it’s unfair of us to have platforms and not use it to speak up for palestinians. i have resources provided below for how you can educate yourself on the ethnic cleansing that is happening in palestine right now and how you can help.
educate yourself
thread on what is occurring in sheikh jarrah, another thread
tw violence video of palestinian explaining the situation in sheikh jarrah
tw bombing video of al aqsa mosque being bombed
tw violence, tw bombing, tw shooting video of palestinians in al aqsa mosque
tweet explaining importance of al aqsa
a website where you can learn more about palestine
a video breaking down the history of the israeli oppressing palestinians
video of palestinian explaining the importance of spreading awareness
tw violence video of 16 yo palestinian boy being forcefully evicted from his home by israeli solders
tiktok of palestinian speaking about what is going on in her country. please see the links in her bio for more information— tiktok will not let me copy and paste her linktree
tiktok of palestinian speaking on situation in gaza
instagram page for jewish voices for peace, an organization working for liberation and justice for palestine
infographics explaining how to be an ally for palestine
some of the posts are triggering instagram of journalist sharing what is happening in palestine
tiktok explaining the situation in al lydd
books/articles you can read to learn more
free ways to help if you cannot donate
do NOT sign petitions !! they are not accounted for in the middle east and do nothing.
go to this website and simply click. update: i have heard from some people that this helps and from other people that it does not. please be wary with this source and do not depend on it.
watch this video to donate, it’s 3 hours long but just playing it in the background can help. do not play on loop and do not skip ads.
watch this video to donate, it’s 1 hour long but just playing it in the background can help. do not play on loop and do not skip ads.
if you are from the U.K., follow these instructions to call local MPs into action
if you are from the U.S., text RESIST to 50409 to urge congress to help palestine
thread of dua’as muslims can make to pray for palestinians
boycott israeli products
donate— it is better to donate directly to people rather than organizations, but i do have a few organizations listed.
do NOT donate to change.org
help children and hospitals affected by gaza bombing
help hungry children in palestine
donate to palestine child relief fund, known to be reputable
donate to united palestinian appeal, a direct charity
donate directly to journalist injured in gaza
ramadan zakat fund for palestinians in gaza
raise money for palestinian woman escaping toxic household
buy palestinian goods
i’ll add more links as i continue to find reliable sources and proper donations. please dm me other resources and i can add them to this list. if anything here is not trustworthy, please let me know immediately and i will take it down. free palestine until it’s backwards, pray for palestinians who do not know whether they will be safe in their own country.
last but not least, if you are a pro-israel, unfollow me immediately. i don’t need you on my tumblr. and do not use what is happening in palestine right now to be anti-semitic.
✿. summary: based on the lyric “if it feels good, than it can’t be bad” by ethel cain or you feel an immense amount guilt while getting fucked by hopper; he’s your best friends dad.
✿. pairing: darkish!bsfd!hopper x fem!reader
✿. word count: 0.8k
✿. warning: pinv missionary, aged up eleven, mentions of el, sex during a sleepover, age-gap (hopper is cannon age, reader is 20), crying, belly bulge, unprotected sex (don’t be like them) ooc hopper bc he would NEVER. everyone is over 18, manipulative!hopper, pet-name; sweetheart, baby, reader feels so guilty proofread (lmk if i missed any)
✿. a/n: the title might be misleading bc the fic is based off one line of the song but i had to. SORRY I COULDNT HELP MYSELF. also happy stranger things finale day! wrote this i celebration
SMUT UNDER THE CUT | 18+ MINORS DNI </3
Your eyes were always set on Chief Jim Hopper. Something about the tortured gruffness of him attracted you in ways you never knew before. An innocent crush some may call it. Just letting your gaze hang on him for a moment, then looking away. And unlike most, you were always around Hopper. He was your best friend's dad—yeah, that makes the morality of it all very questionable, but you’d be crazy to act on it.
Although Eleven was practically an adult, she still stayed at home, and that’s where you came in. Sleepover, gossiping and telling her all about the petty drama between you and your coworker who was old enough to be your mother, giving her the whole story about the pervy guy who works in the food court that won’t stop staring at you, reading her book of your life that you weren't able to experience with each other—the reason being that you recently moved to Hawkins at the age of 18.
The love you had for Eleven was immense; you’d do nothing ever to hurt her. Doing that you crush your heart flat into a paper-thin sheet of sadness and regret, and that’s why you have no damn clue how you ended up crossing the big red line that was an unspoken rule among all friendships, no fooling around with your friend's dad. It shouldn’t need to be said but it’s common sense.
Like everyone knows, when you’re done cooking, turn the fire off; when you’re done washing your hands, turn the faucet off; when you leave your house; lock the door; When you have a friend; do not have sexual relations with her dad. But here you were, arms tightly wrapped around Hopper's neck, your bare bodies pressed up against each other with a sheer of sweat seeping from the pores of your skin—fueled by pure pleasure and the horrific idea of being caught while Eleven was sound asleep in the next room.
The voices in your head were at war, the rational one trying to scream over the other one, telling you that this is so messed up and bad. You're such a bad friend. What would she think about this? She’d hate you. But in the next breath, you hear It doesn’t matter, she’ll never find out. This is good, it feels so good. He feels so good. He’s so big and you’ve never felt this good before, don’t stop. The intense pressure your teeth are exerting on your bottom lip hurts. But you needed to stay quiet. His hips rocked into your seeping tight cunt, your creamy arousal leaving a ring around the base of his cock as he fucked you slowly and good.
His grunts were low. Gruttal and strained. Straight in your ear. It was erotic. Something you’d read in one of your mom's romance books that she failed to hide from her children when you were a teen. Taboo. Just plan wrong. “You're so fucking tight—“ he whispers into your ear before planning a soft kiss behind it, his rough calloused hands fondling and playing with your tits. His pace was agonizingly slow, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix every time as he pulled and inched right back in, filling you to the hilt.
The tear that fell from your eyes was a mix of guilt and pleasure. You shook your head, trying to contain your sob. “This is so bad.” you croaked out a little too loud, releasing Hopper's neck from your tight sex induced grip and baling your fist up into the sheets underneath your hot bodies. Hopper's hand clasped over your mouth—it’s so big it covers half of your face.
“Don’t say that. Baby, if it feels good, then it can’t be bad…right?” he says quietly, words twisted and wrong, but the mind fog of pleasure clouded your senses, so you nodded, fat salty tears dropped slipping down your temples. “Exactly. Now relax and enjoy this. You deserve it, sweetheart.” he cooed, quickening his thrusts fast enough to have the tense muscles of your body unclench and melt into his mattress, eyes fluttering shut as he rutted into, his chest heaving and breathing heavy.
