort that he’s stripped down to his boxers. He laughs and revs the engine, throwing an arm over your seat as he reverses out of the forest.

Eddie doesn’t allow you to walk the few paces up the steps and across the porch to get inside your house. Instead, he cradles you against his chest, bridal-style, and struts through the door he purposefully left unlocked before setting you down on the toilet in the bathroom. You slump against the sink as he readies your bath, arms pillowing your head and eyelids drooping. Steam fills the room and carries the sweet, light scent of roses, and the flash of a pink bottle in Eddie’s hand clues you into the fact he’s dumped some soap into the faucet to create huge piles of white, frothy bubbles.

You’re nowhere near steady enough to lower yourself into the tub alone, so Eddie grips you by the elbows and slowly sinks down until your butt hits the water. It’s almost too hot at first, but after your body adjusts to the sudden change in temperature, you recline against the porcelain at your back and sigh. Eddie brushes a hand over your hair and kisses your forehead again.

“Thank you,” you mutter, eyes closed.

“It was my pleasure, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you, you handled everything like a champ.”

You glow under his praise and nestle further into the hot water and bubbles. It’s going to be a challenge not to doze off here.

When you blink your eyes open, Eddie’s still hovering next to you, lips quirked in a small, soft smile as the early morning light falls in purplish shafts over his face. You reach for him, sliding your palm through the hair at the back of his head, and bring him close enough to kiss his lips. He tastes like rain and cigarettes.

“I’ll come get you when the food’s ready, alright?” he whispers, squeezing the hand you’ve rested on the rim of the tub before standing. You nod dreamily.

“I love you,” you call after him, and though his frame is bleary through the steam condensing in the room, you see him turn back and smile at you.

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

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