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dungeonpuppykai · 10 months

Note

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm.

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now.

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor.

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door.

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress.

Not that they would be doing any more of that.

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you.

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible.

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.

His eyes scan your form.

Beautiful.

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time.

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete.

It is the people that live in it.

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal.

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly.

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night.

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life.

You should have taken notice of the signs.

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem.

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was.

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence.

And Divine it was, you lived to learn.

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything.

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened?

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning.

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second.

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside.

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly.

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen.

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?"

He sighs.

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval.

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions."

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close.

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this.

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back.

The man is not chasing you like you expected.

But you don't want to stick around and find out why.

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door.

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead.

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes.

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused.

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying.

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently.

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one.

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet.

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home.

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands."

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that."

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet.

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone."

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours."

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery.

But you don't know when he does it.

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern.

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse.

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules.

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes.

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point.

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?"

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning.

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days.

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man.

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep.

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way.

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him.

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him.

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day.

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck.

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina.

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever.

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well.

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test.

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence.

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic.

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast.

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken.

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat.

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting.

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment.

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining.

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you.

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–"

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy.

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while.

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully.

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape.

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed.

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife.

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

What do you think hAH-

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beardedjoel · 7 months

Text

smother - part ii: resistance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: joel knows how to break you just right, to get you feeling helpless enough to accept what he believes you need. somewhere deep inside of you, you think you might like it. 10.9k words (sorry) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) masturbation (m), nipple play/groping, manipulation, joel def has a corruption kink, joel gets a bit violent in this chapter, y'all get a lot of touching and (kissing), if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: okay i'm even more nervous about this chapter than the first, idk how it got so long but i really hope its tense and enticing for you all! i love writing dark joel, this has been such a thrill so far tbh! get buckled in for heavy duty smut next chapter too ✌️

Light spills in around the thick, heavy curtains, drawn tightly shut. Just a glowing sliver on the edges and underneath, telling you it’s at least well into the morning, that you’ve been asleep for longer than you’d expected to. Your brain is a scrambled, hazy mess from the way you’d finally been able to pass out, still encumbered by Joel’s grasp holding you down. After a while his heaviness had a calming effect, the opposite of what you’d ever thought would happen when he first came into your bed last night. But now, he was nowhere to be found, the other side of your bed cold and empty, such a stark difference that you start to wonder if maybe you’d imagined it, dreamed it all last night.

You get up to let some light from the day in, your eyes burning as they adjust and you see that it looks to be late afternoon already. How many hours had you been out for?

Recollections of the night before flood your brain - Joel’s warmth pressed so close to you, his hard body molding softly into yours like he knew how to keep you safe, take care of you, just like he’d said. Yet there’s still an unease surrounding the thoughts, that he’d made the decision for you, came into your bed and lied. It sends a shiver up your spine, half thrill and half fear as you contemplate what you should do next. Maybe plotting a way to Jackson is the right move, but something about Joel was keeping you here, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet. It was more of a feeling, something indescribable that came over you when thinking about him.

Could he really save you, like he said? Or was he just a sick old man with a fantasy? One he’d fulfill before tossing you out just as easily as he’d taken you in.

You sigh heavily and sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You finally decide you have to leave this bedroom sometime and face Joel again to see if those same confusing feelings from last night persist, or even to clear the air between you two. You freshen up a bit with a toothbrush and homemade toothpaste that Joel had left out for you before fixing your hair to an acceptable enough level. You creep out of the bedroom, soft and quiet movements with socks padding your feet as you listen to hear what Joel is up to downstairs. No sounds of cookware or silverware clinking on plates, no rustling on the pages of a book, no distant sound of him chopping wood outside again. Until you do hear something.

A sound almost in between a whimper and a groan, and it’s right there, the door diagonally down the hall from yours. You freeze, brows knit together as you wait to try to hear it again. The next time you hear it, it’s more urgent, more gruff, a loud exhale. Was it a pained sound? You couldn’t quite tell as you walked closer, noticing the light spilling from a crack in Joel’s door out into the dim, windowless hallway.

One peek through the opening in his door has your eyes widening. A gasp sticks itself in your throat but you clap your hand over your mouth when you take in the sight before you. Shit…

All your eyes immediately focus on is Joel’s cock, heavy and thick, hanging out of his pants in a tight grasp in his hand. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, practically in perfect view through this open sliver in the doorway. His eyes are closed, lost in the moment as he grunts a little bit more. You avert your eyes almost immediately, standing frozen with your cheeks burning. You’re not completely unaware, and you do have an idea of what he’s doing. You can’t help but flick your eyes back to him as another strained exhale leaves his lips, your eyes drifting down to where he’s sliding his hand in quick jerks. His cock is pink and slick as he runs his hand along it, and you start to tune into the lewd, sloppy sounds that it's all making as flesh hits flesh over and over again. You squirm in place, feeling your knees go a bit weak before you finally notice it.

Your underwear.

It feels like something screeches to a halt inside of you, everything moving in slower motion for a few seconds as this information sinks in. Joel’s face, turning more red and eyes rolling back as he pumps his cock with your underwear from yesterday in his other hand, a fist tightly wrapped around the material. You shudder, but find the little zing traveling further to a spot right between your legs, making you clench your thighs together tighter.

It’s all so… so… a feeling you can’t quite explain that starts to make your skin hot, and a scene you don’t know if you want to stop watching. You are just curious after all, you lie to yourself in those few seconds of continued peeking on Joel’s private moment.

You sense a difference in his movements, flashing your sight up to his face where his eyes are open now, gaze locked on yours, heavy lidded as a smile plays on his lips. He doesn’t stop, though, like you thought he would, and it practically steals the breath from your lungs.

“Oh… sh- sorry,” you blurt out, panicky and quiet before you can think about it, covering your eyes with your palm and hastily pulling the door shut.

Joel can’t stop smiling, a wry, devilish thing as he continues in fast, long strokes on his cock. You knowing exactly what he’s doing in here is only urging him on even more, the look in your eyes as he’d caught your stare on his glistening, ruddy cock making him harder.

His smile grows when he realizes you haven’t stopped enjoying the show, not at all, despite your appearances of shutting the door behind you. What he realizes you don’t know, is that he can see the shadow of your feet underneath the door, tiny, anxious movements that catch the light and cast shadows.

If you want to listen, he’s surely not going to disappoint you, another little groan slipping past his lips and he tightens his grip and speeds up, picturing you in his mind. He can practically see it now, one of your perfect little hands clasped over your mouth outside his door, trying not to make a peep, your body rigid as you lean closer to listen. Those perfect little hands that should never have to lift a finger, should always be taken care of. A pulse of pleasure wracks his body at the thought of him being the one to do that for you.

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely. “Fuuuuck…”

A few more swift tugs on his length and he’s stuffing your underwear right at the head of his cock, thrusting once and cumming hard into the fabric with a loud moan, the only thing on his mind the mental image of you in nothing but these.

He’s not too weak to admit he’s already completely addicted to you. Your pretty face, the way you’d finally given him those few little smiles yesterday. How you fit so wonderfully in his arms last night once you’d decided that you needed him. Joel knows he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you as his, to make sure you understand just what you need, how you need him. He sighs as he leans back a moment, then stares down at your underwear, his creamy release staining it now looking like one of the most beautiful sights. To paint you with it himself would nearly kill him, send him into a point of no turning back. No, there’s no doubt now that he’s addicted to this… And god help anyone who tries to take it from him, even you.

The moment you hear Joel’s longer, drawn out groan you scurry away, light as can be on your feet and tiptoe down the stairs in a hurry. The mortification you’d feel if he opened the door to you standing there listening in is more than you can bear. You wish you hadn't been curious, hadn’t wanted to stop and stare just to watch just a bit longer. It wasn’t your fault that you felt completely embarrassingly lost when it came to… sex, but you know it was wrong to invade Joel’s privacy like that. He had left the door cracked, hadn’t he, though? Your brain devours the information, barely able to latch onto that train of thought before the next one comes barreling in.

You pace back and forth in the kitchen, hands wrung anxiously over and over again in front of you. You gaze at the staircase practically every millisecond, waiting for Joel to come down, wondering if he will. You two have to confront this, right? He knows what you saw, and you certainly know what you saw, the image burned into your mind now. All the details seem hazy in your panic, but all you can think about is your underwear in his hands, and how your current pair feel damp now against your own will. You’d felt this before - attraction and arousal - but not like this. You had been so close to everything this time, not just hearing stories or thinking about kissing a boy you thought was good looking. This was a full fledged man, pleasuring himself right in the next room to you. It makes you break out in a sweat, your body hot and breathing shallow as the floorboards creak under your rushing movements.

You sigh and continue pacing for another moment before trying to make yourself busy by putting on the kettle, maybe to make some tea, something to calm your frayed nerves. If Joel didn’t wind up kicking you straight back out into the wilderness after that debacle, you’d be surprised. Maybe you should think about kicking yourself out to avoid any of this awkwardness. You make a split second decision to grab your things and go, your first steps out of the kitchen interrupted by heavy footfall upstairs, lazily making its way down to you.

You stand frozen, your plan quickly forgotten when you see Joel, moving with confidence, his steps nonchalant and unhurried as he approaches with a satisfied look on his face. Not angry, not embarrassed, just a casual, almost smug look plastered on his features. You look at a spot past him before dipping your eyes to the floor, your face already heated and flushed. He’s wearing jeans again but this time with a plain, moss green henley shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. Another shirt showing off his strong, muscular form, and it’s killing you inside, especially now that you’ve seen just that much more of him.

“Sit,” he says plainly, finishing his walk to the kitchen table where he pulls out a chair, settling himself down. When you dare to glance in his direction, he’s giving you a look that sends a shudder up your spine, already knowing he’s about to ask much less nicely if you don’t heed his words. Your shaky hand pulls out a chair, perching yourself on the edge, hands holding on to one another for dear life in your lap. You feel like a child about to be scolded for doing something naughty, and you suppose in many ways that’s exactly what’s happening right now.

“J-“ you start, with Joel cutting you off before you can even get a syllable out.

“You enjoy listenin’ to that little show? Gettin’ a little peek?” Joel asks smoothly, a hint of irritation but also gratification in his tone. He leans forward onto the table with his forearms pressed against the wood.

“N-no I didn’t… I mean I didn’t see much. I didn’t hear… I swear. I’m really sorry, that just made things so… uncomfortable…” you ramble on, feeling like a bumbling idiot as you’re sure your body is about to catch fire.

“Did it?” Joel asks, eyebrow lifted in casual questioning. It makes you stop, your lips sitting parted with words you can’t express, clouded by confusion.

“Well… didn’t it? I’m - I don’t know what’s… normal… That didn’t feel…” Your eyes search his face wildly, and you know he can see you, trembling like a fawn stood in the clearing of a forest just before it bolts.

Joel sighs out a long exhale. “Seems like you enjoyed it, standin’ outside my door.” He states it as a fact, not a guess, and your stomach twists as it sinks. How he knows is beyond you, and you can only sit in your shame now, eyes fixed downwards on the table. You’ve never found knots in wood so interesting before as you stay transfixed by the glossy surface.

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Just curious, weren’t ya?” he says, his voice rumbling softly. His hand inches towards you across the table and you finally get the nerve to look up at his eyes. They’ve gone gentler, full of understanding. You’re sure your expression gives everything away, your shock, your intrigue at what you’d witnessed. “Weren’t you?” he asks again, and you finally give him a little nod.

His lips twitch upwards in a wry grin just as the kettle starts to whistle, the sound ramping up rapidly into the silent room. You both stare at each other for a few moments, still processing your answer to him. The screeching reaches a fever pitch, making your skin start to crawl, so you push your chair out in a hurry to grab it off the stove. Joel’s hand shoots out, his large hand snatching your thigh, fingers wrapping around and digging into the flesh through your sweatpants. You halt, your ass plopping right back into the chair as Joel stares at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ve got it,” he says sternly. He waits a moment longer, making sure you’re fully seated and about to heed his words before standing up. The kettle is at a deafening scream, but Joel seems in no hurry, sauntering over to the stove. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the sound tapers off, Joel setting the kettle to the side while he busies himself with reaching up to some open shelving along the wall where you see several jars full of different types of tea leaves. He’s silent, moving slowly, as if to make you sweat it out, and you admit that his plan is working. You don’t know the last time you felt such an odd, burning fear inside of you. Different than facing infected, than being so hungry without knowing where your next meal is coming from. It’s primal, deep down inside of you, meek little claws in a vice grip at the core of you, a burning that travels downward repeatedly, right between your legs. You notice you’ve started trembling without even realizing it.

He brings a steaming mug over, setting it on the table in front of you. It smells mainly of chamomile, maybe some lavender - you see Joel read your mind on wanting something for your nerves. Instead of retaking his seat across from you, he walks around the table, doing a slow, deliberate lap. His feet, although shoe-less, make an impact along the floor, and you feel like each one sounds like a drum along with the way your heart is beating in your ears. He circles back and pauses behind your chair, sliding his forearm across your chest, tucking it close to your neck.

You really were trapped now. Not just by your own mental doing, unable to make yourself leave at the first sign of trouble with this man for god knows what reason, but truly, physically ensnared by his embrace. His arm wraps tighter across the top of your chest, his hand squeezing on the shoulder where it snakes around.

“Tell me…” he leans closer, lips coming to your ear, a hint of a smirk in his tone although you can’t see his face now. “That the first cock you ever seen? Or just the first time you seen one like mine?”

Your head swims, unsure of how to answer. He has you trapped with this question, either answer damning to you. You sputter and scoff out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“No, you say? Which one, honey, c’mon it’s a simple question.” His arm tightens, fingers digging in along your shoulder. “No judgement here, just a curious man, thas’ all.” He says the words as if he’s expectant of a certain answer for you, following a hunch and looking to confirm it for himself. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows you so effortlessly, reads your mind like it’s the simplest thing in the world. You worry he sees right through you right down to your debased thoughts, the ones where you give in to him and these foreign feelings you want to chase.

You shake your head again. “I haven’t…” Your cheeks burn with the confession, hoping he won’t make you actually say the words. You struggle uncomfortably in his grip, his scent invading your senses now as well, mint and leftover coffee from this morning and your stomach burns so hot you think you might be sick now. He responds with a tighter grasp, his arm starting to press a bit on your windpipe.

Joel blows out a breath, the sound nearly grating next to your ear. “Never seen a cock before till today? Till you saw mine the way you did? That so, darlin’?” He sounds amazed, excitement creeping into his voice.

You swallow hard, fighting back tears, but you nod for him. “Y-yes…” you admit with a shaky voice, willing yourself not to cry again in front of Joel.

“Oh, hey, hey, that’s okay. Must be an awful lot to see it jus’ like that, no context for any of it…” he murmurs, his voice oozing a sick sympathy as you sense his excitement building. “Shouldn’t have had to see it as a surprise. If it were up to me, darlin’, I’d have made sure it was perfect. Y’would’ve been amazed by the things a cock like mine can do for ya.”

He tuts quietly, his lips grazing along the shell of your ear. You squirm a little, your breathing picking up as you strain against him. You remember how much you’d liked his lips right under your ear last night, how badly you’d wanted to hate it, but here you were yet again, enjoying it.

“Now I’m gonna ask you somethin’, honey, and I want you to be honest with me, mkay?” Joel says. Your options feel limited so you motion with a nod for him to go on, his arm digging into your throat further when your head bobs down.

“Be honest, now, remember.” He squeezes your shoulder hard. “How old are ya, honey?” His lips graze your ear again and your legs tense, thighs pressing together. You nearly have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the little moan that wants to slip out of you.

You chew your lip, telling him the truth before you can even think about it too hard. “I’m nineteen.” You don’t know why you tell him the truth, why you give him any part of you, but you do.

“Hmm,” he murmurs in a low little groan. His fingers brush along your shoulder, across your chest a bit, loosening his tight grip. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart. I appreciate that.”

“H-how old are you?” you ask in return, getting a haughty chuckle from Joel.

“Older’n you,” he says simply, a little growl caught in the back of his throat as his nose buries itself in your hair, taking in a deep breath.

“B-but I told you…” you whimper a little as he tightens his hold again, leaning further to press his head into your shoulder and neck.

“Why d’ya wanna know? Wonderin’ why an old man like me is gettin’ your panties wet?” he asks, amused at your expense, knocking you down just one more peg.

You blink hard and feel yourself flushing again, warmth radiating throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips. You’re angry that he seems to know every damn thing about you, and you feel like you know nothing about what he’s thinking. “I don’t understand… any of it. Why -“

“It’s all natural, sweetheart. Happens when you find yourself likin’ what I’m doin’,” Joel tells you, voice starting to sweeten like honey. His hand strokes your hair, smoothing the sides.

“I know…” you bite back, only to feel Joel move his forearm closer to your neck. Your breath hitches. “I just mean… I - I want to know how old you are.”

“You persistent little thing…” He smirks again, looking impressed by you. “I’m in my fifties, that’s all y’need to know.” He pauses for a brief second, not wasting a second to keep contact with your skin, his calloused fingertips stroking along the hollow of your neck. They trickle down, gentle and fluid as water as he ghosts along your chest and over your stomach. You shudder and try to keep your eyes open, succumbing to the pleasure of it all - nobody has ever touched you like this, taken their time to feel you out and seem interested in every part of you. It’s a slow, tortuous movement while his arms reach down over you, thick muscles on display, until his fingertips brush along your waistband. They trace back and forth along the crimped edges of the band, tied tightly. He plays with the strings, a clear contemplation to untie them any second. It makes you start to tremble even more, the way you feel powerless and know you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to.

Joel abruptly stops, pulling his arms back before he starts to walk around the chair, standing in front of you now. He doesn’t crouch to your height, standing tall and proud as he towers over where you sit. His fingers reach forward slowly and gently, thumb and forefinger taking your chin delicately, holding it like something he might break. You can finally see his expression, look into his eyes, and they’re a dark abyss full of mystery and that hungry look he’d flashed at you a few times yesterday.

“Get the sense you’re feelin’ a bit scared right now, hm?” he suddenly asks.

You swallow and then nod for him, eyes barely blinking as you try to keep track of every single movement he makes. His grip on your chin flashes tighter for just a moment before he lets it go, leaving a little red mark in his wake.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach turns as you realize he wants this, wants your fear to permeate the room so he can devour it, to know that he has this hold on you. Joel leans forward, one hand planted on the table next to you, the other coming down to rest on your thigh. He’s tender in his touch, letting his hand soothingly find its way up your leg.

Joel’s eyes bore into you, trying to capture your attention and hold it, but you can barely summon the courage to look into those dark pools, worried they’ll draw you in forever. Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on your shaky inhales and exhales as Joel’s hand rubs your thigh.

“Don’t you like it, sweetheart? Feels good to be touched here, doesn’t it?” You don’t answer him, eyes squeezed shut even tighter, a quiver starting on your lips. You try to ignore the way your body responds to the touch, skin blazing right where he’s touching and that pooling of heat starting between your legs.

“Now c’mon, open your eyes f’me. I want to take care of you, honey. Jus’ like we agreed to last night. You need me to take care of everythin’ for ya, never make you have to worry or lift a pretty little finger again. I can show you everything.” Joel pauses, waiting to see if you’ll heed his command. His hand wraps a little tighter around your thigh, fingers squeezing.

“I said… look at me. Open your eyes. Nothin’ to be afraid of.” His voice has a shake to it from trying to keep it even amongst his building frustration, his desire to have you under his thumb already. You finally brave it, your eyes opening slowly to find a softer smile playing on Joel’s lips as his face comes into focus, just a few inches from yours now.

“I want you all to myself… d’you understand what I’m sayin’?”

You nod. His smile grows, much more foreboding now.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, fingers squeezing your thigh again, brushing his thumb along the inner part, sending a set of sparks hurtling up your spine. “And you’ll stay? Won’t try to get away from me, will you?” he asks, a wicked raise of his eyebrow telling you there’s only one correct answer here.

Your face falls a little bit. “Wh- what would you do if did?” you dare to ask.

He laughs, a mirthless chuckle before he can even stop himself. “Oh, honey, what’re you gonna do? Where’ll you go? You wouldn’t get barely ten steps outside this door ‘fore I got to ya.” His eyes pierce yours before studying your face for a few moments, challenging you. “Best that you don’t even try, yeah?”

