michinnyun - Tumblr blog

michinnyun · 10 months

Text

— seek you out, hunt you down

kraven x f!reader

rated e - 3.7k

tags: predator/prey kink, annoyance-to-lovers, outdoor sex, rough sex, references to oral (f rec.), teasing, implied established safeword, dom!kraven, possessive!kraven, softness mixed in because it’s me

a/n: something quick & smutty, based purely on trailer vibes

“We’re about five miles from the edge. If you can find your way out before I find you, I’ll let you take point until we get there.”

“But when I win, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” He rasps, the words slow - drawn out, “No more of that smart mouth. Understand?”

His eyes had flickered as you had paced. That swirling change, darkening from blue to black to gold.

Tracking you slowly, automatically.

As you had complained - tired of another day of him ignoring the map you’d been following. Insisting on taking you up and around and down and over.

So confident that he knew. That he knew better.

But, christ - you weren’t helpless. Calypso has sent you with him for a reason.

And maybe - perhaps - he was right, about some of it. Avoiding a flooding stream, picking around a jagged outcropping of rock. He did have a real track record, after all.

But he was so goddamn annoying about it.

A heavy sigh had cut you off.

The flex of a bare bicep, as his arms crossed, “Tell you what, sweetheart.”

Condescension dripping from the word as his eyes had scanned the horizon - through the forest of trees. Focusing for a second, before they were fixing on yours again.

“We’re about five miles from the edge. If you can find your way out before I find you, I’ll let you take point ‘til we get there.”

Your pacing had slowed to a halt, thinking for a moment about his offer. Stepping closer, as you scoffed.

A finger had pointed, twirling up into the branches, “No way. You’ll just use them.”

The creatures of the forest. His unnatural connections.

His tongue licked across his teeth, his look dark. Voice quiet, laced with assurance as he had smirked.

“I won’t.”

A moment, then, “Don’t need to.”

Your eyebrows had rose, challenging. Irritation prickling at his confidence, that need to best him rising.

“Fine.” You had bit out.

“Fine.” He smiled.

His own fingers reached out then, hooking around the thick strap of your belt, looped into your jumpsuit.

Giving it a sharp tug, as he pulled you between his spread knees. A slow drag of his eyes, starting at his hands, then up and up.

Tracing over your form.

A heat had burned, even then. Flickering to life, as his voice has dropped.

“But when I win, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” He rasps, the words slow - drawn out, “No more of that smart mouth. Understand?”

The look he had given you had made you shiver. Heated, as his face has tipped up to yours. Daring you.

You swallowed, before your tongue peeked through your teeth, to wet your lips. His eyes watching the movement, as you had nodded.

Letting go, as you stepped away.

“No cheating.” You reminded him, as you turned - starting to plot out your own path, “And I get a head start.”

A rough laugh, as he shifted fully onto the stump he was leaning against, slowly crossing his legs. Ensuring that he wouldn’t be able to feel the tremor of your steps, sending the direction you’d be heading.

“Fifteen minutes.” He had warned you, as his eyes closed.

“Go.”

A branch scrapes against your cheek.

A flash of pain that you ignore, a small flinch as you push past it and keep going.

Resisting the urge to look around. To check if you can see him - high in the branches above. Lurking behind a tree.

No, you decide to continue. A path's been set in your mind, during that brief second you had taken to get your bearings. Purposely taking off in the wrong direction, hoping he'd hear.

Changing course soon after. Wading through streams. Up and across logs, only to drop down half-way, to throw him off.

You think with the head start, you can make it. He was a tracker, but you were a survivor.

Keeping both of you alive, when the weather turned cruel. Stitching him up when he fell apart, when he was too hell-bent on revenge to care.

The plains were his home but the forests had been yours. A comfort in the shades of green and brown, some sort of internal compass that kept your path true. You just have to be a little faster, a little smarter, than him.

A branch snaps behind you, the sound echoing. A thrill shoots through you - fear and something more, something hot and twisting - as you take off at a run.

Not bothering to look, keeping your eyes fixed ahead.

Ducking past the tall pines and through the foliage. Your heart pounding in your throat as you eye a drop in the path you've chosen - a second before you decide to make the too-wide jump.

You land, a throb in your ankle, fingers grasping onto a shrub as you pull yourself up. There's a second as you think you hear your name - breathed out in the wind.

It makes you push on faster. Risking a glance this time, a second where you think you see a flicker in the dark shadows behind you.

Your jaw grits, as you fling yourself forward. Eyes fixing on the layers of green ahead. Where you think it's been getting thinner - some of those miles and a long stretch of time passing since you first began.

Bring the edge close enough to taste.

But there's another flicker, off to your left.

One that diverts you, a shift as you veer off-course, your straight line turning serpentine as you adjust. That spike of unease back again, with that same melding of something warm and smooth in your belly.

