#robbed of my innocence

[katabay]

PERCEVAL THE UNHAPPY, THE MISERABLE, THE UNFORTUNATE, THE FISHER KING!

Perceval, de Troyes (trans. Burton Raffel)

ALRIGHT alright. so previously I did an illustration that explained the premise of all this, that it's inspired by the narrative choices that Bresson made in his film Lancelot du Lac etc

to dive in more into it (because this is something like derivative fiction. I'm putting concepts into a blender and seeing what comes out of it): the setting is haunted by the previously existing narratives that started cannibalizing each other until it regurgitates itself into the more well known narrative beats, and something else about the invasive rot of christianity and empire mythmaking into settings. it's an intertextual haunting, if you will! and this scene takes place during the grail quest narrative, but the temptation of Perceval plays out differently.

in both Chretien (and Wolfram's) Perceval narratives, what 'wakes' Perceval up (in more ways than one. desire and self actualization in one go!) is seeing knights, something his mother tried hard to keep him from. so instead of the temptation of lust & etc in the Morte narrative taking the form of a lady, it takes the form of a knight. the temptation to renounce one's faith to serve something else remains.

so Perceval still stabs himself, but instead of continuing on the grail quest in the shadow of Galahad, he becomes the narrative's Fisher King because his earlier state of being as a the grail quest hero is creeping back into his marrow. it was waiting for an opening, and stabbing yourself in the thigh is one hell of a parallel!!!

that wound isn't going to heal buddy, and the state of the setting will now be reflected on your body. sure hope that Arthur hasn't like. corrupted the justice of the land or anything. that sure would suck for your overall health.

all the red in this sequence is because in de Troyes' Perceval, Perceval takes the armor of the Red Knight and becomes known as the Knight in Red.

and now for the citations, which I will try to order in a way that makes sense!

Seeing Knights For The First Time

Perceval, de Troyes (trans. Burton Raffel)

The Temptation of Perceval

Le Morte Darthur, Mallory (modernized by Baines)

The Fisher King, and Perceval The Unfortunate

Perceval, de Troyes (trans. Burton Raffel)

On Perceval and Gender, etc.

Clothes Make The Man: Parzival Dressed and Undressed, Michael D. Amey

On Wounds

Wounded Masculinity: Injury and Gender in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte Darthur, Kenneth Hodges

The Red Knight

Perceval, de Troyes (trans. Burton Raffel)

On Arthur and the Corruption of Justice

The Failure of Justice, the Failure of Arthur, L.K. Bedwell

#long post #GOD IS IT A LONG POST #i am so so sorry for that. #knights knights knights! #komiks tag #blood cw #if it wasn't clear: i dislike galahad so much. he represents so much i cant stand and worst of all he ROBBED MY MAN #OF HIS NARRATIVE #but like. what's christianity but theft acting uwu innocent about all the shit they did tbqh #fucking. la croix jesus christ over here. #sir perceval

[salvador-daley]

My favourite Klaus looks from season 3 of The Umbrella Academy 😘🥵

#robert sheehan #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #tua #umbrella academy #brellygifs #what? #this is a totally innocent post about costume design #Christopher Hargadon has been reading my letters #klaus umbrella academy #rob sheehan #umbrella academy klaus #my gifs #hellogoodbye #tua klaus #klaus tua #tua netflix #tua gifs #dailytua

[whatever-you-can-give-me]

man. racism in fandom is one of those things that brings to mind that tumblr post about realizing there's a spot on the wallpaper and peeling it back to reveal black mold has taken over the entire house.

i was trying to draft a post about the hypocrisy of people insisting that people don't draw wolfwood brown enough, heavy implication that any fanart compliant to his stampede design [and sometimes his older designs, which are not as dark as his fandom design would imply] (including that which portrays him as east asian, which is probably how he was designed and how many east asian artists draw him, but i digress, the colorism thing is a Different Post) is Doing Something Wrong TM and should be treated as such, when "wolfwood must be This Brown, This Hot, This Buff, This Racialized to pass" is a significant contributor to the whole "vashwood, but wolfwood is a sex god papi with massive honkers and an even bigger dick, and vash is a 150 year old blushing virgin whose delicate flower has never been touched by a man" stereotype bullshit, because of how certain fandomgoers especially in slash fandom view brown men.

and then i realized that "the shift in wolfwood's characterization in fanwork [and the corollary effect on vash as his designated white boyfriend] has direct correlation to him being fanon-redesigned into a much more racialized and darker-skinned character than in any iteration" is like. SO many layers deep in the analysis of fandom politics and requires SO much awareness and acceptance of the genuinely fucked up patterns of slash fandom and online fandom in general.

...and most people who are Being Mad On Twitter To Indicate Their Moral Values do not get that far. most people see the spot on the wallpaper and get really mad about the spot, because if they acknowledged the black mold, they wouldn't get to continue to live in The House That Fandom Built without knowing something's wrong with it anymore.

#reblogs off & no organizational tags because this is kind of a Use Bat On Hornet's Nest kind of post #but i was watching an analysis of gamergate. and the desire to not be robbed of one's innocence to certain bad things happening #because that would cast moral judgement on You for participating if you continue to #because once you know. you're not just acting without awareness (which would be morally neutral) #you're acting WITH awareness. and if you choose to act that way it's Morally Wrong. #and most people who were raised in an xtian society like the usa have not unhooked their concept of morality from the concept of the soul #and how moral wrongness is a thing that Stains You. Personally. #and that behavior of. not investigating or delving deeper being the only way to stay untainted. has been on my mind recently #and then i made the mistake of looking at twitter and immediately felt very tired.

[a-j-s-the-only]

I’msoscared

I watched you take everything

That I held dear

And now I'm left with nothing

But this pain and fear

#I was robbed of my innocence #poems on tumblr #poem #poets cafe #poets on tumblr #poetsclub #poemsbyme #life #poets corner #my art #poetry #Art #tw #tw something

[solidifiedsunshine]

can i NOT keep accidentally posting nsfw on main or what. jesus dude

#yikes #i dont even tag that shi #its worse when i accidentally queue it to mu main #cuz i dont catch it until way after the fact #and ive robbed my mutuals of any innocence they have left

[eliotquillon]

imo something that flies under the radar in witherward is just how young hester was when the ravenswoods were massacred. while we’re told from the outset that she was fifteen when it happened, her youth is continually reinforced - the fact that she was hidden under the floorboards with the rest of the children, being too young to ever be gedeon’s official guardian, even her final line about sitting in her chair like “a good little girl”. a lot of ya, and ya fantasy in particular, makes it easy to forget just how young 15/16/17 is in the grand scheme of things but hannah mathewson never lets you forget for a second. even when she becomes an adult hester is still significantly younger than her counterparts in other factions and it’s something that’s weaponised against her time and time again - she has to bargain her way into getting eliot as a lieutenant, aelius outright admits to trying to manipulate her into letting him lead the wolves, and alitz takes advantage of her isolation to work her way into the zoo as a mentor figure. it’s no wonder she turns out the way she does when from the age of fifteen it’s been proven that the only person she can entirely rely on is herself.