“You deserve to feel good,” He lifts your thigh and hooks it over his shoulder, his length reaching another level of depth you didn’t know existed. Your cries and moans are muffled in the palm of his hand as you look down to see him bulging through your stomach. You gasp at the obstinacy of it all the same he sees it too. “Look at that. I’m in your fuckin’ stomach. You like that don’t you, baby?” You nod again, holding to his arm as an anchor—saving yourself from getting too cockdrunk, as extra precaution to make sure he keeps you nice and “quiet” and from facing the embarrassment, humiliation, and lifelong loss of a friend.
stranger things taglist . ✿: none yet ! + comment on this -> post if you want be added
this blog is 18+, do not copy my work for anything without my permission ꔫ / most dividers by @chrisssiren & @cursed-carmine
You are sitting on Hwang In-ho's lap with his cock inside you, in a black room lit only by the soft light of the large screen in front of you. His face is calm, but his eyes are fixed on the monitor, where the players move slowly during the game of “One, two, three, star.”
His hand, warm and firm, rests on your thigh. His fingers move slowly, tracing circles on your bare thigh. It's a gesture that should make you uncomfortable, but there's something hypnotic in the calm with which he does it, as if it were natural for him to have that kind of control over you and everything around him.
You were sitting on him, with his cock inside you. You didn't move, you just warmed up his cock while he enjoyed the sensation.
“You're lucky you're not there,” he says in a low voice, almost a whisper. His eyes do not move away from the screen, where a newly fallen player is mercilessly eliminated.
“Lucky?” you repeat, almost in disbelief. His grip on your thigh tightens slightly, as if to remind you that you have no choice.
“Yes,” he replies, finally looking down at you. His face is serious, but there is a hint of something deeper, almost tender, in his eyes. “I would never have let you be among them. You are too precious.”
You feel a shiver down your spine. It's unclear whether it's fear, attraction, or a disturbing mix of the two. In-ho looks back at the screen, but doesn't stop stroking your thigh, the movements now slower, more deliberate.
“I don't understand why you chose me,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.
“Because you don't belong to that world,” he replies without hesitation. “You are too young, too beautiful to be thrown away like one of them.”
His words hit you like a rock. You know that his protection is not entirely altruistic; you have become his possession, something he wants to keep away from the rest of the cruel world. But you can't help but wonder if, deep down, there's a part of him that wants more than that.
The game on the screen continues, but in the room time seems to have stopped. His hand on your thigh, his slow, controlled breathing, and his commanding presence are all you can feel. You're caught between the desire to escape and the strange, twisted safety and excitement you find in his arms.
You close your eyes feeling the feeling of his cock inside you without it moving or anything, You leaned into his chest and he grunted softly as he stopped your hips so you wouldn't move. A soft, subtle smile appears on In-ho’s lips as you leaning against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your skin, and his strong arms around you.He lets out a soft, contented sigh, appreciating the intimacy of your touch.“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted something like this,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry.
His hand runs through your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. He seems to be lost in thought, but his eyes never leave your face.“You’re beautiful,” he says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”
You blushed at his words as you felt his cock throb inside you and you moaned, you wanted to move on him so bad but he wouldn't let you. Your moan doesn’t go unnoticed by In-ho, and he grins at your reaction.
He leans towards your ear, his lips barely touching your skin as he whispers, “I can feel how much you want to move.” His grip around your body tightens slightly, keeping you in place. He enjoys the anticipation, the fact that you’re at his mercy completely.
“But I like to have you like this for a little while longer,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck. You moaned softly as your pussy tightened around his cock, you wanted to ride him so bad but you nodded at his command.
In-ho lets out a low growl as he feels you tighten around him. He can't help but feel a surge of desire, but he holds back.His arms remain wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling a little faster."Be patient," he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and firm.
You nod, closing your eyes, enjoying this sensation. In-ho can feel how much you’re enjoying the situation, and it makes him smile. He's enjoying it too, the control he has over you, the way your body reacts to his every touch.
He leans in closer, his lips gently grazing the side of your neck. “You're so sensitive,” he purrs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love how responsive you are to me.”
You moan softly at his words. In-ho takes notice of your every reaction. He loves the effect his words have on you.He begins to place kisses along your neck, his lips soft and gentle against your skin. He alternates between light, feather-like kisses and more firm, lingering ones, his lips moving slowly as he takes his time.
“I'll make you ride my cock when this game ends, but for now, warm it up for me like you're doing,” he murmurs through kisses on your neck. You can feel his breath on your skin as he speaks, sending shivers down your spine. He's in complete control, and it's both exciting and maddening.
“Of course,” you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly as you respond to his command. In-ho nods approvingly, his lips still moving against your skin. “That's a good girl,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble.
His hands run up and down your back, exploring every inch of your body, making sure you feel the weight of his presence.The game on the screen continues, and you knew you had to wait. You were anxiously waiting for this game to end so you could finally have everything you want.
this one makes me last ten seconds every time , can’t stop imagining this is me and simon <3
dead dove warning - kidnapper simon , masked , hitting , noncon ? maybe ? yeah . . noncon
just can’t stop thinking about simon’s big strong scary hands holding me down tightly. arms pulled behind my back so i can’t go anywhere.
it’s avaricious, borderline brutal as all i can see is the dark and heavy eyes behind the mask. muscles poking out from the tattooed skin on his arms. he’s never been inside something so precious and sweet.
maybe it’s just his emotions getting the best of him, but he’ll go from holding my throat and wrists, to wrapping his beefy arm around my neck and pulling my face turned to look at him. his cock buried so deep inside i can barely breath, let alone whimper and try to make sense of what’s going on.
being jolted back down to reality a little when his gloved hands slap my face. "that's a good girl" he breaths out while rocking his cock in even deeper, being sure to keep my face looking up at him and my eyes on his.
pounding in so harshly and desperately my cunt can’t feel anything besides the hard thickness of him. easily being fucked stupid and mindless until his cum is pouring out and kissing right up against my cervix.
low growls coming from his mouth when he finishes, gloved hands tracing over my body as if he’s giving a soft form of gratitude.
summary— The violence of the games leave you pondering—you don’t want to die a virgin and you ask the one man who you trust and who’s always saved you for help. Based on this request.
warnings— age gap(reader is in her 20s, he’s in his early 50s) mentions of death, mentions of virginity, virgin!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, fluff, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.