You don’t reply, hoping that the fear in your eyes and trembling lips are answer enough for him.

“Come and sit w’me, how about that? I’ve got a few more questions for you.” Joel offers you his hand and you pause, eyes fixed on his tan, rough skin - hands that have worked hard for an entire lifetime. He takes the initiative to grasp your hand instead, giving you a quick tug that has you standing up to start following him. He completely dwarfs you in every way, his hand practically enveloping your entire fist as he pulls you along towards the couch.

You don’t know what otherworldly urge possesses you so suddenly, but you glance over towards the door, then back at Joel before you muster up everything you have and shove him square in the back, yanking your captured hand back in the process. He stumbles forward, your hand slipping from his and you quickly gain your balance and bolt. You reach the front door, fumbling with the lock and knob as you hear Joel grunt loudly behind you.

“Don’t you understand? There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” he calls after you angrily. You don’t dare turn around as you fling the door open with a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, feet moving of their own accord as you sprint down the stairs and towards the oncoming woods. You can hear Joel’s huffs behind you, both of your shoe-less feet pounding on the frozen earth. It hurts, the cold ground combined with all types of brush and wood littering the forest floor that are now jabbing into your feet with every step. This was stupid, this was a mistake, you’re going to die out here if he doesn’t do it first.

“God… damn… it…” you hear Joel pant behind you, knowing he’s close, that it’s almost over now. You’re weak and frail still, much too slow to outrun a towering powerhouse like Joel. He was right - there’s no fighting it, no escape from here unless he allows it. Maybe it won’t be so bad… maybe you do enjoy the way he speaks to you, the way he’s been touching you… maybe it’ll all be just what you’ve needed. You’ve always wanted more than what you had, wishing for someone to care just a little more, to have a family again.

You lose yourself to an almost transcendent train of thought, letting it wash over you. As if the universe was trying to tell you the right decision, you feel your foot collide with something sharp and you stumble, a sure way to get you back into Joel’s arms. He catches you as you go down, upper arm squeezed into his grasp as his other wraps around and yanks you by the front of your collar, tearing your shirt all the way down to the middle of your chest as he tugs. You’re pulled into his chest with a hard thud before you both go down with the momentum of it all, his body landing on top of yours on the hard, frozen earth.

“God damn it, girl, what the hell you think you’re doin’, huh?” Joel huffs out, arms pinning you down by the wrists as he breathes heavily right in your face. You grunt and struggle, squirming against the ground, but it only serves to help Joel push you into the frosty dirt even harder, his own grunts slipping out of his lips.

“Like it when you struggle…” he says closer to your ear, leaning down. His lips turn into a chilling leer as he bares his teeth down at you. “But too bad we can't play a little longer, you’ll freeze out here. Get up,” he demands, pulling back and then fluidly plucking your body up off the ground as he stands. He hooks one of his arms through yours and begins drags you, your feet scrambling to keep up with how quickly he’s moving.

You’d barely gotten far, just like he said you would - it’s only a short distance back to the cabin where he slams you against the wall, clutching one hand around your throat, not hard enough to put much pressure, just to show you he could, if he really wanted to. His body crowds closer as your back presses against the hard, unrelenting wooden logs adorning the outer frame of the cabin. The chill of the air settles in and you shiver, feet throbbing and chest prickling with goosebumps from the frozen air entering your lungs in large heaves.

“Told ya, girl. You don’t need to go anywhere. All y’need is right here. I can do anythin’ I want with ya, can’t I?” He spits his words out angrily, eyes blazing. His head is cocked, looking down on you with scornful, yet hopeful eyes. His gaze travels to your chest, the way your shirt is torn to almost reveal everything there, eyes flickering hotly on the sight. Both of you stand with huffing breaths, chests heaving and letting out little cloudy puffs of air as your exhales hit the air.

You nod, whimpering as his grip gets slightly tighter around your throat when you don’t answer right away. Your entire body trembles against him, afraid you’ll collapse any second as your knees buckle. His entire frame is pressed against you, keeping you upright, the warmth of him the only thing keeping you grounded and afloat right now.

“Thas’ right, it’s just me ‘n you out here. I’ll take real good care of ya, never let anyone hurt ya again. Ever.” A hand snakes around to your hair, smoothing it as he pulls your head off the wall, tracing his palm down as he pets you. “Now c’mon.” He yanks your entire body by the waist, holding you close as he hauls you back inside, pulling the door shut behind you two and locking it.

Joel brings you to his original destination before you’d run - the couch - and sits back, pulling you down with him, maneuvering you to settle on his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands wrap around your back in a possessive, tight hold. You squirm a little bit, the feeling of him enveloping you like this making you hot, a sheen of sweat breaking out over your entire body.

“S-stop…” you mumble as you continue to struggle, his hands only seeming to get stronger the more effort you put in. You start to shove and push at his chest and one of his arms comes from around your back to catch your wrists in one fell swoop, pinning them against his chest.

“Better knock that shit off quick,” he commands, grunting as he continues to hold your squirming body. “You got me offerin’ you everything I know you want, and all I ask is you do what I want, sweet girl. Be here w’me.” His tone is somehow cruel and hard but soft and caring at once, like he really believes that he needs to act this way to care for you right now.

“N-no, you’re hurting me,” you cry out. “You said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me…” You think that maybe your reasoning will have any kind of effect on him, and he only smiles softly. It disarms you a little, your struggle starting to die out as you look at the hidden anger behind the smile, the desire to let out the hidden beast within him.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” he says, letting go of your wrists to grip your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, squishing them together. Your hands fall limply to your sides, skin burning on your cheeks where he’s pressing in harder. “Only I can make you feel pain. Nobody else. Nobody’s gonna hurt you when I’m around. And I’m the only one who can make y’feel good too, understand? But if you’re not gonna be a good girl ‘n pull this shit, I can’t help what I’ve gotta do to get you back to bein’ good, hm?” His eyes track across your face, awaiting a response.

You shake your head in small movements, squeezing your eyes shut and squirming one final time to try to slide off his lap. He sees your desperate eyes and his blood rushes a little hotter through him, tugging you harshly to situate you back perfectly centered on his lap.

“Please…” you whimper quietly, unsure of what you’re asking for now. To be let go? To be held tighter? For someone to just make it all okay?

Joel drops your cheeks from his tight grip and looks at you a little more sympathetically. “Okay, okay, c’mon, no more strugglin’ sweet girl. I’ve got you. Not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help ya.”

He leans forward and his lips find your neck, peppering wet, urgent kisses from just underneath your chin all the way down to your collarbone. It’s all too much, the emotions bubbling up as the adrenaline leaves your body. You shake a little, feeling the now all too familiar sting of tears behind your eyes that quickly manifest as tears that roll down your cheeks. Joel must sense a heave in your chest as you try to hold back your sob because he pulls his lips off of you and looks up to see your eyes shining as tears start to fall at a more rapid pace.

“Shh, shh,” he coos. Both of his arms wrap around your back and pull you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your head drops instinctively to his body and you find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his neck before burying your face in his chest.

“Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. Let it all out… shh…” Joel says quietly, his palms splayed along your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing pattern. You finally break completely, finally let yourself sob. Your entire body is wracked with shaking heaves of breath each time you start another wave of tears. You bury yourself deeper into Joel’s chest, your face burning red hot with embarrassment, but unable to stop nonetheless. He’s warm and soft against you, the comforting fabric of his shirt soaking up the tears you pour out.

Joel continues his soothing ministrations, his hands uncharacteristically kind and sweet, holding the back of your head against him now, like he’s encouraging this, even, this release of emotion from you. It makes you sob even harder to realize the only person you have in this world to comfort you is a man you met yesterday, one who hasn’t shown you a consistent side to himself since then. You don’t know how long you cry for, the last two weeks of pure desperation and the flood of emotions since meeting Joel have all collided into this one meltdown, Joel’s chest taking the brunt of it as you continue sobbing.

“Oh, that’s it, there we go…” he hums calmly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he keeps stroking along your back. You finally start to let up, choking back little sobs as they climb their way up your throat.

“Jus’ breathe… there ya go, honey. Take some deep breaths for me now, okay?” Joel says calmly, continuing to chant little encouragements in your ear. You turn your face to lay the side of your cheek along Joel’s chest for a moment, a few remaining hiccups shaking your body as you sniffle. Your entire face feels puffy, like everything is two sizes too big for you now, cheeks wet and sticky as your tears start to dry. You slowly lift your head up and Joel quickly catches your face between his hands, thumbs going to work wiping your tears.

“Beautiful…” he murmurs as his eyes scan your flushed, glowing face. His lips turn into a gentle, small smile while he continues to wipe down your cheeks for a moment longer. “Now don’t that feel better?” Joel looks at you with concern now, his head tilting as his fingers continue to stroke along your face. You look so broken and fragile right now - the thought exciting him, sending a twitch beneath his jeans that he doesn't even have the mind to be ashamed of. You're close... so close to being his.

“I g-guess…” you murmur, unable to say if it really does feel much better. You feel lighter now, unburdened of the pent up emotions that had been weighing you down the last few weeks, but you still had to grapple with the fact that you were here now, with a dangerous man who seemed intent on keeping you here no matter what.

“Listen, darlin’...” Joel starts, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You’re too sweet for this world, you deserve to be protected… That’s all I’m tryin’ to say here, to do here. You wanna know what I thought when I first saw ya?”

Your eyes widen in curiosity, letting him go on.

“Thought that the universe sent me a gift. One look at ya and I knew you had to be all mine. Like y’were made for me, I swear it…” he gushes before his eyes go more serious. “I can show you how good it all feels, sweetheart, d’you understand?”

You shake your head slowly. “S-show me how good what feels?” you ask tentatively.

Joel leans forward, his lips brushing along your jawline then ghosting to that sensitive spot under your ear. His breath tickles you in just the right way and you shudder, hating that he seems to have pinpointed your weakness.

“Show you… just how good it feels… to submit to me.” His lips press onto your neck gently, his tongue poking out to taste the salt of your skin. “Show you what your place is here.” He sucks a little harder on your neck, eliciting a tiny sound from the back of your throat. “I’ll give you everything, you’ll see. I can see you want it, sweet girl. I can see how badly you need it.” His hips thrust upwards into yours on his last words, grinding against you slightly. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips kiss your neck again, rough but gentle, as Joel always seems to be. You squirm, your body and mind still mixing signals with each other, unsure if you’re fleeing or giving in.

You consider his words heavily, the weight of them pressing down on your chest, nearly choking you. It makes your entire body tingle, the way he’d said the word submit, not even fully understanding all of what that would entail. But he’s right, you do need someone, you need something in your life that won’t fail you or run or disappear. You’re desperate for it at this point, needing it like you need air and water. You’ve seen nothing but loss and sadness and lived with a desperation to just be loved and cared for in the deepest ways.

Maybe it was fate, like he said. Maybe you were meant to stumble into that clearing just at the right time, just when you so fiercely needed everything he’s offering to you.

He pulls back and stares into your eyes, trying to read the look behind them, trying to gauge how you’ll respond as you sit silently. You feel tears building on the rims of your eyes again, quickly wiping them away before they can fall.

“Let me show you, hm? How I’ll take care of you.” He thumbs your chin as he stares at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. “We need to get some more food in you, darlin’. Barely ate a thing yesterday.” His bargains immediately begin to work as you notice your stomach rumbling and empty again as if on cue. You nod slightly and he gives you a half smile.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Now hold on tight.” Before you can question him further on why, he’s lifting you up off the couch, and your arms scramble to fling around his neck so you don’t fall backwards. Your legs wrap around his middle for extra support as he carries you to the kitchen table, settling you down on top of it now, legs dangling off the side as he lets go of his grip under your thighs. You find yourself reluctant to untangle your arms and legs from his warm, safe body, but he begins to pull away, heading for the fridge. You watch him with a frown as he bends down, shuffling a bit in the fridge before pulling out an item wrapped in a thin cloth. He opens a breadbox on the counter and reaches in, tearing off a chunk of bread before plating it and unwrapping the block, revealing some type of cheese.

“Sheeps cheese from Jackson. And some bread I made. Should tide y’over till dinner time, don’t you think?” he asks, bringing the plate over. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, a silent command that you follow mindlessly before he steps in between your thighs. One hand brushes along your thigh as he gets closer to you, eyes pasted right onto yours. His near glare is nearly too much to keep focused on as he grabs the piece of bread and brings it up to your lips. You pause, gaze faltering as you scan his face, a little stunned.

“Y’need some food, darlin’. Now eat.” Another command, another test to see how pliant you are, how willing you are to accept the entire package he offered you. You crane your neck forward enough to bite down on the piece, tearing some off as he holds it for you, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes quickly flash back to a satisfied, pleasant look from the darkness that had threatened them moments ago.

“Good girl.” The words burrow in a little more, your thighs tightening against his, sending Joel gazing down with a smirk pulling at his lips. “Another,” he says quietly, holding the bread up to your lips again. You don’t falter this time, taking a quick bite and chewing as Joel smiles down at you, letting his thumb brush across your lips.

“You’re bein’ so good f’me now, what happened?” he says smugly, picking up the cheese and feeding you again. Each time he does it, you take the food more eagerly, Joel stepping closer until he’s pressed against the table, his hips as close as they can be to the apex of your thighs. You can sense the excitement radiating off of him now, the pure satisfaction that you’re not putting up a fight, accepting the care he’s pouring out onto you.

“Now you see how I can take care of you, darlin’? That’s just a small thing, honey, makin’ sure you get fed. Now tell me how much you appreciate it, hm?”

You feel your cheeks warming up at the blatant coaxing from Joel, the way the heat of his body presses so close to you now as his finger lingers on your lip after the last scrap of bread goes in.

“T-thank you, Joel,” you say, quiet and mousy as you avert your eyes downward.

“Oh, such a good girl.” He pets the top of your head down the side, stroking a gentle, long path down to your shoulder. “Feel better now that we got you full?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes, thank you.” Mousy. Quiet. The way Joel seems to like, the way that you can’t help but be when he questions you like this, when his eyes search your depths so intensely. Your heart clenches at just how quickly he’s already worked his way in, has you saying just what you know he wants to hear.

“Not bad for an old man baking bread, huh?” he asks, winking as he caresses your cheek. You tilt your head down, failing to conceal your little smile in time as a breathy chuckle makes its way out of you. You can sense the lightness fill Joel and the entire room as he notices, cocking his head and leaning closer to you.

“That a smile I see, darlin’? You think it’s funny to call me an old man?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips tight to suppress your smile. “N-no, you’re n-not…”

“Oh, too sweet, ain’t you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you close again. “Y’know, you’re so pretty when you smile. This old man’d like to see more of that, y’know.”

Your smile falls quickly as discomfort settles in again at the way he’d cracked through your façade just now. “Why haven’t you just… hurt me yet? Or done what you want with me and tossed me out?” you ask suddenly, blurting the words out before you can think twice about the possible consequences.

Joel clicks his tongue and lets his lips part slightly, showing his surprise - a rare moment from such a guarded man.

“That what you think this is?” he asks quietly, forebodingly. The pure control in his voice is a skill that you can tell he’s exercised many times. “Just want to squeeze the life outta you and toss your body out for the damn animals? Or fuck you senseless then turn you to the cold? You really think that little of me after I fed you, clothed you, helped you?”

He doesn’t sound quite angry, but something deeper that takes a minute for you to register - you’ve hurt him. Wounded his ego, made a dent in this brick wall of a man. A power you suddenly wish you didn't have over him.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” you admit. “You scare me.”

He leans forward, his dark irises going icy as he captures your rapt attention with this one single glance.

“I should,” he spits out with a twitch of his lip. “But only if you give yourself reason to, yeah? I never want to hurt you, sweetness, never.” He goes softer, brushing a finger along your cheek, sending you trembling with a quivering lip. “Jus’ want you to be here w’me, lettin’ me take good care of you, and you do the same f’me. Somethin’ so beautiful here, you ‘n I…”

You sigh heavily, your body slumping in defeat. You’re exhausted, your nerves frayed and mind overstimulated from all of the inconsistencies, the back and forth with him. If what he says is true, if he wants to treat you kindly, give you all he’s promised, you know what he expects in response. You can feel it in the undertone of every word he says, every tiny movement when he touches you. He wants you to belong to him, to have you sucked so completely into his world there’s no going back. To have you fear him and look in wonder at him and worship at his feet and let him touch you and feel you and be completely yours and you be completely his. Your head spins, a dizzy sickness overtaking you at how utterly lost you feel right now. How badly you crave it and are equally repulsed by it.

You dip your head down, eyes on your lap as you let the wave of churning fear wash over you.

“Eyes up, darlin’,” Joel reminds you, fingers tracing on your thigh to get your attention.

“I… believe you,” you say, turning your gaze to him again. It’s not an answer yet, not a yes or no or anything at all. A fact.

“I know you do,” he says, a serious expression curling into a smile. “Only say what I mean. Are we clear, then?”

Joel’s face inches closer to yours, leaving just a few inches between you, now. “Y-yes,” you mutter, rapidly scanning over his eyes to try to read anything there but the inky darkness that seems to permeate above all else.

“Good,” he says proudly. “Now gimme a smile, darlin’. Need to see you lookin’ happier ‘round here.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile that seems to suffice for Joel as he carries on, moving until his lips hover just above yours. You notice yourself starting to tremble a little bit, shoulders tightening up, and Joel holds you close as his brows come together.

“You ever kiss a man like me, darlin’?” he whispers, licking his lips.

Your lips part, words failing you for a moment as you contemplate him. Your throat is suddenly dry and itchy as you glance down at Joel’s lips. “N-no…” You shake your head. “I haven’t… haven’t been with… anyone…”

Joel stills completely for what feels like minutes, his lips twisted to the side in a wry smile now. “You sayin’ you’re a virgin?” he asks bluntly, his hands naturally tightening their grip on your back, fingers digging in as they slide a little lower towards your waist.

Your face burns first, then your entire body is set aflame as embarrassment sets in. You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you can sense Joel’s experience, almost having some strange need to impress him with your own, coming up empty. Your eyes look down, staring at the middle of his shirt before you nod once, blinking away a quick sting of tears at your sudden humiliation.

“Christ,” Joel bites back all the things he wants to say for a moment and tuts as he notices your glassy eyes, scraping his fingers along your back. He tightens his hold on your waist and tugs you even closer so that your hips are flush with his. He moves his lips right next to your ear, making you shudder as they brush close enough to touch for a moment. “Had a feelin’. You have no idea… how turned on that makes me, sweet girl.”

Joel’s crude words have you gasping a little, a breath caught in your throat as you stutter out a sound to try to answer him. His lips press on your neck again, kissing a little more fervently down to your collarbone and then he pulls back, one hand going to your face to cup your cheek.

“Such an innocent little thing… so sweet…” he murmurs. “‘S okay to touch me, y’know.” Your hands tingle with anticipation as he says that, but you don’t know how to move them, where to move them to, or if you want to touch him.

“I - I don’t…” You shake your head, and Joel captures one of your hands in his, holding it gently and rubbing his fingers along yours.

“I got ya, I’ll show y’everythin’ you need to know, how’s that sound?” he says, gazing down at you intently, waiting with baited breath to hear your response.

“You mean…” you ask, cheeks flushing as you’re unable to finish your sentence. Joel places your hand on his chest, spreading your fingers out to splay across the space between his pecs. He nods softly and you wiggle your fingers a little, feeling the planes of his chest, hard but warm underneath your palm. He glances down to where your hand explores a little more, running your fingers gently over to the right side of his pecs, then the left, and smirks.

“I mean all of it, you sweet little thing. You don’t know how good y’could feel, do you?” Joel breathes a little heavier, his expression losing a bit of its controlled façade, that vague look of craving revealing itself in his eyes again. “I could give you so much… oh, you pretty thing, you need it.” He shakes his head in disbelief of everything he’s learned about you. “Untouched… so innocent…” he says more quietly, his hands finding their way back to your waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband at the back of your pants.

“I’m n-not sure… I-I don’t know -” you stutter as you feel his thumbs touch bare skin before one of his hands trails under your shirt, moving upwards. Your eyes blink a little slower, a flutter of your lashes as his calloused pads scrape along your skin, leaving a blazing trail that tingles all the way to the base of your spine. It pools quickly there, your core starting to heat up as his hand travels higher, the other playing at the hem of your shirt, starting to lift it. Your breath hitches, eyes going wider as your shirt moves, but you don’t squirm, don’t try to stop him.