#witherward #hester ravenswood #this doesnt really fit w my other points but also the fact that the age gap between hester and fyfe is around 16-17 years #meaning her own mother moved on and replaced hester w another child only a year or two after hester’s entire family was massacred #tbh i think this explains why she’s so indulgent towards fyfe #she lets him have the innocence that was robbed from her

[justaholeinmysoul]

The main example of how the mass thinking nowadays is UScentric and unfiltered from context is the age discourse. The whole boomer thing.

#when i was younger i was so angry with boomers but recognising them as parents screwing up their kids mostly so i was biased #after years i realised that people talked less about generational behaviour and more about privilege and status and systematic(word that #screams American)power and there is the failure. most post war countries experienced an economic boom but #besides the us the great majority of boomers grew up in poverty and neglect and had to fight for basic rights #then things became a little easier for them especially in the 80s and 90s when they were already 30/40. I'm not taking away their faults #they're the 68 gen the sex liberation the drugs the fashion and now the majority is hella conservative(zoomers future except the efforts) #but they never were given stuff on silver platters nor were rich and privileged for the most part and even in rich countries #this make people forget about how gen x are entitled and in power now and ruined many things with no consequences. karens are genX bc they #know how to cater to younger people and turn them against the elders while using rainbow slogans for their major companies #then there's the whole young people are innocent/age gaps in love are bad/my grandma had 2 houses at 20 she robbed me #my grandma had to almost die to buy the house I live in now that she left me or else I'd be homeless and age discourse is generalised ik #but still very not focused on what is really the fault and instead on envy and minor context.

[butwhatifidothis]

I think the most mystifying part of The Fic is the way when reading your notes of it with the quotes, I repeatedly end up feeling like Cap has to be critiquing the thing he’s writing about because… how do you write the things he has and not see how bad it is?

But then nothing ever seems to come from it. Woobiegard never grows to stop constantly pitying herself, seeing her own part in why people leave her in other timelines or changing her actions to prevent this; Byleth seems to be on the path of becoming only human rather than making a place for herself as both human and Nabatean (because being a Nabatean is bad and creepy); Cheating is romantic and not something that needs to be addressed.

Hey, I'm gonna show ya somethin'. Here's a genuine, actual line that is actually, genuinely in the fic, in Chapter 58:

"[Woobiegard] had seen the empty farmhouses and the villages. She had shaken hands with monsters. She had killed countless good people, all for a world that had not yet been born. She would not waver from this path, but if Byleth…"

Now, here is what what is said to Woobiegard in the literal. Next. Chapter:

“You always try to seem so above it all, but all you really want is for your teacher to pat you on the head, and tell you how clever and noble you are while you butcher half of Fodlan."

This is Woobiegard admitting to butchering Fodlan for her ideals and still wanting Ficleth to stay by her side despite her horrific actions, and then fuckin' Cornelia comes around the very next chapter and shoves that exact thing she literally admitted to doing in her face. But because it's phrased in the horrible light that it rightfully belongs in and not the Pity-Me-Elmo way that the fic's narrative always wants to put Woobiegard in, Cornelia is in the complete wrong and she is a villain for even suggesting that Woobiegard would ever do and believe the things she literally admits to doing and believing.

And fuck it, here is an incomplete list of all of the rightful criticisms of Woobiegard that literally never get addressed and/or resolved properly:

“Has your moral compass become so tarnished that you would spare more pity for a murderer than his victims?”

“I’m just, let’s say… impressed that you happened to forge such deep friendships with Ingrid and Marianne, instead of, say… Leonie and Ashe? For someone who’s always talking about how they hate Crests and nobles, you seem to spend a lot of time cozying up to them.“

"I finally understand… what you believe is right. You believe in a world where your noble ends justify any depravity, any violence, in service of your goals.”

“You’re just a pathetic little hypocrite, talking about friendship and honor and mercy as you slaughter your way through every single person that disagrees with you.”

“[Woobiegard’s] going to tell you that at the end of it all, the chaos and blood on your hands will be worth it somehow. And you’ll try to ignore the little hidden part of your souls that’s started to develop a taste for hurting other people. The part that’s just like me. The part that your friend put there.”

“Your Flame Emperor is an inferno, consuming everything in its path. And a fire needs fuel… what do you think will happen when you’ve finished slaughtering your way through the Kingdom and the Church? There will always be another war, another threat, another enemy to conquer.”

“I can’t let Fodlan’s future be placed in the hands of a war-mongering Empire!”

“You know how I’m sure I gotta stop you, [Wobiegard]gard? You didn’t just start this war, but you tricked good people like the Professor, Mari and Lysithea into helping you. Only a really bad person would do that!”

“I have long known the truth about people such as you. You will never desist, not until everyone that does not fit into your vision is gone!”

“After all, are you not simply my new and improved Nemesis? And what a job you have done, assembling your own merry little band of Elites. Claiming to fight for humanity, when all it has truly ever been about is your fragile ego, Flame Emperor.”

"[Woobiegard] is a manipulator. A deceiver. She stood alongside her fellow students, wearing the mask of a friend, as she planned a war that would bring bloodshed and despair to the people of the continent. She does not feel remorse, or guilt, or grief, as people like you or I do. Her only aim… her only wish is to hold Fodlan in the palm of her hand, crushing all those who dare to disagree with her. Even as we speak, the Alliance has fallen. Soon, she will come, enforcing her twisted morality on all of us."

And mind, these are just the criticisms that are directly meant to go towards specifically Woobiegard (and not even all of them either); this doesn't address the criticisms that get thrown at other characters that Woobiegard is equally if not more guilty of doing. And Cap'n registers all of these rightful criticisms that he himself is throwing at Woobiegard about as well as a blind man reads a holographic map; he doesn't. Not even a little bit.