The first time you met Young-il, he saved your life.
The second time, he did it again.
By the third time, you stopped questioning it.
The games were a nightmare, a twisted sequence of death where survival felt more like a borrowed moment than a right. But through it all, Young-il had been there, his sharp eyes catching danger before you even saw it, whether it be saving you from other players or having your back in each game. You didn’t know why he did it, but you trusted him. In a place where trust was a gamble, you took the risk.
Tonight, the two of you sat in the corner of the dormitory, backs against the cold metal bunks. Most of the other players had settled into uneasy sleep, but you couldn’t, not with the weight of potential death pressing down upon you.
“You should get some rest,” Young-il murmured beside you.
You shook your head, fingers twisting in the hem of your thin uniform. “I can’t.”
Silence fell between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. You glanced at him, taking in the way the dim lighting flattered his chiseled face. He was older than you, more composed, like he had seen enough of the world to understand it in ways you never could.
And yet, he was still here. Still surviving. Still saving you.
“Young-il,” you said as you took a breath.
He turned his head slightly, watching you. You swallowed hard, fingers tightening. “I don’t want to die a virgin.”
“I’m scared, what if I die? What if I die without experiencing anything. I want you to take my virginity,” you said, out of breath.
Something flickered in his gaze—surprise, maybe, or something softer. But his face remained unreadable, his body still. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease.
Instead, he simply asked, “Are you sure?”
You nodded, heart hammering. “I trust you.”
That was the truth. You didn’t know him outside of the game, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew that if this was your last chance to experience something human, something real, you wanted it to be with him. He made you feel safe and cared for.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he said after he studied you for a long moment.
No hesitation, just understanding, exactly what you needed in the moment.
He reached out, brushing his fingers along your jaw, his touch soft, as if waiting for you to change your mind. When you didn’t pull away, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.
“You don’t have to do this because you’re scared,” he murmured.
“I know,” you whispered. “I want to.”
From your lips, he kissed his way down, trailing soft touches along your jaw, your throat, the slope of your shoulder. Every kiss felt delicate, like he was memorizing you in pieces. His hands remained careful, never pushing, always waiting for your silent permission.
When he reached the hem of your uniform, he paused, meeting your gaze again. “I want you to tell me if anything feels wrong. If you want to stop.”
“I will,” you nodded, your breath shaky.
Slowly, he peeled away the thin fabric, revealing your naked body to the cool air. But there was no hunger in his gaze, no rush. Just admiration.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your waist, his touch sending warmth through your pussy. He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring it, making sure you felt how much this meant—not just to you, but to him too.
His hands skimmed over every inch of you, his lips following, never leaving a space untouched. And when he moved lower, when he pressed one last kiss to your stomach, his voice was a quiet promise against your skin.
“I’ll take care of you, angel.”
He grabbed under your thighs, making your legs sit on his shoulders before he delved into the exquisite cuisine before him that was your wet pussy. “You taste amazing,” he murmured, slipping a finger inside your tight hole.
Your fingers tangled in his dark hair as his efforts sped up and your cheeks heated as you heard the faint sound of your pussy wet and squelching. You prayed none of the other players could hear.
“T-that feels so good,” you moaned, softly.
Young-il moaned into your pussy as his tongue flicked your clit, the vibrations making you squirm under his touch. He ferociously sucked and flicked your clit with his tongue before slipping in another finger making you feel full and writhe in the feeling of your g spot being constantly toyed with. You clenched tightly around his fingers, slapping a hand over your mouth to contain your moans.
“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he groaned, staring up at you.
You complied with his request, your hands grasping his dark hair he had as he held you down and continued eating your pussy through your high. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your mind became foggy and all you could think about was how good he made you feel.
After you caught your breath, he kissed you from your pussy, to your stomach, up your chest, sucking on your breasts then your cheeks, your lips then to your forehead, muttering praises in between. “So beautiful, angel. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”
He pulled his bottoms down slowly, his hard cock springing free and slapping against his abdomen and you bit your lip seeing the large package he carried.
“Oh, wow,” you gasped, softly, staring at how hard, long and thick he was. If his fingers could barely fit, how would that? It looked like he would tear you apart.
“It’s okay baby, don’t be intimidated,” his deep voice said, “I promise I’ll take care of you.”
He pumped his cock a few times, spreading the pre cum on his glistening head before hovering above you, his eyes on yours as he used it to rub all over your entrance. You moaned his name softly as he teased you, your body shuddering as he began slapping the tip on your clit.
“I’m about to start, it might be a bit uncomfortable at first. If it hurts, say the word and I’ll stop,” he muttered, quietly.
You nodded slowly and took his time inside you, eyes locked with yours, watching every reaction, every flicker of feeling that crossed your face. “You’re perfect, made just for me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. His kisses trailed along your neck and shoulders each one drawing soft, involuntary moans from you.
As he went inside you, inch by inch, your nails dug into his back, his big cock stretching you by the second. You couldn’t even speak, feeling the wind knocked out of you as he was half way in, pushing past the barrier inside your pussy.
“Are you okay, angel?” he asked, ceasing movement inside you.
You nodded frantically, jaw agape.
He reached between your bodies, rubbing slow circles on your clit as he began thrusting slowly. He hissed in pleasure as your tight pussy gripped his dick, each time he went in and the back out, he was soaked in your juices.
“So wet for me. Absolutely perfect,” he groaned.
He gave you time to adjust, to feel every moment as his hold on you tightened and when you whispered, barely louder than a breath, asking him to “go deeper”, his control wavered, and a new depth of intensity overtook him. His grip on you tightened as his strokes deepened, and his eyes darkened with a desire that matched your own.
You bit your lip, containing your moans as you felt him practically in your guts and he was only half way in. Soft praises slipped from him in between breaths, the words laced with emotion as he murmured, “You feel incredible, I don’t want this to end.” You didn’t want it to end either. Each whispered word made you feel seen, safe, protected, and deeply wanted, it was exactly why you chose him.
He stared into your eyes as he hovered above you, his voice a soothing murmur against your neck as he urged, “Cum for me angel, don’t worry, I’ve got you.” As your orgasm hit you like a truck, you felt the wave of warmth and release, the feeling having you in the clouds as though you were high on ecstasy, his name slipping from your lips in soft, whispers. Your entire body convulsed and his strokes slowed as he whispered gentle praises, his touch filled with tenderness.