“Y’do know. I can see you want it, sweetheart, look at how you respond to me…” He breathes in and out a little shakily. “Respond to a man takin’ good care of you…”

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your back almost halfway exposed to the air.

“Think you know what I’m doin,” Joel huffs a stony hearted chuckle. “Just wanna see how pretty y’are, take a peek, thas’ all.”

You shrink back a little, eyebrows pulled close together, shaking your head in small movements. “I’m scared…” you whimper finally, showing Joel the fear that’s been building deep inside of you. You don’t know how to want this, when to know your body is telling you it’s okay. You’ve somehow lost complete trust in any of your instincts, unsure of where along the way that happened.

“I know, I know,” he purrs, still pulling your shirt higher. His lips dart down to your stomach, where your bare skin is starting to show, kissing sloppily along all the fresh skin he hasn’t seen yet. He starts speaking against your body, kissing in between his words. “Nothin’ to be scared of when you got me though, y’understand? You let me take care of you, and you’ll never worry a day in your life. Be my good girl, my everything. Just gotta trust me.” His nails dig into your back, a sweet, welcome pain, bringing you to the present. It’s too easy to lose yourself to his lips, his touch, his words. Your hand stays steadily placed on his chest, barely daring to move now.

You stare with your mouth open, and at your silence Joel drags his mouth up your chest and to your neck before looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t… know…” you murmur, less convincingly than the other times, an observation that Joel doesn’t fail to notice. He gathers the fabric of your shirt and tugs on the front hem of your shirt, pulling it taut along your back, drawing you closer to him as his lips sit merely an inch from yours.

“Think y’do know,” he says, greedy hands under the front of your shirt now, pulling the hem up. “I’ll be so gentle, honey…” He pulls your shirt up further and you drop your hand from his chest, allowing him the freedom of movement he needs to finish the job.

“Okay…” you whisper, unsure if the two syllables even resonate far enough to reach Joel’s ears. You start to feel your legs trembling as you see his face registering your one word, the only thing he’d needed to hear.

“Good girl,” he breathes out, exuding pure elation. “Oh, I’m gonna make you so happy, darlin’, gonna give y’everythin’.” He practically snarls as his hands get back to work on your shirt, lifting each of your arms to tug them through the sleeves, then tossing your shirt aside after it's over your head.

A growl tumbles out of his throat when he takes in your breasts, and you hunch your shoulders up a little more, your arm flying up to cover your chest now that it's exposed. Joel’s hand grabs your wrist, strongly wrapped around it as he tugs it away.

“Don’t have to hide ‘em from me, nothin’ to hide from me now,” he snaps, tossing your arm back to your side. His hands reach up to tease at the swell of your breasts, and you sit half in shock, letting his fingers send tingles across your skin as he explores your chest. He runs errant fingers down along the curves as he stares downwards. Your breath catches when he rubs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples, you back arching towards him as you gasp.

“So soft ‘n pretty…” He grins, continuing to watch the way his hands work along your skin, a little more rough as he gropes your tits, rolling your nipples just to observe your reaction. The little pinch sends waves of arousal through your body, pooling deep inside of you, making you feel your underwear get damp again. You’re already panting, the sensations he’s bringing out in you so strong that you can hardly contain the little noises slipping out of you as he continues touching your chest.

“I - I’m…” you pant. “Joel…”

He pauses for just a moment, leaning closer and brushing his lips across your cheek. “Know you’re feelin’ good, aren’t ya?”

You nod dumbly, completely awestruck as he pinches your nipples again, sending your back arching and hips pressing into his. It’s maddening and confusing all in one, the way he’s able to work your body like this and make you feel a hot burning starting to blaze across your skin.

“Pretty girl never had her tits touched, has she?”

You shake your head urgently, a breathy moan pulled out of your throat as he pinches and tugs a little harder on the hard buds. “P-please… stop… it’s too…” you whine, scrunching your face, unsure if you actually want him to stop. You feel wild, feral almost, the strangest sensation pulling at your insides as he tugs one more time.

Joel smirks in satisfaction, going back to caressing you more lightly, giving you some relief. One hand travels down to rest on your hip, the other up to your face to cradle your cheek in his palm.

“You’re fun to play with, jus’ like I thought you’d be…” Joel muses as he touches your face. “You’re bein’ so good f’me, too, honey. Lettin’ me see you ‘n touch you.” He looks at you almost curiously now, like he’s studying you.

“Think you deserve a little reward for bein’ so good for me, finally seein’ some sense.” He pauses, watching your face morph into a soft, intrigued look. “How’s that sound, hm?” he asks, pinching your cheek.

You tilt your head at him. “A reward? Wh-“

“Exactly. If you act like a good girl, gotta reward ya for it.” Your heart beats a little faster as you take in his words, your thighs clamped as his voice comes out low and teasing. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his fingers around your cheek and pulling you closer as he leans in. “You deserve to feel good, do you realize that? You’ve been denyin’ yourself somethin’ so good, but turns out it was so that I could show ya.”

“I - Joel - I don’t know…” you blurt out, your stomach twisting. The fact you can barely say anything but those same three words over and over is starting to frustrate you.

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” Joel replies, his hand now cradling the back of your head. “You’ll enjoy this.”

He leans forward again, completely closing the gap between the two of you as he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, testing you, and you blink once in surprise, not able to force yourself to press your lips back into his at first. But your body naturally starts to melt into him a little, his hand stroking against the back of your head calming you into submission. Your hands twitch forward, gently touching the bottom hem of his shirt and holding onto it just slightly. The feel of the fabric grounds you as you feel your lips press back into Joel’s, sending a wave of heat over your body. Your cheeks burn and your skin prickles as he groans quietly and pushes his lips a little more aggressively against yours before pulling back slightly.

He looks down at you with a smirk. His hand digs into your waist a little harder, the possession he’s feeling clearly evident.

“Tastes sweet, darlin’,” he says quietly before leaning back in, kissing you again. Your hand tugs a little harder on the bottom of his shirt and you feel yourself cracking under the pressure, like you’re about to burst into a million little parts like a piece of dropped china.

His mouth opens and invites you to do the same, so you follow his lead. You’re frustrated, unsure of yourself, not understanding the way your body just moves with his, mirroring his motions.

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe your first kiss is supposed to feel just like this. Maybe you’re supposed to be afraid and unsure and terrified yet intrigued in a way you can’t ignore. You wouldn’t know any different, after all, and your body already yearns for Joel to keep going, to press his lips harder onto yours, to feel his warm, soft lips all over you. You don’t even quite understand where the thoughts come from, it’s like your body is telling you without your mind having to get involved.

You open your mouth the tiniest bit, allowing Joel to kiss you deeper. He pulls back just enough to suck a little on your bottom lip and you whimper and your brows scrunch. How… how could it feel so good?

As if to send you asking that question a hundred more times, one of his hands skates his fingers up your spine and you shudder, falling apart just as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You nearly gasp but find your own tongue hesitantly brushing against his. He hums quietly in satisfaction, continuing the motions of his tongue with small variations - darting into your mouth, licking your lip.

You feel your entire being aching and warm now with the way Joel is pressed as close as he can, hips flush with yours. You want to move your own hips, to push them further and further, your body urging you on again without telling you quite what it’s doing.

You yank your head back, completely breathless. Joel’s hand scrambles to the back of your head, holding it in place as he devours your lips again, not letting up just yet.

“Wasn’t done w’you yet…” he mumbles before kissing you again, his tongue and lips more aggressive now as his hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping tightly. When he’s had his fill he tucks his head back enough to get a read on your expression, smirking. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the confusion, the struggle, but he welcomes it all, now. He knows he has you - his prize, his to keep, his to take. He can practically feel the ache of want oozing out of your pores now as you sit trembling slightly on the table, your soul and tits bared to him, equally enticing. A perfect paradox, he thinks.

You look so perfect - like a pure, innocent angel sent just for him. He knows you can be exactly what he’s looking for - someone to call his own, to protect and guide and keep close to him. His perfect girl.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and musk like it’s the last time he’ll ever get a chance to before his lips rumble against you.

“Lemme take you upstairs, show you how to be mine," he offers, in a way that's not an offer at all, but an instruction, a test.

He’s quiet and seductive with his words, a low, gravelly lilt to his voice that makes your head swim. You’re hazy, a practically drunk feeling coming over you now - cloudy and out of control of your own body.

Before you can stop yourself, body buzzing and lips puffy and parted in need, you nod for him.

reminder i have no taglist now! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs!

#fic: smother #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #x reader #tw: blood #<<< for the cover photo

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yandere-wishes · 1 year

Text

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Synopsis: You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance.

Warnings: Yandere themes, angst, the reader has Stockholm syndrome but can we really blame her?

There's something about a sleepless night that's lethal. A loaded gun aimed point blank at your head and your heart and your eyes that are too weary to recall the difference between fact and fiction. Right and wrong.

Miguel should be home soon you think as you stare at the Daily Bugle's nightly broadcast. The headlines are the same as last week's villain attack and the week before that, and the week before that.

'SPIDERMAN REPORTED DEAD AFTER TANGLE WITH NUEVA YORK'S NEWEST VILLAIN!'

You think this is the 18th time he's died this month. A hologram dances in front of you, some withering reporter adamant in his claim that this time. This time for sure Spiderman is dead. A Harrowing claim, one you know to be false. Your lover isn't so easy to kill, you should know on account of how many times you had tried. Back when you'd painted Miguel O'Hara as the villain in your story, back when you were so obstinate to return to a wholly ignorant life of so-called freedom.

Miguel can't die, you refuse to believe that a man like that is subject to such a mortal thing.

You use to try to imagine a Miguel that had grown old. You couldn't back then and still can't today. Because heroes are eternal, or so you've come to believe. They die a hundred deaths and reawaken younger than before. Heroes aren't immortal -that's the part that makes your heart skip a beat- yet death has never had the chance to lay claim to them. Miguel is fine you're sure of it.

There's a noise, a disturbance in the wind, the sound of thousands of coiled webs being used to sling across the air.

A sign that Spiderman has arrived.

He's here.

You can't help but smile.

"What's the old man saying this time?"

You turn to see Miguel, land at the edge of the rooftop. Legs limb as he staggers towards you. With a defeated moan he sits down. Close enough for you to inspect the galaxy of bruises that dance across his stunning face.

When did you fall in love with him, again?

"You're supposed to be dead," you say, a bitter laugh following, the peculiar words.

"I think that's the 14th time the Bugals had a spread on me dying" He chuckles, dry and humorless.

You bite your tongue to avoid correcting him.

"Who was it this time? Venom or Flipside?" you ask, trying to guess which of the two had been able to give the Miguel O'Hara a run for his money.

"Just some kid, from another dimension. Mocoso already screwed up the canon once, and he's damn well trying to do it again. He used Spider Bite to send himself home, so I didn't get the chance to..." He doesn't bother finishing that sentence. Doesn't have to, you've seen worlds collapse upon themselves because a tiny imperfection had distraught the canon. You know why he does this. You know why he must do this. No one is exempt from the canon. No matter how young and naive they may be.

How peculiar the life of superhumans are. For all the guts and glory every hero's world is only bounded by thin silk strings. Perpetually on the verge of collapse should the chosen one refuse to follow destiny's orders.

Heroes aren't pretty, they neither sparkle nor shine. Instead, they burn with a self-lit fire that grows out of control, burning until only ashes remain. Heroes are tragedies swung across every dimension. War-torn children with blood under their fingernails and chipped teeth from one too many close calls. Heroes aren't pretty, nor beautiful, nor divine. They're mangled creatures who come alive at night, staggering across half-lit streets doing what they believe is right.

You've tried to commit this to memory. Tried to memorize it so you wouldn't make the same mistakes as every lovesick idiot who's fallen in love with a superhero.

But sometimes it's so hard to remember, especially when Miguel has been your only companion for months now. The only person you have to talk to. The only person who is there in the early hours of the morning when even sleep abandons you. And he's always there again at night to tuck you in before he departs to fight whoever has broken the few simple rules that the canon calls for. You've almost come to appreciate his paranoia and insistence that you stayed locked inside the penthouse. Although he's grown a bit bolder as of late. Permitting you free range of the terrace and rooftop. A sign of good faith, he'd called. Whilst you'd presume that he's come to enjoy you waiting outside to greet him when he returns from the miseries of being a golden boy.

"I try to save everyone, I try to make sure the universe is held upright. So why the hell does everyone always treat me like I'm the villain?" His voice is raising, fangs glowing in loose rays of starlight. His hands are crossed in annoyance. You rest your hand on his arm as you snuggle closer.

Heroes and villains, what's the difference?

That's a question the two of you have been pondering for too long now.

Even though you doubt Miguel truly knows who he is. It's hard to fall into the orderly boxes of 'good' and 'bad' when the fate of every universe lies on your already brittle shoulders.

He's a hero who acts like a villain. That's what you use to call him. Back when he'd first plucked you away from your ordinary mundane life.Deeming the world too dangerous for a defenseless little civilian such as yourself. He had promised to love you, to cherish you. Back when you'd been so resistant to play the role of the hero's lover. But seeing as how no matter what nightmares he went through as Spiderman, he had still kept those two promises. You had slowly started to grow fond of him

Time and time again Miguel has made you feel like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. Wings clipped and waiting for the inevitable. He's overbearing to the point where his sheer presence feels like a boulder placed on your chest. Or maybe his strings have finally found their way to your heart, coiling around the organ controlling its every beat and pulse. Yet somehow, somehow, you started to desire more and more of him.

You're in love with the hero who plays the villain.

You're in love with the villain who bares a hero's mask.

"You should be more careful when dealing with the other spiders. I hear they're not all as precautious as you." Your fingers trace the purpling marks on his cheek. Sliding from one universe to another.

You know Miguel isn't a tiny spider he's a bloodthirsty tarantula. Yet you still worry. Fear that one day he may fail to return home.

"You shouldn't worry about me preciosa,"

"Someone has to, Miguel, you're not as indestructible as you may think."

"If I kiss you will you stop complaining?"

There's no room to answer, his lips rest on yours, forceful and sweet. Captivating, dominating, and as always overbearing. His fangs slowly sink into the back of your lips. That familiar iron taste invades your mouth once again.

Sometimes Miguel feels like a hero, shouldering the universe's burdens, and fighting for what's right. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. This is what he wanted, he always wanted to be the hero.

But sometimes when the spider's lair is abandoned and he returns home to you, he can't help but feel like the villain. He's protecting you he knows that. Justifying it is easy when you watch dimensions wither away in violent glitching and endless screams, daily. Yet he wonders if his predecessors were ever like this. If the heroes are supposed to keep their lovers locked away. Alone yet safe. A fair trade in his mind.

Miguel isn't quite human, half-everlasting and half-horror.

A dangerous combination

Or at least a confusing one.

The point is he's some sort of hero. But that also means he's some sort of villain. Even the old tales got things wrong, not every superhero is carved from porcelain and ivory. Not every villain is built from ash and rage.

Sometimes heroes are carved from gravestone granite and glazed with poison. Sometimes their powers are self-inflicted curses that chew away at flesh and bone. sometimes the hero's halo is made of barbed wire digging into his scalp and embittering his thoughts. Sometimes heroes kill themselves before any villain gets the chance. Spitling their body apart a million times a day because destiny decided to play a cruel joke on them. Picking the weakest of all mankind to become its guardian.

When he pulls away from the kiss, he lifts your hand to his mouth.

His fangs sink into your finger puncturing bone as he gnaws the stress away. Blood leaks down his chin, spilling over the rooftop. He pulls your body closer. An anchor in a never-ending storm.

You kiss his chin, looking into his eyes. Eyes that can never choose whether they wish to be human or monster. Your head instinctively finds his chest nestling into the cold metal of his suit.

Oh, how you wish you could crack his rib cage open and crawl inside.

Sometimes you think back to the original tales. The ones from your dimension, albeit it seems that -regardless of a few rare exceptions- the stories are consistent in every universe.

The story always goes the same. Peter Parker falls in love with MJ or Gwen, you've come to learn that in the long run, it doesn't really matter. Spiderman saves them again and again. Until the whole world knows that Mj or Gwen are somehow connected to the masked hero. But never once does she leave his side. Rebellious blond or dotting redhead, Spiderman's lover stays regardless of how desperate and vicious the villains become when they start to learn that the story always ends in the hero's favor.

It's every gal's dream to be the lover of a superhero. Awaiting their betrothed's triumphant return. Greeting them with amorous tidings and cherry red kisses.

You think you're Gwen or Mary Jane. Or whoever else decided to fall in love with the troubled boy who has radioactivity coursing through his veins. The boy who was deemed a hero and thus was destroyed because of it.

Of course, there's the other part. The underlying message of the story, that parents all so conveniently 'forget' to tell their children. The disease of the otherwise perfect tale. They forget to tell you that Gwen Stacy fell to her death and Mary Jane is left abandoned, once the hero realizes that his mere presence is a curse. Stories may end in the hero's favor but much like the villain the lover is also doomed by the narrative. That's normal for any hero's lover. They always burn out to cater to the hero's ever-fuming torch of justice.

you feel broken, as you're sure they did too. An unspoken rule of being with a hero is that eventually, you start to lose your sense of self without them. It doesn't make sense when you put it like that but along the way bits and piece of you broke off. Pieces that you forgot to patch up. You've been mending by using segments of Miguel to make yourself feel whole again. It's a small miracle that you still hold a fading memory of whom you used to be before he made you his. A miracle that sweeps through the cracks of your soul.

Heroes never need to fear death, just an eternity of pain. Losing everyone they love, over and over again. Maybe that's why Miguel's grip is so suffocatingly tight. He knows that eventually, not today and maybe not tomorrow but eventually he's going to lose you too.

You're a comic book Juliet and he's Romeo with superpowers. Everyone knows that comic book heroes are doomed from the start. Neither you nor Miguel are exceptions.

Maybe the two of you are doomed by the narrative.

But for tonight, as the moon slowly sinks behind the skyscrapers and the stars fade one by one. The two of you are safe in each other's arms.

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lemonlover1110 · 4 months

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Hello! I hope you are doing well 😌 you are my fav writer and I just wanted to to throw out this crazy brainrot request to u bc I am SICK over it

So Florence nightingale syndrome right? Toji is like a professional boxer or whatever something athletic bc he's a fucking beast and he gets hurt, like his leg or something, and you become his at home occupational therapist. So you're like taking care of him and he's getting feelings for you while also being a stubborn ass bc u push him constantly so he can get better. and he's super hesitant to accept his feelings bc he's a Playboy of course.

I'm just picturing this one scene where you're helping him up and he's leaning on you and he says something like "are you sure you can handle me princess?" Idk I'm insane I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭

Pairing: boxer!Toji Fushiguro x f!caregiver!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, frustrated Toji, Florence nightingale syndrome, Toji has an injured leg and is a little bitch for a bit

*This was so fun to work on and now I'm having thinking a little too hard about boxer toji (I'm ovulating) sofjsof enjoy!

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji never really thought he’d be dependent on someone, yet now he can’t even take a shower standing up. After an unlucky boxing match, Toji ended up in a cast and crutches. That’s what he gets for not listening to his son who told him it was around time to retire.

“I’m not a fucking skeleton, I’m good in my field. I can do this for a couple more years.” How he wishes he could swallow his fucking words. He thought that after getting the cast off he’d go back to normal, and he’d have no issue with mobility. He shouldn’t have an issue moving his fucking leg again, he’s been moving it for more than thirty years, why should three months of not moving it change much?

Apparently he can’t do anything, which is why he has someone with him all day every day, helping him so he can get better. Toji’s main issue? He gets frustrated when someone tries to help him.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” You smile at him as you put his dinner in front of him. He has a scowl on his face as you set it down in front of him. He tried to help make dinner but he couldn’t stand for too long. He’s mad, but not at you. He could never be mad at you.

Toji wasn’t necessarily fond of you when you started working with him; he hates being dependent on someone else, and he knew that he would have to depend on you for pretty much everything. You try to help him though, and he should be more appreciative of you because of it, but in reality he feels like a fucking baby. He’s grown to like you though… A little too much for his liking.