Woobiegard never grows ever, at any point, even slightly, because her doing so would imply that there was ever a point in which she was wrong, which the fic is deathly allergic to ever actually showing off. So instead it just says that she totally did grow from having a heart of ice to being a gumdrop sugarcake snoogum-woogum uwu flower, and these criticisms just. Sit here. Accurate and scathing, with nothing ever proving them wrong.

Woobiegard is called depraved and violent by Dimitri, and then she goes on to brutally kill Judith a few chapters later. People constantly point out to her that she's killing everyone who doesn't agree with her, and she goes on to kill everyone who doesn't agree with her, with the only ones allowed to live being those who admit that she was right and they were wrong (Claude, Seteth). People accuse her of manipulating her friends into thinking that all of the horrible things she's having them do will be worth it, and she goes on to tell her friends that all of the horrible things she is having her them do will totally be worth it.

At this point it's almost like it's not so much that Cap'n is disregarding the criticisms other characters make against Woobiegard so much as it is him deliberately writing it so that Woobiegard's sole goal in life is to prove everyone's negative words about her completely right. But also apply it to, like. Everything in the fic too

#ask #anon #exqueuese me princess #o captain my captain #it's like if a robber was caught robbing a store and to prove their innocence they robbed another store #but instead of that robber just goin' to fuckin' jail that tactic like. actually worked. and they got off scot free #that's what reading this fic is like a lot of the time

[drachliebe]

just thinking about ... what if the power of eisworld IS inherited once the old ruler dies , the kicker being that it comes all at once . a child heir probably cannot withhold literally the entire power of winter , so they're changed accordingly-- quite literarily growing up too fast and being robbed of their childhood in one of the worst ways possible

#❄️) ⋆｡°✩ v // my heart is ice but my spirit is fire #// i have thoughts :)) #// because childhood is such a precious concept here BECAUSE it's fleeting #// so to be robbed of it in such a way works both metaphorically for lost innocence AND physically #// like at least adults who grew up naturally can reminisce but here- there's nothing to go back to. it's just gone. #// i think it would be even more risky for lilli because she's human and there's no telling exactly what would happen to her #// either she survives and loses herself or she dies and take all winter with her

[francesderwent]

Maisie Peters’ sophomore album The Good Witch 🤝 “Naughty” from Matilda the Musical

#they never stood a chance they were written that way! innocent victims of their story #love and fate and a touch of stupidity would rob them of their hope of living happily #I wonder why they didn’t just change their story? #if you’re stuck in your story and want to get out you don’t have to cry you don’t have to shout #nobody else is gonna put it right for me! nobody but me is gonna change my story!! #this is me admitting i need a music tag

[whereami2385]

I just got robbed of a choker and earrings while at a mall bc I left the bag in the bathroom for 2 FUCKING MINUTES. I ran back immediately and the lady that walked out was suspicious but I went for the bag and was relieved to see it but then found it was empty and I’ve now decided to permanently hate people and never trust them again

#I also hate myself #can’t trust people #she couldn’t just leave it alone #it’s my own stupidity that’s at fault #but I’m still pissed off #people suck #I find solace in the fact that she didn’t have toilet paper #I’m cackling at her misfortune #if I saw her again I’d punch her #no hesitation #hope u have an awful fuck day bitch #hope u can’t sleep at night bc u have to live w the regret of stealing from some innocent girl #ok that’s a little far #but u get my point #didn’t mean to make this many tags #there’s more in the the tags than in the post #my bad #i hate everything #kill my brain #ive been robbed

[alirhi]

It's so weird how much young/clean-shaven Robert Sheehan looks like Jim Caviezel as Edmond Dantes... but hey, since Hollywood's so obsessed with remakes, at least we know there's someone out there who can do the role justice

#robert sheehan #jim caviezel #edmond dantes #the count of monte cristo #rob would be a fantastic edmond i think #his big green eyes can really pull off the innocent look #and i'd pay good money to see him as a pirate #zatara #'it means driftwood' #XD will always be my favorite line #along with 'i swear on my dead relatives. even on the ones that aren't feeling too good.'

[pulchrasilva]

Uh oh im thinking about the word for world is forest again immm gonna throw up

#are there like essays and commentary about le guins writing #wait of course there are #well i need to read those #i need to see other peoples takes on the whole thing with the gods i dont have my own take but im obsessed #IM SICK IM UNWELL #WHEN REVOLUTION IS NECESSARY BUT ROBS YOU OF SOMETHING YOU CAN NEVER GET BACK #SELVER!!!!!!!!! SOBBING SOBBING #THEYRE GODS!!! #and fuckinggg i forgot his name but yhe guy his terran friend and then he went to see selver and they couldnt talk #and all the innocent people - ultimately colonists but innocent - who died so they could be free #and the worst of the invaders fucking DAVIDSON getting away alive #and the conflict between the terrans some like hey lets not murder people and the others like haha theyre not people lol #umm throwinf up. selvers wife. what the fuck #im unwell im unwell #little green monkey people who dream and their word for world is forest!!!!!! #uhhh. yeah im fine 👍 #the word for world is forest

[enjymemink]

My heart breaks just by looking at it. Those animals are robbing their childhood, their innocence, their families, their lives.

#iof is terrorist #israel is a terrorist state #free gaza #free palestine #gaza #palestine #palestine resources #social justice #gaza genocide #gaza strip #imperialism #palestinian genocide #human rights #yemen #jerusalem #al quds #history

[retrobutterflies]

Menace | e.m.

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Telling a guy at a party that you have a boyfriend doesn't seem to deter him. Probably because that guy is your boyfriend and you're too drunk to realize.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Drinking, Major Fluff, Established Relationship, Cute pet names

A/N: Don't ever settle for a relationship if they wouldn't do your night routine for you.

The music was starting to give Steve a headache. Gone were the days of being the keg king and beer pong master, first to have a drink and last to stumble his way home. Now suddenly he was more worried about drunk Robin asking people far too personal questions and even drunker you deciding to play another drinking game because you liked that it had cards in it.

"Please, I'm sincerely begging you, Y/N, just sit down–" you interjected with a whine, staring up at him with heartbroken eyes.

"Steve, the game just started. I didn't even break the circle–" a loud hiccup cut off your slurred protests making Robin let out a squeaking laugh from the seat next to you.

Steve let out a tired sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute before zeroing in on the two of you.