The rustle comes again, as you push yourself into a sprint.

Again, and then again. Echoing off the trees, a layering of footsteps that blend with yours - chasing you - until your head is spinning and each breath is coming in a short gasp.

Forgetting for a second, that this was a game.

A splintering jolt of fear coursing through you, that word on the tip of your tongue, for just an instant. The one that would end this, and bring him back to you.

But then there’s a whisper, that cuts through your thoughts. Pulling you back, as you recognize his voice. Making you remember that you had intended to beat him.

It has you skidding to a stop. Taking just a second to get your bearings, your head whipping around as you realize the footsteps have stopped.

That the only thing you can hear is your panting breath.

You see nothing. Not even a shadow.

That is, until his voice comes again - sounding so close to your ear.

“Found you.”

A cry is caught in your throat, as he crashes into you. Sending you both tumbling onto the ground, across the dirt and moss.

You’re able to roll, to push yourself up. But you’re no match for the speed that the melding of the serum and blood had given him - still rising as he’s already crouching over you.

His hand shoots out, as you duck to the side. Managing to get back on your feet - evading him for a second until the second dart of his hand finds its target.

Catching your arm, sending you down, again.

There’s a split second as you’re able to kick out. Hooking the toe of your boot around his ankle, taking him down with you. Scrabbling in the dirt as he shifts, pulling himself on top you - his weight pinning you down.

A grin, as his thighs slot with yours.

Your groan disguised as a shaky breath when he nudges purposely against your core. Straddling your leg as his hands grabs your wrists.

A knee rises, intending to connect with his back - but he uses the momentum to roll with you. Flipping you over onto your stomach, twisting one of your wrists behind your back.

The other fisting in the collar, pushing down hard. Scruffing you like a cat as he laughs - shifting onto his knees behind you.

“Good try with those tricks of yours.” Sergei sighs, with another click of his tongue, “But not good enough.

You’re panting beneath him now, all of that exhaustion catching up. A stitch in your side from the running, layered with the bitter taste of defeat.

“How did you find me?” You finally manage, as your cheek presses into the soft moss - a little wiggle as you try to break free.

There’s a hum then, at your attempt - a little jolt as he adjusts you beneath him. Pulling you onto your knees as he pushes down, leaning over you.

Caging you in, as he reveals his own trick. The words drawn out.

“I could smell you.”

His nose skims your ear, making you tremble. Lowering it to press against neck, just at the curve of your jaw. Inhaling.

The breath he exhales is slow, shaky. Edged with the low rumble of his voice.

“And right now… you smell like you wanted me to catch you.”

You moan without thinking - an unconscious rocking of your hips that sends the curve of your ass pressing against his thighs, nudging against where he’s hard.

A whimper stifled as he meets the shift of your hips with a grunt of his own. A hiss of breath through teeth as he bears down on the hand that wraps around your wrist.

Curving himself down until his mouth ghosts against your ear, and you can feel the warm curl of his breath against your skin.

“Am I right?” He croons - his voice low and smooth, as his hips rock lazily against yours, “I bet you are soaked, baby.”

You’re grateful he can’t see his expression. To see how right he was - how that heat has settled into a heady thud between your thighs.

A sigh, then, as he presses himself flush. Nudging the thick ridge of his trousers against your core, as your eyes flutter shut. Your teeth gritting, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

Lips press against your neck, right where you pulse thuds. You wonder if he can hear you, too. Where the adrenaline has bled into need, if he knows how the beating of your heart has changed it’s course.

“You couldn’t get enough of me last night.” He sighs - and you squirm again, as you remember.

His mouth between your thighs, for hours. Pulling pretty sounds beneath the little camp you set up. Over and over, until you were trembling.

You’re brought back, as Kravinoff’s voice drops.

“And I know you’ve always liked the chase. “

You do groan then, some of that strung-tight tension going slack. A pleased hum as he leans back, letting go of your wrist. His fingers wrapping around your belt instead, anchoring you to him.

“Show me.” He commands, as you finally glance back his way.

Following the line of his arm, up past the curves of muscle. To bare shoulders - the straps of his leather vest.

To eyes that suddenly fix on yours, pulling from the curve of your ass, your spread thighs.

They ensnare you, sending your heart tripping. An intensity as their shade flickers to that gold again, above the tick of a jaw.

“You agreed to listen,” He reminds you, firmly, “So show me how much you want my cock, sweetheart. You’re not getting it until you do.”

Indignation lances through you, as you consider his offer.

But desire wins out, as it always does. That pressure against the small of your back easing as your fingers find the zipper between your breasts. Tugging it down - opening you up.

Reaching between your thighs, the quiet jingle of metal as you let the pull go. Your thighs shifting further apart, an arch to your back as you try to entice him.