As he watched you come down from cloud nine, his gaze softened. “You took me so well, angel. I’m so proud of you.” Even though he could see the tiredness in your eyes, the spark in his hadn’t dimmed. With a gentle shift, he turned you onto your stomach, drawing your ass up to him. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together, as he moved again, pulling you back on his cock, each slow thrust reassuring you that he wasn’t done cherishing you yet.
Holding you close, he thrusted slowly at first, ensuring you felt every throb of his cock and every gentle movement of his cock dragging along your walls.
“You’re perfect, my beautiful girl,” he murmured. When you let out a soft gasp, he grinned, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “You look so sexy with your ass in the air,” he said, his voice low. “Completely mine.”
You felt him lean closer, his lips beside your ear as he whispered, “I need you to cum on my cock again.” His hand drifted to your waist, holding you steady as you lost yourself in the pleasure.
“I—I don’t know if I can,” you said, overstimulation taking precedence.
He tilted chin to the side so you could look back at him, “You can do it, angel. Be a good girl for me.” His words were all the encouragement you needed, and as you gave in, squirting on his cock, his own quiet moans echoed with yours.
You clenched tightly around his cock lodged inside your pussy and it triggered his own intense orgasm. He bit down gently on your shoulder, thrusting slowly as ropes of his hot load filled you to the brim. “That’s it, take my cum. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, I’m yours, Young-il,” you moaned softly, your body shaking from the intensity of it all.
Your heartbeat, once wild and frantic, had settled into something calmer. You lay there, still catching your breath, and Young-il hadn’t moved, not away from you, at least as he emptied his cum inside you.
Slowly, he pulled out, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your body, reminding you that you were safe with him. You winced slightly at the sudden emptiness, and his eyes flickered with concern.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, concerned.
You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. “No,” you whispered. “It was perfect.”
His expression softened, relief washing over his face. He reached for his shirt, and used it to clean you up carefully.
“You did so well,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your knee, then your hip, then your abdomen. “Took me so perfectly. You’re beautiful.”
Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and you bit your lip, watching him as he continued to worship you in the quietest, sweetest ways.
“Thank you,” you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed another kiss to your collarbone.
He stilled at that, lifting his head so you could see the way his gaze softened. “No need to thank me,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re mine.” A pause, filled with nothing but warmth. “And you deserve to be cherished.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
Before you could respond, he pulled you into him, wrapping you in his arms, tucking you against his. His lips pressed against your temple, then your forehead, then your nose. Sweet, lingering kisses.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised. “No matter what.”
You sighed, melting into him, feeling safer than you had in weeks. His fingers traced along your spine in slow, soothing patterns, his presence lulling you into something close to peace.
“You’re everything,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss to your lips before resting his chin atop your head. “And I won’t let anything happen to you.”
And with his arms around you, holding you like you were something precious, something worth protecting, you believed him.
Duncan Vizla sitting on the table by the window. The steam of his coffee sometimes fogging up his glasses that sat perched on the bridge of his nose when he took a sip.
His eyes drifting away to the white snow surrounding the cabin. Then he spotted, you. You were such a beautiful thing. Quiet but sweet, gentle but oh so alluring.
The way your skirt would fall mid calf, your cardigan hanging on your torso to battle the cold threatening to touch your skin.
Duncan would be lying if he said he did not think about you since you moved to the cabin next doors. He would be lying if he said he didn't think about your pretty hands wrapped around his cock. The moans you'd let out as he had his way with you.
Of course, those are just thoughts whenever he imagined his hand was your sweet pussy. Closing his eyes to imagine that small bite you'd have on your lips in concentration or the way you'd frown to look for things in detail.
His gaze broke from your figure as he took another sip of his coffee. The bitter taste making his mouth salivate more. Or perhaps, it's you.
Because you have him on a leash without even knowing his name.
a/n; going through Duncan brainrot and it's heavy. Too heavy.
PAIRING: Dad's best friend!Duncan x Innocent young!Female reader
CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+ only, minors dni), sort of taboo, age gap (reader is nineteen), rough sex, mention of uncle and usage of the word cunt, hair pulling, choking, subtle manipulation (manipulative Duncan), religious themes, blasphemy mentioned, virgin reader, dirty talk (talkative Duncan), praise and degradation, slight blood, fingering, unprotected sex, sir kink.
SYNOPSIS: Duncan and your father were high school best friends, always getting into trouble and enjoying their youth to the fullest but they soon parted ways — adhering to their own priorities in their adult lives. But when your father runs into Duncan at the store, he invites him home for dinner. Duncan didn't know his high school best friend was married and had such a beautiful daughter, you. As he laid his eyes on you, he began to lose his grip on his moral compass.
Duncan was a mess.
No amount of cigarettes could calm the turmoil that had caused havoc in his mind and his body, all because of the daughter of his high school bestfriend; you.
The more he fought the disgusting thoughts, the more he felt repulsion crawl over him like a spider with its prickly legs, pinching into his skin. He felt sick and like a creep — preying on his best friend's daughter like that, thinking about you in such explicit ways. He'd excused himself from the family, using his unnecessary smoking habit as an excuse to get away from your sickeningly sweet presence.
He needed to calm his mind. He was all over the place, his mind a whirlpool of unwanted explicit thoughts regarding the girl. It wasn't the white dress that you adorned nor that you were a shadow of an angel but how innocent you truly were. Knowing his bestfriend, he was sure he must've kept you concealed from the outer world. Protecting you and forbidding you of the pleasures the outside world had to offer, keeping you safe against the darkness that lurked in the shadows.
But he didn't know he had brought darkness along with him, in the form of his bestfriend to his humble abode.
He let out a sigh of frustration, as he tossed his finished cigarette to the side. Before he flicked open his metal case to retrieve another one, he heard a soft voice interrupt his smoking session. “Uncle Duncan?‘
Oh how much he reveled in the feeling of you addressing to him as an uncle. You weren't related, no. But just the fact that he was older than you and you saw him as an uncle, it was enough to tighten his pants as he wondered just what sick and twisted part of him was clawing out to the surface.
“Yes, dear?” He always responded to you with such sweetness, his voice gruff but his tone soft and sweet. Like he didn't want to scare you away, like he didn't want his voice and tone to be an innuendo to his sick and twisted desires.
You smiled at him.
A fucking replica of the moon you were.
“Time for dinner, it's all set.” You said, hands conjoined behind your back as you stood with a rather shy posture — your demeanor dripping with the innocence that was an indirect invitation to the wolves of the winter.