"Well, we're gonna play a new game. It's called sit here while Steve makes a phone call," he said, eyes flickering from yours, wide and disgruntled, to Robin's, half lidded from the joint he had found in her hand, not a clue where she got it from.

"It sounds awful," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking back into the couch.

"Yeah the name sucks," Robin said, picking up an unfinished drink from the side table next to the couch. Steve snatched it from her before she could press it to her lips because it wasn't her drink and she had thrown in her half smoked joint not even thirty seconds before, the rolled blunt floating around in the dark liquid.

"Rob, stop trying to drink everything you see. You're not aquatic," he hissed, harshly dropping the drink on a table out of her reach.

"Well maybe I'm dehydrated, Steve. You gonna let me die of thirst?" she quipped back, eyes blinking slowly revealing red rimmed irises.

"Then I'll get you a water, Robin," he hissed back, eyes narrowing at her. "But first let me make one single phone call, okay? You're not gonna die of thirst in three minutes."

"I might! I feel my cells disintegrating as we speak!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. You turned to look at her, mouth dropping open slight in horror.

"Disintegrating?" you repeated.

"Every moment that passes–POOF. Another mitochondria bites the dust," she confirmed, giving you a sad smile and a shrug.

"No–" Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's terrible," you expressed, lips pouting and looking to Steve with an expression of alarm. "That's so sad."

"The saddest," she nodded again as Steve muttered an incredulous "Oh my god."

"We need to do something, Steve! Her mitochondria!"

"My mitochondria, Steve!" Robin echoed you, tone mocking as she smirked at him. Steve felt his headache growing steadily.

"Fine! Fine! I'll go get you a drink! Just stay on this fucking couch. Got it?" When neither of you protested, eyes flickering back and forth between your faces he added a strict Stay like you would a disobedient dog.

He hurried to find the house phone, knowing his timeframe was limited before the two of you wandered off in opposite directions, giving him another wild good chase to corral you together. It was late and he was tired and he desperately needed to call in some back up.

Punching in the numbers, Steve cast distasteful looks at the not so innocent sounds emanating from the bathroom adjacent from the landline. The phone rang for a while, making him fear no one was going to answer until finally the receiver picked up.

"Munson residence," the chirpy voice of Eddie Munson had Steve releasing a short-lived sigh of relief.

"Eddie, it's Steve," he said, pressing close to the wall to avoid two girls swaying dangerously and stumbling past him with mirroring green faces.

"Stevie! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Eddie seemed to be eating something as his words were slightly muffled.

"I need you to come get your girlfriend." He tried not to sound like he was begging even though that's exactly what he was doing.

There was shuffling on the line before Eddie's voice rang out clear, "She okay?"

Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes. "She's fine just plastered," he thought for a moment before adding with exasperation, "and like obsessed with card games. And really bad at them so she keeps losing and drinking more."

Eddie's charmed laugh sounded over the static of the receiver. Steve wanted to pull his hair out. Of course Eddie found anything you did endearing. You could insult Black Sabbath and he would still look at you like you put the stars in the sky. You had him completely under your enchantment.

"Just make sure she's not taking any," Eddie replied, his smile drenching his tone.

"Taking any what?"

"Card decks. She likes to collect them."

Steve was quiet. Eddie was quiet. Then Eddie laughed again and Steve had to resist banging his head against the wall.

"Eddie. I'm begging you. Please, just, come pick her up," he said through clenched teeth.

It didn't take Eddie long to reach the house party. You had mentioned where you were going earlier that night, commenting that it wasn't too far from where Corroded Coffin was playing and that maybe he could stop by after. He had agreed under the impression that you would probably be home by the time he was finished because it was far later than you were usually out. So he had headed home thinking you were in bed until Steve had called.

And now he was weaving through a legion of drunk high schoolers, on his way to relieve a very stressed sounding Steve from his never-ending babysitter duties. You were sat on a couch, arms crossed as you glared at Steve and Robin endlessly bickering about something. When Steve saw him he called him over.

"I'm taking Robin home. Good luck with that one because she snuck another drink in when I wasn't looking," Steve grumbled, hooking his arm through Robin's as she whined at him.

"What if I don't want to go home," Robin shot at him, eye brows raising.

"I don't care. It's late and I'm tired so we're leaving," he stated, tugging her towards the door.

"You're not the governor of the universe, Steve."

Eddie watched their retreating forms before turning his attention back on you. Your gaze seemed far away as you looked forward, not seeming to have even noticed his presence. He took few steps towards you before sinking into the seat next to you.

"Hey, trouble," he said, reaching out a hand to brush softly against your cheek.

You pulled away like you had been burned and turned to give him a glare. He lost his breath for a moment, confused by the sudden hostility.

"Can you leave me alone?" Your voice was slurred but it didn't conceal the overt bite to your tone. He felt a bubble of hurt grow in his chest, hand dropping to his lap.

"You want me to leave you alone?" he echoed, slightly bewildered. Hours before coming here you were pouting at him for not being able to join, acting as though it would physically hurt you to be away from him for a night. And now, suddenly, you didn't want him here? Were you mad at him for abandoning you?"

"Yeah. I have a boyfriend, so, you can leave," you bit back. He blinked at you, digesting your words, before relaxing. Your glassy eyes gave no indication that you realized it was him. You weren't mad at him, you were mad at the thought of a random guy bothering you at this party. He couldn't conceal his grin.

"Oh, yeah? What's his name?" he asked, playing along as the tension eased from his body. He wanted to reach out and push your hair behind your ear but restrained himself.

"Eddie. Eddie Munson. And he'll beat you up if he finds out you're bothering me," you proclaimed, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you glared at him, or however many versions of him you were seeing with your blurred vision.

"He will, will he?" he felt giddy at your admission.

He had had moments in your year long relationship where he let his insecurity eat away at him. You were beautiful and kind and alluring. You unconsciously had people gravitating towards you and sometimes he worried that one day someone would turn your head and steal you away from him. But seeing you be so cold to someone even attempting to have a conversation with you, bringing him up immediately, had his heart selfishly warming.

"Yeah and he's on his way to come get me. So try your luck with someone else," you concluded, words slightly garbled as you gave him your best glare.

"How many drinks have you had, trouble?" he asked, laughing incredulously. Your steely glare hardened. You unfolded your arms to poke him harshly in the shoulder.