You leave him to eat, going to wash the dishes since he can’t do the task yet. Perhaps his own bowl and spoon, but not everything that needs to be cleaned. You watch him from the counter, watching his refusal to pick up the spoon and eat the soup you made him. Earlier he was so prideful, telling you that he would help you every step of the way during dinner, and he couldn’t even finish one third of it. You were proud of him regardless.

“It’s really good, Toji! The potatoes you helped peel really added a touch to it.” You’ve gotten close enough to be on a first name basis. You see each other every day, you stay in the same house, of course you’re close enough to talk to each other so casually. It doesn’t mean you should though. You’ve always managed to keep a very professional relationship with patients, but there’s just something about him that makes it hard for you to be normal around him.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking kid.” He says, pushing the bowl of soup away. He’s not hungry anymore. Toji stands up, his hands holding on to the table to support himself before grabbing his crutches.

“Toji, if you’re not eating it, can you try to bring it over to me, please?” You ask. You know the soup has cooled down, if he spills it, he’ll be fine.

“If you want it, pick it up yourself.” Toji is clearly mad. You don’t take it to heart though, because you know it’s with himself and not you.

“How about we go to the park tomorrow? It’s supposed to be a nice day out.” You talk to Toji who tries to watch a documentary. He’s not all that interested in what he put on, caring more about what you have to say. He might not show it, and he tries to deny it, but he has the biggest soft spot for you. “We can also get some ice cream, if you’re in the mood!”

“Hey… I’m sorry about earlier. I was just—” It’s hard to get an apology out of him, but sometimes he knows he’s in the wrong and he feels the need to apologize. He doesn’t want you to be mad at him, even though you’re clearly not upset with him. You’re so understanding and patient with him, he feels like he doesn’t deserve that.

“You’re fine, Toji.” You reassure him with a smile, your hand going over his balled up fist. You feel your heart skip a beat as you touch him. You’ve crossed the line past a professional relationship, and you should set some boundaries within yourself– But his other hand goes on top of your own before he brings it up, softly kissing your knuckles. It’s hard to set boundaries when he feels the same way.

“I’m tired.” He tells you, and you stand up to help him get up. Toji usually denies your help, but this time, he has no problem accepting it. You just want the best for him, and there’s some things that he can’t do completely alone. He has to take baby steps. He’s using you for support, and he’s scared that he’s too heavy for you. He asks you, “Are you sure, princess? Can you handle me? I know I’m pretty big.”

“You’re fine. I can handle you.” You reassure him, and you begin to walk to his bedroom. His room was previously on the second floor, but ever since his injury, he’s moved his bedroom to the first floor. You get him to his bedroom, helping him on the bed. You smile at him before saying, “Let me grab your crutches. You left them in the living room, right?”

Before you can walk away, he grabs your sleeve. Toji’s slowly realizing that he can’t fight off the feelings that consume him when you help him, and he’s usually not a fan of them. Toji’s been tied down once before, he certainly doesn’t want that again. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t mind the idea.

“Will you lay down with me?” He asks, and you suck in your bottom lip between your teeth. You shouldn’t. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand before he prompts himself up to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Toji, you know this isn’t something I can do.” You tell him as he looks lovingly into your eyes. “I’m here to help you get better.”

“You can help me get better by laying down next to me.” Toji responds. You grab the hand that so lovingly touches your cheek and kiss it, before bringing your lips down to meet his momentarily. He swears he hears fireworks when your lips meet, even after you pull away.

He’s most definitely in love with you.

“I’ll go get your crutches. Good night, Toji.”

886 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 1 year

Text

Basic Training XIII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Peter was at work.

It had been some weeks since the inevitable had happened, waking up to find Peter putting on his uniform. You had expected it at some point, but definitely not so soon. Or, at least, soon for you. It had been hard to hide the disappointment on your features when the dark-haired man had glanced at you, his own face falling some as he neared you.

“Hey,” he’d softly said, cupping your face as he leaned over the bed. “It’ll be okay.”

You hadn’t responded, only blinking, and Peter continued.

“I’ll only be gone a few hours, just to get both of us back into the swing of things. I’ll be back in no time,” he’d assured you.

He’d been right, of course. He had only been gone for a few hours that day, but what felt like no time to him felt like an entire day to you. You’d gone through every task like it was indeed nothing more than a chore, merely trying to find some solace in your cleaning and cooking and gardening, trying to find some way to keep your mind off of Peter’s absence.

In truth, all you’d accomplished was counting down the minutes until he returned.

You’d been in the middle of helping Pepper with lunch when familiar hands had settled on your waist. It had startled you, at first, before the familiarity of them set in, prompting you to stop what you were doing. You hadn’t hesitated to turn and wrap your arms around him, feeling so much more at ease with him home.

“What’ya making?” he’d asked after briefly acknowledging the other woman in the room when she’d done the same.

“Thor wanted subs,” you’d told him. “Pepper’s toasting the bread.”

He’d smiled at that, and it was something you did often, now. Unable to hide your relief at having Peter home, telling him about your day, and listening when he did the same. The town struck you as so small, from what you remembered anyway, but you were always shocked by just how much crime and mess Peter and the rest of the station had to deal with.

The day he’d come home with a bandage on his arm was burned into your memory.

“It’s nothing,” he’d kept reassuring you. “Just some asshole trying to rob a bank with bad aim.”

You hadn’t laughed at the joke as Peter had, and he’d quickly swallowed his chuckles down. He’d reached out to touch your face in the hallway, but you’d been intently focused on the light blood that had bled through a bit. He’d been right, of course. It was nothing, a flesh wound, a graze, but it hadn’t stopped you from worrying all the same.

The heaviness in your chest had shocked you. After all, you liked to think that Peter meant nothing to you, but that wasn’t entirely true. You’d hesitantly reached up to graze his arm just below the white gauze, eyes burning. Peter could’ve been seriously hurt, he could’ve died, and that had worried you for more reasons than one.

“Peter,” you’d softly started once in the privacy of your room moments later. “What would happen to me…if something happened to you…?”

Surprisingly, it was a thought that had never occurred to you before. These men were mortal and human just like anyone else, and considering their professions, the possibility of any of them dying should’ve entered your mind at least once or twice. However, as you’d stared at his arm, you realized that this was the first time you’d truly given it some thought.

You’d heard him sigh.

“Don’t think about that,” he’d tried to coax you away from the thought, making you look at him.

“…but you’re a cop…and clearly this town isn’t as boring and safe as I’d initially thought.”

You had multiple reasons to come to that conclusion.

“What if something does happen to you?” you’d quietly asked him.

Peter had stared at you for a while before slowly leaning in and brushing his lips against yours.

“That won’t happen, pretty girl,” he’d slowly assured you, continuing before you could say anything. “…but if that ever were to happen…you’d just still be a functioning part of the household with no title to your name.”

You had frowned at that. So, you’d still be doing as you did but just without Peter around. The thought had terrified you for one reason above all else, and his name was Steve. You didn’t even want to imagine the kind of trouble you’d get into without Peter around to protect you, and you had thrown your arms around him before you knew it.

He’d rubbed your back, making soothing sounds, but you’d shaken your head, burying your face into his shoulder.

“I think I’d rather just die.”

You had said it so quietly you were sure Peter didn’t even hear you, but if the way he’d paused was anything to go by, he’d heard you clearly.

You couldn’t survive in this place without Peter, and he had to know that. You felt like you were barely hanging on when he was around, and God knows that thread only became thinner when he went to work. If you had to face the reality of never seeing Peter ever again, you didn’t doubt that you’d lose all reason under Steve’s wrath and stern discipline.

“Don’t say that,” he’d whispered. “Besides, it’s not going to happen.”

You had to believe that because the alternative wasn’t feasible to you.

“You don’t know that,” you’d murmured back, fingers digging into his side and the uninjured arm.

“You wouldn’t want to live without me…? Even if you had something to remember me by?”

You’d stiffened at that, understanding dawning on you as to what he was hinting at.

Peter didn’t bring up the possibility of kids often. He probably didn’t want to scare you, but you knew what was expected of you…you knew what he wanted. On the off chance that Sharon or Laura brought their sons around or Steve or Margaret stepped out with Sarah, you were no fool. You saw the smile that lit up Peter’s boyish features. You saw the longing in his deep brown eyes, the desire to have children of his own someday…with you.

Of all the men here, if any of them deserve to have a kid, you supposed that it was Peter.

However, you wondered just how true that was. The man had kidnapped you, after all, and clearly had no qualms against his brothers and whatever methods they chose to punish their wives with. Peter wasn’t a good guy, no matter how good he made you feel these days, and so maybe he didn’t deserve any children.

…but you yourself had wanted kids someday…but not like this.

The thought of subjecting your future sons to the same fate as their father or your future daughters to the same fate as you made your eyes water. It seemed like such a cruel thing to do, but giving Peter children was inevitable, you supposed. It’s not like you had any means to protect yourself against the possibility, and since Peter had first had sex with you, he had never not come inside of you.

It was honestly only a matter of time.

“I…don’t know,” you’d honestly answered his question.

Without Peter, any child you had would be far better off with any of the other wives than with you. You doubted that you’d even be able to look after yourself, let alone a whole other person who’d completely depend on you. On the other hand, though, you didn’t know if you could trust your hypothetical child’s wellbeing with anyone but you. Especially with Steve around.

Someone had to make sure they didn’t grow up completely messed up by all of this.

…but then again…maybe you weren’t right to be that someone either.

After all, Peter had kidnapped and raped you, and you greeted him when he came home from work each evening. You smiled as you told him about your day. You clung to him in the dead of night and welcomed his kisses. Even then, as you held him and fretted over his safety and the danger you had never considered he’d be in before…

You yourself were already so messed up by all of this, so how could you keep the same from happening to anyone else?

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

Peter’s soft encouragement went straight to the pit of your stomach, adding to the heat that was already there. The water in the bathtub jostled slightly, small ripples in the water from your movements. Peter’s hands were pressed firmly into your waist, and you could feel his gaze on you.

“So good,” he whispered, leaning up and brushing his lips against yours.

You felt so…full, much fuller than you did when Peter was covering your frame with his own, pressing you into the mattress and pushing his cock into you with a pace that had your breath shortening. Now, you were the one on top of him, lifting and lowering yourself, sliding up and down on his cock with every movement.

A simple bath had turned into something more when Peter’s hand dipped between your legs, a noise of mischief escaping his lips as you’d tried to shy away. He’d been smooth in sliding you back onto him, a hand resting on your back before he’d expressed his desire to see your face.

Peter pressed kisses along the expanse of your throat, tasting you with them and his tongue. Your bare chest brushed against his own with every rise and fall of your hips, your hands pressed into his shoulders to steady yourself. Sex wasn’t new to you, but you’d always thought of it as a chore more often than not. You’d thought it was just one of those things that wasn’t for you.

Peter’s presence proved that the fault lay with bad boyfriends.

Granted, it’s not like Peter gave you the choice to refuse sex, therefore forcing you to engage in something you’d always thought of as meh. He didn’t even allow you to disassociate as you had in the past, forcing you to be present and engaging and taking pleasure that you weren’t all that familiar with. You both hated and loved it.

Peter moaned into your mouth as he kissed you, a wet hand massaging into your back, and you kissed him back, hot and wanton and just as hungry for your climax as he was his. Every time you sank down onto him, your walls stretched, and with Peter’s hand on your hip, rolling it over his, you had to pull away and gasp.

The first time you came around him, you were in the tub, but you were in the bed when you stiffened around him for the second time. Peter talked you through it, whispering sweet nothings to you as explosions burst behind your eyes, one hand twisted with yours and the other tracing patterns into your thigh.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured into your neck, his chest pressed to your back as you lay beneath him. “We both have to wake up pretty early, though.”

He sounded sad as he said that, pulling away from you. You were still catching your breath when you turned to face him, eyes fluttering closed as he reached out to brush his fingers over your face. You were tired, but you still found the strength to stare back at him. Peter was pretty, you’d noted before, but it was something you hadn’t wanted to linger on then.

Your eyes drooped a bit as his hand danced towards yours, taking it and playing with your fingers. It was moments like this that made it so easy to pretend. It was dark outside, and in the room, the only light coming from the glow of the moon outside. The rest of the house was quiet, and the only sounds in the room were that of your labored breathing.

It was moments like this that made it easy to pretend as if Peter hadn’t kidnapped you, as if his brothers hadn’t killed your friends. It was easy to pretend like you were the only ones in this whole house, just basking in each other’s presence and the afterglow of taking pleasure in each other’s bodies under the cover of darkness.

Like a normal man with a normal job simply coming home from work and making love to his normal wife.

Peter’s fingers touched your ring, and you were brought back to reality.

“Not every couple has done it…but some of the others have…had ceremonies…”

Your brows rose at that, and Peter’s gaze remained on the thorned ring around your finger.

“I would really like it if we had one too,” he murmured. “I… I want to declare my love and vows to you in front of the whole family…and have you do the same to me.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that, and so you merely frowned. Your eyes met Peter’s when he finally glanced up, and his tongue darted between his lips.

“…because I do, you know.”

When you didn’t respond, your confusion must’ve been evident to him because he continued.

“I do love you.”

That word made you feel faint, and you quickly sat up. Peter followed, a hand on the back of your neck and the other still playing with your hand.

“I do,” he reiterated, making it hard to swallow. “You’re so open about what’s on your mind, and you’re never afraid to ask me anything you want.”

You hesitantly looked at him, pulling your gaze away from the sheets.

“…and now that you’ve finally settled here, I can see how caring you are. I see how worried you get when you think Jane is straining herself or when you think Margaret might be too tired on her feet. I saw it when you were more worried about your mom than…”

He trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish it. Maybe it was silly at the time to worry more about your free mom than your captive self, but you couldn’t help it.

“I knew I chose right, but it’s something entirely different to have it confirmed every single day,” Peter whispered, taking his hand and resting it under your chin. “…and you may not love me yet, but that’s okay because I know you will…just like I love you.”

Peter’s words were so…heavy. You found it hard to believe that he loved you, but then again, Peter had nothing but all the time in the world to observe you and watch you and take note of every flaw and quirk. Who were you to tell him what he felt? No man had ever told you that before, and there were layers to the fact that the first one who did was the same who’d stolen you away.

Something stirred in your chest at that.

“I want to make every promise in the world to you, and I want to do it in front of our family.”

Our family.

That was so strange to hear, but wasn’t it the truth? You had long accepted that you were never leaving, and despite what you personally wanted, this was your family, now…weren’t they?

“You don’t have to give me an answer, now,” Peter assured you, laying back down, fingers grazing over your lower back. “…but you know what I want.”

Yes, but what did you want?

You cared about Peter more than you wanted to admit. The thought of losing him in any way made your chest ache, but that wasn’t love. You knew what it really was, but your heart couldn’t decipher real feelings from ones brought on by circumstances and a means to cope. Your heart only knew that Peter was now in it, and his fingers on your skin and his devotional words made you feel things that you were ashamed of.

He pulled you back down to lie with him, resting your head on his arm as you clung to it. You looked up at him as sleep fought to claim him, his own lashes fluttering as he stifled a yawn. You were going to be with Peter forever, that was indubitable, and declaring that in front of the whole household wasn’t going to make it any more true than it already was.

You tilted your head back down, pressing your face into the arm of the man who loved you.

You had just got done taking the dish out of the oven when a familiar voice outside drew your attention. Peter’s laugh was loud, and you hurried to set the heavy pie and get your gloves off. He had been gone when you woke up, and Sam had told you that he’d had to go in early with Steve. You thought that meant he’d be home earlier, but no. This was one of those rare days where he was gone almost the whole day, and you’d been so anxious.

“Slow down, Y/N,” Christine called as you dashed out of the kitchen.

No other effort was made to stop you, and you practically tripped over your feet as you hurried down the hall. If Peter was having some important conversation with Steve and Tony, he put it on the back burner in favor of catching you as you flew into his arms.

“Woah, hey,” he chuckled, arm tight around you as he held you to him.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” you murmured. “You were gone when I woke up.”

You pulled away just a tad, hand twisting into Peter’s dark uniform as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“I know,” he sadly said. “This one screwed up some paperwork with a guy we arrested, and we had to go in pretty early.”

He jerked his head towards Steve as he said this, and you’d forgotten about the blonde’s presence entirely. Tony too. You barely spared them both a glance, only acknowledging them as evenly and respectfully as possible without putting in too much effort. You were already turning back to Peter when they returned the acknowledgement.

“Jane told me your favorite food,” you told him, pulling and forcing him to come with you.

He threw Steve and Tony a backwards glance as he waved them off, signaling that they’d continue whatever they were talking about later.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I made a cherry pie,” your tone was hopeful, nervous, and Peter’s gaze lit up.

“Really…?” he wondered as he stopped, more excited, now. “All by yourself?”

You nodded.

“It hasn’t been tasted yet, so I hope you like it,” you worriedly said.

The other man softly chuckled, and you briefly glanced up as Natasha walked by.

“I bet it’s perfect,” Peter assured you, kissing your cheek. “…and even if it isn’t, I’ll love it anyway. You made it, after all.”

You weren’t able to linger on his words like you wanted to, worriedly gazing at the redhead’s back.

You’d been worried for her ever since that day she’d told you she thought she was pregnant. She hadn’t brought it up since, and neither had you, too afraid of being overheard by the wrong person. You didn’t know if she was or wasn’t, and if she was, and Bucky knew, the whole house would definitely know by now. Thor had made a whole day of it when he found out Jane was pregnant, and considering what Natasha had told you about all of their efforts, you doubted that Bucky would be any different.

However, there was no word of it, and while Natasha didn’t seem as mopey as she had been, she was still…off. Quieter. She smiled more, now, especially at Bucky, and you’d found yourself wondering if she’d made peace with what he did to your friends so quickly. It seemed…unlikely but considering that she was in the same boat as you, with no chances of leaving, it’s possible she wanted to make peace with it for her own sake.

You wouldn’t fault her if she did.

None of this was easy, and especially so considering her own history with Bucky, so you felt no anger or disgust when their intertwined hands rested on the table between them. You didn’t blame her for the smiles she threw his way, or the soft kisses on her cheek that she didn’t turn away from. After all, you yourself had cut the first piece of pie for Peter, anxious to see how the brunette liked it.

“It’s great,” he hummed.

You’d been skeptical, still unsure of your own cooking skills, but Peter had assured you that he wasn’t placating you. He’d even fed you a piece, and you’d been shocked at just how good it really was. You and Peter had mostly been in your own world throughout dinner. After all, you hadn’t seen him all day, something that only strengthened your animosity towards Steve, and you felt like you had so much to tell him.

So, when dinner was over—and Natasha and Laura were cleaning up—you were disappointed as Peter stood too. The other men were heading towards the den to talk about work and the household as they did every evening after dinner. Peter’s hand was on your lower back as he walked you towards the stairs, and you knew your hesitation was evident.

“You’ve been gone all day,” you whispered, almost afraid to voice your desire to have him come upstairs with you. “…and who knows how long that will take. I don’t want to be asleep when you finally come up to bed.”

Peter tilted his head at you, studying you in a way you couldn’t place. His other hand reached for yours, fingers threading through your own, and you watched his tongue dart between his lips. There was a furrow between his brows, like he was thinking deeply about something before he glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you want to sit with me?”

You hadn’t expected that.

You didn’t quite catch what he meant at first, and then it was your turn to frown. You blinked at him, confusion and apprehension filling you.

“I can…?”

You couldn’t swallow down the small relief you were starting to feel. It would be different—unfamiliar—but at least you’d be with Peter instead of alone in your bedroom.

“Am I allowed to?” you wondered. “I didn’t think any of us could.”

Peter gave you an encouraging smile.

“It’s not common,” he honestly answered, pulling you along. “…but sometimes little Sarah can only be quieted by Steve so Margaret will bring her, or now, with Jane being pregnant and hormonal, she gets her way if she wants to rest in Thor’s lap.”

He chuckled at that.

You’d cleaned the den a few times. It was a large room with no windows, only brightened by the low light of lamps. The furniture was all dark wood and leather, and it had a bar that you’d never been tempted to use. You’d always been able to imagine the men sitting around and discussing police paperwork and what household business needed to take priority over others.

As Peter led you into the room, you realized you’d be witnessing it tonight.

“Peter…”

Steve’s stern drawl of his name reached your ears, half warning, half question.