To come and rip you apart. Limb by limb and piece by piece and oh, a wolf had indeed sniffed its way to your sweet energy, Duncan had found you.
You gestured for him to come inside before disappearing back inside the living room and he groaned in frustration, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair before walking in pursuit of you. You were such a dream, you glowed and he carried darkness that wished to bask in your light. Upon entering, he found the dinner table all set with his bestfriend already situated in the middle. He took a seat and then your mother and you joined as well.
You sat across Duncan.
Your gaze lingering over him now and then and you admitted, he was truly a handsome man. The fact made you flinch internally, as you had been told that finding another man handsome and attractive was a sin that god would never forgive. Your father had often told you to never indulge in boys or men, to never reciprocate their attention or love, to never ever pay them mind.
And you obliged.
You had never felt wanted in your life ever.
There sat a handsome man across you and it did things to you, things foreign to your small mind.
Your gaze found itself focused on how he extended out, his large hand covering the entirety of the glass of water as he drank it. The view did something to you, a weird feeling churning in your stomach. You found it alluring, that he was capable of completely having his way with you.
You shook your head, praying to God in your heart, begging for his forgiveness at the sinful thoughts that had consumed your mind in the presence of a man that was the same age as your father. You lifted your gaze up from the chicken you stabbed with your fork and a silent gasp escaped.
He was staring at you, as he ate the food your mother prepared.
Your heart leaped up into your throat and then you felt something against your leg, through the net material of your long, white dress. It was hard and rough, making you realize it was a shoe.
Duncan's shoe.
You swallowed the nervousness that was building in your throat. This felt wrong, this felt so forbidden but he wasn't touching you, was he? He wasn't directly touching you, it was his boot riding up your leg and then settling between your thighs. It wasn't sinful if he wasn't directly touching you. Your breath got stuck in your throat.
Duncan noticed the flushed reaction you gave and he suppressed the urge to let out a subtle grin. The tip of his boot pressed up against your clothed cunt, putting pressure against the sensitive area. You almost whimpered at the touch — at how repulsive it truly was. Guilt consumed you because you didn't feel gross, no. You felt good, as you parted your thighs open.
All while your parents ate their dinner, enjoying the company of the man that had sick intentions towards their daughter. Your fingers tightened around the fork as he pushed harder, the force causing pain to blossom on your cunt and you ached for more.
The dinner came to an end soon and your father insisted for Duncan to stay over, as a snow storm approached in all its glory and the man eventually gave in. You were told to show Duncan his room and you obliged, leading him upstairs. The vacant room was right besides yours and the moment you both traveled upstairs, all alone in each other's presence in the dimly lit hallway, the tension threatened to explode.
He acted as if he wasn't the cause of your aching cunt, as if he hadn't lured out a desire too sinful out of you. He only silently followed you and you stopped once you reached inside the room. “Here, I hope it is comfortable Uncle—”
You bit back your tongue. Calling him uncle didn't feel so appropriate anymore after your latest encounter with his boot pressed between my thighs. Duncan caught onto that and he leaned down at you, his muscular hand reaching to caress your cheek. His touch was so — gentle and full of tenderness. You didn't back off, when you obviously should've and it left you confused.
Did you crave someone's touch? Yearned for it secretly in your heart where no man could reach?
“Why'd you stop?”
You shook your head, the back of your calves pushed up against the drawer. You felt helpless in his grasp, like a lamb in the clutches of a wolf. “Feels— weird, Mr. Vizla.”
“Mr. Vizla is it now?” His voice had fallen a few octaves lower and you nodded. God, you were so fucking scared but there was excitement, sitting right next to the fear, smiling at it. Taunting it. His thumb swiped over your cheek and you let out a shuddered breath at the touch. The bare minimum but it had you breathless.
You'd never felt a man this close.
You'd never been this close to another man.
“W-What should I call you?” You stuttered, a mess you were. Your fingers conjoined behind your back, pressed into the drawer.
Duncan smiled. “How about sir? Try saying that, pretty girl.”
His compliment sent you over the edge, your mind clouded by the mist of a daze as you looked up at him. His dark, searing gaze incinerated you and your face burned when you made eye contact with him. His aura felt brooding and you couldn't tolerate it any further, feeling its hands choke you. Ridding you of any air left.
“Sir?” You asked, innocently tilting your head to the side.
He nodded and then stepped closer, shrinking the space between you two. “Did it feel good?”
You immediately nodded your head, as shy as you were. The feeling of his boot against your clothed center only increased your desire and curiosity to feel more, your body burning in need that was foreign to you. He leaned down, breath mingling with yours as his large hand dropped down to the curve of your throat. Circling around it, firmly but loose enough to allow you to breathe.
“Come to my room when everyone's asleep, Little lamb.” With that, he released you and walked off towards the bathroom leaving you completely out of breath.
You ran out of his room, into your own and immediately slammed the door shut, locking it. Your body felt different, like it was being burned but without the pain. You pressed your palm against your forehead, checking for a fever but there was nothing yet you felt so flushed. You dropped your frame onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, hoping that God was not witnessing all this. That he was busy with his other creations and not noting down the sin you were about to commit by going into his room at night.
— ♡ —
Night crackled with the storm, its silence snatched from it and swallowed whole by the loud howls of the wind. Your parents had fallen asleep and you tossed and turned underneath the blankets, changed into your little night dress. A satin slip up your mother had bought for you, with a little bow attacthed to its front. Trailing your eyes across the clock, you swallowed.
1 AM.
You ran your tongue over your lips, stomach burning with anticipation and desire as you slowly lifted the blanket off you. You found yourself right in front of his room and then you knocked, lightly, your frail hand shivering from what you were about to do. Just what were you doing? Going into the room of a man twice your age, all alone at night, barely dressed in anything.
Before you could change your mind or think your actions through, the door had opened revealing the man. His bare chest exposed — the body hair littered everywhere in striking contrast to your own body and you stepped inside. He closed the door behind you and then you felt as though you had stepped outside in the cold, bare footed and naked waiting for it to consume you whole.
Duncan walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, thighs expanded and parted as he gestured at you. “Come here.”
His tone reeked of dominance and you felt your knees give up on you. Nervously, you took a step and then another until you were right in between his thighs. His hands reached for your waist, holding the curve of it as he gazed at you.
“This is wrong.” You whispered.
He tilted his head, his hands slowly trailing upwards while he gazed at you. “Is it? Do you feel like you're committing a sin?”