"You don't get to call me that. Only my boyfriend can call me that," you stated, poking him again for good measure. It didn't hurt him but he feigned pain anyway, hand flying to his shoulder as he sunk back like he was shot.

He opened his mouth to respond but suddenly you were clambering your way off the couch, form swaying as the alcohol in your system made your vision spin. Eddie was up next to you in an instant, gripping your elbows to steady you.

"Easy, sugar. Don't want you face planting," he murmured, trying to bit back his laugh. You halfheartedly swatted him away, making him remove his hands from you only to hover them behind you in case you started swaying again.

"I just told you not to touch me. I'll beat you up myself if I have to," you said, giving his shoulder a light shove that had you stumbling instead of it's intended affect. Eddie ghosted his hands behind your back as you righted yourself, eyes dancing over your flushed face and glazed eyes.

You marched away from him, dead set on avoiding him and finding something to do until your actual boyfriend showed up. Eddie followed behind you like a shadow, eyes alight in amusement as he waited for you to finally realize it was him. You were nearly oblivious to your surroundings, bumping into people, stumbling over loose cans littering the floor. He followed behind, one hand floating to press your back lightly when you wobbled and the other pressing bodies away so you could move easier through the crowd.

When you found the front door and burst out into the cool air of the autumn night, you whirled around to give your stalker a piece of your mind only to freeze when you noticed his wiry curls and amused smirk.

"Eddie!" you breathed, voice airy and light as you tumbled towards him, arms flying to wrap around his neck. He let out a boisterous laugh, arms snaking around your midsection as he squeezed you tight, lifting you slightly from the ground.

"Hi, pretty," he breathed, face nuzzling into your neck to leave a few searing kisses. You molded into him, body relaxing and contented sigh seeping through your smiling lips.

"Eddie, what took you so long! There was this annoying creep who wouldn't leave me alone," you whined, breathing in his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes. His chuckle vibrated into your neck making chills run up your spine. You pressed in tighter, addicted to his touch.

"Did you tell him to fuck off?" he asked, playing along, smirk widening as he pulled back, finally allowing himself to brush wild pieces of hair behind your ears.

"Told him I'd fight him," you replied and he gave you a bright grin.

"Good girl," he said, pinching your cheek lightly, before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You preened at the praise, stepping on tip toes to deepen the kiss that was making your head fuzzy. He smoothed both his hands on the sides of your face, thumbs resting on the apples of your cheeks, pecking your lips a few more times for good measure before he was reluctantly pulling back.

"Let's get you home, yeah, trouble?" You nodded, eager to go anywhere with him. He took your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before tugging you in the direction of his truck.

The drive to your house was filled with you animatedly recounting the party to Eddie, who listened with a soft smile on his face. There were moments where your slightly slurred speech and foggy memory made your stories hard to follow but anytime you laughed he did too, your glee contagious and endearing. He had to scold himself to pay attention to the road a few times when he felt his gaze being reeled in like sailor to a siren.

When you arrived at your home, you handed him your bag claiming your keys were somewhere in its depth. He turned the ignition off, the both of you sitting in the car as the heat slowly seeped into the chill of the night. He opened your bag and let out an incredulous laugh. At least three decks of cards were shoved into your small purse, stolen from a fair few disgruntled partygoers who probably wouldn't have suspected you as the thief in the slightest.

"You're a menace, you know that?" he commented, pushing the decks to the side so he could reach for the set of keys glinting at the bottom of the bag. You pouted at him, no clue what he was referring to. He chuckled, leaning over the inner consul to press a sweet kiss to your lips. "A cute one, but a menace."

"C'mon. Let get you inside," he said, unlocking the doors. You were nearly putting all of your weight on him as you headed to the front door of your house, body slung around him like a backpack. He had one arm wrapped around your back, pressing kisses to the top of your head every few steps, your bag looped over his shoulder.

As he fumbled with the lock, keys rattling against the metal of the doorknob, you mumbled something about your family being away when he winced at the noise he was making. And once you were inside, door shut behind you, he flicked on a few switches, lighting up the empty house. He dropped your bag and keys on the small table by the door before turning towards you.

With both arms wrapping around you, he bent slightly, his hands moving to cradle the backs of your thighs.

"Up," he commanded. You jumped, letting him hoist you into his arms as you wrapped yours around his neck, legs hooking his waist.

"'M, tired," you mumbled into his shoulder. His chest vibrated as he chuckled, taking cautious steps up towards the second floor.

"I bet. It's nearly two," he replied and you humphed in response. When he made it to your room, he slowly released his hold on you, letting you slide down until your feet touched the ground. You whined against him, not liking the idea of not being completely wrapped up in him.

"Need to get you ready for bed, sugar," he said, reaching around behind his neck to pry your arms away. You whined again but had little strength to resist him. He nudged you forward until the backs of your legs met your bed, causing you to reluctantly sit down, the mattress dipping slightly.

He crouched down so he could rest his weight on his knees, the carpet of your floor cushioning them. You were blinking slowly down at him like you were fighting against sleep. Hand wrapping around your ankle, he undid the laces and slipped off your sneaker, dropping it to the side. He repeated the action with your other shoe.

"I'm gonna get you something to change into, okay?" he said, pushing up from the floor. He kicked off his own shoes next to yours, pulling off his vest and then his jacket, draping them over your desk chair.

Your room was yards cleaner than his own and starkly different. Remnants of your childhood were woven together with band and movie posters, shelves of books, and colorful post-its and polaroids taped to your mirror. He spotted his face in many of them, heart warming each time he noticed yet another one of him you managed to find room for.

He headed for your dresser, pulling drawers open at random trying to find something for you to sleep in. His cheeks warmed at the drawer of underwear he yanked open, the pretty pastels and swirling lace making him swallow harshly. He wasn't here to be creepy he was here to be a doting boyfriend. He opened a few more until he found one of his shirts he thought he had misplaced. Menace, he thought.

When he turned around you had already begun slipping off your pants, kicking around until they flew off your ankles. He walked over to you as you were pulling your shirt over your head. His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes trailed down the straps of your bra to the curves of your chest, heat rising on the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he chided himself. Now was not the time for that. He heard you undo your bra and kept his gaze on your sleepy eyes as he handed you the black T-shirt. You slipped it on without protest.

"Alright, now to the bathroom," he said, patting the side of your bare thigh.

"But I'm tired," you groaned, wrinkling your nose at the idea of exerting more energy.