“She’ll be good,” Peter lightly promised.

There were just enough seats for the men, and you realized why Peter had mentioned Jane sitting in Thor’s lap when she got in one of her moods. You didn’t hesitate to sit by Peter’s feet, curling your legs up underneath you as he took your hand. Truthfully, you didn’t care what they had to discuss, even if it was interesting and consisted of the mention of some woman who’d broken into a house.

You just cared about being next to Peter.

As you’d guessed, you were tired, and you were right to worry that you would’ve been asleep by the time Peter joined you. At some point during the meeting, your head drooped, and you did the right thing in leaning it against the side of Peter’s leg, your cheek resting on his thigh. Your hands curled around his leg, holding onto him as you fought sleep. Your lashes fluttered, and it was easier said than done…

Especially when you felt Peter’s hand on your head.

His fingers gently pressing into your scalp was soothing, and you slowly blinked, fighting fatigue. You were pretty sure Thor was talking, now. Or was it Stephen? Either way, it didn’t help, and you shifted, tightening your arms around Peter’s leg. The feel of his hand in your hair was going to put you fast asleep…if it weren’t for the feel of an oppressing gaze.

When you glanced over, your eyes met familiar blue ones, Steve hardly paying attention to a thing Stephen was saying. His cold blue irises were focused entirely on you. For a moment, you worried that you did something wrong, and you clung to Peter even tighter, and the brunette made an inquiring humming noise. You only shook your head in response, looking away from the blond and desperately wondering why he seemed to hate you so.

It was hours later when sleep evaded you. It was strange. You’d been so exhausted downstairs that you’d passed out almost immediately when you crawled into bed. However, your body had betrayed you in the middle of the night, waking and refusing to go back. Peter’s arm was comforting around your waist when you stirred, and you’d simply laid there for a few moments, basking in the feel and sound of him before making your way to the window.

The moon was only half full, and you used the glow of it to look down at your ring.

You thought about what Peter had said, about a ceremony, and you touched the thorned metal. You had never given marriage a lot of thought before, but you had never imagined it would be in the backyard of a large and beautiful country house, decorations and everything homemade.

You had also never imagined it would be to the man who’d kidnapped you either, but…

You sighed, shifting the ring a tad and blinking. It was true that your friends would want you to be happy, and that your mom, wherever she hoped you were, hoped you were okay. In a lot of ways, you weren’t, but in some ways…you were. No one in your life would’ve wanted this for you, that was sure, but you were in a bad situation, you were never getting out of this bad situation, and so why not make some good of it?

You glanced up, eyes running over the yard briefly, and you were about to look back down at your ring…

…when you saw it.

Movement in the yard made you blink, and it was so late, you almost wrote it off as some animal. You were out in the rural Midwest, hidden away amongst the trees, and so the odd animal here and there wasn’t uncommon. Jane had left a towel on the clothesline one night and something had dragged it off by the next morning.

However, looking closer, the figure was too large to be some animal.

They were moving across the yard, slowly and carefully, as if they were trying to go undetected. There was a sinking feeling deep in your gut, and you took a step closer to the window. You could feel yourself frowning, worry coursing through you as you watched some stranger figure move about. You were just about to call for Peter when the glow of the moon glinted off of hair.

Beautiful red hair.

Your lips parted at the sight of Natasha in the yard. It was too late for anyone to be outside, let alone her, and when she looked over her shoulder, her green eyes lifted right towards your window. You could tell that she saw you, her face falling just a tad, and you both blinked at each other. It didn’t quite click at first, unable to understand why Natasha was outside so late, but then your eyes fell to her clothes, clothes that she wouldn’t be caught dead in in the house.

Bucky’s clothes.

You felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had washed over you, and you placed your hand on the window, your gaze almost pleading. You silently begged her to come back, to turn around before she was caught. You shook your head, disbelief and horror and confusion tearing through you. You shook your head at her again, glancing at your door, trying to silently convey that you’d help her come back inside and lie if need be.

Anything to keep her from being thrown in that basement again.

However, Natasha silently refused, her only response being to step away slowly and continue going. You sharply exhaled, feeling frozen, and you didn’t know what to do. She didn’t look back again as she ran across the yard, and you pressed your hand to your stomach just as a familiar voice reached your ears.

“What are you doing up?”

Peter’s voice was groggy, sleep coating his tone, and you flinched. Blinking, you looked over your shoulder, heart in the pit of your gut as he rubbed his eyes. You stared at Peter with parted lips, eyes burning with tears, but you didn’t know why. You were confused. You were scared, but why did you want to cry?

Was it because you had to tell Peter that Natasha had managed to sneak out somehow, making a break for it? That her entire demeanor this past month had been a farce, a way to be sure Bucky wouldn’t be suspicious? That the discovery of what he did to her friends had indeed been too much for her and had pushed her over the edge to bring all of them down?

Were you crying because you had to tell Peter Natasha had escaped and therefore get her into more trouble than she probably ever had been in before?

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Peter had seen your face, now, sitting up with concern in his eyes, and you glanced over your shoulder. You could just barely make out Natasha on the other side of the pond, so close to the trees, and you exhaled.

Or were you crying because if Natasha succeeded, your time with Peter would be numbered? Peter was the reason you were here, the sole reason you were in this place, and yet, the thought of him behind bars and forever separated from you was too much to wrap your head around. The man was your sole comfort. Peter was who you clung to, the thought of being away from him enough to send you into a downward spiral.

Peter was all you had, now…

…and yet…

With all of that being true, your eyes finally met his again.

“I… I had a nightmare.”

The lie was said so softly, you almost couldn’t believe you’d said it. You watched his face fall some, scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching for you. Like an obedient lamb, you walked right into his embrace, and more tears spilled over before you could stop them. He shushed you, rubbing your back and soothing you, but you couldn’t be consoled.

The moment to stop Natasha was gone. Who knows how long it would be before Bucky discovered her absence. If Natasha was caught, you did not envy what awaited her, but if she succeeded…you did not envy what awaited the you in the future. You did not envy the version of you that would have to watch Peter be arrested and separated from you forever.

You didn’t envy the version of you that would have to learn to live without him.

You wrapped your arms around him and let Peter pull you into a kiss.

#peter parker x reader #dark peter parker x reader #dark!peter Parker x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker imagine #marvel imagine #peter parker fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 years

Text

Rough Day

A/N: Hardly proofread this because I just wanted to be DONE with it. I'm a bit annoyed that i've kind of adopted a 'same face syndrome' style for my writing.

Synopsis: Your strong, silent husband comes home late after a tough day at work ready to use you as a stress reliever.

TW: implied noncon/dubcon, arranged/forced marriage, Implied deaths + stalking, general fear, yandere-ish themes

Word Count: 2100

You were once preoccupied by a magazine loosely held between your finger tips, lazily glancing at its contents as you laid on your stomach. But the slam of your front door twisted your attention away from its pages-- the sudden boom making you jump. Your grip tightened, eyes watching the doorway. Sharp, familiar footsteps filled the hall accompanied by the rustling of clothes as your husband stormed in. He flung his suit coat to the bed, Oxfords still clicking against the wooden floor of your shared bedroom. His steps were heavier than ususal; something happened.

“How was your day?” You ask, jerking back to stare at the magazine as if it kept you safe from his wrath.

“Fine,” He responded. “It was work.”

You avoided his gaze when he began to take off his tie with unusual aggression. flipping a page in the flimsy book in your hands, an advertisement showed floral perfumes while a blog section detailed lists of expensive items celebrities were using now-a-days. You stared blankly at the page, trying to look as natural as possible on the bed.

Your husband huffed and sighed; you would’ve offered to help him with the tie he seemed so desperate but unable to get off, but your mind told you otherwise. His general aura made you want to curl in a ball under the sheets to avoid it. You always felt he was intimidating --ever since you met him after hearing you were to be married from your parents-- but moments like this were when you were truly nervous.

“Everything go okay with the meeting?”

“Yes. The investors were perfectly--” Your husband tore off his stubborn tie, dramatically throwing it across the floor. “Fine.”

The way his teeth clenched and his body tensed, you knew this wasn’t just his regular cruddy day at work. You guessed it was something to deal with the business meeting he had been planning for weeks.

Not much could get him worked up, but you knew this meeting was something that drastically affected his behavior depending on how it turned out.

You didn’t respond as he finished getting undressed, flipping the magazine page once more, and again pretending to read. You knew it was only a matter of time before he looked to you, but you were trying to hold off on that for as long as possible. You realized even if you tried your usual approaches of wiggling out of his affection, he was too wound up to not pounce on you like a raging animal in heat.

So you bid your time, silently pretending to read and hoping he’d get in the shower before trying to tackle you so you could play the ‘fallen asleep’ card. Goodness knows you don’t have enough energy to take him.

But as you heard his buttons come undone one by one, and his hands began to draw nearer, you knew your time was up. You didn’t say a word as he grabbed you by the hips to pull you close, snatching the magazine from your hands to toss it on the floor.

You would’ve protested, if this was your first time dealing with him. But you knew that never played in your favor. All you could hope for was that he’d be gentler this time; less rough, perhaps with a little bit of thought and rationality in the way he manhandled you.

“How was your day,” He asked, though you could tell he wasn’t really interested.

“Well… uneventful I guess.” You yelped once he laid you across his body, resting up against the pillows as your head laid against his chest. “I tried to clean…a little…” You found it hard to speak once his mouth was against your ear. The gruff sighs and clearings of his throat never failed to cause shivers to run down your spine. It even tickled your neck, the air from his nostrils hitting the back of your ear.

He hummed in response to your answer, sounding disinterested but as if he was listening.

You regretted having changed into your pajamas already. He slid your clothes around with ease, the loose fabric letting him do as he craved to your body.

The male was already latching onto you, a hand across your chest holding your shoulder, while the other was securely gripping your thigh, groping the flesh as his heartbeat slowed.

You could hear his breath gently hitch as you let out an anxious squeak.

“So uh… what did the investors think?”

You tried to make conversation, to not stumble over your words as your husband softly ran his lips down your neck, nuzzling into your shoulder with a hardness you knew was from how pent up he was.

‘They were reasonably upset,” he unfastened the top two buttons of your shirt with a swift motion. “But right now it doesn’t matter what they think.”

He effectively ended the conversation with that line, making you purse your lips together as you tried to ignore the ticklish circles he rubbed into your flesh. From behind, he had full access to you, unable to let go of your warmth. Or rather, unwilling.

The sound of his lips pressing against your skin filled the quiet bedroom, the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen faintly in the background. Your husband wanted to squish and feel you, to squeeze the soft parts of your body and squeeze them like a stress ball. There was also an, admittedly, large part of him that wanted to violently make love to let out all of his aggression instead.

It was hard for him to hold back when you made such cute little sounds, reacting to even the smallest things. It boosted his pride more than it reasonably should’ve, especially since he knew how unwilling you were in this marriage.

He snaked an arm up your loose night shirt, grabbing at your stomach and preparing to palm your chest with fervor.

“Shouldn’t you eat dinner first?” You asked wearily, already dreading the bruises and love bites you knew you’d find on yourself in the morning.

“I’m not hungry for food right now.” He whispered.

Biting at your ear, he massaged bruises into your thigh with his thumb.

You knew he probably meant that he didn’t have an appetite, but his phrasing couldn’t help but make you grow hot and squirmy.

“Don’t say it like that,” You groaned as his hand lifted under your shirt, running his ticklish fingernails up the dip of your chest. “And don’t touch me there!”

“I’m your husband, I can touch you where I want.” He mumbled into your neck, using an arm to hold your jaw. He pulled your face towards his with an uncharacteristic amount of desire.

Your husband's lips touched yours with a pressure that convinced you would crush your mouth.

He yearned for the touch of you, to want to squeeze so hard that you’d have a constant physical and mental reminder even when he left for work. It didn’t help that he was so closed off, focusing much more of his time on work these days to where he’d be touch starved by the time he got home. He’d still be as stoic and stern as ever, but with the added flavor of barking orders at you to sit on his lap and feed him.

“You’re allowed to touch me, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” You say, if only to have him stop talking about it out of your embarrassment. He was never one for extreme methods of affection until it came to these stress phases, which is why you couldn’t wrap your head around how physical he had become despite his distant personality.

But tonight he was warm and intense, enveloping you with his body to prevent your always perfectly timed escape. You couldn’t help but notice how his hips rocked to slide against you, the male lazily grinding upwards as you laid spread like a star fish for him. He forced your thighs open to become available for fondling and led your hands to a comfortable position. He guided you every step of the way, hardly giving you free will as he touched without hesitation. You didn’t dare move away, slightly enjoying the attention, but also feeling a strange sense of nausea as he got rougher with each grind against your backside and every tug at your hips.

He was getting impatient with just this. He wanted more.

Your husband removed the stronghold on your leg to play with the elastic hem of your PJ shorts, tugging at it so that it let out a small ‘slap’ against your skin once released from his fingers.

You would've caressed him back, would've kissed him with genuine desire and held him If he was truly befitting of the title "husband." But you knew the monster this man was. Married couples were supposed to cuddle and embrace, and lie with one another. But that was for spouses who were together willingly. That was if they felt some semblance of love and care. But your marriage was full of lies and threats, with death and forced servitude. You were civil with your husband, you looked the other way when you heard of a distant acquaintance who got too close dying, or finding a shiny black car following you down the street.

You could ignore his damage to your loved ones and his constant need of possession over you, but you couldn't seem to love him the way a spouse should. You could endure it, much like other things. But when it came to moments like this, you could only dread his powerful hands and the more than bruised body he'd leave you with in the morning.

“A-are you sure you want to do this now? You have work in the morning, and it’s already ten-”

“I’m sure.”

Your husband exhaled against your ear with relaxation, not acknowledging your hesitation. He was so close to you, your body nearly melting into his as his body heat mixed with your clean scent; the day's sweat still clung to him from when he rushed from meetings into cabs. He could smell the shampoo in your hair, the lotion you applied to your hands before lying down. The businessman couldn't help but lean into your neck and take a deep whiff, the smell helping him find comfort despite how much he desired to release his pent frustration.

“Just stay still for me…” He mumbled, pulling your shirt to the side to make room for his mouth. He bit down on your skin, refusing ro hold back as he dug his teeth deep into your flesh. You knew if he could, hed bite your flesh hard enough to tear; hed be able to consume a piece of you, and mark you deep enough for it to last forever. But though your husband was ruthless, he wasn't entirely a savage. So he settled for using your body to rub up against and squish, his teeth dragging along your soft skin with a longing desire in his eyes.

You could see behind the tired look and superiority complex, his lust sat waiting. It lurked in shadows during the day for when he could finally lay his paws on you-- his perfect spouse. And now, at night and alone with you, he wasn't planning on being gentle with his hunger.

Your husband's striking hands were brought to your flesh greedily once more, over his sudden sentimental mood and interested in one thing: relieving himself without a forethought.

One for being used to this fate, you didn't show reaction when he twisted you around, forcing you beneath him in a flurry of loose unbuttoned clothes and kisses. It didn't phase you when his pants fell partly down from his earlier undressing. As he planted rough kisses up your legs you didn't dare to speak or flinch-- didn't move as his white button up nearly slipped off, the bottom button having not yet been released.

You could tell with the way your spouses hands dragged you, gripping and pinching as they pulled you beneath him. He seemed so… needy. You'd never say that outloud, but it was true.

He pressed his lips down hard onto your skin and trailed up your abdomen. They were kisses that pinched your skin between his lips as restless fingers tugged at your nightwear.

Even if you wanted to fight back, your husband moved so fast it wouldn’t have mattered. You were practically a ragdoll in his hands, a stress ball that could hardly comprehend his lust.

And so, you let him ravage you. He released his heavy desires upon your body, forgetting the mess he’d make of you ‘til the morning.

5K notes · View notes

crybabychim · 6 months

Text

an early gift from me to you for taehyung's bday. inspired by this. can be read as a one-shot. to have the full story, read both parts.

taehyung's version co-written with @cerisekoo go read her jungkook's version.

☆ pairing: taehyung x fem!reader x jungkook

★ word count: 5.4k

☆ warnings: smut, non-con, kidnapping, implied stockholm syndrome, mention of physical violence.

You hate the cold and you hate winter. Especially when the weather goes into a frenzy like that; violent winds that make it difficult to walk through and snow covering the sidewalk that inevitably turns into slush.

You’re going back to your dorm after your last class of the day, now being 7 p.m. and the sun has been set for a few hours. You have to walk a couple of meters to reach your dorm and you thank yourself for thinking about bringing mittens because the tip of your fingers are already starting to get numb.

Finally getting to the sidewalk leading to your residence building, you notice a car parked near the curb. It’s on, the lights illuminating the street, meaning the person is still inside the vehicle, possibly waiting for someone. You don’t pay too much mind to it, passing by the car to get to your dorm.

But the sound of the engine stopping alerts you, though you don’t halt your walk, your heart accelerating a little.

When you hear the distant sound of footsteps hitting the sidewalk covered in thick sleet, you involuntarily speed up your steps, trying to remain somewhat calm. For some reason, you can’t help but get a slight negative feeling at the suspicious person behind you, thinking they might be following you towards the entrance of your dorm.

You’re soon reaching the stairs, but before you can even register what’s happening, you’re suddenly being pulled back by your bicep. You gasp out of surprise, your heart now beating fast in your chest, hearing it pounding painfully in your skull.

The person grunts when you try to escape from their bruising grip, but they’re too strong for you to do anything to defend yourself. You’re about to scream at the top of your lungs, hoping for someone in your building to hear you and maybe push your aggressor off of you, but as his face comes into view, you shut up immediately.

You don’t recognize him at all, but his features are distracting you from what is going on, giving him the advantage to cover your mouth with his palm. He turns you back around and slips his free arm over your waist, forcing you to walk to the same car you saw a few seconds prior.

You reach the vehicle in a few steps and a couple of tears run down your face as you feel totally helpless, the small translucent pearls piling at the base of his fingers. You squirm against his firm chest, attempting to hit him in the stomach with your elbows, but they’re too short to touch him.

He groans out of frustration, yanking your backpack away from you and letting it fall on the snowy ground. He opens the back door and grips your hair, lowering your head so he can push you in, your torso hitting the leather seats first.

He immediately joins you in the backseat after having thrown your backpack inside, crawling on top of you, his knees on each side of your body. He pulls something out of his pocket hurriedly as you kick your legs and scream for help when you notice him ripping a piece of the tape he just took out. He takes a hold of your hair once again, nails digging into your scalp, and muffles down your cries with the grey duct tape.

After that, he brings both of your hands behind your back, taping them together with the same adhesive he used for your mouth. You can hear the thumping of your heart in your rib cage and the tired sobs you let out, sensing something hard poking against your ass, eyes widening as you can only imagine it being his bulge.

He puts his two feet on the ground and you eagerly try to move your head so you can see what he’s doing. He’s wrapping the grey tape over your ankles covered by your black tights.

You can’t process what’s happening to you, not believing that this is reality, trying to convince yourself you’re just having an awful nightmare. The position he has you in is uncomfortable, throat hurting from all your screams and calls for help.

He gets back in, but this time he shuts the door behind him. He has you totally fragile and defenceless underneath him. You can’t do anything when a burning desire spurs him on to reach under your skirt and tug down on your tights and panties. It seems like he doesn’t want to waste any time, easily sliding your clothes down your legs, leaving them bare nude under his perverted gaze.

You cry and squirm avidly, shaking your head from side to side when you hear the sound of his fly being dragged down, pertinently knowing what he’s about to do to you.

You feel the head of his cock pushing at your entrance not long after. You let out a muffled moan of pain, the burning sensation between your legs hurting a lot. He only grunts, sinking his member deeper into your pussy, dismissing your loud cries.

He picks up your hips, bringing your ass flushed against his hairy pelvis.

“I knew it’d be a tight fit, but fuck,” he groans out, your tightness refraining him from going feral on your poor body, but it’s clearly not what is going to stop him from finally getting what he wants. “How tiny are you?”

He plants a foot on the ground of the car, his other leg bent at the knee beside you.

You almost yell — if it wasn’t for the piece of duct tape on your mouth — when he first snaps his hips against your butt, reaching really deep inside of you. He can’t control himself as he drives his cock in you back and forth right away, his movements impatient and uncoordinated.