Watching as he clicks his tongue, the slightest shake that sends his long curls brushing against his cheeks.

“Not good enough, baby.”

With your own muffled growl, your gaze tears from him. Fitting your hand between your thighs again - hooking around the gusset of your underwear. Tugging it to the side, where the elastic digs into your skin.

Baring you.

He hums then, his other hand leaving your hip. A soft moan as his fingers trace against your folds, sliding over your slick. Teasing, making a wide circle around you clit before he pulls back, leaving you wanting.

Glancing down at his fingers, where your arousal webs between them. Leaning over you again, nudging those fingers against your bottom lip.

You open for him, and he smiles.

“Do you taste ready?” He asks you, his fingers pressing deep.

You moan around them in answer, as the coarse canvas of his pants press against bare skin. As you taste the tang of your desire, as his fingers inch towards your throat.

The pressure on your waist lifts, the clink of his belt coming a second later behind you.

His cock hanging heavy as you suck, his thumb pressing on the hollow under your chin when your teeth graze purposely his fingers.

Pulling them free, glossy again with you. A low growl as the wrap around his cock, slicking himself up with a rough pump of his fist.

The fat head slides against your folds, bumping against your clit. You hiss his name, his smile slow and dark as he wraps your belt around his hand again.

“You’d let me take you? Right here?”

He’s pressing against your entrance now, the slightest tease before pulling back. Again, and then again, until your frustration wells up, before spilling over.

“Fuck.” You whine, “Yes. Yes, okay? Anywhere you want.”

There’s a rumble in his throat, then. A deep pleased hum, “You’re so fucking filthy, sweetheart.”

Then with a grunt, he’s yanking you backwards. Spearing himself deep into you with a sharp thrust as you cry out, your muscles clenching around him as he bottoms out in you.

He’s big - on most nights he works you open with his fingers. Making you come on his tongue, unable to resist tasting you before you’re coming on his cock.

Right now, you’re both too keyed up. That sharp snap of his hips a surprise, but your thighs are slick and damp with need. From his teasing.

From the chase.

He’s hushing you - his words low as he pulls back, a groan as he fills you again.

“You can take it.” Sergei grits out, punctuating each word with a rock of his hips, “Know you can-”

With each stroke the pressure twists into pleasure. Letting him tug you back to meet his thrusts, a moan pushed from you with each one.

Your fingers curling into fists, as your thoughts begin to turn fuzzy. His cock pounding again and again against a spot he found those many weeks ago.

When the lingering looks on the road to hunt down his father had turned to touches. Layers peeled away under the blanket of stars. Committing each little sound you made to memory - remembering exactly what to do to make you cry out.

There’s none of those soft touches here. He’s relentless - a steady pounding of his hips against yours. The wet suck of your cunt as you take him, loud as skin slaps against skin.

Your boneless beneath him. A pleasure building that has you trying to reach between your thighs against, but his thrusts send you off-balance.

A hand steadying on the ground against as he groans, his head tilting back. Hair swaying with each rock of his hips, curling clinging to the sweat on his forehead.

Your voice cracks on a moan, as you try to ask for just a little more. Needing that friction against your clit, instead of the teasing slap of his balls when he grinds himself deep.

“Sergei, please-”

His head tilts forward, eyes meeting yours. There’s a clench in his jaw that tells you he’s not far off, that he just as wrapped up in this as you are.

A moment, when you’re certain he’s going to deny you. A whine in your throat - coming out broken as he pulls himself from you.

Leaving you feeling empty, ripped away from the cusp of your release.

“What are you-” You’re hissing, before he’s shoving at you, pushing you onto your back.

Crawling between your thighs, hands gripping at the fabric of your suit as he hauls your legs around his waist.

Filling you again, with another devastating thrust. It had your back lifting off the ground, your hand scrabbling as you keen - catching on the leather of the cuff around his wrist.

Clinging to him as he tugs your hips higher. Keeping you arched against him as he angles himself until he’s stroking that spot again.

And Christ, you prefer this angle. All the better to see him, something you can’t appreciate at night.

The bounce of the claw against his chest, swinging from the cord. The press of the leather knife hilt against your thigh.

The snarl of his lips when you clench down - a hand leaving your hips to trace against the space where you’re stretched wide around him.

Still letting you cling to the other, as his thumb traces up. Hovering just where you need him, as his eyes flick up to yours.

You’re sure you’re a mess. Sticky, skin dewed with sweat. Your suit split down the middle, right down to your cunt.

But his lips curls - a flash of white teeth with his sharp smile. Finally letting his thumb press against your clit as you sigh, amused by the way you rock needily into his touch.

A moment of silence as he watches, before he’s confessing.

“I liked watching you run.”