"I know, trouble, but you still have your makeup on," he said, leaning over to take your hand in his. He held his other one out and you reluctantly grabbed it, letting him pull you up. He maneuvered the both of you into the bathroom. You wobbled against him, eyes squinting shut at the harshness of the overhead light. He let go of your hands to slide them to the sides of your ribcage. Then he lifted you so you were sat on the counter besides the sink.

“Okay, sleepyhead, I need you to direct me through your night routine,” he said, rubbing his hand on the side of your neck. You looked at him through bleary eyes before looking down at the counter. An assortment of bottles and serums and tubs of cream littered the expanse of the white laminate. You blinked heavily before pointing at one.

“That’s makeup remover,” you said as a yawn over took you. He picked it up, unscrewing the top and then staring blankly at you.

“Do I . . . use my hand?” he asked innocently. You giggled softly, leaning back to rest against the wall.

“No, silly. A cotton pad,” you replied, waving your hand in the direction of the cabinet. He found them, dropping a few as he struggled with the zip lock, before pulling one out. He tipped the clear liquid from the bottle, soaking the cotton pad before turning back to you.

“Eyes shut,” he ordered, stepping closer so your legs parted for his thighs. You followed his instructions, eyes fluttering shut as he brought the pad to your face.

Eddie was nothing if not gently when it came to you. The damp cotton brushed softly over your eyelids, over your eyebrows, down your temples, trailing your jaw, over your lips, and in circles on your cheeks. He could tell you were dozing, needing to move his other hand to frame your jaw so your head wouldn’t lull to the side.

Dropping the dirtied cotton pad in the trash, he grabbed a hand towel and soaked it under the tap. It was warm when he brought it to your face, the stitched loops of the towel swirling around as he wet the skin. Dropping it down, he scanned the array of bottles until he found one clearly labelled face wash. He squeezed probably too much onto his palms before moving to massage it around your face. The gel foaming as he circulated his fingers, tender movements nearly putting you to sleep. Your eyes blinked open, finding his focused on his movements, tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration. A balloon of affection blossomed in your chest.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” you mumbled, blinking slowly at him like cat. His movements slowed as heat rushed to his cheeks at your words.

“Well you’re my favorite person in the whole universe,” he said back, moving to rinse the face wash from his hands. He re-wet the small towel and moved to wipe your face down. You pouted at him.

“That’s not fair. I can’t go any bigger than the universe,” you grumbled, unhappy that he outdid you so quickly. He let out an endeared laugh, hand moving to cup the back of your neck as he wiped the foam from your face.

“I don’t play fair, baby. Not when it comes to professing my undying love to you,” he said making you wrinkle your nose. He leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“I missed you tonight,” you confessed as he finished cleaning your face. He rinsed the towel in the sink before turning to look at you. Your head was resting against the wall, eyes half lidded in fatigue but glinting prettily under your lashes. He felt his chest tighten at the sight, his breath stalling for a moment at your effortless beauty.

“I always miss you when you’re not around,” you added. He moved to face you, chest coiling in unbridled affection, hands moving to cage your face in. He swiped his thumbs under your eyes, the soft skin glittering from the water.

“Wish I could be with you 24/7 but I don’t want you to get sick of me,” you continued, eyes fluttering up at him. He thought you might really kill him.

“Not even in an alternate dimension could I get sick of you. Not even in a hypothetical scenario. Not even if my life depended on it,” he replied, moving closer until your noses were almost touching. Your hands snaked around his torso, tugging him closer, bunching up the back of his shirt.

“If you’ll have me I’ll probably be up your ass until the end of time,” he added, making a peel of giggles erupt from you. His eyes squinted as he smiled, leaning in to press his lips to yours, your giggles dissolving into his affection.

“Now, no more being cute until we’re done with this,” he said after pressing yet another kiss to your lips. Your swollen lips chased his to steel another, then another before he was squeezing your sides, making you squirm and laugh as he pulled away.

You leaned back against the wall, eyes drooping as he continued, grabbing your moisturizer and spinning open the cap. He repeated his gentle motions over your face, swiping softly around your eyes and smoothing any tension from your face.

“Brush,” you blinked your eyes open noticing him holding out your toothbrush, toothpaste already sitting on the bristles. Your movements were sluggish but you managed, leaning over to spit in the sink before he was handing you a cup of water to rinse.

You were both quiet for a moment. He watched as you leaned your head back, eyes shut. His hands trailed the sides of your thighs, brushing the skin, squeezing slightly, warming them and making goosebumps appear. His eyes danced around your face, taking in your peaceful features. You were breathtaking even when on the edge of sleep. He was completely enamored with you. He never thought someone could have him so enchanted that he would be taking their makeup off before bed and making sure they brushed their teeth but you had sent him one dazzling smile and he was lost in a sea of desire to take care of you for as long as he lived.

“Alright, ready for bed?” he asked, affectionately brushing his thumbs on the tops of your thighs. You nodded, slumping forward to wrap your arms around his neck. He tugged you forward, hands slinking under your thighs to pull you up into his arms.

He laid you gently on your bed, pulling the covers down so you could slip your legs in until he was moving the duvet up over you. He wandered back over to your dresser, digging back into the bottom drawer where he knew a treasure trove of his clothes was hidden, never to be seen in his closet again. He slipped off his pants and then shirt, pulling on an old Van Halen T-shirt, the ratty edges brushing against the waistline of his boxers. 

"You're staying, right?" your sleepy voice rang out from the bed. He kicked his pile of clothes to the side, knowing you were going to chide him for it tomorrow.

"Wouldn't dream of leaving," he answered, pulling off his rings, the silver clanking as he dropped them on your desk. 

He hurried to shut the lights off before he was crawling in beside you, finding your sleepy body in the dark and pulling you into him. You let out a contented sigh, warm breath tickling his neck, making him pull you in even tighter.

He wasn’t sure how he had gotten so lucky. Nothing seemed to compare to finally being in your arms, breathing in the smell of your perfume and feeling the smoothness of your skin. His lips traced your hairline, leaving soft honeyed kisses around your forehead and down over your eyelids. You smiled into the darkness, tilting your face up in a silent beg for more. He kissed your nose, his eyelashes dusting the tops of your cheeks.

"Love you," you whispered, melting against him and his warm lips. You felt him smile against your cheek.

"Love you more," he whispered back, a kiss following his admiration.

“Love you times a million,” you added, hoping finally to win a battle of affection.

