For The Rats (One-Shots)

mAke LoVe 2 a cHain$aw

A/N: the biggest thank you to everyone supporting me right now, this one's for y'all. (more at the bottom x) enjoy. 

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I lay sprawled on my chair, a gentle pounding in my head telling me I was tired. My brown hair is strewn over my neck, messy, and on the grey fabric of the chair that consumed me. It was soft, pulling my heavy body in. I was tired, but there was a deep, internal tingle keeping me awake. It lured me, begged me, cried out to be touched. To feel that spark, that tingle, that high sensation.. the bliss. 

I shut my eyes, whispering gently in my mind. I wished... I wished I didn't have to. It wasn't fun when you couldn't say no, when you couldn't stop yourself. When it pulled you from your sleep and kept you awake at night, and no matter how hard you tried to get better it would nag at you and wouldn't let you be until it's been dealt with. It demanded your attention, it wouldn't let you go. It fed on you like a demon, sucking your soul and energy from your being. 

My chest tightens and I choke out a dry sob, my body not really moving much. I was tired. Did I really have to? Again? I was so done.. 

I've been trying to stop. I can't. 

I lift an arm, fighting the stillness. It's heavy, and my hand feels slow. I trail it down to my sweatpants, rubbing the bulge gently. Fuck. 

I sigh, it felt... it felt like relief that I was trapped inside. My physical body was responding, it liked it, but I felt sick. I felt disgusted with myself. If I had friends over, I'd be a mess right now. On the bed, facedown, writhing... 

begging. 

My body begins waking up, my dick becoming firmer. Palming it wasn't enough, I needed- I need to feel it. I slip my hand under the waistband, my hand instantly finding what was so familiar to me. I cringe, I was getting sore again. I close my eyes, I know I can feel past the pain. The pleasure is so much better, distract me. Please... 

I quicken my strokes, but deep inside me it wasn't enough. I need someone inside me, I need to be fucked- I couldn't get the image from earlier out of my mind. I was so fucked, I needed to be. My body craved that feeling, the thrusting. Pushing deep inside me, holding me, pleasuring me. I moan softly, my eyes shutting again. I couldn't.. I wasn't close. I'm not, I can't.. fuck, 

My mouth falls open without a sound, and I lay on the chair in an empty house, slowing down. The windows behind me put me on display, but for no one to see. No one was coming for me. 

I'm such a freak, I think, disgusted with myself. I craved, more than anything. Sex.. I was almost always thinking about it. Everyone in the band, every person I've met become victim to images in my head that come without warning or consent. I think of my tattooed hand stroking myself, as I stroke myself slowly. I need to come, I need to release, I.. fuck me, I... 

My mind drifts to the closet across the room. I knew what was in there. I'd almost done it a thousand times. Me? Oliver Skyes? I deserved to die. I'd tried so many times. I've made it already, I've lived my luxurious life. I've done it all, I could go now. I didn't deserve it anymore. I'm not as good, and I'm consumed by this.. this... addiction. And I could not free myself. 

I needed something aggressive, something harsh to destroy me. But every time I just needed more. I'd skip every step, have them fuck me until I was bleeding, but every time it had to be more extreme. More and more, constantly. It wouldn't be enough. I couldn't just make a dildo, or fuck myself, I needed to be destroyed. Torn up. Ripped apart from inside. Maybe it was time.