You nodded and inhaled sharply, feeling guilt ridden because of how good his hands felt trailing up and down your sides. Duncan was wearing his glasses and you peeked behind him to find a book laying face down on the bed. He was reading. Was he keeping himself occupied for you?
“No, little lamb.” He reached for your hair with one hand, twisting the strands between his fingers. Caressing them with the pad of his thumb. “How is it a sin when God is all merciful? He understands you, he feels you, doesn't he? He's created you like this.”
His words were heaving down on your mind and you thought for a moment. He was right. You were not feeling this way on purpose, instead it was all coming naturally to you which meant that God had created you like this. In his image, and how could be his image wrong and sinful?
“But its a sin.”
“It is not if you don't tell anyone about it. If no one finds out about this, it'll only be an act buried in the past once its committed.” Duncan pulled you in closer with his one hand on your waist, his thumb caressing your stomach through the satin material. His hand on your hair traveled to your face as he brushed his thumb over your plump, saccharine lips.
“Open up, little lamb.”
And you obeyed, parting your lips in an invitation for him to press his thumb against the flat surface of your wet tongue. You stayed like that, awaiting his next order and command. “Suck now.”
You closed your lips around his thumb, sucking as you moved your head back and forth. Your eyes didn't shut, no. You stared at him all the while sucking on his finger and Duncan’s gaze felt heavy with lust, mimicking your own. He could see he had you, right where he wanted. Just a mindless little girl who couldn't even understand the needs of her own body.
How fucking cute. He thought.
You were so pliant, so sweet and so submissive. He enjoyed every bit of it and he wondered if he'd ever let go of you after defiling you for his own good and pleasure? Duncan pushed his thumb further into your mouth, all the way to the edge and you choked a little. Sputtering and making a mess of saliva on his hand. Tears sprung out and you closed your eyelids, allowing a few to stream down.
He retrieved his thumb from your mouth and looked at you. “Have you ever kissed anyone, hm?”
You could only shake your head. He smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his thigh. He loved how he was about to ruin your innocence, fucking mess you up and bask in the feeling of power over you. It was all too consuming and overwhelming, even for him.
You were perfect.
“Follow my lead, alright?”
You nodded, butterflies flapping their wings in stinging anticipation in your stomach. You felt his lips against yours and it felt, fucking, ecstatic. His lips were so soft, so plump and they felt like cushions against your own. One hand settled over your stomach, expanded palm caressing your flesh while the other slithered upto your hair, entangling in the softness of them.
He tugged and you whined into the kiss.
The vibration of it sending fire straight to his crotch, his own chest rumbling with desire as he kissed you. Gently prying your lips open, he entered your mouth and explored the untouched cavern of innocence with his vile tongue. Like a snake, he enveloped you and brought you deeper into the abyss.
“Sir—” You attempted to break the kiss but he didn't let you, delving deeper into it. His grip tightening on your hair causing you to cry out into the kiss, his tongue battling with yours. It felt so good, you could almost cry from how much pleasure only a mere kiss was giving you.
But Duncan knew there was more. And the more was as rough as he was.
His hands pulled back and then fell to the hem of your dress. “May I?”
You thought, for a single second before nodding your head. He immediately slipped it off you, discarding it to the side and then his gaze took you in. Your full, nude form. Your perky tits, the small bulge of your stomach, the pouch of fat resting there, how clean and unmarked your thighs were. Those little details drove him insane. He lost restraint — brawny hands grabbing at your tits and fondling them as you whimpered softly against him. It all felt too sinful, but too right to you.
Thumbs brushing over and over again against your hardnened peaks, standing erect demanding attention. He stalled for moment and took your small hand, bringing it to the raging boner protruding through the material of his jeans. You immediately gasped, shaking your head as you tried to pull back but he insisted. Grip tightening on your wrist.
“Feel it." He commanded.
You meekly nodded your head and then felt him, your palm pressed against how hard it was. The situation was so gross, so fucking repulsive but it felt amazing. How he toyed with your body, giving you pleasures you never even thought of. He pulled both of your thighs on each side of his lap, exposing your cunt.
Duncan almost growled at how it peeked out, pink and shaven.
He brought his fingers upto her mouth and tapped onto her lips. You were quick to catch the innuendo, parting your lips and sucking onto his digits. When he felt them wet enough, Duncan’s hand fell down and slithered between your thighs. His fingertips brushed against your clit and a loud squeal escaped you.
You quickly clamped your palm down your mouth, staring at him in confusion. It felt so amazing, a jolt of electricity sent through your veins when he brushed against your clit. He did it again but this time you were prepared and then slowly eased a finger into you. Your tightness around his mere finger let him know just how difficult you were gonna be, getting accustomed to his size.
“Sir, no. Hurts, please.” Your hand reached for his wrist, clawing and pushing at it but he didn't budge. He found your resistance adorable as he slid his finger whole and you cried out. Tears streaming down her face at the burning sensation but that was nothing in comparison to what the future held for you.
Duncan lightly tapped your cheek, a subtle slap. “You can take it, sweet lamb. It's one finger, you can't even take this?”
Voice laced with disappointment, he stared at you and you nodded softly, more tears streaming in rivulets. You back was arched and stiff, as he started moving his finger. To distract you from the burning sensation, he closed his lips around your peaked nipple, circling his tongue around it. The overwhelming pleasure sent you into a different world as your little body twitched.
He sucked and sucked, while slipping another finger and you pressed both hands against your mouth to supress your cries. You didn't wish to wake your parents, that was something you didn't want. It could put an end to this sweet pleasure that you desperately chased after.
“Gonna fuck your virgin cunt so good, I'm gonna dumb you down on my cock, little lamb.” He muttered against you wet peak, plunging his fingers in and out of you. You felt your stomach tighten, flipping in scary knots and the feeling was so strong that you could only cry. Hands falling from your mouth, they gripped tightly onto his salt and pepper hair, bunching them up in your fist. You buried your face in his neck and softly cried, the pleasure sending you into the oblivion.
All that at once — it was too much.
Your thighs convulsed, your body twitching and you could feel something coming, its intensity unbearable. “Sir, something's happening. I think I—” With a hot white intensit shooting through your core, you exploded. Your juices coating his fingers, his arm, his chest and more tears followed in pursuit of the trail left behind the old ones.
Your chest heaved up and down, body collapsing on top of his. Lips shuddering, releasing soft little pants as your arousal saturated everything.
His hand ran up and down your back, reassuring you, comforting you. As he slowly lifted you up, he laid you down on the bed and cupped your face. Brushing away the perspired strands of hair from your forehead and unveiling yourself to him. Duncan was going to explode at any minute and he needed to be inside you.