“Love you times infinity,” he replied. You let out a whine at him one-upping you yet again but he just chuckled in fondness, teeth nipping at the plumpness of your cheek until he was seeking out your lips again, to press a dozen more kisses until you inevitably fell under the spell of sleep, dreaming about him and his big brown eyes and warm kisses and how very very lucky you were.

Link to my masterlist :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot #stranger things fanfic

[cheolhub]

WHAT YOU NEED — JEON WONWOO ࿐

summary. wonwoo knows how shy you get telling him what you want, but he’ll get you to use your words one way or another.

wc. 2.5k

warnings. mean-ish soft dom!wonwoo, sub! reader, corruption kink + slight humiliation kink! lots of teasing from wonwoo, lots of begging from reader, pet names [love, baby, sweet girl], dirty talk [😵‍💫], possessiveness (reader is so into it), heavy praise, unprotected sex, creampie — MINORS DNI 18+

note. it’s been months… hellooo… i forgot how to write so forgive me for the shitty plot lol. this is me attempting to get back into the writing world 🤓 hopefully ONE of u enjoys this <3 p.s. i’m srsly in my wonu era

“remember what i said, love,” wonwoo murmured, soft lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “if you want something, you gotta use your words.”

you hated this– everything about this– the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice that shoots heat straight to your core, him in general. he’s well aware of the fact that you can’t stand it at this moment, but that doesn’t put an end to his teasing. 

your back arches off his chest as you feel the ghost of his fingers over your painfully wet cunt, covered in a pair of cotton panties. “wonwoo…” you whine, eyes brimming with tears of frustration. “please…”

he merely chuckles, pressing a kiss to the skin under your ear. “please what?”

when you and wonwoo started dating, you were so shy. so shy and so, so sweet. you’d never been with anyone before him, and of course he felt bad that he was the one to rob you of your innocence, but he was filled with a sense of pride (and urgency) when he’d found out he was the one to corrupt you and ruin you for everyone else. 

and he was gentle. yes, jeon wonwoo was so, very gentle, handling you like a pretty doll while coaxing orgasms out of you left and right with his hands and mouth till your body was slack and you were nothing but a puddle of tears. he got you ready for his cock and you took it well. then you took it again. and again. and again, till you and him both knew you were his and he was yours. 

it got to the point where you’d crave him at the most inconvenient times. while you were running errands, at work, at dinner with your friends– it was almost insufferable. 

but he always took care of you. all you had to do was ask and he’d be there at your beck and call with whatever you wanted, whether it was with his mouth, fingers or cock. 

he always makes you ask because wonwoo’s taken a certain… liking… to making  you say the filthiest things. he knows it makes you nervous, but that’s why he thinks he loves it. he loves your stammering and how he can feel the heat radiating from your body. it’s cute.

which is why you’re in your current predicament, sat between his legs, your own spread over his with your back pressed to his chest after sending an innocent ‘come over, please? <3’ text. 

“don’t make me say it, won… it’s…it’s unbecoming. just… please.”

usually, he’s not so adamant on getting you to say exactly what you want. all you had to do was say please, and he was all yours. 

but no, not today apparently. 

“there’s nothing unbecoming about it, my love.” he noses at your neck, his breath fanning over your racing pulse and eliciting your soft shudder. “just tell me what you invited me over for and i’ll give it to you.”

“please… touch me.” you whisper, heat creeping from where his lips are on your to neck all the way up to the tips of your ears. 

you can feel his shit-eating grin and you want to scream at him, but your need for him is much more profound than your desire to slap him in the face for teasing you to this extent. 

his hands rub up and down your arms and you hear his smile when he asks, “like this?”

you groan, shaking your head, “you know what i mean!” 

“i don’t know what you mean, actually. can you dumb it down for me?” 

you mentally curse him out, but you try to steady your breathing before you speak again. “touch me… down… there.” you attempt to say, but it comes out as more of a squeak.

wonwoo’s uncharacteristically large hands find your tummy and you want to sob when he asks, “here?” you shake your head. “words.” the demand vibrates through you and you let you an embarrassing whimper.

“lower,” you whisper, unable to trust your voice. “please, wonwoo.”

he runs his fingers down your abdomen and trails them down your thighs. you can’t help the cry that leaves your mouth. “mean. you’re so mean.”

“you can say it, sweet girl.” he whispers. “it’s not unbecoming. it’s not inappropriate. it’s fucking hot. i want you to tell me exactly what you want and i swear to god i’ll give it to you.”

you sniffle, frustrated and slightly embarrassed, but you stutter out in the softest voice he’s ever heard you use, “please touch my pussy, wonwoo.”

you think it feels awkward and gross coming out of your mouth with your voice, but wonwoo… wonwoo groans, hand immediately slipping into your panties. “good fucking girl.” he grumbles as his fingers find your clit. 

you jolt at the contact but melt into him just as quickly. “fuck,” you whimper, thankful that you’re finally receiving the touch you’ve been craving for the past half hour. “f-faster, please.”

wonwoo’s chest swells with that familiar sense of pride again as he hears your beg. he obliges, the rough pads of his fingers circling the swollen, pleading bud. “you’re so fucking wet…”

you moan, head falling back on his shoulder. your face burns like never before as you get out, “f-for… you. ‘m wet for you.”

wonwoo isn’t always vocal, but when he is? he’s loud. so the moan that slips from his mouth startles you a bit. 

“that’s right, all for me.” he grunts, possessiveness lacing his voice causing the jostling of butterflies in your tummy. “all fucking mine, forever mine.”

you change your mind at this– you love the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice, him especially. 

“always yours.” you nod vigorously, body writhing as he quickens the movement of his fingers. 

wonwoo doesn’t have much self-control when it comes to you, so it’s taking everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you till all you can say is yours, yours, always yours. instead, he opts for trying to get more out of your pretty mouth. “how do you feel, baby? tell me how much you like my fingers playing with this pretty little cunt.”

it’s so filthy, but you can’t help but arch your back at the sound of his words. “love them s’much, wonwoo. feels s’good.”

he’s sure you do feel good, he’s a skilled man after all, but he knows you probably need more. 

“yeah?” he responds breathily, cock aching at the validation and how pretty you sound saying his name. “this enough to make you cum, or do you want more?”

your brain fogs over at the thought of more. you can nearly taste ecstasy on the tip of your tongue and you don’t doubt that you could get off with just his fingers, yet… the idea of being filled to the brim with his fingers or his cock is much more compelling. 

“more.” you breathe in reply. 

“what was that?” he teases, fingers slowing down. 

there’s that wicked sense of humor that makes you want to slap him across the face.

you barred your teeth before gritting, “fuck me, please. i need more. i need you, wonwoo.”

his ministrations stop and before you get the chance to complain, he’s rolling your panties down your legs and guiding you to straddle his abdomen. he slips his sweats down enough for his cock to come out and, even though you can’t see it, you can feel its looming presence. 

“take what’s yours, baby.” he stares up at you while you stare back, eyes wide. 

“y-you… you want me to…?” he knows what your unfinished question translates to and he nods and gives you a lazy smile even though you can see the burning desire in his blown out pupils.

you let out a short breath and nod, more to yourself than anything. he’s never let you have control while you’re on top, but you feel giddy that he’s giving you a chance now. you lift your hips up and take a hold of his hardened length in your hands. you run the blushy tip of his cock through your folds, eliciting a hiss from the man under you, before finally sliding down his cock. slowly, you feel every inch of him invade your pussy and it’s so good, despite the slight burn.

you forget how tight the fit is every time. even with how wet you are, you still feel your walls stretching to accommodate his size. 

you cry softly, body going limp as you finally hit the base of his cock. “won…”

“you feel so good,” he moans softly, hands finding purchase on your hips. “are you alright? does it hurt?” he manages to ask, cock twitching at the way your walls wrap around him.

you shake your head incessantly, hoping he doesn’t worry too much. “no– no, ‘m okay. j-just need to adjust.”

wonwoo nods empathetically, rubbing soothing circles into your skin to ease you. “you’re doing so well.” he whispers after a minute of silence, the only sounds being your ragged breaths and the soft hum of the air conditioning. “gonna make sure you feel so good, baby.”

you feel the heat reappear and a gush of arousal leak at the praise in his hushed voice. it inspires you to take action. 

you press your palms to his clothed abdomen, wishing he’d taken off his shirt so you can feel his skin, but you can’t be bothered to ask him to do so now. you lift your hips up his cock before letting yourself drop, a moan tumbling out of your mouth when you feel how deep he is inside you. 

you repeat the sloppy movements, stangled moans slipping with every sharp thrust as you spear yourself on his length over and over. 

it’s not till wonwoo guides you with the tight grip of his hands on your waist that you find a steady tempo, the sound of skin on skin growing louder with the mixed sounds of his grunts and your mewls. 

you slip your hands under his shirt, craving the closeness, and lightly run your nails down the skin. you feel him contract under the contact and you can’t stop the way your walls tighten around him when his hands squeeze you harder. 

the longer you ride him, the more your thighs burn. it eventually causes your speed to falter and wonwoo, ever the observer, is quick to notice. he decides you’ve had enough and bucks his hips into you, meeting you halfway while groaning out your name. 

the bulbous head of his cock rams into your sweet, special spot as he takes over and you throw your head back in utmost pleasure. tears spring to your eyes and wonwoo finds this to be the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid his eyes on. your tits bouncing with every push, your mouth cracked open as the prettiest sounds leave it, the way your eyebrows knit in pleasure– he makes a mental note to bring his camera next time you invite him over. 

“tell me what you need, love.” he demands yet again, words breathy and clipped as his cock throbs in between your velvet walls. “tell me what this pretty pussy needs and i’ll fucking give it to you.” his sentence ends in a growl when your nails bite into his bare skin, leaving red, crescent shapes in their wake. 

you let out a choked sob, “w-wonu–”

he sits up, using his strength to bounce you up and down at a leisure pace– one that he knows does nothing for your needy body. “don’t get shy on me now, baby, you can tell me.” he coaxes, sultry voice circling your brain. 

you swear if your body burns any hotter, you’ll explode.

your mouth opens to let out a plea, “p-please make me cum– please, i-i wanna–” your words are swallowed by him as he smashes his lips to yours. you moan his name into his mouth and he all but moans back into yours. 

you involuntarily clench around him when he hastily bucks into you while also guiding your hips on his cock. when he pulls back, he sports swollen lips and lust-ridden eyes and it makes you all the more needy for your coveted release. 

“rub your clit and get yourself off for me, yeah?” you pants before his mouth lands on one of your breasts, sucking and tugging at the peaked nipple. 

you follow instructions, two of your fingers moving to circle the swollen bud and your free hand gripping his shoulder for more support. 

at the onslaught of pleasure, the knot that’s been rapidly forming in your tummy all night tightens beyond belief and you know you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. wonwoo, being as perceptive as he is, just moans at the way you pulse uncontrollably around his cock. 

if you’ve learned anything from the teasing and the rather humbling experience you’ve had tonight, it’s that you should definitely voice what you want. 

and that’s exactly what you do. 

“i– fuck, wonwoo. i need to cum, please let me.” you beg as you get closer and closer to your anticipated release. 

he releases your nipple with a pop and nearly growls. “cum for me, baby.” 

it’s all you need to hear before a silent scream leaves your lips and white, hot pleasure runs its course. your body goes taut as the tether in your belly snaps in half, cunt and body practically spasming all the while your brain spins erratically. 

wonwoo is enthralled by the sight and feeling of you. the grip he has on you is near bruising as he watches you fall apart on him– feels you fall apart on him. 

“so beautiful,” he praises, voice strained as he nears his own release. “my beautiful girl. you’re so fucking good for me, you know that?” he rambles, cock twitching as you let out more whines and whimpers.

“c-cum in me.” you demand, voice broken and hoarse from all the screaming. “i-i wanna feel it. i need to.”

an animalistic growl bubbles in the back of his throat and his slow pace and sweet praise disappears, replaced by an unforgiving speed at which he pounds into you. you’re back to broken moans as he lets out labored pants till, shortly after, he’s stills inside of you, cock nestled at your hilt and he’s releasing his warm load inside of your battered walls. 

you collapse on top of him, savoring the feeling of his warmth inside of you. 

“did i hurt you?” he whispers after a few minutes of unsteady breathing from the both of you. 

you shake your head. “just my dignity,” you joke softly, resting your forehead against his. “i’m alright, don’t worry.”

he chuckles, cupping your cheek and running the pad of his thumb over the dried tear streaks, “i was a bit mean, huh?”

“so mean.” you tease, kissing the corner of his mouth. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“beyond lucky.”

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