You bawl your eyes out, tears rolling over your cheeks and down to the grey tape covering your lips, making it less sticky. The side of your face is pressed down on the car seat, having no use of your arms since they are tied up behind your back.

He grabs your asscheeks from under your skirt, digging his short nails into your flesh, moaning out at the sight of your pussy swallowing his engorged cock, stretching your cunt impossibly wide. His erection is so big compared to you, it’s amazing how you manage to take him anyway, as if you were made for this, made to please him.

The skin of his thighs slap against yours, the lewd and vulgar sounds of him taking advantage of you echoing in the car. He loves how your hole gets so wet for him, welcoming him in despite his large size.

Your cries drive him insane, motivating him to go harder and harder, chasing his high like a mad man. The head of his cock keeps rubbing over your g-spot, almost impossible for him to not hit it. You shake under him and begin to cry louder, your walls clenching around him tightly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses out under his breath, feeling his balls tightening. “Gonna make you cum and fill you full of me,” he promises and you know he’s going to stick to his words.

You don’t want him to make you feel pleasure, and even though the stretch of your pussy is immensely painful — his cock the biggest you’ve ever taken — you feel your orgasm building up at the pit of your stomach.

He drills his hard cock into you and it’s all it takes for your high to hit you, legs trembling.

He finally steadies his hips over your butt in a loud thud, his skin smacking your own. “Ah! Shit,” he grits his teeth, the spasms of your pussy around his girth sending him over the edge.

He keeps an arm around your waist to hold you up against him while his other hand comes to lay just beside your head on the leather seat. His cock spurts out thick ropes of cum in you, thrusting two and three times to get everything out, and there’s so much that you feel your tummy blown out.

You whimper under him, your hole still clenching around him avidly, recovering from your intense orgasm. He sighs above you, panting loudly as he stays inside of you, looking down at where your two bodies connect.

He slips out just a little, just enough for him to see the white ring around the base of his shaft and his cum threatening to escape your warmth.

“Mmh, fuck. So cute,” he says, his voice sounding almost desperate, so needy.

The car smells so much like sex it makes your head spin, the energy slowly leaving your body. You’re tired from everything, from all the crying and the horrible position he has you in; panties and tights pooling at your ankles, back arched for your ass to meet his crotch.

“You’re a little creamer, baby,” he coos, as if what he said is anything sweet. It seems like the messier it is, the more aroused he is. “Got my cock all slicked up in your cum.”

You moan out when he thrusts back in, and you restart to cry. He’s still fully hard and so he doesn’t want to waste any time, fucking his cock into your pussy again. He goes rough on you and you think he doesn’t really realize how his eagerness turns him almost violent.

He leans his chest down over your back, pounding his cock into your poor, soppy pussy, loud squelching noises coming from it each time he slides in and out.

“God, you’re so tight, I can't get enough…” He growls in your ear, his fleshy lips touching the shell of your ear. You can feel his growing facial hair stinging your skin, unconsciously clenching around his thick cock at the thought of his face, or at least at what you remember of it. “Pussy’s too good.”

Your cunt is so sensitive, already swollen, and him sliding his dick into you is so painful, your glossy eyes making you look so pathetic and fragile.

He overstimulates himself as well, being too deep into ecstasy to stop his hip thrusts. You can hear him hissing at the pain he inflicts on himself, forcing another orgasm from the both of you.

He cums a second time, and you do too just seconds after, cunt repeatedly closing around him. This orgasm feels more intense than the precedent, and it feels good, too shamefully amazing.

He ejaculates in you and there is less cum than the first time, but still enough to dribble out of your pussy, running down your inner thighs and staining his leather seats underneath you. He is very vocal, letting out many grunts and sucking air through his teeth while he keeps pounding into you.

His lips remain close to your face, murmuring vulgar things into your ear and mouthing on your jaw, descending to your neck, going back up to your damp cheeks. He even traces the shape of your lips above the shiny grey duct tape, kissing you everywhere he can, leaving wet trails behind.

He makes you orgasm for a third time, stimulating your puffy and aching clit till your high shoots through you. He does too later on, filling your pussy up to the brim. When he slips out, he can see how messy you are now, how he totally ruined your adorable princess parts.

He passes his middle finger through your dewy folds, loving the sight of you covered in his cum, acknowledging how his entire cock is smeared in your cream, too.

You sniffle as you hear him stuffing himself back up in his pants, zipping his fly up. You lay there uselessly, too tired to think about anything specific or attempt to fight for your escape again. That’d be foolish.

He pulls back up your black tights and panties, not caring that your underwear is going to be all soiled in both of your releases. “All better now,” he sings when your legs are hidden again.

He then steps out of the car and you take the opportunity to turn on your back with a lot of effort.

You perceive his silhouette getting around the vehicle through the window, getting in the driver seat. He starts the engine and you think only about the worse. You’re done for, this is your last few moments of life. This man is probably about to drive you to a deserted area and kill you.

As he drives away from the dorm building, you make eye contact with him through the rear mirror and your heart skips a beat when you see his face again.

Why would a handsome stranger like him ever do that to you?

His eyes are captivating, dark orbs looking at you like he knows this is just the beginning.

You don’t know why he chose you, why it had to happen to you, and you feel like you’ll never know the reason why.

He breaks eye contact and reports his attention to the road, driving you to an unknown location.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

After a twenty minute car ride of pure silence, the vehicle abruptly stops. You watch as he turns off the car, taking the key from the ignition. You can only fear what he is about to do with you.

He steps out of the car and you hear him pulling on the handle to open the door above your head. You feel the cold breeze hitting your skin, an uncomfortable shiver running up your spine. You don’t have time to see his face again nor the place where he parked the car before he covers your eyes with a piece of cloth, tying it behind your head.

You try to speak when you feel him picking you up, but of course your words are inaudible because of the tape muffling your voice.

The most you can do is thrash your tied legs around, which is completely useless at this point. However, you do earn a disapproving groan from him when you kick a little too hard into his abdomen.

“Stop it.”

You freeze at the sound of his voice, his husky tone making goosebumps appear on your skin. What freaks you out, though, is the mention of your name after his warning.

He knows you. It could have never been somebody else, he picked you because he had the intention to do so.

You imagine him carrying you in bridal style, feeling one arm under your knees and the other around your waist. It feels weird to be so close to him in a non-sexual way, sensing the warmth of his hands and the thickness of his winter coat against your side. You have no idea who he is, yet you can hear and feel the pace of his breath.

You guess he’s walking up stairs, then the jingling of keys and a door opening is being heard, a front of warm air hitting your freezing body. You figure that you’re in some sort of house or apartment. Or whatever place he’s decided to take you to.

You can clearly decipher the sound of his boots walking on a wooden floor, slightly creaking with each heavy step he takes, making the situation even more stressful than it is.

You’re tossed onto a mattress, your body bouncing as it hits the soft surface. The piece of cloth covering your eyes is being pulled off, your eyes attempting to adjust to your surroundings.

“There you go,” he softly murmurs.

A crease appears between your brows as you have a clear view of his face, as beautiful as you remember him to be.

His jaw is perfectly sculpted, giving him a manly look with dark and straight eyebrows that sharpen his expression. You recall feeling the growing hair on his upper lip and chin on your neck back in the car, certainly unshaved for a few days. His hair is a deep brown colour, disheveled and messy, strands going in every direction, but he still looks incredibly… attractive.

He grins at the way you’re ogling at him, the corner of his plump, heart-shaped lips lifting up, knowing you didn’t expect him to look like this. He’ll take that as a compliment.

You’re too entranced by his looks to notice him grabbing your ankles, slowly peeling the tape from your trapped legs. Your heart is beating faster, anticipating what he’s going to do. He’s freeing you, but you believe it’s only to do something else to you that you surely won’t enjoy.

Oh, that’s such a lie, you tell yourself, remembering the three orgasms he got from you effortlessly.

“We’re gonna get you rid of that, hm?” He proposes — talking about your two hands tied together — even though he’s still going to execute himself anyway. It’s not like you can give him consent, especially when your mouth is still taped.

He unwraps it easily, helping you remove your boots and coat after once it’s gone. He sneaks his hands under your skirt and his fingers touching your hips makes you jump. You grab his wrists and he pauses for a moment, staring at your hands that are much smaller than his. It’s the first time you’ve deliberately touched him.

But he rapidly recollects his thoughts, pulling your panties down your legs. He isn’t so careful while he undresses you, even more tears falling down from your reddened eyes. Your attempts to fight him are all useless, and you feel very defenceless against him, like you’re just wasting your breath.

“I thought I told you to stop?”

His voice reaches your ears, swallowing hard when he discards your black tights and your pair of underwear away on the floor. You form fists with your hands, closing your legs tightly so he can’t touch your private parts.

He tries to pull your thighs apart, but you shake your head from side to side, desperately showing your disagreement.

He catches on to it to your relief. “What’s wrong, pretty? Got something to tell me?” You then nod your head, glossy, red eyes looking at him through wet eyelashes. “Okay, okay…”

You wince when he rips the thick duct tape from your mouth, your upper lip stinging from the fast removal.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes kindly, extending his arm up toward your face to rub your numb lips gently. They’re slightly covered by your saliva, but he doesn’t seem to mind, passing his large digit over your flesh. “Better, now?”

You sniff and bounce your head as a yes. His change of behaviour surprises you, but somehow you believe he really does care about you. Not in a particularly normal way, though.

You feel like you have to listen to him, be obedient because you don’t know what to expect of him and also because you clearly have no other choice. Your hopes of getting away are gone, and even if you do find the strength to fight again, you don’t know if it’s worth it. It’s like he already possesses a part of you that you’ll never get back.

“Can you not… touch me there? I- I’m really hurting, and I…” You babble out shamefully, looking down at your feet to avoid his serious gaze fixated on you.

“Are you really now? Poor girl,” he empathizes, faking a pout, or maybe he actually pities your condition.

He reaches for your thigh and separates it from the other. You let him manhandle you, biting down on your lip to hold back your tears that are threatening to fall once again.

He looks at your pussy and passes his thumb through your lips gently. He’s crouched down in front of you so he can see how your hole indeed is still stretched to the size of his cock.

“Shit, you really are swollen,” he says almost pitifully as if he isn’t the reason for your pain. You’re embarrassed at the fact that he’s openly inspecting your bruised pussy, his index finger running between your puffy lips. He occasionally rubs your gaping hole, your legs twitching from the sensitivity.

“Yes, please,” you beg, having a little hope that he’ll spare you.

He hums pensively, still having his eyes on your cunt, a sentiment of satisfaction passing through him when he sees some of his remains leaking from you. “I have an idea,” he states, standing up.

Your eyes widen a bit at his words, not knowing if his idea will benefit your tired state or not.

You then watch him undressing in front of you and you gulp, guessing what his idea might be. As he passes his t-shirt over his head, he looks at you, frowning his brows. “You need to take off your shirt, too. Plus, it’s all wrinkled.”

Not again, you think to yourself. The thought of enduring another sexual act with him makes you want to sob. You stop giving him the benefit of the doubt that he’d be somewhat normal with you, it’s useless.

“Why…?” You question, your voice shaky and on the verge of tears.

He doesn’t seem to like that, but he keeps his composure nonetheless. “Why what? Come on, I'll help you, then.” He wastes no time in swatting your hands away to lift up your shirt at the hem, ultimately getting you naked for him.

He steps out of his pants, shrugging them away on the floor, joining his winter coat and boots. Only in his boxers, his bulge looks huge, and you know pertinently that it is. How he can still be hard and horny, you don’t want to know.

He slips out of his underwear pretty soon after and you feel anxious. Maybe it’s excitement, but you can’t really describe how you’re feeling with proper words. It’s so… abnormal. Nothing you’ve experienced before.

He backs up a little, keeping eye contact with you while he strokes his cock to be fully hard. “Lay back down on the bed,” he orders and you do so, pushing yourself to the center of the mattress to lie on your back, totally naked, hair sprawled on his grey sheets.

He bites down on his plump lip as he watches you get in this new position. Under the dim light of the room, his honey skin looks flawless, collarbones really defined and hollowed. His biceps are big and you know it’s why it was so easy for him to carry you from the car to the interior of this place.

His legs are really long and you remember him towering over you from a head at least. His shoulders are broad and his chest isn’t too big, but still outlined. His abs are faint, though they are visible nonetheless, telling you that he has a strong core.

Your stomach churns in a mix of anticipation and stress, wondering what he has in mind.

When he joins you on the bed, his knees dipping into the soft mattress, your hands become sweaty and you gulp down, nervosity settling in your body. You could try to fight him, or at least escape his grip, but you don’t.

He straddles your body, going up to your chest, his cock only centimetres away from your face. You then realize what he wants to do, and you doubt he’ll do it gently. He has no reason to be.

“I wonder what your mouth can do…” He says rather to himself than to you, his right hand holding his cock at the base and the left going to grip the back of your head. “If it’s as good as that tight cunt. Wanna let me find out, mh, baby?”

He guides the tip of his erection to your mouth and you reluctantly part your swollen lips, opening your mouth just enough for him to fit his bulbous head inside.

“Yeah… Just like that,” he approves, inserting more of himself in your warmth.

He lifts your head up so he can slide inside of you entirely, your sore lips meeting his pubic bone, the sharp hair on his pelvis brushing up against your nose. You look up at him with glossy eyes when he groans out loud at the sensation of his cock nestled all the way in your throat, gritting his teeth and his thick, dark eyebrows knitting together.

He keeps your head in place over his shaft, your throat contracting around him when you gag a little from the deep intrusion.

You tap your hand repetitively against his naked thigh, signaling for him to let you breathe. He doesn’t look like he cares that much, growling at how warm your mouth is. You tap again, only for him to get your palm away with his that was previously holding the base of his cock.

“Shh, I know you can take it, pretty.”

You loudly whine as a protest, hoping it will at least get him to pull out. The saliva drips out of your mouth, leaking down towards his balls and his upper thighs. You sense his cock twitching in your mouth, surely pleased to be weighing down on your wet and warm tongue.

After a few more seconds of his cock lodged in your throat, he quickly pulls out when you gag and shakes your head.

You wheeze, coughing and inhaling heavily in an attempt to catch your breath. He smiles at this, finding your struggle to take him adorable.

“See, wasn’t so bad, don’t you think?”

You don’t dare to make eye contact with him, already feeling the cocky smirk on his lips.

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to turn face to his hard cock when he uses his other hand to guide it back into your mouth. You show some resistance, but it’s useless as he makes his way in, forcing your lips apart by squishing your face between his fingers.

You feel your core heating up despite the situation, clenching your thighs to at least ease the ache between your legs. You take him all, not having any other choice anyway as he forces his length down your mouth, making your eyes sting and your throat burn.

He starts thrusting in back and forth, letting out moans and grunts that show how pleasurable this feels for him. He won’t stop until he’s satisfied.

As he literally fucks your mouth, he throws his head back, sucking air through his teeth, controlling himself to not cum in your right away. His dark hair sticks to his forehead because of the sweat, some strands dangling in front of his piercing eyes, wet at the ends.

He keeps his gaze on you, precisely the way his engorged cock enters your mouth, your lips wrapping around his shaft tightly, all coated in spit and, as unpleasant as it sounds, remains of your earlier intercourse. All you want to do right now is to take a hot shower and scrub the traces of him off of your skin.

But you doubt you’d get everything off as he’ll forever be engraved in your mind.

You place your hands on the top of his thighs, finding it difficult to follow the pace of his hip thrusts, your fingers clenching into fists.

His hand that was holding your jaw is now on its previous spot on the back of your head, gripping your roots and keeping you still. Saliva accumulates at the corners of your mouth and you hate the damp feeling, hate how dirty and soiled you feel. Hate it even more when you know he loves it.

“Ah, fuck,” he chokes out, his hips stuttering and his grip tightening around your hair. Your eyebrows knit together at the hold he has on your head, forcing you to keep his cock in your throat. You know it's going to hurt badly after.

With a twitch of his cock, he releases himself down your throat, the salty taste of his cum hitting your tongue. He slips out of you and some of his cum drips down at the corners of your lips.

“Swallow,” he instructs, wiping off the rest with his thumb, waiting for you to swallow before putting his digit in your mouth so you can lick everything off.

You follow his order, sucking his thumb and swallowing again.

“Good girl,” he praises and pats your cheek.

You recall the eye contact you shared back in the car through the rear mirror, one that meant ‘it’s only the beginning’.

You know now that tonight was just the start. Of what, you are still wondering.

You can’t escape as he has his arms wrapped around your naked body, his soft cock nudging your back, his chin resting on top of your head. You’re not sure if you found any sleep, but you haven’t dreamed. Or maybe you’re already in one, it’s just harder for you to wake up from it.

You waited for the sun to arrive, or secretly wished it would never so you would slowly morph with the mattress and make one.

The alarm setting off pulled him out of slumber and your heart palpitated at the thought of having him off of you, but this euphoric feeling didn’t last long as he left you alone in the room to go somewhere.

The idea of someone else living there, too, hasn’t crossed your mind once until the door of the bedroom opened to reveal a man that didn’t look like the other. He was a long haired brunette with big eyes that could fool you. And he did for a good minute.

That night, you slept between them — you really only closed your eyes. They didn’t give you a choice, nor a reason, but you think it’s in case you try anything. You could have a slight chance against one of them. The both of them, though, you have zero.

You’ve slept with them for a few weeks, then they’ve decided they wanted you alone.

Taehyung, the one you’ve spent your first night with, leaves the apartment around dinner so he can be on time to his classes. He finishes late, and so you don’t see him in the afternoon during the week.

He is very clingy and attached. You suppose it’s because he’s the one who knew you before. You don’t have much information about what happened before the first night. No matter how much you insist, they always refuse to tell you anything.

Since Taehyung doesn’t see you a lot — according to him — you end up in his bed a lot. He always wants to stay inside you even after fucking you because he feels closer to you this way. You never protest, but you miss sleeping alone sometimes. Having him in you leaves you very sore.

Jungkook is more authoritative than Taehyung. Much less clingy, but still at an unhealthy level of obsession for you.

He goes to college during the morning, and so he spends his afternoons with you, taking advantage of the fact that Taehyung isn’t there to have sex with you.

His sex drive is less intense than Taehyung’s — that’s something you doubt anyone would surpass — but when he demands your attention, he has to have it. There’s never any room for argument with him when you become familiar with his personality, especially when he knows he’s the least clingy one.

You eventually got permission to wander outside Taehyung’s or Jungkook’s room, but they made you very aware of the camera hidden at the entrance of the apartment.

You remember when you had an hour or two alone. You had rummaged through every room, every drawer and cabinet to find something, anything.

The surprised expression on your face when they told you they knew you disobeyed their orders made Jungkook laugh. Your face was burning from the shame you felt at that moment.

You didn’t try anything else since he made you regret it bitterly.

You’ve cried for hours in Taehyung’s arms, scared of Jungkook for at least a good week. You were too afraid to be alone in the same room as him and wouldn't dare make eye contact with him, but he didn’t really care.

And so when he pounded you from behind, your ass atrociously hurt, the wounds still fresh on your skin.

It has convinced you to never attempt anything ever again. At least, not in front of the camera.

permanent taglist: @pookie-st @4minholove @boonbyu @salobsarai @menaasstuff @mawwnsterr @hvvmings @bunni-reads-things @bbyorchid @screamertannie

#kth.txt #writing.txt #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut

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hopeastrz · 1 year

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𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒💋💄👠

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭!, 𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 -𝐝𝐮𝐡!-

11𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 from my opinion is a fame indicator, aside from wealth i think it gives you such a grace that makes people fascinated by you. SZA has her venus in 11th house, Thewizardliz has her venus in the 11th house too!, madonna, lady gaga, heath ledger, if you noticed most of them are really loved.

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 are the mothers of their own mother and it’s really heartbreaking sometimes, they are extremely responsible from a young age and they faced an extremely hard childhood, i just really wanna hug them!!.

+ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 might indicate daddy issues.

Money plays a big role for 2𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬 individuals. Even if they don’t care about it and think its superficial, it’s just the main theme of their lives + they are really lucky in money matters too, in my opinion it’s a love—hate relationship between them and money!.

On the other hand 2𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 are such a spoiled baby girls omg!!!. My sister has this placement and she’s always gifted expensive things on daily basis from her colleagues or literally random people, chocolates, jewelry, expensive bags… nope who said im jealous.