His voice is smoky and low, eyes lingering on the flushed peek of his cock as he pulls out - before it’s buried in you again.

“Think if it was anyone else, you might have made it.”

An almost idleness in his tone. Like it’s something known, like it always would be.

But that’s before he shifts - letting your hips drop, as he leans over you instead. His thumb pressing tight circles as he arcs over you, as your hands wrap around the edge of his leather vest.

“But not me.”

A moment, as his eyes search yours. A predatory look to them, unblinking as he ensnares you, once again. The smallest shake of his head.

“No. I’ll always find you.”

A long time ago, it would have been a threat. Now, it feels like a promise, seeping into the cracks of your skin. Filling you completely, utterly.

“I know.” You breath. And then, with your admittance, his head dips - lips pressing hungrily against yours.

It’s messy, all teeth and tongue. You swallow his growl as he licks into your mouth, a little tug as you pull him closer.

The press of his fingers, this new angle, pull you back to the brink. So close you can almost sink you teeth into it - that mindless feeling drifting back into your thoughts. Everything else emptying out, as you try to grasp at your release.

He pulls back, only to brush his lips against yours. The bristle of his beard tickling your cheek, as his nose bumps against yours.

“Wanna feel you come, baby.” Sergei husks, “Know you’re close, I can feel how needy that little pussy of yours is.”

His lips press against your throat again. Teeth scraping skin as he groans, his thrusts turning shallow as he ruts into you. Leaving a mark against your skin that he soothes with his tongue.

Your grip on his vest allowing you to chase the feeling, using the leverage to meet the slap of his hips.

Until you feel it about to break, his name chanted out with each heady thrust.

“S-Sergei, please don’t stop. Oh my god-”

Suddenly, it’s crashing over you. Your teeth sink into his shoulder as you come, the moan high and muffled as you pulse around him. Scoring the leather as your muscles string tight - a mark that he’ll wear with pride.

“Fuck. Feel so fucking-” He growls - never slowing, never stopping.

Leaning into your release. The way it coats his cock, makes each thrust most slick. Easing back when you finally let go, only to catch his hands beneath your knees.

Spreading your thighs open and then back. Bending you near in half so he can be as deep as he can when he comes. His own pleasure a tight ball that sparks in his belly - a foot planted on the ground as he drives into you.

“So good to me. So fucking good-” He growling, before you feel the pinch of his hands, squeezing the flesh of your thighs.

Another sloppy thrust, as his lips part on a guttural groan. Grinding himself as you milk him - feeling each twitch of his swollen cock inside your tight walls as he spills himself inside.

A secondary pleasure flaring to life, as he marks you so thoroughly. Knowing it will be dripping into your suit for the rest of the day - the thought making him moan as he continues to rut into you until you’ve taken every drop.

Only then does that tight grip loosen - you legs finally lowering.

A hand under your head as his touches turn gentle, easing you beneath him as he settles between your thighs.

Lips pressing between the curves of your breasts, a contented hum when you finally have the strength to brush your fingers through his curls.

Unable to help chancing a look, your head tilting back. Where you can just see the edge of the tree line were breaks into an open field.

Not realizing he was watching until you hear a low hum, a rough sound of amusement, “Mm. So close, sweetheart.”

You scoff, but it’s light-hearted. Still too fucked-out to care about the wager anymore.

“But I won, which means you agreed to listen to me.” He reminds you, as he pushes himself up on an elbow.

Still buried in you, even as his release has begun to leak from you. The smallest rock of his hips, as he nudges himself deeper. As his head dips so he can brush his lips against yours.

You sigh into the kiss, as you feel him twitch inside you. Swelling, as he rolls his hips against yours.

“And I think we’re not quite finished yet.”

ahh thanks for reading - hope you all enjoyed! 💖

@inklore, @spiderispunk, @tarrenterror25, @celestianstars, @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok, @mrsdarkandyandere7, @peonylie, @tangerinesgf, @whatamidoingonthissite, @earth-elemental18, @labyrinth-of-thoughts

#sorry i just AAAAAAAHHHH #SO GOOOOOOOOOOOD #honestly all of your fics are like addictive to me but this was #INCREDIBLE #SO UNBELIEVABLY GOOD GAHH #RAHHHHH IM AN ANIMAL RAHHHHHHHHHH

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michinnyun · 1 year

Text

𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 || dark!joel miller x reader

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

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 || a bit over 3k

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

“How’d you find me here?”

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

Tired, and angry.

“I’m persistent,” was his flat reply.

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“Said you loved me,” he recalled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, Joel— don't—" you pleaded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hummed happily, but didn't stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Louder,” he demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I won't leave Joel, just stop—"

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

"What? Joel, no—"

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

"Joel, don't—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Say it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH MEEEEEEEEEEEE #litchrally obsessed

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