He discarded his own pants along with his briefs and exposed himself to you, his cock standing hard and curved against his stomach. It was too big and your eyes widening in horror gave away that much. Before he could proceed further, you had removed yourself from the bed, barely possessing any strength to stand still.
“It's too big.” You whispered, reaching for the door.
Duncan wasn't having it. You had your pleasure, now it was his turn and he felt entitled to his own orgasm. Before you could make an escape, he took a long stride in your direction and encircled his arms around you, throwing you right across the bed. Your body was still coming down from your orgasm, fear waking up in your eyes.
He fucking loved it. How panicked and scared you appeared, looking at him, realizing he had you trapped. “Be a good girl, little lamb. Let me have my taste of you.”
He crawled on top of you and your chest twisted in fear, eyes focused on his length. It was too much, you knew it but still you wondered, if his fingers could feel this good — just how good could his cock feel inside you?
Duncan parted open your thighs, delivering a little smack to your inner thigh causing you to flinch. “I'm fucking disappointed that you even thought for a single moment that you could escape me.”
His tone was full of annoyance, mixed with anger and heavy from lust. He aligned his tip at your hole, staring down at it like a madman, obsessed and infatuated. “I'm going to claim this pretty virgin cunt of yours and you'll take me like a good little girl, won't you, my dearest?”
You slowly dragged your head up and down, both fists resting at your chest in heavy anticipation. He slightly tapped his hand across your face, subtle but enough to let you know it was meant to be a damn slap. “I need words.”
“Yes sir."
“Good fucking—” he didn't finish his sentence, as he slid himself inside of you. He couldn't even get to feel you as a scream tore itself through your throat and the man quickly pressed his lips against you. Shutting you up, swallowing your screams and whimpers of pain that you so wholeheartedly were ready for the whole world to hear.
Your walls clamped down on him and Duncan felt as though you were gonna cut him in half from the sheer tightness of your pussy around him. He didn't move, breaking the kiss and slowly littering soft kisses all over your face, drinking up your tears. “You can do it, yeah? You're such a strong, beautiful girl.”
His words of affection warmed up your chest and you nodded, wrapping both your arms around his nape for support as you parted your thighs. An enticing invitation despite the throbbing sensation blossoming like a flower in your cunt. You braced yourself as Duncan moved and soon be bottomed out, a promise growl exploding from his chest.
How forbidden it was.
The girl that was barely half his age, calling him her uncle was now underneath him, naked and sweaty as he deflowered her little cunt. His thumb moved over your clit in tender little circles and your back arched off the bed, his cock shifting inside you. It pulsed and throbbed, becoming one with the throbbing of your own cunt.
“You're so pretty, so fucking beautiful. I want to claim your pussy every single day, ruin you to the point you only think about having my cock inside your little cunt.” He was a mess, forehead drenched in perspiration as he moved, his forearms resting on your sides. He pulled out, and you gasped at the loss but then he slammed himself back inside you. This time deeper, filling you up to the brim.
“Tell me, does the God you worship is capable of making you feel this good?” You shook her head, long gone in the wordly pleasures that consumed your mind. All you thought about was Duncan and how good his cock felt inside you. He began moving, snapping his hips and your walls clenched around him in need.
As he pushed — he encouraged a loud whimper out of you. High pitched and evident. Enough proof that he had found that specific sensitive spot and he rammed inside you, pounding you into the mattress. It was a blessing that your parent's room was downstairs, as they rested, oblivious to their daughter getting ruined by a man beyond her own years.
“Please— Duncan, it feels so good. Please keep going, give me more please sir.” You were a mess and hearing you moan his name made him go crazy. His hips picking up their pace, his cock pounding you into oblivion.
He stopped, turned you on your back and started fucking you relentlessly again. His hands reaching for your arms as he picked you up and pressed you flush against his brawny, scarred chest. This new position had more pleasure awaiting at its door and you couldn't even shut your mouth with your hands anymore, as he restrained you. Gripping your arms, fucking into your cunt.
“Such a good cunt.” He groaned, throwing his head back as he moved. “Takin’ me so well, like you were crafted for me. Pretty girl with a pretty cunt.”
His praises were so intoxicating and you were blitzed by now, without zero alcohol in your system. Duncan was fucking you so good, you'd lost all your senses besides ones that helped you in feeling him, hearing him, listening to him. You didn't care about your parents anymore, or God, or anyone. All you cared about getting fucked like some whore by Duncan.
Tears streamed down your face, your stomach once more churning in that sick feeling. Your thighs pressed against his, shivering and flinching everytime he thrusted up your cunt. Your heart was fucking throbbing in your chest, being able to feel its beating in your throat as he continuously bruised that spot of yours. Nearing you to your orgasm.
Duncan growled, right against your ear, leaving bite marks down your ear and nape, branding you. “You're mine, Little lamb. I'll visit your father more often just to fuck his little girl. You'll be ready for me, won't you? Let your uncle fuck you like this everytime he visits?”
You nodded, sobbing and sputtering broken sentences. Your face drenched in tears as you lost yourself in the bliss, body twitching and shaking from how overwhelmed you were. Then you felt him deliver a slap to your spine, grabbing your hair from behind. His rough demeanor sending a rush of need into your core.
“Say it,”
“Y-Yes, Uncle Duncan.” You cried out, your whole body had gone limp by now. The forbidden situation you'd gotten yourself in making you feel sick but instead calling him that name made your cunt tighten around his cock. “Please v-visit more— fuck me more, please sir.”
He felt himself close.
And so did you.
Both of them reached their highs but Duncan wanted her to cum first so his arm extended out, his hand sliding between your thighs to toy with your clit. He pinched and rubbed it, causing you to gasp. Eyes rolling back in pure bliss, your stomach tightening and cunt clenching around him. All hinting towards your upcoming orgasm.
And so you unraveled.
Eyes witnessing white, body ascending to heaven as intensity at its peak crashed down on you. All of it was too much and your body fell forward, face buried in the pillows and sheets to cry out the remnants of your orgasm.
Duncan picked up his face, feeling your juices coat his cock and then he soon reached his orgasm, his cock pumping loads of cum inside your little cunt. Filling you up to the brim, watching as some of it even leaked out and made a mess down on the sheets. He couldn't care less, his chest rumbling from gruff groans and moans. God, the high he felt with you was different — unique. Something he had never felt before.