I don’t really remember where I’ve read this information, but i can confirm that 2,14, 26 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 are indeed lucky degrees. Even if you have one, your the embodiment of lucky girl syndrome and grace.

Lots of people say that scorpio placements are revengeful and i kinda agree as a scorpio venus girlie, but trust me bro 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 aren’t mentioned enough with us in this topic too, they are so vengeful.. it’s almost scary, frightening. The difference between them and us is that scorpios will hate you and show you they hate you, we don’t sugarcoat shit darling, but the other two? Oh they know how to destroy you kindly.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 know how to use their power and fame, they are going to tarnish what makes you unique and what you like in other people eyes so that they’ll hate it and hate you with it. I’ve seen it with my own eyes oml, one of my friends said that she adored this anime show once, and her nemesis which is a leo moon kept hating on it until everyone literally did the same. They know how to manage their crowds.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 4𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 is really, really exhausting, not only it gives you extreme family issues, you’ll feel that you have no freedom, so maybe during this transit your going to try breaking free from your family house, but unfortunately you might not succeed. I know that some people are thinking about it now, but darlings let me tell you that you’ll have to clear some family roots knots first, before you claim your desire once the transit is over, and some of these knots are: running away from your roots obvi, issues with your mommy, being delusional and living in constant denial about your home!.

#astro observations #astrology #astrology observations #capricorn moon #aesthetic #astro memes #2nd house sun #leo moon #saturn transit #astro notes

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angelsknifeprty · 29 days

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streamer!ellie hcs ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n: this is more focused on ellie and less on ellie x reader but i am for sure gonna follow this up with something else more focused on the both of you >:3

warnings | mentions of weed, the smallest hint towards struggling with eating if you squint

word count: 698

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

‧₊˚౨ৎ started off posting unlisted videos of her playing games with the stupidest, shittiest editing ever for you and her friends to watch and later decided to give streaming a try

‎ ‧₊˚౨ৎ starts off her twitch channel as a faceless streamer but does a face reveal when she hits a big milestone

‧₊˚౨ৎ has the creeper mini fridge for sure!!

‧₊˚౨ৎ has a ginger cat named garfield that she exclusively calls garfunkel on stream because her viewers made fun of her for garfield being too unoriginal

“guys, what do you mean it’s unoriginal, look at him. that’s literally garfield, the real deal. you’re all haters.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ plays a bunch of different games: minecraft obviously, fortnite, roblox (and argues with kids on there, you can’t tell me any different). also loves fnaf, elder scrolls and resident evil

‧₊˚౨ৎ more on her liking resident evil, i think she’s not super wimpy when it comes to games like that but she HATES the regenerators from the re4 remake (i’m totally not projecting…)

“i am NOT a wimp, but look at their freaky fucking arms!! and they have gross little butts too, that was not a necessary choice for the character design.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she does find it funny when she kills them and they jiggle as they fall on the ground though

‧₊˚౨ৎ i’m throwing it in here that she smokes weed because i simply cannot help myself teehee :P

‧₊˚౨ৎ she does more chill streams of her eating n stuff as a way of comforting her viewers so they can eat along with her )):

‧₊˚౨ৎ and in turn chat always spams her with comments to drink water because that girl survives purely on energy drinks to combat her sleepy girl syndrome

‧₊˚౨ৎ abuses the soundboard so heavily, loves using a sound effect of an audience clapping and cheering when she tells the most painfully unfunny joke

‧₊˚౨ৎ she is ABSOLUTELY a jerma985 fan

‧₊˚౨ৎ loves putting her fans on blast and reacting to edits of her on stream and finds it so funny (especially the ones that have the reverb fart noise just randomly slapped in there, she thinks it’s peak humour)

“you guys think i don’t see this stuff? i have eyes everywhere. y’know what though, you guys are actually really talented.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ wears stupid t-shirts that say stuff like “i paused my game to be here” (omg i just found one that says “gamers make better lovers, they know all the right buttons” she would absolutely wear that)

‧₊˚౨ৎ she wears her silly t-shirts with pride and has the audacity to ask chat to rate how hard her fit goes

therealher0brine: BOOOOOO 🍅🍅🍅 0/10

elliebellie69: i beg that you don’t leave the house in that /lh (╥﹏╥)

gnarpgnarp500: never beating the loser lesbian allegations i fear…

“guys you’re just not seeing the vision, sorry that you’re not this cool.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ oh my gosh she is OBSESSED with the little ikea alien, she has multiple of them in her room. she keeps one on her desk and when she sometimes doesn’t know what to say she’ll just hold it up super close to the camera and make incoherent high pitched babbling sounds

smelliams420: omg cancelled you can’t say that dude…

‧₊˚౨ৎ gets her viewers to send in clips and she’ll do high try not to laugh streams and fails miserably because she has the dumbest sense of humour ever. she’ll blame it entirely on the herb though as if her reaction wouldn’t be near enough the same when she’s sober

‧₊˚౨ৎ will occasionally play guitar on stream and she’ll sing too if you catch her in the right mood. she’s a bit awkward about it so it doesn’t happen often cuz she hates messing up and always makes a way bigger deal about it than necessary

“fuck- no wait, i was just messing with you. that fuck up was on purpose, shut up,” and her cheeks are flushed bright red as she tries to brush it off and compose herself before trying again

‧₊˚౨ৎ loves to get sidetracked and info dumps about stuff she is far too knowledgeable on

‧₊˚౨ৎ in conclusion, loser ellie supremacy

a/n: raghhh i love streamer els with my whole heart !!! i’m gonna eat her (˶˃⤙˂˶) anyways i hope you enjoyed, k bye mwah! >3< ♡

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #streamer!ellie #streamer au #modern au #modern!ellie

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cereovo · 10 months

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A set of very conceptual notes I drafted a while back for someone asking for advice on learning to draw humans. I'm entirely self-taught so this is less of a tutorial and more of a very rambling set of general principles I follow and ideas that helped while I was learning. I figured I'd post it in case anyone else could get use out of it!

I also recommend checking out:

Drawing East Asian Faces by Chuwenjie

How to Think When you Draw (lots of good tutorials in this series)

Pose reference sites such as Adorkastock

Transcript and some elaboration under the cut:

Img 1 - Drawing a face

The two most important elements (at least for me) when drawing a face are the outline of the cheek/jaw and the nose*. I often start with a circle to indicate the round part of the skull, then add a straight like and a 'V' to one side [to create the side of the face and the jaw]. The nose creates an easy template for the rest of the face's features to follow (eyebrows at the top of the nose bridge, eyes towards the center of the bridge, ear lines up to eye) and the placement/direction and overlap with other features is a very simple way to indicate dimension. [A sketch of a face that has been adjusted by moving its parts to create 3 different angles. The following text is underneath:] -Different 3/4th views can be created just by adjusting the position of and amount of overlap between the facial features. - The top of the ear usually lines up with the corner of the eye. Think of how glasses are designed [specifically, how the arms run from the eyeline to the ear] [I go on a tangent in these next few paragraphs] *One thing I see many artists do - not just beginners - is learn how to draw A Person. As in, one singular person with one set of bodily proportions and one set of facial features. It's an issue that runs a bit deeper than 'same face syndrome' because sometimes these artists can draw more than one face, they're just not very representative of [the diversity present across] real people. Part of the reason I'm talking more about how to think about approaches to drawing - rather than showing specific how-to's - is because there is no one correct or right way to draw a person. The sooner you allow yourself to explore variety - fat people, old people, people of color, people with [conventionally] 'unattractive' features - the easier it'll be! Artists often draw their own features honestly and without [harmful] caricature, so it's always a good idea to look at art made by the kinds of people you're trying to draw if you're ever unsure about how to handle something. In general, it's far more important to learn how to interpret a variety of forms than to learn how to replicate the Platonic Ideal of the Human Body.

Img 2 - Stuff that helped me

Jumping into drawing humans (faces or otherwise) straight from photo reference can be overwhelming. The trick is to simplify forms into shapes - but even this concept is sort of abstract and it may be hard to know where to begin. Good news - Thousands of other artists have already figured it out. [When starting out] I needed to learn from photo reference AND artists I admired in order to improve. [When looking at stylization you are inspired by] ask yourself: WHY does this simplification work? How can I translate it into a different pose? Instead of copying what you see in a photo reference exactly, try to focus on the general forms first. My two biggest style inspirations for humans while learning to draw them were Steven Universe and Sabrina Cotugno's art. SU gets a lot of hate [in this instance I was specifically referring to a time on tumblr when the art was knocked for 'losing quality'] but its style does a great job of simplifying anatomy in a way that still portrays a diversity of bodies + features. [Extremely simplified drawings of Lapis, Steven, and Amethyst] SU characters are still identifiable- and still read as 'human' - even when reduced to just a few lines!

Img 3 - Things I keep in mind while drawing side profiles

- Eyebrows + eyes close to the 'edge' of the face - Forehead needs enough room for a brain - Eye is > shaped from the sides - Mouth kinda halfway [between the nose and the chin] but closer to the nose - Skin/fat exists under the jaw [and connects to the neck] - neck is about one half the width of the whole head - the back of the skull always sticks out a bit further than you might expect - Sometimes less is more - contours exist on every face, but drawing them in may make your character seem much older than they're supposed to be. However, it's a good idea to use them when you *want* your character to look old! These are very general notes- every face is different and has different proportions [and playing around with them creates unique and interesting character designs]

#2023 #may 2023 #i realized this is pretty nonsensical while transcribing it LOL #feel free to send asks if anything is unclear #but again im not any sort of professional

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

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𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 | dark!eddie munson x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | you always believed that Eddie would return... that he would escape, somehow, from the Upside Down and hold you again, tell you that he would never leave without his girl. well, something came back, that's for sure.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 6.8k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | smut (dubcon/noncon, really it's more like... noncon turned con?), extreme gore/violence, blood, vomiting (emetophobia tw), minor character death, vampire shenanigans, dark-ish eddie but it's complicated?, kinda stockholm syndrome-y, the most fucked up take on a "fix it fic" because it's me we're talking about here

this is a dark fic, do not hit 'keep reading' if any of the warnings would be triggering for you and/or if you are not 18 or older, thank you

You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times you’d pictured this: him, here; Eddie, on your doorstep, alive. It hadn’t even been two days and you couldn’t count how many times you’d pictured this.

��Oh my god,” you gasped, “tell me— tell me I’m not dreaming, Eddie—”

“I’m here,” he breathed, like he’d run all the way to your door— maybe he did. “I’m here, baby—”

You cut him off as you jumped on him, sobbing as you wrapped him up in a hug. You didn’t believe it when Dustin told you that Eddie didn’t make it out, and they all thought you were just in denial because you loved him so much. But you knew… he wasn’t gone. You would’ve felt it, the moment he left. You knew he was alive, and you held him so tightly, making sure it was real and not just some delusion of yours. But he felt real, he felt soft and hard in all the right places, his shoulders were strong and broad as you rested your weight on them— he even smelled the same if, maybe, not quite as good… running around in hell for a few days will do that to you.

There was one thing different that you noticed right away, though. He wasn’t warm.

“You must be so— oh god, come on,” you stammered, letting him out of the embrace to drag him inside. “You must be freezing— and so tired— have you slept?”

He shook his head. He still seemed a little dazed, and you guided him to your kitchen, pulling out a chair for him to sit in. He collapsed into it, leaning on the table slightly. His clothes were stained with blood, and you couldn’t decide where to start— should you go for a blanket first, or your first aid kit, or just a glass of water— or would he let you start cleaning his face a bit? Maybe you could run him a bath?

“Sweetie,” you whispered as you knelt down before him, holding his face in your hands. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy; he still had blood on the corners of his mouth. “I can’t believe you’re— you’re here.”

He turned his face as your fingers brushed over his cheeks, and started staring at one of your hands closely. Slowly, he reached up to it, holding it as he leaned in and pressed his lips against your wrist softly. You melted inside, and watched him take a deep breath against your skin.

“I-I’m gonna get you a blanket,” you decided, feeling how icy his grip was on your hand. You stood up, but he held on too tightly for you to get away. “Lemme go, Ed, I’ll be right back, okay? I swear— just let me get you the blanket, and then some water.”

He relented, releasing your wrist and watching you cross the room, ducking into the hallway to grab the thick wool blanket you kept there.

“Here you go,” you smiled as you ran up to him again, draping it around him as he stared up at you. You took the opportunity to give him another tight hug, but jumped back when you heard him hiss. “Oh, god— am I hurting you? Fuck, of course I am, you’re still injured— I’m sorry, let me give you some bandages, okay? I don’t want anything getting infected…”

You trailed off as you spun around helplessly, trying to remember which cabinet had the antiseptic— eventually, you got down on your knees and found it on your second try. There were bandages and gauze nearby, and you snagged those along with a rag to clean up the extra blood and some hydrogen peroxide while you were at it.

His eyes followed your hands as you set everything on the kitchen table, kneeling in front of him again and wetting the rag with some antiseptic to start. “Okay, I’m just gonna… lift your shirt. Really carefully, and you let me know if anything hurts, okay?”

He didn’t actually respond, or even nod, but you went ahead and gently peeled up the bottom of the shirt— the dried blood stuck to his skin, and you winced in fear that you’d made it worse. But, when you glanced up at his face, it didn’t show any signs of pain… his stare was blank, and focused in on you.

You managed to get the shirt up, seeing more dried blood all over his torso. “Oh, Ed, they really ate you alive, huh?” you whispered under your breath. “This might sting a little… but it’ll hurt a lot less than these did.”

You swiped the rag over his skin, watching the stains of blood eventually start washing away. You kept wiping and wiping, cleaning more and more, waiting to find the bites and open wounds that all of this must have come from…

Looking up at him, you tried not to show on your face that anything was wrong. His face was still mostly expressionless; you shivered.

“Eddie…” you breathed, cleaning his entire stomach until there was nothing left to do but sit back and look at it— look at the impossible. “Eddie, there’s no… there aren’t any…”

His torso was clean, all the blood washed away and only skin left— no wounds, no bites, not even a scratch. Just the tattoos you remembered, the trail of hair leading to his belt buckle, that little scar he’d had as long as you knew him. But no signs he’d ever been attacked at all.

As much as you never even thought to question Dustin, you wrinkled your brows together and looked up at Eddie quizzically. When Dustin told you Eddie was dead, you knew he was wrong, but you didn’t think he was lying. Dustin never would’ve left Eddie behind if he thought there was a chance to save him… right? But you were forced to wonder how it was possible that Eddie was here, covered in blood and very much alive, if Dustin swore he’d died in another dimension. “Did… did they…?” you began to ask gently. “Did they leave you? Did they try to hurt you— did something happen?”

Eddie shook his head.

“Then… what did happen? Did the bats attack you?”

He looked confused now, too. He thought about it for a long time. “Yeah… yeah, they bit me. A lot. And I was bleeding.”

Okay, so it was his blood he was covered in. But where did it come from?

“And I passed out. I thought I was dying.”

“But you woke up?” you assumed.

He nodded. “Yeah— they were gone, and I… I felt really sick, but I was awake. And I tried to remember where the gate was… and I found it, and then I found you.”

Well, that made a certain amount of sense, but not quite enough. “L-let me get you some water,” you offered, standing up quickly. As you turned away, he grabbed you at the wrist again.

“No,” he blurted out, and you sighed with heartache as you moved close to him again.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you whispered. “What do you need?”

“Hungry,” he finally said, “I’m hungry.”

You smiled, because you knew how to fix that. “Okay— I’m gonna get you something to eat, alright?”

You opened the fridge and examined the contents under the yellow lightbulb’s shine.

“I’ve got fettuccine alfredo,” you listed, “and, uh, shepherd’s pie… half a cheese pizza… strawberry jell-o?”

You glanced over at him, waiting for something to work with.

“What sounds good?” you prompted him.

“Meat,” he answered flatly.

“O-okay…” you stammered, looking back into the fridge. “I’ve got a chicken breast in here— I’ll cook that for you, okay? It won’t take long. I’ll slice it thin and it’ll cook fast, okay? Does that sound alright?”

He hesitated, but nodded.

It made you feel better knowing you could finally do something for him; you offered for him to lay down or get in the shower while you cooked his food, but he just waited— you sliced the chicken and seasoned it while the pan heated, glancing over at him every couple of minutes. Thankfully you’d convinced him to drink some water in the meantime, but he nursed it surprisingly slowly considering how long he must have gone without.

“You’re sure you don’t want anything else with this?” you asked, seeming to tear him out of a trance.

“Huh?” he mumbled.

“You know— I could boil some pasta, chop some veggies, something to eat with this?”

“N-no, just the chicken is fine…” he insisted.

“Well, it’s almost ready,” you smiled. “Smells good, right?”

His nostrils flared for a second, and his eyes darted away. You knew a no when you saw one… he reached up and covered his nose and mouth for a second, wiping the blood off of his mouth and chin— seemed like a good thing to do before he ate.

Sliding the food onto a plate, you waved a hand over it to hopefully speed up the cooling-off process; you cut one of the pieces of cooked meat in half, to make sure it was white all the way through, and sighed in relief when it was. Last thing Eddie needed now was salmonella…

You felt like a proper housewife, setting the plate in front of him with a smile, taking your own seat. “Here you go, bon appetit,” you beamed, placing the fork next to him just in time for him to snatch it up and dig in.

You brought your elbows up on the table and rested your chin on your fist, and watched him eat— maybe a little too closely… but you just wanted to see his eyes light up again! You wanted to see him acting a bit closer to normal, and you knew how getting some food in your belly could do so much for your energy… especially after this long.

He carefully chewed each bite, swallowing thickly, like he could barely get it down. You winced. “It’s not too tough, is it? Oh god, Ed, you know I’m not a great cook or anything— is it dry? It’s dry, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t spare my feelings,” you chuckled, “you like to lie about liking my cooking— but not right now, Ed, I can make you something else, I can go pick something up—”

You reached onto his plate and grabbed a cube of chicken, holding it with two fingers as you took a bite to prove that he was, in fact, flattering you and it tasted like shit.

But it was fine, actually; sure, not the most compelling dish, but not bland per se and not incorrectly prepared.

As you wondered why he was having so much trouble with it, he started coughing. You leaned closer, reaching to hold his shoulders, but he brushed you away, turning to keel over towards the floor and cough harder and harder—

When he vomited the first time, you hadn't even noticed yet that it wasn't bile— you cooed at him sympathetically, squeezing his shoulder and trying to hold his hair back, and then froze when another stream of fluid finally caught your attention: black, nearly pitch black. The puddle on the floor, you realized, was tarry and thick. You fought the urge to grimace as you yanked your feet away; you didn't want him to feel self conscious, he'd been through enough, but…this wasn't right.

Vomiting on a near-empty stomach is bad enough… it shouldn't have been this dark, nor this plentiful. He convulsed as another rush came out of his mouth, and you started to cry a little as you grabbed his hand and held it tight. Your heart hurt to see him like this, but your gut sank with the knowledge that something was absolutely, horribly wrong…

"What happened to you?" you whispered, not much of a genuine question because you knew he couldn't answer. You didn't know much about the place he'd been— no one did— and he'd apparently been there for days. You decided not to ask him what he did to survive, because it didn't matter: he was here. You almost lost him, and you'd do anything to keep him here with you. You weren't ready to lose him again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally choked out when he stopped, catching his breath and sitting back up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and when his eyes fell on you again, a chill ran over your spine.

“Eddie, don’t apologize— you don’t have anything to apologize for,” you assured.

“Not yet,” he replied, and you tilted your head.

“What…?”

You stopped yourself, because you saw his eyes fall on your exposed neck. His mouth fell open slightly, his eyes went glassy again.

“Eddie,” you breathed— because you knew, somehow, that you needed to call for him. That he wasn’t quite… here, even though he was right in front of you. “We should go to the hospital… you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick,” he promised, “I’m just hungry.”

He leaned a little closer to you, and you stood up quickly. “I’ll make you something else,” you decided, turning and walking to the fridge again— but then he was behind you, in an instant, so fast that you yelped a little when he pressed up against you from behind.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“I told you not to—”

He grabbed you tighter, and as much as you’d longed for him to hold you again, you instinctively tried to squirm away— but he was too strong. He’d always been stronger than you… this was different. This was too strong. “I’m hungry— I’m so hungry, just… just stay still,” he pleaded.

You whined when his fingers dug into your shoulders, his nose running over the skin of your neck. “Eddie, I-I don’t… I don’t understand,” you whispered.

“I can feel your heartbeat, I can hear it,” he informed you, “I can… smell you. You smell good.”

His mouth traced along your pulse, and you knew that this moment could easily be interpreted as foreplay— the compliments, the mouth on your neck, that was all pretty typical for Eddie when he was ‘in the mood.’ The thing was, it was so clearly not that, just from the way his voice sounded, from the way he held you against him painfully tight. “You’re hurting me,” you whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” he said one more time, “i-it’s gonna hurt less if you stop moving, baby.”

You gasped as he started to bite down on you, much too hard already. “N-no, Eddie—!”

Your voice broke and fell into silence when his teeth pierced your skin. The pain shattered over your body like a crack in a windshield; it stole your voice, and when you tried to cry, there was only a silent tear that fell down your cheek and onto the tile floor.

His arms wrapped around you, and you went limp in them. He stopped suckling at the wound he’d created for a moment, in order to let you fall just enough for him to catch you; he dragged you into the hallway where he knelt down and cradled you, holding the back of your head to keep your neck tilted just the way he needed to make the blood flow fastest. He lapped at it voraciously, breathing heavier, but slower, than he had before. Your body naturally tried to fight him, your weak arms pushing at his shoulders every time the pain throbbed in your neck, but soon the energy was quite literally drained from you and your arms fell limp at your sides.

It felt like it went on forever, your vision going blurry from far more than just the tears that filled your eyes, your fingers twitching through the pins and needles as you longed for the strength to push him away and run— but you were paralyzed, everywhere except your heart, which kept beating faster yet weaker by the minute.

“E-Eddie,” you croaked under your breath, the best you could do to beg for your life. Amazingly, for how little it was, it seemed to work. He broke away from you, and you saw his face appear above yours— his mouth and chin were soaked in blood, drops that had run down striping his neck. He swallowed and started to catch his breath.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he panted, “I didn’t— fuck, I’m sorry… you’re gonna be okay.”

You blinked quickly, trying to reach up to hold his collar— to tell him it was okay, you still loved him, even if you were terrified of him. He looked like your Eddie again, he had the light in his eyes, the sweetness in his voice you were used to, and you fought through your exhaustion to smile weakly and blink the tears away. “I’m… so tired…” you let out with each heave of your chest, too weak to really speak— all you could do was make the right movements with your mouth as you panted to shape each breath into words.

“That’s okay,” he nodded, “fall asleep. I’ll be here when you wake up, and I’m gonna… I’ll explain everything.”

You sighed slowly, feeling your head roll to the side as you went totally lifeless— slumping onto the floor just in time to slip into darkness.

You startled awake, grabbing your neck instinctively. It all felt like some horrible dream…

Until you turned and saw Eddie sitting at the foot of the bed. “Hey,” he offered sympathetically, leaning closer; you scooted back slightly, and he sighed. “D-don't be scared of me, please,” he begged, looking heartbroken, which broke your heart, too.

“I’m not scared of you,” you assured, “I just— is it really you? You’re my Eddie, right? Not some Upside Down version of him?”

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Uh— honestly, babe, I don’t know for sure. I think we can both agree some things have changed for me in the last few days.”

You nodded. “Just… tell me what happened. Or what you remember.”

“Well... after I found the gate... I wandered in the woods, I was so lost and— baby, you can’t imagine how hungry I was,” he explained, pleading with you to understand. “It hurt, I felt like I couldn’t even walk, it was like something was inside me trying to claw its way out… and there was this, um, deer.”

You choked on your own throat, because you already knew where this was going— if he asked you to guess what happened next, you wouldn’t be able to say it, you would say that you didn’t know… but you did. You knew, deeper inside yourself than you were willing to look.

“I’ve never even shot a deer before or anything,” he reminded you, “but I caught it with just my hands— I chased it, and it wasn’t even that hard, really… I don’t remember it all that well… I just remember, um, feeding on it for a while.”

“Did it help?”

“Not as much as I hoped it would… I knew, by then, what I really needed. I wouldn’t let myself believe it, I wouldn’t say it, but… I swear— I came here because I knew you’d know how to sort this all out. I wasn’t going to… I didn’t want to do that to you.” He whined slightly, letting his head fall into his hands as he hid his face. “God, baby, I’m so sorry—”

“Eddie,” you stopped him firmly. “Did doing that to me… help you?”

Even before he nodded shamefully, you knew the answer, it was obvious: he was acting normal again, acting like himself— if a little more serious than usual. You recognized this Eddie, even when you were half-dead from the blood loss and knew that he was responsible for it… even then, it was him.

“You’re not hungry anymore?” you continued. He shook his head. “Then it’s okay… I told you I’d do anything for you, Eddie, that I’d die for you—”

“I won’t kill you,” he insisted. “I can’t believe I ever hurt you— I didn’t know how to stop, babe, I really could’ve—”

“Shh,” you soothed, reaching up to stroke his face as his eyes started to water. “It’s okay, what’s mine is yours. Even my body— even my… um, my blood.”

It felt weird to say it like that, but it was true. “I don’t know how long it’ll last,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I’ll be that desperate again… what if I can’t stop myself next time?”

“We’re going to find you a real meal, Eddie,” you promised, “and maybe there won’t need to be a next time.”

“Guess you’re lonely without that freak boyfriend of yours, huh?” Greg snickered.

You looked away, holding your arms tightly across your chest. “Y-yeah— I should’ve… left him sooner. I didn’t know what he was doing— him and his, uh, cult…”

“Weren’t you in Hellfire?” Greg wondered, crossing his arms to match yours, which made the puffy sleeves of his letter jacket look even more ridiculous. “We all thought you were his second-in-command— you helped hide him from us, didn’t you?”

“W-well, that’s why I asked you to meet me here,” you explained, “to apologize… for everything. I wouldn’t have protected him if I knew he was killing people.”

You hated the taste of those lies in your mouth. If this all went according to plan, no one would ever have to know you said those things about your Eddie, your angel— but could he hear you now? It was so dark in the woods at night, so you couldn’t tell if he was in earshot. If not, that would be in part a relief, but it would also be a problem since he wouldn’t be here to save you when the time was right.

“So, I’m sorry,” you concluded. “I hope we can… be friends.”

You were looking down at the ground sheepishly, but in the edge of your vision, you saw Greg stepping closer. “Now, what do you wanna be friends with me for?” he purred.

“U-um,” you choked, fighting the urge to step back as Greg stalked closer.

“I think you might have a little crush, freak.”

Greg was right in front of you now, his sneakers just beside yours, and you found the courage to look up at him. He had the most horrible smile on his face, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. You weren’t much of an actress, clearly, because you couldn’t help but jerk away.

“Aw, don’t be shy now,” Greg frowned, “you’re the one that asked me to come see you tonight… at Skull Rock… alone. I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart, I know what that means.”

You wanted to scream at him, I’m not your fucking sweetheart, but you couldn’t; instead, you stayed still and let his hands reach around to your waist.

Now, we need to establish some… ground rules, you heard Eddie’s voice in your head, memories from yesterday still clear in your head. First rule is, you give the signal, and it’s over. You don’t have to be a part of this if you don’t want to.

You were just as sure now as you were then that you needed to do this, even if, yes, it was revolting to have Greg Willis pull you closer and slip his hands far too low on your back.

"You know, I always thought you'd be pretty if you dressed more normal," Greg informed you. "You know, ditch the ripped jeans and get a dress or something? You could even be popular… if you went out with me."

Shuddering, you yelped in shock when he grabbed your hips and yanked them forward into his own. His grin was shining in the moonlight, those perfect teeth in that megawatt smile. You hesitantly reached your hands up to rest on his chest.

"What do you say?" he pressed.

"U-um, well, Greg," you stuttered, "the truth is, I'm not really interested in going out."

He laughed, and you blinked quickly. "Damn, alright," he purred, "if you just wanna hook up, I'm not gonna say no to that…"

Second rule, don’t let him touch you too much… or I might try to kill him too early, and then it all goes to shit.

Your hands balled into fists when he kissed you; he tasted like toothpaste and coffee, and you were trying so hard not to grimace or shove him back so you could deck him. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, far too aggressive, far too soon— you whimpered and pulled him back, the two of you stumbling together until your back was pressed up against the tree. His hands squeezed your waist, then slipped down to grope your butt; you gasped and broke away, disgusted. He didn’t seem to notice your disdain, or simply didn’t care, and reached up to brush your hair out of the way so he could kiss your neck. Of course, when he saw the fresh scar there, he moved his head back. “Wh… what happened to you?” Greg whispered. “It was that cult, right? Did they try to… sacrifice you, like they did to Jason’s girl?”

You pushed his hand away, but he just grabbed you again, tighter— you whimpered slightly and tried to writhe out of his grasp.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he cooed, “I’m gonna make it all better…”

He grabbed your jaw, about to force you to kiss him again, when a loud thud beside you made you both turn to the side; Eddie, finally, had jumped down from the tree and was standing there glaring at both of you.

“Sorry, Greg, but she’s spoken for,” Eddie grunted, pouncing on him. Greg was well over six foot, star quarterback for the Tigers football team; Eddie knocked him down like it was nothing, sending them both flying back nearly two yards and pinning him easier than if he were just some puny kid. You yelped and covered your face, shrinking down to sit on the ground.

Final rule, you remembered as you swallowed and forced your eyes shut tightly, when I… do what I do… don’t look. I don’t want you to see me like that.

Memories flashed in your mind, against your will, of that look in Eddie’s eyes just before he bit you, of the way his voice sounded when he told you how hungry he was. They were interspersed with memories of your Eddie, the way he used to be— when he would make you laugh and hold you close and make all your fears go away. You’d been holding onto your dream that that Eddie would come back, but you could hear the sounds next to you— the muffled whimpers, the voracious growls, the… gulping.

You took your hands down away from your face, slowly; you had to look. You had to know.

It was so dark, it was just shadows on shadows; you were able to make out Eddie’s wild hair first, then the general shape of him— he was straddling Greg, on top of him, and you realized then that the movement was Greg’s legs shaking. Eddie’s rings glistened in the moonlight, his hand covering Greg’s mouth to stop him from screaming— all just below where Greg’s wide, white eyes suddenly met yours. You’d never been horrified to the bone before by just one look from a man; you’d never seen a man begging for his life before, either.

Eddie suddenly sat up, tossing his head back, gasping for a breath. He let his hand fall away from Greg’s mouth.

“Please,” was all the jock was able to weakly choke out, blood sputtering out of his mouth as he spoke.

Eddie leaned down again, and you heard two horrible things at once: Greg’s final, pathetic cry; and the sound of ripping flesh.

The only thing more horrible than that was the silence. The heavy, abyssal silence of the woods— death didn’t make a sound. Instead there was just the absence of sound, and the absence of life.

Greg’s throat was still between Eddie’s teeth, but Eddie was sitting up again, flesh dangling from his mouth. He spit out the piece of viscera, bending down to lap and slurp at Greg’s gushing open wound. Your eyes refused to tear away, even as Eddie feasted for what felt like hours, even when he wrapped his arms around Greg’s lifeless carcass and pulled his torso up so he could eat without leaning down onto the ground; he pushed Greg’s head back, until there was a horrific crack and his whole head was dangling off of what was left of his neck— Eddie nearly unhinged his jaw to drink from where he’d torn the boy open.

It was finally over when Eddie groaned loudly, a satisfied sigh, and dropped Greg’s body unceremoniously onto the ground again. Only then did he seem to sense your eyes on him, and he turned around to look at you. The lower half of his face, even his nose and cheeks, were dripping in blood that looked black in the dark of the evening; his eyes dilated, blown out until they were almost all black— actually, maybe there were all black… you couldn’t find any of that warm brown you were used to. Even without irises, you could tell that those eyes were piercing right through you, and you froze under their weight.

“Thanks,” he smiled at you. “You were right, that helped a lot.”

When you said nothing, only starting to cry, Eddie pouted slightly and tilted his head.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

You dared another look at Greg’s body, his head at an impossible angle from being nearly decapitated, and back up to Eddie; he frowned and let out a disappointed sigh.

“I was afraid this would happen,” he admitted, “that’s why I told you not to look. It was hard for me to believe that I could do this, too. But this is who I am now.”

You shook your head, starting to crawl backward along the ground— sharp leaves and sticks poked your hands as you clambered across the forest floor, but you were ignorant to the pain. “Then you’re not who I thought you were.”

“Don’t do that,” he warned, seeming frustrated as you kept trying to move back. “Babe, really? Are you gonna run away from me?”

I’m gonna try.

You fought to get up on your legs again, but they were shaking and your knees gave out instantly. Resorting to attempting to crawl along the ground, you obviously didn’t make it far at all before he jumped on you; he was so fucking fast, how was he so fucking fast?

You cried loudly and kicked your legs to try to get him away, but he turned you on your back in a second and pinned you down by your shoulders.

“It’s still me,” he promised, but when he smiled at you, his mouth was still coated in blood. “Baby, it’s still me! Don’t be scared.”

You shook your head, tears already flowing down your cheeks. “N-no, Eddie, it’s not. You’re not a killer— you wouldn’t hurt anyone, ever.”

“Not if I didn’t have to,” he corrected sternly. “But Greg was a piece of shit anyway—”

“He was a person!”

“You’re the one that picked him!” Eddie reminded you sharply. And yes, that was true. You’d seen Greg’s eyes on you more than once at school before, even though you were a freak and he was a quarterback; you knew he would meet you here alone if you asked him to. You knew he was kind of an asshole— but you hadn’t really appreciated before what it would do to you to send him to his death. That was your mistake, clearly; you thought you knew what you were doing, but you couldn’t understand it until you saw it.

“Eddie, this isn’t you,” you insisted, “you’re not you— I believed it, because I wanted to so much, but—”

“Stop,” he barked, glaring at you as his nostrils flared. You shut your mouth quickly, afraid to anger him further. “Do you need me to remind you?” he breathed. “Do you need to remember how it used to be?”

He reached down to his belt. “N-no,” you sputtered, “Eddie, please—”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, ignoring you, “I haven’t been taking care of you since I got back. I’ve been… distracted. I’m thinking clearly now, on a full stomach and all.”

When you reached up and tried to push him off of you, his hands pinned yours down at the wrists, and you shivered as he squeezed them tightly. “Eddie,” you panted, “y-you’re so cold…”

“You miss when I was warm, huh, princess?” he spat. “I was so weak then, so… fragile. Like you are now.”

He roughly jerked your arms up, holding both your wrists in one hand so his dominant hand could run down your body; it settled on your neck, squeezing it just enough to make you tense up and stop struggling.

“I mean, look at you, such a tiny little thing,” he cooed, “you could just… snap.”

You choked on a sob as his hand tightened on your throat. He growled, low in his chest, and shut his eyes as he took a deep breath.

“I can feel your pulse, you know, I can hear it a mile away,” he informed you. “It’s so fast now, is that because you’re scared, babe? You don’t need to be. I’m not hungry anymore… I think Greg’s gonna hold me for a while.”

He leaned in closer, taking a long inhale right beside your face as you bit your shaking lip.

“But it’s okay,” he whispered, “it’s okay to be scared. I like it, actually… makes you smell even sweeter.”

His free hand moved lower down again, and roughly ripped your jeans to shreds— and only a split second later, carefully spread your legs, in a bizarre shift to delicacy; you didn’t resist anymore… there wasn’t much use.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, “see? You remember better than you think. Maybe it’s me that’s forgotten— it all feels so long ago now… but I’m gonna remind us both how much you need this.”

He wasn’t touching you anymore, he was opening his jeans and pulling out his cock, tugging on himself loosely a few times to make sure he was hard enough. His tongue darted out over his lips as he looked down at you writhing under him— that, funny enough, reminded you of how it was before… except, you know, for all the blood and that you were in the fucking woods and that you just watched him murder someone with his bare hands— and teeth. You cried a little harder as he pressed himself up against your opening.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, princess, okay?” he laughed— like it was funny that you were terrified. “I’m gonna make you feel good, just like I used to.”

But good isn’t quite what you’d call the sharp sting of him pushing in in one go, splitting you open on his cock. “Eddie!” you shouted; he usually got you ready first, helped you warm up so you could take him— it wasn’t exactly an optional step, with his size. Your pain didn’t bother him much anymore, apparently.

“Ahah, fuck,” he laughed lightly through a sigh, “I remember this, actually— remember how fuckin’ tight you always were. Like you never wanna let me go… sweet little cunt holding onto me so tight…”

He gave you another rough thrust with a grunt, and you whimpered, tightening your fists above where he was holding you down.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he purred, “my pretty girl, so beautiful when you cry for me.”

“S-stop,” you gasped out, even though this was what you thought you wanted— even though your toes were starting to curl.

“I’m not gonna stop,” he panted, “I’m gonna fuck you, and fill you, again and again, until you remember—” he groaned and gripped your wrists tighter— “that you’re mine.”

And you hated that your back arched, that your body still responded to him in a time like this; he moaned proudly, watching you with those impossibly-dark eyes.

“I bet you thought about this while I was gone,” he assumed with a growl, “I bet you touched your lonely little pussy while you waited for me, huh? Wasn’t enough, was it— ‘cause you need me, don’t you?”

This monster had all the memories of every time you and Eddie were together, of everything that you ever said, everything that made you fall apart, and he was using it to manipulate you… but fuck, he was right. You used to say it all the time.

“This is how you like it,” he recalled, “nice and deep, right? You like to still be able to feel me in the morning.”

He held his hips close to yours and grinded against you, forcing the tip of his cock to hit so deep it was like he was in your throat; your eyes rolled back, and he dipped down to lick a stripe up your neck.

“Sweet girl,” he cooed, “my needy little princess— are you feeling better now? Not so scared, now that you know it’s really me? Nobody but me could fuck you like this.”

Yeah, he used to say that, too, but it used to mean something different. He pulled back and gave you a long but fast stroke, and you choked on a cry as your insides clenched.

“Y’wanna come, babe?” he encouraged. “You’re close, your heartbeat’s getting fast again…”

It was so close, too close, and you wanted to fight it off— but your pleasure was so much stronger than you, just like he was now. It kept your mind blank and your body weak as you started to convulse rhythmically, fighting against the words trying to escape your throat: the thing you always used to say when you came.

“Say it,” he teased— he remembered, too, what you always used to say. You hissed through your teeth, but kept it down, even as the feeling started to make you shake uncontrollably and go blind for a split second. “I wanna hear it, princess, just say it for me.”

You went limp beneath him, the sensation pulling away as fast as it had came, leaving you numb and lifeless— so to speak— as he fucked into you harder.

“I know you love me, baby,” he sighed, “c’mon, just say it. Isn’t that what you wanted? To tell me you loved me one more time?”

I’d do anything to have him back, you remembered praying, to anyone or anything that would listen, anything, I’ll give anything, just please bring him back to me. It all came into perspective then, and your fear abated. You sobbed harder, struggling under him more— but for a new reason. “Eddie,” you cried, “please, let me go— please…”

He must’ve known it was different, because his expression changed as he carefully let your wrists go; you reached up and grabbed his blood-soaked shirt, pulling him down into you.

“I love you,” you told him, “I love you, I love you so much…”

“Shh,” he soothed, slipping his arms under you and hugging you, “I know, princess…”

“Don’t ever leave me again,” you begged, “never, ever ever—”

“Hey, hey,” he stopped you as your pleas became incomprehensible from your crying. “I’m not leaving you, okay?”

“Ever?” you added, sniffling, and he released you partially from the hug to smile down at you softly.

“Ever,” he agreed. “I’m so sorry that I had to go away before… but I came back, didn’t I? I’ll always come back to you.”

You looked up at him, beaming even through your tears, and reached up to hold his face. As your palm held his cheek, he looked at you and his eyes were his again, those same eyes that always made you feel so safe. Your thumb stroked over his skin and he turned his face to give you a small kiss on your wrist; you gently grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him down into a real kiss— sour and metallic with blood, which you chose to ignore.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled against your lips, “and I missed you so much.”

“I thought I was gonna die without you,” you admitted, and he stopped kissing you to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“I thought I was, too,” he replied, looking into your eyes again, “and babe— I think I did.”

#dark!eddie munson x reader #dark!eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie munson smut

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