He stared at you, spine exposed and erect as you laid across him, face buried in the pillows and he leaned down. Still inside you, he left bite marks down the bone of your spine, branding you as his. Claiming you as his forever. He felt something possessive consume him, something dark when he saw how vulnerable you were. He'd fucked you, defiled you, the blood of your virginity coating his cock mixed with your and his release but innocence still wafted off you.
It drove him insane.
Duncan fixed their position, laying next to you as he pulled you to him. You were out of it and he cupped your face, staring at you. A look of worry crossed his features, finding you this numb. “Little lamb, are you alright?”
You looked up at him and nodded. In reality, you were too fucked out. The ache in your cunt hasn't subsided at all and somewhere you craved for more. You leaned into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. “Sir, will you come back for me?”
“I might just kidnap you.”
You perked up at that. “Can I have my freedom then?”
Duncan let out a chuckle, nodding his head at her, aware of her living situation. “You can go anywhere you want, Little lamb. As long as it is with me.”
Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)
Word Count: 1.3k
Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)
“Come to me.”
Thunder claps and booms outside. The rain falls, heavy as hooves against a paved road. Midnight approaches, a massive and dark blanket falling over the town. The window of your bedroom is open, your arms outstretched as if to say: I am here. I am open. I am ready.
Ready, you are, for whatever he may give you tonight. You ache for it, long for it like a man starved and thirsty. Many a time you have gotten drunk off of his touch, and you picture him now, above you with wide eyes like a beast in the night who has caught his prey. His hair, long and dark and wavy – like a black halo around his pale face. His eyes, brown and unshining as they stare into yours. His nose, his cheeks, his forehead – unflushed and white yet still so touchable, so easy to need.
He is not always nude when he comes to you, but whenever he seems to be, it is something that you savor. You remember the taste of him and bring two of your own fingers to your mouth. You rest them on your tongue. They are heavy when you press down, and your lips close around them. You hunger for him, for the way he makes you feel. What you wouldn’t give, now, to feel those large, cold hands on your breasts, on your cheeks, around your throat . . .
The lawn in the back of the home is well-manicured, trimmed to perfection, but the wind blows leaves and flowers to and fro across it. There is a fountain in the center of the green grass. Rose bushes surround it on both sides, and as you open your eyes and stare out into the wet night, you feel it – you feel him.
His presence washes over you suddenly, so suddenly that you gasp for breath and pull your fingers from your mouth. Sweet air rushes into your lungs, and a chill runs down your back. However cold it may be, though, it does not diminish the heat between your thighs. The knowledge that he is here, that he sees you . . . It is enough to make your core flood.
Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here.
Your Kylo Ren.
The ground is wet and cold beneath you. How you got here, you aren’t sure. Your nightgown sticks to you as rain pours from the Heavens. He is coming. You press your hands against the grass as rain water soaks into your clothing from the ground. Your hand moves down your body; over your throat, over your breasts, down your stomach–
He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp.
“You are not for the living,” comes his deep voice. Your breath hitches as Kylo presses his hands against your thighs. He slides his hands up, up, up, and with his movement, your nightgown slides up as well. “You are not for humankind.”
Your bottom lip trembles.
What an endeavor this is. What sin, what joy. What luck it is that you have this at all. You hardly feel the rain against your face, now. It seems to no longer touch you now that Kylo has thrust himself upon you. You bring your hands up to touch his cheeks. He lets you.
“Kylo,” you breathe, voice barely audible above the thunder and lightning in the sky. If someone in the house were to look out into the yard, they would hardly see you. The rainfall is too persistent and steadfast for much to be visible through it. You are alone with Kylo Ren, alone amongst the dirt and grass and flowers.
His tip presses against your core – when did you spread your legs? – and you gasp again, head falling back. His hand comes to rest on your jaw. He holds you there as he presses in. You groan in pleasure, nipples hard from the freezing rain and the pleasure of it all. This is filthy, you know it. You are hardly sure if it’s real or if it’s simply a fantasy you’ve made up for yourself to lessen the pain of being alone, but God, if this is what gets you sent down to the Devil, then perhaps you’ll die pleased. Why see Heaven if erotic pleasures such as this cannot take place?
This is worth it. This is worth everything.
“Kylo . . .” you moan as his body rocks above you. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes, and hazily, you groan again. Never have you ever felt so full, so complete. The Earth falls away from you. Are you floating, or just imagining it? Is Kylo real, or just a manifestation of all the dirty things you yearn for?
Oh, what silly questions. None of it matters. Not really. Not now, when his cock is deep inside of you. Dirt stains you – your nightgown, your skin, your hair – But no part of you cares. Perhaps this is what it is like to be buried, you think between thrusts. Heavy. Wet. Cold. Suffocating. Delicious.
Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you.
“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”
“You shall be one with me ever-eternally,” Kylo tells you. Your heart swells. He needs you. You are his affliction. What good is a man without a woman? What needs are met? What joys are felt? What is the meaning of anything if Kylo Ren doesn’t have you? “Do you swear it?”
You pull at his hair. You need him. Whatever he will give tonight, you need it now. White hot pleasure fills you. You scream, but the thunder swallows it. He fills you, and the feeling of it makes your body lurch. His hands grip your breasts as you push your chest up.
“Do you swear it?” Kylo demands again. You feel as if your eyes have opened. Was there a time before him? Does any other man exist? You offer up your chest even further, and he rips open the front of your nightgown.
“I swear it,” you sigh. Kylo presses his face against the center of your chest, mouth open, and deep down you must know what is coming, because you run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer.
“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”
Teeth sink into your skin, and you gasp sharply as tears fill your eyes. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Your head is light, your body is numb. You moan softly as he pulls away and looks down at you. His hand goes to your cheek and wipes away the tears and raindrops.
“You cannot love,” you breathe. A realization, a prayer. Kylo’s mouth presses against yours firmly. You can taste your blood, metallic and warm against the coldness of him. Perhaps this is not a dream . . .
“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”
You look into his eyes and hold his cheek. You believe him. A scar runs down the side of his face, and you wonder just how long it has been since this scar was fresh. Somehow, you cannot bring yourself to care about whatever the answer may be.
“I am yours, just as you are mine,” you say, nodding. Kylo kisses you once more. You close your eyes. The rain is falling against your face again, sharp and chilled. You feel as if you sink against the ground, falling further into the grass. You open your eyes and see nothing but the fountain, the rose bushes, the leaf-strewn lawn. You sit up, soaked from the storm, your heart pounding against your chest.
Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready.
Oh, yes, it was real.
Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci
