jonah0

[jonah0]

ahh so happy to see your requests are open! i love your writing so much 💜 would you perhaps be willing to write something where whitney’s bullying reader and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that the more degrading things he says to her the more she’s squirming and pressing her thighs together and he makes her beg him to make it better, because such a needy little slut has to beg for it if they want his cock 🥵 no worries if you’re not feeling it or if you feel it would be too similar to previous works, i just thought i’d ask! either way you’re amazing and i love seeing all your posts whether it’s writing, rambling, or just random things you share, you always make my day a little better mwah

yippeeee !!! thank you for sending this request in, and for you kind words !!! i hope i fulfilled your request well <3 it was a lot of fun getting into writing smut again with it, and i hope it reads well because it's been a while LMFAO x

warnings: degradation, bullying, cigarette burns, sadomasochism, spit, name calling (slut, whore), impact play, dacryphilia, blowjob, throatpie, masturbation, orgasm denial wc: 4,611

It takes him a moment to notice the quick flash of a lewd expression upon your otherwise scowling face, but he’s nothing if not perceptive. Especially when it comes to you, the object of his frustrations. You can count on him to catch everything you do, whether you like it or not. And that includes your terrible, downright disgusting misfortune— displayed only briefly, but it was there. He’s absolutely fucking positive about it.

Which, unfortunately, only emboldens him some more. Tightens the already too tight ball in his stomach to leave him momentarily gasping, fingers itching in his slack pockets to pet himself a little. Just a small amount, unnoticeable by pretty much anyone who may walk by, let alone you with your downcast eyes and wobbly lips. Just to relieve some of the built up tension your pathetic display of want has prompted inside of him a little reward for himself seeing as he’s put up with you for so long today.

“You’re squirmin’.” He states matter of factly, exhaling long and steady, as if preparing himself for something greater than. But really, the only reason he’s sighing so heavy is because the tip of his fingers have just made contact with his hidden girth, and your useless excuse for an existence has got him sooooo fucking sensitive babe…

Not that he’d ever tell you as such, no fuckin’ way. You don’t deserve such niceties— and he bets, given the way you’re currently reacting to his harsh actions and mean words, that you’d much prefer him to keep his secrets too.

A needy little thing like you, of fucking course you would. So pathetic and stupid, there’s no way he’d treat you with anything other than utter contempt. Because it’s frankly gross to witness the way you shiver and wriggle around in place in response to his unfair treatment, kicking you down to the ground in a quiet school hallway— you should be in class right now, not getting off to the way he lazily dabs ash from his cigarette above your head, or the way he snarls down at you with teeth bared to exude his dominance over your pitiable frame.

“Disgusting,” he sneers down at you, smiling into the word when you’re unable to meet his gaze in return, instead staring dumbly down at the ground beneath you as if it were far more interesting than him. Which is an insult, really, and prompts him to jut your chin up to face his leering with his dirt covered shoes. “Fuckin’ freak— you like this, huh?” He calls you out, clear as day, taking another slow inhale of his cigarette just to exhale the dirty smoke right against your stupid face. And the resulting cough you let out is cute, albeit another indication of your perversion when you soon shiver when the cloud clears.

He supposes it makes sense. He’s been bullying you for long enough, he can imagine that the roughness and harshness he exudes would soon rewire your brain into seeking the mistreatment out under the mislabel of love or whatever. But it’s funny, he thinks. Unable to stop the light laughter from exiting his pursed lips when he mimics the ugly pout you wear when staring back up at him. Funny that despite knowing better, you still seek him out like this. Like a dumb dog, you deserve nothing but the bottom of his boot, right?

Which is precisely what you’ll get.

Without much warning besides a twitch of his eye, he stubs the cigarette out against your neck, swift in his movements so that you’ve got no chance but to endure the stinging sizzle of his ash, and the resulting sob you squeak out—all cracked and high pitched, and fucking pretty—has his cock twitching in sheer delight. Pulsing under his greedy fingertips as he takes a better hold of his cock from his pocket, running a finger as close to the tip as he can get, a shuddered breath escaping him at how well you wear pain.

You didn’t even fucking flinch, you weirdo.

“Aww…” his tone is patronizing, babying, to an extent. Cooing faux sweetly down at the bubble of tears that line your lashes, inhaling sharply as a means to steel himself against how much he enjoys the sight of you in pain. Treating you exactly how you’re acting right now— like a dumb slut. A stupid fucking whore, one he bets would like nothing more than to be used and abused beyond recognition right about now. And he’s all too eager to give you what you want— so eager that it honestly frustrates him a little. To be giving in to you, treating you paradoxically how you need to be treated, in spite of the bullying nature. It’s annoying that he wants that just as much as you do. Struggling to keep composed and in control when you’re pouting up at him so prettily like that, body simply begging for his abuse like some sort of addict.

God, but that’s so fucking hot, right? He did that to you. It was him who made you a sobbing, begging mess of a whore by his feet. Tiny little fists balled by his boots, like you’d ever have a chance of fighting back. It’s truly fucking pathetic to watch you squirm around for more, breathing heavily in the face of his hard on pointed directly at you, hovering above and hidden in his pants, casting a shadow reminder over your ugly stare up at him that you’re nothing but his favourite punching bag. But you like that reminder, don’t you, slut?

He hopes the cigarette burn leaves a permanent reminder that you wanted this too. A constant mark of him, forever and ever scarred into your soft skin. Following you long after you realize just how shitty he’s being to you right now, and you suddenly want better for yourself. Even then, he’ll be with you. And if that doesn’t get him rock solid at the mere thought, God…

“Look at’chu…” he mocks you some more, enjoying the way you huff and sigh with every bullying remark just a little too much, his chest tight with unneeded affection for you. Because he’s sure you’d enjoy this interaction much more if he genuinely hated you, right? But he can’t find it within himself to truly dislike the sweet sighs of pleasure that tumble from your bitten bruised lips, or the way you seek more, and more, and more, and—

You’re just like him, deep down. And he can sympathize with that. A match made in Hell, captor and captive.

If it’s pain and degradation you’re seeking, you’ve came to the right guy for it. So right, in fact, that he knows not to give it to you handed on a silver platter. That’d be too easy, right? For you and him. All the trembling and panting you’re doing before him, acting like some sort of bitch in fucking heat as he considers his options, he knows better than to simply give you want you’re so obviously seeking.

No, pain sluts like you need more, ain’t that right? A constant seeking of more, an insatiable need to be pushed further against the ground, to exceed your previous limits until that stupid little brain of your can fully switch off and you’re able to act in the purest of forms. Sheer instinct alone, a mere puddle of disgusting fluids, yeah?

You’re nothing but holes to him, he understand. It’s what you want, ain’t it?

So really, he’s doing you a favor. And without much care for consideration, he exhales a heavy, condescending sigh, and grabs your chin with his free hand. Still yet petting his throbbing cock from his pocket, he taps a thumb against your lips absently and almost cums on the spot from the way you flinch away from his touch. So fucking hot, God, a shiver running through his spine at your victim hood.

“Open up.” He commands nonchalantly, for there’s no need yet for convincing. His slut doesn’t need any sugary sweet lies, or demanding dominance. He’s simply treating you as you deserve, evident from the way you slowly widen that pretty maw as per his mumbled instruction.

You shouldn’t be so eager to prove him right, slut.

A good fight is enticing, always. But there’s something so special about the way you so easily and willingly give in to him. The dead eyed stare back at him to communicate that there’s no fight left to give, and the little glint that sparkles in your eye when you watch his adam’s apple bob right before you tells him that deep down, you want this too. Even if it’s gross, dirty, disgusting, and deplorable. You fucking slut, he oughta leave you right where you pathetically squirm, surely pressed right against the cold hallway floors to cool off the sore little cunt— bet she’s begging for him, huh? Aching to wrap his cock up all warm and tight, suck him off in an attempt to keep his unfair hands around your neck just a little longer.

But he’s got much better plans for a whore like you.

Like: Collecting plenty saliva behind his teeth, making sure to gargle it a little for a worthless hole like you, before spitting it out and down your own throat with no warning whatsoever. He’s always loved having the upper hand over you.

You cough, and gag, as expected. Beautiful little sounds that make his cock twitch and leak pre for you. But nonetheless, all it takes is a single, stern stare before he bears witness to your own swallowing efforts, and he’s never wanted to fuck you within an inch of your life more than he does right now. Like a light switch, a tug in his tummy that simply begs, fucking implores him to put you in your rightful place: beneath his beating boot.

“Nasty fucking girl—” he seethes at you, taking a rough grab of your collar only to slam you back against the nearest wall, pure instinct, remember? The resulting cry you sound, broken and distraught over the likely pain radiating from your head down to your neck only has him throbbing harder, and he has to struggle with himself to unzip his pants fast enough to let his cock spring out from the little hole in his boxers and against your chubby little tear stained cheeks.

“You’re almost cute like this,” he huffs, agitated with the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, all balled fists and toothy snarls. “Cryin’ an’ snifflin’— shit, it’s almost a fucking improvement.” He barks laughter down at you, pinning you in place with such ease as his nails dig into your scalp— just enough to offer you that soothing pain you’re seeking, but not enough to deal any real damage.

Pain sluts like you are hard to come by, and he’d rather not damage you beyond repair just yet.

He’s quick to act, something about leaving you with very little time to grow accustomed to your misfortune. It’s more exciting that way, right? Gets you wetter just thinking about all the ways he could abuse you right now. And he briefly wonders which way you might favor, and how he could ruin that for you.

But at the end of the day, there’s only one thing on his mind right now. And it’s that wobbly lipped little maw you’ve got, making those sinful little squeaks and sobs, and just how badly he wants to shut you up so as to not alert anyone else to your small private undoing. You’re all his for the time being, and he won’t tolerate you showing off how much of a perfect pretty slut you can be to anyone but him.

With a tightening of his fist at your hair, and a growled tut that crawls up his dry throat, he unhands his pocket cock to instead favor gripping your chin. Pulling it as open as he’d like because he knows you enjoy that. Dirty slut, useless fucking whore— and you allow him to touch you however he wants too. Letting your jaw turn slack in his unfair hold, even lolling your tongue out a little for his own erotic enjoyment.

But he’ll be damned if he lets you get the better of him, even if the sight of your squishy tongue and saliva strings make him more than a little dizzy. Cock tip leaking more bubbles of precum for you, dripping down to the floor where you knees rest and tremble. Thighs pressed and rubbing together to give away just how much you’re actually, disgustingly, enjoying this display of debauchery, even as he fish hooks the corner of your mouth to widen your jaw some more. Lemme see everything, his dirty paws implore.

And he eyes you up for a moment or two. Really takes in the sight of your stretched wide lips, pretty pink tongue poking out just a meager amount— but it’s enough to get him going. God does it get him going, fuck… To view you in such a vulnerable state, so fucking wanting to hurt. You’ve never looked better to him than you do right now, covered in snot and tears, peering up at him from behind fluttering lashes in a silent plead for more. He wants to make you cry some more, to see more of those fat tears roll down your cheeks simply because he’s selfish, and it makes him hard to know that he’s hurting you in some way.

His cock presses insistently against your cheek at the thought, poking and prodding his hot pre into your skin, only for him to smear it all over your dumb face with a thumb at the base of his cock to guide.

“Think y’deserve this?” He questions you, though it’s rhetorical at best. A test, more likely. Teasing his tip against your tongue that he fishes out from your mouth, pinching at it to place it into position for his own twisted enjoyment. “Think you’ve been good enough for a taste?” He continues, jutting his hips closer to your face so that his cock slips and his full length pushes against your face, tip leaking directly against your forehead, balls twitching against your nose.

He only pulls away to hear what your muffled answer was, though the vibrations sent across his balls almost convince him to stay. To hump your face silly until you’re sobbing for release yourself. But alas, he’s too curious for his own good.

“I— I think so…” You manage to babble out behind gasps and sighs, and that’s exactly what he’d hope you’d say.

Too fucking bad, he thinks to himself, tugging on your hair hard enough to have your neck crane back into an uncomfortable position, his cock hovering just out of reach above your open wanting maw. “I don’t need you to fucking think,” He reprimands you, tone hushed so as to not give away just how excited he truly is at the fact that you’re playing your victim role perfectly. “I jus’ need you to be a hole, can you do that fr’me?” He mocks your pout again, talking down at you with barely contained glee. “Or are you so useless that y’can’t even do that, huh? S’that why no one else will touch you? Dumb little slut can’t even be a hole properly, s’at it?”

It’s not your fault that you’ve became so secluded. That’s his own doing, he knows. Intimidating any and all who try to get closer to you, because he doesn’t need them convincing you that he’s really fucking bad for you, honestly. But being mean just comes so naturally to him, truth be told. And being mean to you specifically comes even easier, the broken half sobs that you let out upon his bullying are all too enticing to ignore, his rock hard cock just pulsing with delight and oh so close to your puffy lips— he’d fucking kill for you. Even if he isn’t acting as such right now, the fact that you not only accept his rough and unfair treatment with nods and smiles, but actively seek it out from how you practically bounce in place for a mere chance to taste his cock, it’s enough to have him keening for more of you despite already being promise as such.

He’s just as choking for it as you are, believe it or not. He’s just better used to handling needy sluts like you. Had plenty practice, you see.

“Beg for it.” He huffs down at you, letting go of your hair only to see how well you behave without the threat of more pain, and so that he can jerk his fat cock off right above you— a light tease for a stupid slut such as yourself. Ignoring the fact that he’s almost at bursting point himself given your lewd display of tears and shivers, he has to make you beg for it. It’s what you need, isn’t it?

And the immediate confusion upon your dazed face, hypnotized with the up and down jerks of his fist along his cock, throbbing nicely for you alone to witness— it’s all very stupid. Gross, nasty to be getting off to his denial, really. But that’s what’s got him so hot and bothered, hand wrapped tight around his heavy cock to try and alleviate some of the built up tension your mere existence causes him to endure. The absolute least he could do as thanks for getting him so fucking hard that it almost hurts, is to give you the pleasure of denial. The embarrassment of gulping down your pride with a hard swallow, appearing cock eyed as you do your best to stay focused on his twitching length, and forcing you to beg for a mere taste.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself well enough to answer, and almost a moment too long given how tight his balls grow against your chin from all the stroking he’s doing. Masturbating against you, above you, to you. Fuck, he’s just as fucking pathetic as you are at this rate. And that’s annoying to admit.

“I— Um, p-please…” You miserably mumble, and he wonders if you have any idea as to what you’re actually begging for right now. “Please Whitney, I— I promise to be good, please, just—”

“God, would you fuckin’ shut up.”

Before you have a chance to point out his contradiction, a thinly veiled question just to be able to bully you some more, he flattens your tongue with the tip of his cock, pushing it down your throat just enough to have your lips automatically seal around him, and he rests there for a few seconds. Lets you thankfully get used to the feeling of his weighty girth sitting upon your squirmy little tongue, before exhaling heavily with a boyish grin tugging at the corners of his lips. You’re either too stupid, or too slow to realize exactly what’s going on here right now, and he’s all too happy to exploit that to his own forever benefit.

He waits until you just start showing restlessness about warming his cock tip before he takes control again, unceremoniously making sure that your head is pushed right back against the wall behind you, and his thighs stand at either side of your shoulders, effectively pinning you against the wall by way of the cock stuffed down your throat.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” He warns you, genuine and quiet, so you know just how serious he is right now. A threat in its own right— he could so easily remove the tiny bit of tip he’s allowed you from between your pretty pursed lips at any given moment, but he’s being kind enough to use you right now, so you better fucking behave. “Or I’ll give you something to really cry about.”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen and light up at the misunderstood promise. Though he’s not opposed to being even rougher with you in future, he fears he’s already reaching his limit from just how on edge you’ve had him all day, and how depraved you’ve acted in the hallway, and the way your tongue swirls around his cock oh so sweetly, shit— he’d better get a move on before he embarrasses himself any further than he already has.

So, with as much care and attention that he’s afforded you thus far, he steadies himself against the wall behind you with one open palm, his other hand coming down to grab at the base of his cock; though it’s difficult to ignore just how shaky his hold is, already so close to the edge from previous petting. But through sheer willpower alone, he takes a final steeling inhale, and plants his feet firmly on the ground.

“Be good,” he exhales. Then, almost lovingly, “You look best with a mouth full of cock.”

It’s a genuine compliment he offers you, but that slight twinge of honesty is quickly overtaken with utter need, lust fueled hands pressing harder against the wall as he takes to stroking the remaining length of his cock not yet swallowed by your greedy maw, forcing you to endure the feeling of continuous pre spilling out against your tongue, without the satisfaction of a good face fucking. And he knows, deep down in the pits of his butterfly filled stomach, that you will be good. Knows that underneath it all, you so desperately want to be so good for him that he’s left with no choice but to rely on you in future, to need you just as much as you appear to need him.

And, well, he’s almost there baby…

It’s soooo difficult for him to keep his hips still, fighting with the urge to hump your face so fucking fast to full completion with a dirty load straight down your throat. But he wants to prove himself to you, show you just how well he can bully you into submission, so that he has the pleasure of doing so again, and again, and until he’s either bored of you, or dead.

But with the way you grow hearts in your eyes as he drools more pre down your throat, body relaxed enough for him to bully and abuse to his hearts content, he figures that there’s no way he’d ever grow bored of not.

Never ever. How could he? You respond so well to his teasing touch, knuckles brushing harshly against your chin with every stroke up and down his needy cock. Pulsing and throbbing so nicely against your tongue, yeah? Poor thing, all you gotta do is warm his tip for him— let him do the rest. Ain’t he just soooo nice to you, yeah? Jacking off inside one of your holes, allowing you the privilege of tasting his salty pre whilst taking care of himself. You should be fucking thankful that he’s even allowing you that, flicking his wrist on every upward stroke, squeezing every time he reaches the base. And fuck, it just feels so fucking good to be using you like this, with little care or regard for your own wellbeing. You’ll be getting off to this mistreatment regardless, right? Doing everything in your power for even just the smallest amount of friction whilst he does his best to ignore the squirm of your tongue, or the suck of your lips, or fuck, the way you shiver on top of his cock like that—

“More spit—” he means to demand, but his voice comes out listless. Breathy, even. A moan hidden between the lines despite his best efforts to keep his lips sealed. But God, he had to say something. Regain control somehow in the face of your complete and utter perversion, and how you might just rival his own.

But you just so happen to heed his request expertly, for better or for worst. And he knows as such because despite avoiding looking down at your stupid face, he can fucking feel how sticky with spit his knuckles grow. Can hear the echoing slap of his wet balls smacking sweetly against your chin, probably to your own sick enjoyment, yeah? Little fucking pervert, but fuck if he isn’t happy to find someone who matches his own desires. Fully enjoying just how much saliva that spills from your corrupt little mouth with squelchy fist fucks, full length strokes up and down the cock left out of your mouth cunt that he can barely catch his breath. Furiously masturbating inside of your soft, warm little hole as if it were the only thing that ever matter to him right now. Forgetting entirely about the fact that he’s in school of all places, tattered uniform hanging loosely to his frame as he’s more busy getting off inside of his favourite sluts throat, the tell tale wet smacks of skin on skin surely ringing through the hall and into nearby classrooms— it’s all too easy to forget about anything other than how fucking good you’re making him feel right now, and all you’re really doing is sitting fucking still like he’d told you to.

It’s too much for him, honestly. The complete obedience you display for him, submitting with such ease that he can’t help but to fuck himself to completion far faster than he’s used to— but he blames the copious amounts of dangerous foreplay you’ve had him endure since meeting you in the hallway for how quick he’s been today. Giving in to the need to fuck your tongue just a little on a whim, but it’s that little bit that fully sends him off the edge, still yet fisting himself even as he cums straight down your surely tight little hole that he privately swears to violate at a later date.

Thick ropes of cum shot directly against the back of your throat, and fuck sake you sound so good when gagging on it all, a breathless laughter escaping him with moaned words of “Sluts don’t need to breathe—” as if he’s any fucking better himself. Struggling to catch his own breath after such a thorough teasing, making sure to milk himself completely empty against your tongue as some sort of reward for acting nice and pliant for him.

And then the embarrassment hits him. Like a fucking truck; he’s just given you exactly what you want. A nice fat load down your sticky throat, abused you so well that you’re left in a lust induced dazed by the time he pulls out and tucks his softening cock back where it belongs. He hates that, cannot fucking stand to admit that he might like some useless slut like you more than you’re worth.

“Fuckin’…” He’s unable to find the words to communicate exactly how he feels now, staring at the absolute state he’s left you in. All messy and dizzy, still coughing a little as cum yet coats and clings to your throat. “Fuck off, slut. Got no more use left in ya.” He tuts down at you, pushing himself off from the wall abruptly, so that he can go smoke in the school bathroom to try and figure the fuck out exactly why his heart stutters at the sight of you so pretty and ruined.

He’d feel bad for leaving you like this if not for the fact that you’re nothing but a filthy whore, right? And what do sluts like you appreciate the most? Being left high and dry. Orgasm: Denied. Ruined for you. The perfect ending, don’t you think?

[jonah0]

YOU WRITE CRYING MEN SO WELL ITS CRAZY ☹️🙏🙏 CAN WE PLS PLS PLS GET SMUT FOR CRYBABY!YANDERE OMG

Of course :) Pt.1. Pt.2.

Tags: oral (reader receiving), pillow humping, mommy kink (a bit obvious lol), poor communication

Yandere crybaby, who, despite all of his perverted fantasies, would be shy to take things further with you. You'd have to coax it out of him with gentle reassurance. Petting the top of his head, kissing his pouty lips, nibbling on his neck. Slowly drawing lewd whimpers and whines from him. Slowly making him rock hard for you.

But then, at the last frustrating second, where you start to take off his shirt, he'd stop you. Embarrassment with a mix of insecurity in his eyes. Choked up tears and weak excuses muttered from his lips. Making your heart flutter at the sight of beet-redded face. Your fingers wiped his cheek, his lips planting kisses against your palm in return. Taking a few seconds to calm down his breathing, he bore his eyes into yours.

"We don't have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, honey."

Your kind words eased him. But he knew you were bound to get tired of him being a pathetic crying mess. Truth was, he was scared— afraid that you'll hate him if you saw what was underneath his clothes. Afraid that if he didn't satisfy you, you would surely get rid of him. Leave him all alone to rot. Be with someone who was far better than him.

He couldn't let that happen.

"No, hic... You need relief. I-I can do this! I don't want you to be unsatisfied... Hic! I don't want you to go to anyone else for this. I want you to only look at me. Love me. Only me."

He got down between your legs. Rubbing your knees as he gulped, swallowing the saliva that wanted to spill. He felt sweaty. His heart drummed against his ears as tears fell from his eyes.

"Are you sure?" You confirmed it with him one last time, unable to say no to his cute, innocent face. He sniffled as he nodded enthusiastically. He wanted to do this. Not only because he could finally taste you, but also to make himself useful. He wanted to be good for you. He craved your approval; he needed it to survive.

He felt nervous. He had no idea what to do when you hesitantly pulled down your underwear. Just staring at your private...

His pants already creamed just by the sight of your bare pussy. He bit his lip hard, hiding a whimper from the shock of pleasure traveling up his body. Blinking and blinking, the gears in his head turning.

Your brows furrowed in concern. "I don't think we should, um..."

You lost your train of thought when his shaky breaths fanned your mound. An unsure tongue licking the length of your sensitive front. His eyes closed in ecstasy. Already overwhelmed enough by all his other senses. Your familiar smell, your divine taste, your dripping flesh— all driving him crazier. The noise you made caused his stomach to churn.

He pulled away, rubbing his cheek to the soft plush of your thigh instead. "Mmgh, f-feels too good. I..." His hand covered a mewl. "I love you so much..."

"I love you too, baby. But it's not a big deal if you—"

You were cut off again, this time by a surge of good shock shooting through you. He delved in, started to eat you out like a starved man. Licking, sucking, nibbling. His hands grabbing your hips so he could push his tongue further into your hole. Sinful squelching noises filled the room. His nose pressing against your clit with each thrust of his tongue. He wasn't holding back any longer, hiding his face between your thighs.

He slowly began to move his hips. His poor overstimulated cock rubbing against the couch. Aroused again with a fever. His whole body burned. His eyes rolled to the back of his head while he kept going. Movements only getting rougher and faster while you placed your hand on top of his head. Holding his head and bucking into his mouth, chasing release.

You had no idea he could be like this. His docile attitude replaced with something feral. He was moaning like he was in pain. Feeding on your juices to quench his thirst. His hips bumped against the furniture as if he wasn't capable of controlling it. Tears ruining his pretty face even more.

It was only a matter of time before you finished. Your back arching and your toes curling with a loud groan. "Ahhh... Fuck, fuck! Where did all that come from?"

"I-I just want you to be happy... Did I make you happy? Was I good? Are you gonna stay with me? You won't abandon me... right?!"

You sighed, a small smile forming on your face. He clearly had some things to work out. Always needing constant comfort; begging for you to own him, capture him, claim him as yours. He wished he could say the words without tearing up. Ask you to tie him down to your bed and just play with his hair.

He got comfortable with your body. Learning to use his slender fingers and even started to make eye contact when he kitten-licked your sensitive nub. Sobbing happy tears when you slowly stroked his hair. He felt enveloped by your love. Surrounded by you.

The liquid streamed down to his chin. Cries of joy vibrating against your heat while he worked harder to drive you to the edge. Half-lidded eyes staring up at yours as his fingers slid in and out of you rhythmically.

"Such a good boy, aren't you, hon? Yes. Yes, you are. You're my good boy. Ah, fuck, I'm gonna—"

Sometimes, the best way to help him calm down was to let him cuddle up to your chest. Sitting on your lap, head under your shirt— engulfed by your sweet sweet smell— lips moving around your breasts. Licking hot stripes around your areola, sucking on your nipple like a pacifier.

He'd start to get more greedy for your approval. Asking if he did a good job for a basic task, like folding his clothes and putting them away. Or if he was a good boy for not crying when you went to the bathroom. He was adorable— looking at you like a lost child, wanting for you to take care of him.

He couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment. Pleading and pleading for you to stay when you wanted to hang out with your friends. You pecked his lips, "Be good, baby. I'll be back in 2 hours. Promise."

He whimpered when you pulled away from him. Yet obeying your words as he should. Plopping down to your shared bed to sniff your scent from the sheets. 2 hours, he could do that.

He started weep pathetically. The droplets soaking your blanket. He cried over far more stupid things than this. A crybaby. That was really all he was. He took your pillow, hugging it tightly as if it would disappear at any moment. His eyes closed shut. Whispering, "Haah... I wish you were hugging me... I wish you were here..."

He tried to be a good boy. Tried to keep himself in check. Tried oh-so hard to stop thinking about it. But eventually, the problem in his pants started to hurt. One of his trembling legs dropped over your pillow, while he found the rewarding angle that gave him the most friction. His hand sneaked into his pocket to grab a pair of hidden underwear, there in case of... emergencies.

You came back to your room to retrieve a forgotten item. Just at the right time— catching him grinding against your pillow mindlessly. Your underwear pressed tightly against his nose as he inhaled and exhaled a wail. Moaning louder and more high-pitched than you've ever heard.

"Nghh... m-mommy... Why...? Why did you have to— hic— leave your poor babyboy....?"

You grinned. The newfound information was a treasure. You always wondered if he was into that title. Too timid to talk to you about things like that. He was just adorable. You could hear how close he was when his voice shook. When he chanted your name as if it would ease the pain. Brows crumpled, and sweat rolled down the skin of his forehead.

"Mommy..." His tongue darted out to lick the heavenly taste off the fabric of your panties. His hips rutted to the pillow until a sad, unsatisfying orgasm hit him. He cried miserably. Nose stuffed while he breathed out whimpers. Drool mixed with other liquids pooled down to splatter the pillow. An unusual angry huff coming from his lips. "Why aren't you here?!? Whywhywhywhy!"

Only if he had opened his eyes.

[jonah0]

Ever so often I go back to play some DoL and in my new run I got a bit more interested in our lovely school bully, so I looked them up and spoilered myself found some things out that inspired me to write about them ♥

Isn't it so cute when the bully starts to care a bit more about their victims than they should?

Characters: Male!Whitney (Degrees of Lewdity) x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con, Public Sex, Derogatory Nicknames, Creampie, Fear of Pregnancy, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Picture Taking) Bullying, Posessiveness, Mental Struggles, Threats

Sobbing, you clung to him as his cock pounded into you. Merciless and without much thought to your obvious state of distress, Whitney abused your hole, grunting as he caved it out even though you had pleaded with him not to. Not like he had ever listened to you before, but you wondered if there was ever a "too much" in his books, your hopes silently shattering as you bit back a moan from escaping.

Giggles and mean comments rained down on you from the sidelines, phone shutters going off, the sound deliberately turned on so you would hear it. The embarrassment was like a cloud of heat, cooking you from the inside out and blurring your judgment. You wanted to struggle, but every bit of movement would make your body more visible, even though you wanted to hide it away more than anything. Your legs were held apart by the ankles, giving you very little support as Whitney pushed into you recklessly, but they kept you in place enough that his cock wouldn't slip out.

All while the onlookers took videos from below.

You knew better than to make more of a fool out of yourself than you already were to these bullies. They wouldn't listen to your pleas, and your screams fell on deaf ears around the almost empty school. Although you could try fighting, who were you kidding? Whitney wasn't known to be a weakling. It wasn't the first time you had to deal with him and the humiliation, but no amount of repetition made the crime less severe.

Letting out a loud sniffle, you buried your face in his chest, his grunts breaking for one push, and you felt one of his arms snake around your back as he grew even more eager. It was no embrace that could comfort you, but at least he didn't force you to face the cameras and make your expression a public amusement and the next best blackmail material.

"Hey, Whitney! Stop hoggin' them! We all want some of the fun!" some student called out, gripping your bully by the shoulder. With surprising ferocity, Whitney twisted his body around, slapping the hand away while pulling you tighter against his body.

"Fuck off!" he hissed as the student tumbled and crashed into the tables. "Y'all can get lost, you're not getting your dicks wet today!"

His movements halted while he was occupied with the groans and shouts of his peers, needing to keep them in check as they crowded close, calling him 'unfair' and a killjoy. He bit back just as aggressively, and more embarrassment flared up inside you as people got closer.

Scared, you clung to him, fingers buried in the shirt on his back, and with your legs being released, you clasped them tightly around his hips. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and Whitney hissed, the voices of the other students briefly stopping before they rose up in laughter.

"Seems like our good pal got hitched!"

"Pussy-drunk bastard!"

"Man, this is no fun. Let's go somewhere else."

Sighs turned into small talk, into discussions about where to have dinner, until all your bullies had crowded out of the room, leaving only you and Whitney behind. It was fascinating how quickly they could change their interest, how little all of this truly meant to them while the trauma clung heavily to you.

"Urgh," Whitney groaned, leaning forward until your back hit the top of the table. "Why are you sticking so close to me? Stop being a fucking leech."

"S-Sorry..."

Within seconds, Whitney had snapped his hips back against yours, burying his cock deep inside, and you grunted in response, covering your mouth to hold back the moans.

"You're really getting on my nerves—stop that!"

Tearing your hand away, Whitney pinned it to the table, leaving you defenseless. His other hand gripped the edge of the wood, giving him the leverage to pound into you, spreading your walls far apart while messing with your insides.

"Why..." you mumbled, breathless. "Why did you stop them?"

"The fuck kinda question is that? You want them to fuck you? I can call them back if that's—"

"N-No! Please don't..."

His lips curled into a mean grin as he stared down at you, eyes moving from yours to your lips, to your breasts jiggling beneath. "You owe me now, big time," he grinned, and you felt a knot form in your stomach.

Reaching down, Whitney gripped one of your thighs, lifting it higher for better access before his pace quickened. "You're so fucking done," he grunted. "I'll make your life hell, and you'll love every second of it. That'll teach you not to question me."

"S-Sorry! I just wanted to know!"

Months of bullying had worn down your defenses, and you should have known better. But Whitney had never been one to show you any mercy before, so curiosity had gotten the better of you. And like an idiot, you had fallen into his trap again.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt another knot form in your stomach, this one much more frightening than the one before. You didn't want to come from this, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making you come. Still, every time he pushed into you, you felt closer to that edge, toes curling. At the same time, you listened to the embarrassing sound of your pussy squelching. Whitney, too, sounded close, not afraid to let out his voice as he dug inside, fulfilling his desires primarily.

In the truest sense of the word, you two crashed hard as Whitney leaned down, lips smashing into yours as both moans collided pitifully. His hips still jerked a few times, and you gasped as you felt the hot mess he spilled inside you, fearing the worst. You absolutely couldn't get pregnant by him—what kind of sick nightmare would that have been?—but even as you tried to push him away, ramming your knees into his chest, he wouldn't budge. Usually, things ended after humiliating you, but with no one around, apparently, Whitney didn't think it was necessary to sully your face or body, leaving his cum inside you without a second thought.

"N-No!" you mewled into his savage kiss, but Whitney only grinned, rocking the table until it tilted back, forcing you to wrap your legs around his and your arms around his neck to not slip off the surface and hurt yourself. Though with this, escaping was pretty much impossible, and despite your panic, your body filled up nicely with his cum, taking every spurt he gave.

"Fuckin' hell," Whitney complained when he finally released you from the kiss, setting down the table and wiping his mouth. He looked down at you with the same condescending gaze as usual, and you wondered how pitiful you must have looked in those dark eyes of his. "You need to take classes on how to kiss, you fucking suck."

"S-Sorry," you sobbed, feeling the deliberate slow pull of Whitney as he freed his cock from your pussy, popping it out after wiping it thoroughly against your walls. Giving your left thigh a slap, he let them both drop uncaringly as he stepped back, moving his cock back into his pants and underwear and zipping it up.

"Get dressed, slut," he ordered, nodding his head in the direction of your discarded panties and skirt, and you slowly got up from your position, waddling over to your clothes with shaking knees. It didn't take a moment longer than you had pulled them up when you felt Whitney's warmth at your back, his hands snaking around your body and towards the zipper of your skirt. You held your breath as you listened to the sound of him zipping you up, giving you back some line of defense now with your clothes on.

"Just so we're clear, you're not just anyone's little plaything. Those buffoons don't get to enjoy you unless I give them permission. And today..."

You looked up at him as his hand fell to your throat, squeezing it in an attention-demanding grip. Whitney's dilated pupils searched for your gaze, locking onto it with a ferocity that made your legs quiver, a small whimper escaping you as he tightened his grip around your throat threateningly.

"Today, I really didn't feel like sharing."

Lowering his mouth to yours, Whitney nipped your lower lip with his teeth, prompting yours to part so he could stick his tongue inside. For someone who claimed he didn't enjoy your amateur kissing, you two stayed like this for a while, breaths heating up between you as the intensity rose. His eyes never strayed from you, capturing them, forcing you to look at him, and making sure your thoughts wouldn't stray from what he was doing. Whitney wanted these moments to be burned into your soul, the utmost cruelty he could muster, always making you remember the things he did to you.

With his hand positioned as it was, you didn't dare challenge him to squeeze harder, allowing him to ravage your mouth, his other hand falling on top of your skirt, cramming it up to grab your asscheek hard. The sudden pain of his palm hitting your skin made you jolt, and you whimpered into the kiss, Whitney finally pulling away. You felt your underwear damping as fluids leaked from your pussy, wetness coating your inner thighs as you were reminded of Whitney's claim on you.

"Seriously, get good," he mumbled as he pushed you aside, wiping his mouth from the excess drool you two had produced. "Next time, you'll need that sucky mouth of yours."

Passing you by, he smacked your rear once more, laughing as you jumped and hit another desk's edge, more pain flashing through you. However, when you finally got a grip on yourself, you looked up to catch him still watching you from the doorframe, almost as if he was waiting to see if you were okay.

More cum mixed with your juices ran down your legs as you squatted down, picking up your bag and books the bullies had thrown around. "I don't get it," you mumbled quietly, still feeling his gaze at your back.

"Speak up if you got something to say, clown."

Shaking your head, you walked after Whitney, who only huffed at your refusal, walking five steps ahead of you as you two made your way out of school. Something about his behavior was strange, and you had difficulty pinpointing it. But where he usually didn't seem to care about you, he stuck unnecessarily close to you that day.

"Ugh! Finally!" you heard a girl yell once you two reached the school gate. You looked up to see Whitney's clique waiting for him. He split from you and walked to them while you hurriedly marched in the other direction, as far away as possible.

"What is it with them?! Do you like that slut?!" the girl asked, the insults hurled directly at you even though her question was as ridiculous as the whole bullying.

"No," Whitney firmly denied, and for some reason, it made the knot in your stomach twist. You knew that, but it made the situation almost worse.

"But they're mine, so fuck off."

"What!" the girl screeched, and you halted in your tracks, slowly turning around to look at Whitney's back. He kept walking, unbothered by his friend's reaction. The others started to cheer and mock him, but he simply kept walking, his head slowly turning around after a few more steps.

Your eyes met.

You couldn't read his lips well from the side, but his smirk and the gleam in your eyes made you assume a thousand words he could have mimed at that moment.

Only one stuck.

Mine.

[jonah0]

tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.

His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.

“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”

You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.

“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”

It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”

It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”

Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”

“I need to— You said I could go—”

“Just give me another minute, darling.”

His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.

“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”

[jonah0]

cw: slutty little drabble, dead dove do not eat (?), f!masturbation, somnophilia/somno, noncon, stalking, mentions of slasher shit, murder, fingers, sex but just the tip ;), nonconsented insemination, breeding, cummy fingers, tasting cum, semi hate fuck? oh yeah afab

a/n: sorry for writing heinous shit. this is the only thing that gets me writing these days ;( not proofread

Slasher!stalker who really did want to kill you, instead fantasizes about spearing you against his fat, girthy cock every hour of the day. Baby, you're a sick and twisted addiction scented like sweet, powdery perfumes and dewy lotion.

He was supposed to hate you, and if he was being honest, he did hate you. Once or twice when he followed you home. You're such a dumb little creature, the classic opening scene in every horror movie. Don't you watch the news, baby? There's a murderer on the loose. You're just a dumb cliche, walking home alone after a late night out with your friends.

God, your friends. They were even worse than you. So he killed them, with the intention of you being his next victim. But of course, he didn't, he couldnt, because at least you intrigued him. Intrigued him with the cute little performances you'd put on every night, your fingers reaching between your thighs every night, whining on your own fantasies of a few little touches to help you sleep through the night. He'd watch your pussy puff up from all your rubbing, huffs and mewls you didn't bother to stifle—like you wanted him to catch you, to man handle you face down and ass up so he could fuck tears out of those pretty eyes.

A shame really. You're so hard to self pleasure. You get so frustrated that you sit up in bed with your blanket fallen to your lap while you needily hump your fingers, rocking your hips and pinching your nipples swollen just to cum, barely able to make yourself orgasm, he'd be in heaven if he got to watch you cream or squirt all over the bed sheets. He'd be liar if he said he didn't record those rare instances you gasped and trembled out of a semi satisfactory finish. A little visual for his own nightly routine, something to fist his cock to after a gorey day of "work". He'd be so much better you, baby. He'd actually make you cum.

A concept he practices every now and then. Proved by those strange mornings you'd wake up with your panties missing, which, honestly wasn't even his fault, you were the one who fell asleep with that damp spot showing off just above your pussy. Could you blame him for wanting to sneak over and taste the product? You were such a deep sleeper too, pratically pleading for him to dip his fingers into your sticky cunt. Your syrupy juices clinging in a neat shine across his long fingers. He'd bring it to his face, sniffing it with a low groan. His cock painfully erect against his jeans, he'd give himself a little rub, suckling his fingers clean as a little reward.

A real treat for a hard days work. Even if you'd probably wake up one day and scream at him for violating you, at least your pussy knew how to appreciate him. It would take just the tip of his cock without much fight, pratically sucking him off the moment he popped in. He'd cum embarrassingly fast, pulling out just to finger his milky expense back in, no reason to let it go to waste.

You'd wake up the later that night, sore in places that felt good, "wet", some dry residue splattered down your inner thighs. Maybe even a chocolate or three left on you night stand. Compensation, anyone?

[jonah0]

while I've got mixed feelings about Eden, I love the concept. so here <3

Pairing: M!Eden the hunter x F!pc/reader

Content warnings. MDNI: dark fic. heavy noncon. fingering. p in v. liddol bit of pussy slaps. mean and gross Eden. pc is teetering on the edge of madness. mentions of self-loathing/worthlessness. a sprinkle of dissociation. manhandling. at some point, it's mentioned that 'pc weighs nothing to him', but it simply means that Eden is so strong (he's a hunter after all). pc is called 'bird' sometimes but that doesn't imply she has a bird transformation; it simply is a nickname (although you're free to imagine pc as you like). Stockholm (kinda). yandere. if there are any tags you believe I've missed let me know!

a/n: this was a labor of love lol. squeezed this out by writing a few lines/paragraph a day because I've got exams still. I hope you enjoy!

Eden did not expect the pretty bird he had been watching to come to him on her own accord.

Sure, it's a little different from what he had imagined. Waking up to the door getting rattled so harshly he swore he'd put a bullet between the eyes of whoever that is, only to be met with a barrel lifted to his head once he opened the door. He recognized you at once– how could he not? What with you being the sole thing occupying his mind, haunting it, more like, with images he had only the chance of glimpsing from afar. And now–

You're looking up at him with dilated, bloodshot eyes veiled in a fierce glare, but if he gazes a little closer, a little longer, he'd pluck out a sliver of terror behind it. A terrified thing at his doorstep pretending to be all-that, not sure of what she's doing. The gun in your hand is shaking as you point it at him, teeth grinding in rage as you croak out a brave order to let you inside.

Eden had stared. Your clothes torn, skin sun-starved, an ugly gash that's caked in dried blood and dirt at your exposed torso. Feet bare and dirty. Hair matted. And he's been wondering why the pretty thing who bounds into the forest and digs up questionable items, hoards them into the little nest she creates with her arms and skedaddles away hasn't shown up in a month. After all, it's been precisely a month since he decided that idle birdwatching wasn't gonna do it for him; he wanted to hunt his bird and cage it; protect it, more like. He doesn't like to think himself this cruel. The world is so full of predators, after all, and the way you look right now is solid evidence.

He doesn't realize how bewitched he is by your sudden appearance until you bark another order at him, drenched with more aggressiveness than the first time, and he doesn't fail to notice the nervous glimpse you throw over your shoulder even when you try to hide it.

He steps aside, and you bound in with a slight limp.

It's more clear than ever that you didn't think your plan through, now that you're standing before him. The gun you had snatched off the person who had grappled you to the forest ground earlier feels foreign in your hand, yet you never lower it as you go by the table, hunger stricken, wild red-rimmed eyes hunting for something you could use to squander the ache in your belly. He doesn't take his eyes off of you either. Closes the door with his body facing you.

“I–” your throat contracts when you attempt to speak, and you cough. Parched. To speak means to pour tremendous effort; energy that you so desperately lack, but you manage it only for a few words. “–will leave shortly. W.. worry not.”

And it feels silly assuring this beast of a man. Perhaps thinking the gun in your hand an object that instills trepidation– which is precisely what you intend, but a buried layer of your conscience tells you of a need to reassure him you mean no harm, for the gun seems to you an instrument that wields power. A talisman of control in a mind that's spiraling into madness; a promise of safety in the guise of steel and fire. Some divine power that would carve a world where you're allowed a chance to command respect, to assert your will upon a world that had often left you staggeringly powerless.

Between the table (that you use as a barrier between the two of you) and the door (where he stands ominously) is a good few feet, yet not only his stature makes the space seem small, but also the air surrounding him shrinks the sense of safety you had initially prompted. He stares you down while your eyes widely flit between him and the interior of his cabin, arm cramping due to your refusal of lowering your weapon.

He moves, and you flinch. Pauses, gives you a weird look (perhaps to question why you were so wary of him, completely abandoning the notion that while he's seen you before, familiarized himself with you, you haven't), then walks over to the side. Your hand trembles as it follows him with the barrel, but then he merely produces a plate. Leftovers. Your eyes zeroes in on them.

You resist lunging at the sight of food. Animalistic. Primal; somewhere in the back of your mind had been readied to reduce yourself to the act of cannibalism were you to not find a bite. But he thuds the plate down in front of you, and something in his chest expands at the sight; perhaps pride, or giddiness at the thought of being a saviour of some sort. For, after all, you looked everything a wild, wounded animal; someone stripped off humanity and forced to keep living; to survive. A stray that he so willingly took in.

Eden watches you snap. Watches as you scramble forward, taking handful after handful of food and shoving it into your mouth with no care for decorum. It's amusing, however, how the gun resides still in your hand. Like an extension of yourself. At some point you don't notice, he'd filled you a bowl of water, which you greedily chug without so much looking at him. It is then he realizes this is his chance; Eden is invisible to you as of now, even without putting any effort in concealing his movement. You're simply there in body, not in mind, acting upon pure instinct.

The only thing that convulses your brain back to alertness is the sound of a click, and something heavy and cold around your neck. You shriek, whip around savagely, point the gun up at him and pull the trigger.

Nothing comes. Your eyes widen, your body shakes, a strangled whimper resonates from your throat as you pull the trigger again and again and again, thinking that somehow it would change. That it would refill on its own. That a bullet would materialize inside the muzzle by some divine intervention. Alas, the gun's empty, and there's no changing that.

In that moment, the gun was truly an extension of yourself; helpless, powerless, a hollow vessel concealed by an imposing presence. Eden slowly traces his hand up to wrap around the gun that you still absentmindedly fire, eyes wide and frozen in shock and panic. It slips from your fingers and into his without tussle, despite it being basically inseparable from you seconds ago. In his other hand a leash that he attaches to the collar he clicked around your neck.

Your stance shifts, blinking yourself back to reality, and Eden notices, quick to adapt to your unpredictability, because you lunge at him, thrashing and clawing and screeching. It only takes a harsh tug of the leash downwards and a rumble of his grave voice to render you put. “Down, girl.”

You tumble down, knees hitting the floor hard, and he goes down with you. Crouching before you to grab your wrist with his free hand, feeling up to your elbow before he lifts it. You wince, the gaping wound on your torso stretching, flesh stinging as he inspects it. He's close enough for you to smell the scent of pine and earth that clings to him, like he's the embodiment of the forest and not just a hunter that it took in.

You have to ground yourself when he speaks, his voice rich and rumbling, threatening to plunge you into full panic. “Were you chased?”

You mewl quietly.

“By the wolves?”

You manage to raise your head and meet his eyes. “..no.”

Eden reaches for your tattered shirt, and tears it right off. Your muscles go taut, hysteria seizing your mind once again and your limbs launch to action, flailing about ferally to desperately push him away. He pushes you back on the floor, pinning your legs with his knees and seizing both your wrists in one hand. “I'm helping you, goddammit,” he hovers above and glares, then his gaze goes down, lingers on your bare breasts for a beat, then down to your side where the wound your blood cells worked so hard to plug has opened and started bleeding again.

For a moment, he ponders how to get up to fetch his medkit without you jerking away and scrambling out the door. He could tie the leash to something, certainly, but in your unstable state he worries you might actively try to choke yourself with it, and although he's nearby and wouldn't let that happen, that would be inconvenient to deal with. He just doesn't want you to hurt yourself further.

But then he looks down again, and realizes he needs not to do a thing. The pain had rendered you inert. Completely still; limp prey bleeding impotently on his floors, agonized soft whimpers leaving your lips occasionally while tears stream quietly down your face. Eden watches as you stare right up at the ceiling, something shifting in your gaze; a film coating your eyes.

You sink, brain morphing to wet cotton that expands till it fills every nook and cranny in your skull. It's like you're swaying in the lake, water seeping through your ears and muffling your surroundings. You keep coming in and out of your haze, everything a blur, and when you finally blink yourself to consciousness (as much consciousness as there might be) you find yourself next to the now blazing fire, leaning back against a sturdy chest. Torso bandaged. Body naked.

Eden holds a wet cloth that he sweeps down your skin, perhaps trying his best to be gentle, but for a man of his nature it's inevitable for it to feel a little rough. He runs the cloth from your neck, to your shoulder, down to your breasts. You're still out of it, no reaction as you absently watch his hand clean you up. He picks up on your growing awareness, though, because his arm suddenly tightens around your middle right beneath your chest just before you start stirring about. Your lips part to speak but your mind fails to catch up with you, so you end up babbling incoherently, pitch gradually rising in distress.

For that, he adjusts you on his lap, shuffling a thigh between your legs and pulling you back further towards himself. You whimper as your clit drags on his clothed thigh. “Easy there,” he says, hot breath hitting the back of your neck, “you're hurt enough.”

“I-” you choke out, swallowing back tears; his hand that splays on your stomach to still you makes your mind reel with memories, “I want to leave.”

“Leave? But where will you ever go?” He speaks, for once picking his words carefully, “doesn't look like you were wanted wherever you were.”

Your throat tightens, and your mind goes to Robin. “I am needed.”

“Whoever needed you has clearly abandoned you.”

You stiffen up. “That is not true. I– I am both–..they want and need me.”

“Someone who truly wants you would never let this happen to you.” Eden says, gravely voice reverberating almost like a baritone would, “tell me: does anyone truly want you, dove?”

You jerk, elbow digging back into him with as much force as you can manage, and he tightens his hold. Folds his body over yours to curl you into yourself. “Tell me,” he growls in your ear, “is the person who abandoned you worth everything you've been through?”

“You don't know anything– y- you know nothing!” you shrill, but he doesn't give you a chance to proceed, doubling down.

“Is it worth all of this exertion? Haven't you been running for too long?” He dips his words into the knowledge he's gathered from watching you months ago, and his hand starts moving south when he sees you've gone rigid at his words, “don't you want someone who'll take charge for a change? Someone who wants you, protects you, takes care of you for once?”

Something about his voice, about the way he utters his words rather than the words themselves, penetrates your skull, shoving past all tissue and blood and presses directly on your brain. His middle finger ventures down, runs above the hood of your clit. “I want you.” Eden says, gently drags his finger along your seam now, coaxing the lips open by stroking the pad of his finger up and down, and he continues, “I'll take care of you, provide for you.”

You turn into mush. Words you've been craving to hear but have not dared to entertain the thought of actually hearing them. The slow circles he traces on your clit might be another reason you're melting, but you're too lost in the fantasy of being cared for to register that. His hold on you tightens further, as if he knows what he says next will break you out of the trance he's managed to tuck you under this far. “You only have to stay.”

Your eyes snap into focus.

“Stay here. Keep me company. Never leave.”

Many things force their way into your mind. Self-loathing deems you unworthy of affection and care, of being provided for and not the one providing; another part of your mind refuses comfort, having adapted itself to pain and misery, having acquainted itself with it and, therefore, finds comfort in anguish. There are also memories that stream forth, overflooding your head until it pounds with pain, forcing you to realize you've merely escaped a den to jump into another, whether deliberately or not.

And when you process that, you bristle and try to kick your feet, but he folds you in, chest morphing into your back with how much he squishes you to him. “I don't think you realize, but you don't have a say in this.” He says, prodding at your hole and gradually pushing a thick finger inside, relishing in the way your jaw slacks despite yourself. “You are to stay. This is meant to be. We are meant to be.”

He glides his finger further in, coaxing out fluids that squelch with every drag. “You came to me on your own accord. And while I am not a believer, I do believe fate guided your legs to me, right where you belong.”

He ignores your high cries and squawks, your thrashing and squirming (as much as his hold allows, at least), your nails digging into the muscle of his arm and scratching with fervor until it draws blood. Eden adds another finger, listening to your cries mingling with forfeited moans, and thrusts them faster until your heels dig to the floor and you drench his fingers with your cum.

Your orgasm is still crashing through you when he tucks his arm beneath your knees and adjusts you until they meet your chest, seated on the cradle of his thighs. His fingers withdraw promptly just to return as four, and he wedges the tips of them between the split of your lips and shakes them, tearing strangled moans from your throat that turn into squeals when he follows with a few slaps to your cunt.

He doesn't give you enough time to process nor to react before you're on your back, next to the fire, lifting your ankles onto his shoulders. “Eden,” he says, and the head of something hot and hard nudges your hole, “my name. Use it.”

Then he's bullying his cock past your folds, pushing past the tight ring of muscle and groaning loud and long. He stretches your walls to the hilt, and shoves his dick in until it's buried to the base in one long thrust. It strips your lungs of breath, knocking it out of you as he pulls you further into him, lifting your hips so they perch on his lap. Your eyes are blown, jaw slack with a silent moan, still trying to adjust to his impalement.

But he moves before you do. His hands latch onto your hips, digging his fingers into your flesh and indenting his mark there with mad bruises. Eden drags his hips back until only the head is notched in you, before he slams back in. He settles a brutal pace soon, thighs smacking your ass as he fucks you with short and hard thrusts, pulling only halfway out as if it pains him to separate from your squelching cunt any further.

Your whole body jostles with every ram. Doesn't leave you enough room to breathe in and steals what little air you manage out in pathetic whimpers. You reach out with your hands, gasping and blubbing, so he leans down until you can reach him. You latch your nails to his skin, clawing up until they hook at the front of his neck. Eden hisses, and the force of his thrusts amplifies. When you expect him to retreat in pain, he smiles dangerously down at you, gaze darkening and bottom lip catching beneath his teeth.

He leans down further, allowing you to scrape more at his skin, watching as you leave angry red lines down his throat and around his collarbones. “Is it too much for you?” Eden heaves, hitting deep and hard and smirking when the fattest part of his cock seems to ram into your g-spot, judging by your reaction. “Too big for you, bird?”

When you gasp and nod, he grips your hips harder and stops moving his hips altogether. Instead, he starts moving you, bouncing you onto his cock as if you weigh nothing to him, as if you were a fleshlight; a toy he can maneuver and use however he wishes. “Use my name.” He groans, starting to get breathless, “say it. Tell me it's too much.”

But he's mean as he bullies the spot he's found earlier over and over, knocking the words out of you and rendering you into a blubbering mess while still demanding you to speak. Eden hisses. “Say it.”

“‘s t-too mu..ch..!”

“My name, bird.”

And you have to grapple around your mind and fetch the moment he made his name known to you. He makes it particularly hard as he bumps your hips up onto his searing rock-hard cock, but you succeed at remembering, and finally cry out. “E-Eden! sl-ow down–!”

The only thing his name coming out of your lips does is wrench a growl from his throat, and your legs are suddenly up on one shoulder of his. He perches your hips up and pistons into you, somehow harder and faster than before. You thrash and squeal, but no matter what you do, he moves with you, predicting every direction you blindly throw yourself in to get away. And he's made it clear that your scramble for some sort of power means nothing to him the moment he had lowered himself to you earlier so you could hit and scrape his flesh. Taunting you to hit him as hard as you could, for he can never get hurt.

It takes no more than a few particularly hard thrusts to send you over the edge. You spasm against him, convulsing with a cry that makes his dick throb inside you before he sends his seed deep into your cunt. Hot and thick and fills you up until you're overflowing with it, which finally makes him unplug you, slipping his softening cock out and watching his cum plop right out, trickling down to your asshole.

The sight bewitches him, and he stares in awe for a while as it dribbles, before he reaches with a finger to scoop some of it up, only to smear it on your swollen folds like it's some sort of lotion. He's so entranced it takes him a moment to realize you're passed out; exhausted, and still heaving.

That's when he learns he simply needs to keep wearing you out until you're trained. And over the course of the following week(s), Eden sprouts a set of bruises and harsh scratches, some of them deep enough to urge his blood to clot around them. And he wears them proudly, knowing that it only takes a good, rough fucking to get you soft and pliant again, to wear you out until you sit and eat in silence. Like a stray cat, he says, hissing and seething her claws until she gets a big, hefty cock in her wet cunt. It might take some time for you to stop trying to claw his eyes out, but he's willing to train you until you finally realize this is the life you were meant for.

With him. For him.

[jonah0]

Surveillance -

f!Kylar/f!PC

18+, content warnings & tags: stalking, degradation, humiliation, public sex, oral sex, dom/sub 1292 words

Kylar wasn’t charming. That was something you’d noticed about her from the very start. It’s what made her constant pining all the more irritating. It wasn’t cute or endearing, just flat out unsettling. The missing clothing, the quiet camera clicks while out on the street, the neverending feeling of surveillance - You’d started feeling like you were going mad. 

Last Saturday started like any other. Your stiff legs rolled over the side of your disheveled bed, a loud creak emanating from the weathered floor boards. As your tired hands opened the wardrobe, idly shuffling through the drawers - you noticed your dwindling supply of underwear and sighed. It was a routine you’d gotten used to. You practically had to replenish your panty supply on a bi-weekly basis now. After some lazy shuffling into a clean outfit, you began your trek to the shopping center.

Your teal rain boots trudged through muddy puddles, and the drizzle coming down on your head made you wish you’d bought an umbrella. Overcast clouds loomed on the horizon. The peculiar sound of following footsteps sliced through the rain, unnoticed by you as you crossed the intersection onto Wolf Street. Emerald eyes observed you from a distance, analyzing and cataloguing your every movement. Maybe out of naivety, or maybe in an act of subconscious defiance - you didn’t notice her, continuing your journey to the store in blissful ignorance. 

You reached the entrance of the building and knocked the mud off your boots before walking inside. The footsteps following you trailed a block behind, careful not to enter your line of sight. As you made your way up the escalator, you glanced around at the familiar storefronts. The gentle hum of chatter from fellow shoppers dulled your senses further, quieting the shuttering of Kylar's distant camera lens. 

You sifted through racks of clothing, selecting a new outfit for school. As you approached the bins of women's underwear, you picked up a pair of pink lace panties, examining them before grabbing several more pairs. Kylar's petite frame heaved with excitement as she hid behind a rack of coats. Your attention was drawn away from your transaction as your ears finally focused in on the consistent clicking. You quickly whipped your head around, searching for the source of the sound. The boutique appeared relatively empty, except for the occasional patron. Ignoring your quickening pulse, you purchased the clothes and hastened out of the shopping center.  

As you hurried down High Street, the unsettling sensation of being watched hung over you. The gloomy overcast clouds loomed above, casting a twilight blue hue onto the road. Each step you took in your rubber boots squeaked as your feet rushed forward. While you passed by dark alleyways and flickering streetlights, the ominous clicking sound surrounding you never ceased. Your gaze darted around nervously, heart racing. Trying to escape the crushing anxiety, you dipped into an alleyway next to the orphanage. 

 A quiet rustling behind the nearby dumpster alerted you to her presence. Your breath caught in your throat as you tiptoed over, kicking aside a dingy cardboard box to the side to reveal her trembling form. Her camera was wrapped securely around her neck, undoubtedly filled with photos of your recent shopping excursion. With your brows furrowing and fists clenching, and your feet planted firmly on the wet cement - you choked out a scoff.

“What… What the hell are you doing? Are you watching me?” your words cut harshly through the quiet alley. Kylar recoiled so aggressively it looked like she’d been electrocuted. Her dark, messy hair draped over her eyes, shielding you from her desperate gaze. You lurched forward, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her up to pin her against the brick wall. She trembled under your hands.

“I-I’m sorry… I…I didn’t mean to upset you…” Kylar whispered, choking back tears. Your cold laugh reverberated through the tight space. Grabbing the strap around her neck, you snatched her camera - letting her loose. She collapsed onto her knees in front of you, shaking as you went through her camera roll. It was exactly what you imagined, picture after picture of you shopping. Scrolling further, you saw photos of you sleeping, eating, dressing. Your stomach lurched. She’s clearly unwell.

You dropped the camera onto the damp cement, the lens cracking. Kylar winced, but said nothing in opposition. She remained planted on her knees, staring up at you with her pleading eyes. Shaking your head, you furrowed your brows and surveyed her pathetic state. She quivered timidly, her pale bare legs scraping against the cold, hard ground. Lifting your foot, you pushed her down onto her ass. Her skirt flared up and she quickly brushed it back down, blushing.

“You’re a fucking sick freak, you know that?” You spit, glaring down at her. She nods apprehensively, brushing the hair from her eyes to wistfully ogle up at you. Staring down at her disheveled, pitiful state - you feel a heat brewing inside you. She bites her lip, whimpering softly as your boot presses into her stomach. Her soft noises almost sound lewd. Retracting your foot, you planted your hands on your hips and smiled down at her with a predatory grin.

“You’re gonna make it up to me, aren’t you, Kylar? You’re gonna show me how sorry you are.” Kylar nodded eagerly, then crawled towards you on all fours like a dog in heat. A loud scoff brought a blush to her cheeks as you laughed at her.  Grabbing a fistful of her knotted hair, you roughly tugged her towards you, pushing her head underneath your school skirt. She whined, desperately gripping onto your thighs as she dove in - inhaling your scent. She stayed like that for at least a minute, face shoved against your panties as she took you in. Pleasant whimpers escaped your mouth, echoing through the brick walls. 

“I-I’m so… so sorry, my love…” She cried into you, mouth pressed firmly against your clothed core. You trembled, basking in her remorse. Feeling the wetness spreading through your thin lace underwear, you tugged on her hair hard.

“Put your mouth to use already, you freak!” You exclaimed, frustration welling inside you as you reach down to tug the undies to the side. She whined longingly, her tongue lapping up your juices eagerly. You brace yourself against the wall, thighs wrapping tightly around her head as you push her further into your core. She eagerly obeyed, tongue swirling around your clit like you’re the most delicious thing she’s ever tasted. Your head lulled back as your thighs shook around her, her slender fingers probing at your entrance. 

“F-fuck, you’re so obsessed with me, huh?” You taunted, tugging on her hair once more. She nodded against your pussy, fingers buried deep inside you as your walls clenched her. You moaned loudly, the sound echoing through the alleyway. Her knees were turning red as they pressed into the damp concrete. She didn’t care, her mouth greedily slurping up every ounce of fluid from your tender quim. Back arching against the brick wall, your thighs quaked as you reached your peak - letting out a loud cry. Kylar pulled back, gazing up at you with pure adoration. Her chin was slick with your juices. Aggressively, you stumbled forward and pulled her up by her sweatshirt collar, kissing her. Your tongues intertwined as you tasted yourself. Pushing her away harshly, she staggered backward. “Don’t go thinking this meant anything, got it?” You spat, straightening out your outfit. Kylar nodded, but you suspected she wouldn't be listening. Grabbing your bags, you traipsed out of the alley, leaving Kylar behind to process what just happened. You were still unsettled by her, but at least she knew how to make it up to you.  

[jonah0]

Can't speak for other anons, but I'm ok, thanks for asking <3

fluff? hmmm

How do the love interests react to actually falling in love with PC?

Like not in the "holy shit i love having sex with them", but more in the "holy shit i need them to be as happy and comfortable with me as they can" way.

If something like that has been asked, i apologise

I just found out about the DOL fandom xd

No need to apologize and welcome to the fandom!

(Tad bit of angst, relationships typically of the DoL universe, yandere)

Avery

They realize it while driving around looking for you one Saturday. They’re starting to get upset and they don’t understand why. You’re just supposed to be eye candy, just hang on Avery’s arm at parties and look cute. That’s all! Yet here Avery is, fuming because they can’t find you.

When they realize that they’re upset that they won’t get to see you because they love you, Avery almost crashes their car.

A bit annoyed because they didn’t want to fall in love. Especially with their sugar baby! It’s too much like something out of a romance novel, they hate it.

Are they going to confess their feelings? Probably not. They can’t really act on their feelings. If Avery took you out for a normal date, people think Avery is your parent and you guys would get some weird looks. Can you imagine the rumors that might start? Avery can. No, they’re fine with keeping their feelings to themselves.

Avery will be more affectionate while on dates, more likely to give you soft touches and praise. Otherwise, you wouldn’t know anything was different with Avery.

If you help their image, Avery is more inclined to confess. Won’t actually say ‘I love you,’ though. Avery will take you on a date and ask you about ending your current arrangement to try being a normal couple.

If you say no, Avery tries to take it in stride. Tries, anyway. Any future dates will involve Avery being a bit colder to you. Sex now involves Avery commenting about how you’re a whore who would lay on their back for a milkshake and they should treat you like one.

If you say yes, Avery is incredibly pleased. It’s a little bit of an ego boost for them due to the age difference. Starts to take you out on more normal couple-type dates and spoils the hell out of you. You might not be getting paid for dates anymore but you’re not hurting for money either.

Will eventually tell you they love you. You’re not surprised, you kind of assumed they did at that point. Don’t let Avery know you already knew though. They like to think they’re a master at concealing their feelings.

Eden

Eden is going to realize they love you one morning while you’re cooking breakfast and it's going to throw them so hard. Sure, they wanted company, they wanted a companion, but they didn’t think they’d fall in love. They don’t even believe in love, that’s just something for books to make things more interesting.

You’re not even doing anything particularly special, just humming while you make breakfast using vegetables from the garden.

They will want to tell you immediately, coming up behind you while you’re cooking to press against you and pull your head back to kiss you.

As one might assume when it comes to Eden, this leads to sex. This is how they confess their feelings for you, by telling you how much they love you while having sex on the kitchen counter.

Will tell you that they love you multiple times throughout the day and at random. Sometimes, the two of you will just be sitting by the fire with Eden reading and you working on sewing, and Eden will look up, say 'I love you,' then go right back to reading.

Kylar

Has been fixated on you since day one but obsession isn't always the same as love, now is it?

Knows they love you when you first hold their hand. They're shaking and sweating and they think they've screwed up because how could you still want to hang out with them when they're like this? You're so perfect and Kylar can't even hold your hand without getting you dirty. Surely you'll let go of their hand because they're so gross and then you won't ever talk to them again. They're already an outcast at school, it was only a fluke that you guys ended up in the park together, that you wanted to go on a walk and you invited Kylar to go with you so as not to be rude. You're only taking pity on them and - oh, you guys have made it to the fountain. And you're still holding their hand? You've walked around the whole park? Holding hands? And you didn't stop? When Kylar's hands were sweaty and shaking? You didn't stop? Oh.

The first time you guys have sex, Kylar tells you they love you. They can't bring themselves to say it beforehand because they're afraid to run you off. If you're willing to have sex with them, that must mean you love them too! There's no fear of being turned down when you already know the other person's answer!

Makes up for all the times they wanted to say they loved you but were afraid to. Mutters in their sleep how much they love you. Every conversation from here on out will have at least one 'I love you' in it.

Robin

Robin is going to realize they’re in love with you while hanging out in the garden. They’ve known for a while that they have a crush on you, but it's sitting in the garden, talking about nothing in particular while making flower crowns with the sun starting to set behind you, that Robin realizes “Oh shit, I’m in love.”

Doesn’t know how to confess for the life of them. Eventually, they write that note asking you to date them and they labor over that thing for days.

They'll end up telling you in their room, by accident. You beat a particularly hard level in a game for Robin and it just slips out.

Immediately freezes, which brings your attention to them because otherwise, you might have actually missed what they had said.

When you ask them to repeat themselves, Robin isn't sure what to do. Their dilemma is solved for them when you say "I love you, too."

Now that their feelings are out in the open, Robin is more confident in declaring their love for you. Whenever the feeling strikes, Robin will tell you they love you. They’re not yelling it down the halls at school, but they are rushing from one end of the school to the other so they can tell you.

Whitney

This is happening a good bit of time after Whitney has demanded you to be their partner. It's weird because Whitney has been going around town this whole time claiming you as theirs, then they get snippy if you do anything similar.

Will avoid you for a while as they try to figure out what the hell they're feeling whenever it comes to you.

It's a lot of really cliché stuff too. Their chest feels tight when they see you. They find themselves smiling when you laugh at one of their jokes. They see something at the shops and their first thought is how you would like it. If they had ever consumed one (1) piece of romantic media, they might realize that what they're experiencing is love. As it is, they're just frustrated at themselves and will take it out on you.

Won't admit it for the longest fucking time. They're denying it, even to themselves.

You might actually realize that Whitney is in love with you before they do. If that is the case, don't tell Whitney. They gotta figure it out on their own.

Is more aggressive with their confession than anyone else. Ironic because they're not even telling you that they love you, they're just pushing you against a wall and demanding that you refer to them as your partner. It's one thing for Whitney to claim you as their partner, it's another thing entirely for Whitney to let you say they're your partner. They’re letting you lay claim to them, be grateful.

Not much changes in how they treat you. They're still going to shove you into lockers to make out and they still expect you to go down on them in the halls. They're just now also making sure they don't bruise you too badly and that no one else is harassing you, without their permission, anyway.

[jonah0]

For the dol prompts, can you feed me some Eden and Sydney gangrape content <3 Just imagining the pc and Sydney getting harassed together is soooo good

omg omg omg

I got excited…

It is your idea to go out to the woods.

It takes a little convincing to get Sydney to come with you, but you tell them you’re looking for flower seeds to grow in the temple garden, and eventually they yield, believing the eager light in your eyes.

+Sydney’s Purity | +Love

They of course come with you, trusting your knowledge of the woods (+History). They have no idea that your eagerness is actually because you think you can convince them to kiss you when you’re alone

— and maybe more.

+Arousal

You lead Sydney down the secret pass you read about that quickly leads you deep into the woods. Occasionally they pause, protesting at the rapid distance you’re putting between you both and the temple, but you reassure them time and time again.

“Just a little bit further. Just past the lake. I saw some rose bushes there.”

You see bootprints on the ground.

There’s no reason to bring it up. Plenty of people come through the woods. You’ll feel better when you’re in that little clearing you found, sitting together. You can give Sydney the cookie 🍪 you made. And then you’ll be back in no time.

“Did you hear that?” Sydney asks. “Was that a—“

You see bullet casings on the ground.

You stop in the middle of the trail, and Sydney almost runs into you; their eyes are obviously on the woods around you, and not the trail ahead. +Stress

“It’s nothing,” you say. Sydney does not look convinced. You try your best to sound casual. “But let’s head back.”

Something is hunting you.

Your pulse quickens, and with it your step. Sydney latches onto your arm with sweaty palms. +Pain

Something is hunting you.

You stumble on an upturned root. +Pain Sydney starts to try and help you up, but their hands are trembling.

You hear footsteps on the path.

“Sydney,” you say, hushed and quick, holding their damp hand fervently in your scratched ones. “I’m so sorry—“

The man bursts out of the woods like a bear, shoulders nearly as big, his eyes nearly as cold. And definitely as terrifying. He isn’t surprised to see you both. In fact, you think you see the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly upwards.

And then he reaches for you.

You Scream and he doesn’t even flinch, yanking Sydney close to him, where they sprawl across his wide chest. They squirm against him, but he easily keeps them close with a single muscled arm.

You try to scramble to standing, but a large, muddy boot falls on your chest, keeping you pinned. +Pain. He leans over his knee, staring down at you. Appraising you.

“Stay,” he says. +Arousal

“Please let us go,” Sydney begs, tears in their eyes, even as they struggle.

He squeezes Sydney closer to him, until their face is buried in his chest. “Keep moving against me like that, and it’ll be over too soon,” he says with a chuckle. -Sydney’s Purity

He lets up a bit of pressure on you. You rest your legs and rest your arms. You watch as he affixes a lead around Sydney’s neck. The knot is complicated, and after tugging a few times Sydney gives in with a sad noise.

Holding Sydney’s new leash, he leans down and yanks you up by your arm. +Pain You get the same lead, and he doesn’t say anything else as he starts guiding you both stumbling through the forest, beyond even your knowledge of the woods.

Sydney is sobbing quietly. You read out and hold their hand, and you exchange watery smiles. This is the first time you’ve held hands with someone. You’re sorry it had to be during such a scary moment, but you’re happy that it’s Sydney.

You walk for a long time. +Fatigue Finally, you stumble into a small clearing, with a study looking cabin, a clouded spring, and a string of rabbit pelts drying in the sun. +Stress

The man ties your leashes to a pillar of the cabin porch, and looks you over with lecherous eyes. “I’m going to have fun with this,” he says.

He physically rips off Sydney’s clothes while Sydney pleads for him not to. You cant help but drag your eyes over their exposed chest and legs. They really are so attractive. -Sydney’s Purity

When he sees the chastity belt and shield Sydney has, silver, shining, and unblemished, the man huffs angrily and tries to loosen it. He’s barely able to get his wide fingers around the edges, and Sydney helplessly shakes as he yanks them about. Sydney lets out a sigh of relief that it holds. Their virginities are safe. They sink to the ground with the man lets them go and turns to you.

He rips off your clothes just as savagely. +Trauma When he sees your own belt and shield, he frowns — but it slowly turns to a grin when he tests the edges of it.

Your cracked chastity belt gives you no comfort. +Trauma

You were going to get it replaced at the temple when you got back from the forest, fresh with your first kiss and holding a blushing Sydney behind. (You even thought you could convince them to watch you get it replaced, to see you inspected by Jordan and fitted anew, watch Sydney’s face when you’re bare beneath them…)

But now you’re here, and your belt and shield have been tugged at and battered by a dozen hands at least, so the lock is beginning to give way. The man drops you and you fall into the dirt as he stalks over to a small workshop near the line of pelts, several hunting rifles visible through the door. You shudder and clutch at Sydney, both of you crying and promising each other that it will be all right.

Sydney tries to tell you that the belt will hold, that the Powers That Be will protect you, but you don’t believe him. -Acceptance -Grace

When the man returns with a wicked looking pair of garden shears and tears you away from Sydney, you try and make yourself as unassuming as possible, blinking up at him in an attempt to soothe.

He’s not paying attention to you, though, as he wiggles the sharp tooth of the shears between your skin and the belt. ++Pain He grunts as he closes them, twisting a bit like you’re a stubborn woody root.

Your cracked chastity belt breaks and falls away, leaving you completely exposed. +Trauma

He drops the shears and just…holds you for a moment. His warm hands nearly eclipse your hips, and his mouth looks suddenly soft and tender. “You’re like an angel,” he says. He traces calloused fingertips across your sensitive waistline, and then twists them through your untrimmed bush. +Arousal

“Leave them alone!” Sydney says, beating useless fists against the broad shoulder of your captor. He snarls and easily pins Sydney next to you on the ground. Sydney grabs your hand and squeezes.

“You’re adorable,” the man says. “But I can only breed one of you.”

He picks you up and puts you on top of Sydney, your hands on either side of their head, straddling their waist. You grind against their chastity belt without thinking, flush with all the attention. +Arousal -Sydney’s Purity

You look into Sydney’s wide eyes as the man presses his thick cock against your entrance, one thrust away from penetrating.

You envelope his cock, and he steals your virginity so you will never be pure again.

“That’s right,” the man pants. “Your virginity belongs to me.”

He begins to thrust, hard and unforgiving, and the front of you slides back and forth against Sydney, further stimulating you. The man holds your hips in a bruising grasp, and the noise of your bodies smacking together echoes through the woods. You try to reassure a mute Sydney, but all you can do is moan. “I’m all yours.” You’re unsure who you’re talking to.

The man pulls your head back by your hair with one hand; you hear him uncap a permanent marker with his mouth. He writes on your shoulder. The marker scratches and stings. +Pain When he reaches over to write on Sydney, you see it’s because it’s almost out of ink.

“Property of Eden.”

“Eden,” you say in a pleasure-drenched voice. Eden chuckles. +Love His grip on your hips gets even tighter. +Pain He fucks into you even harder. ++Arousal

You think he is approaching orgasm.

His cock is splitting you open, bouncing you back and forcing himself deeper, and you’re still glancing against Sydney’s belt, and you keep saying Eden’s name because it tastes so sweet. +Arousal

Suddenly you are overwhelmed by sensation. You can’t help but shake and tremor. Fluids leak out of you and onto Sydney’s belt and stomach.

Sydney yearns forward and kisses your jaw as they cum too, undone at the sight of you. -Sydney’s Purity +Love +Lust

You can’t control your body, and they can’t reach your lips because of the grip Eden still has on your hair. You orgasm again.

“That’s it,” Eden grunts. His voice is rough and his words barely enunciated between clenched teeth. Ejaculation imminent. “Let it all out.”

You feel him empty deep inside of you. He spreads you open to watch some drip out. You collapse against Sydney, panting into their neck. They’re still crying but you’re too awash in your orgasm to do the same. Still, you want to try em him. You drag your head up and start to give them your first kiss—

Those rough hands grab and lift you to shaky feet, and crush you against Eden’s body, heady with musk and woodsmoke scent. He grabs your jaw hard. +Pain

Eden kisses you. He takes your first kiss in front of Sydney, but his mouth is so deft and warm that you just sigh and kiss him deeper, let his tongue explore your mouth. +Love

He has to hold you up when he’s done; your knees are still shaking. He guides Sydney up too, and undoes your ties to lead you into his cabin. There he removes your leash completely, but ties Sydney’s to the headboard.

“Now, let’s figure out how to get rid of that other belt, yeah?” he says with a smile.

[jonah0]

Warnings

NSFW, afab reader, dub-con, prostitution

Masterlist | Div!Credits | ~0,4k

Rich!Yandere with a reader who is working at the brothel...

When he first came in, he just merely picked the prettiest slut there. He didn't expect that you were an unpolished diamond, a shining jewel among the trash that he could show luxury and mold you into his pet, all cute and pliable for him to use.

You were just so obedient, allowing him to use you until you broke from the pleasures he could offer you. In reality, he couldn't care less about your pleasure; he was merely asserting his superiority and attempting to tempt you into his hands.

Gradually, he purchased every moment of your time, as he was your sole customer. You couldn't resist entertaining a naive delusion that he was your knight in shining armor who would rescue you from the sufferings, lead you to a blissful life, and live happily ever after. So when he bought you from the brothel owner, you simply fell dreamily into his waiting arms...

"Who is my obedient cute slut, hmm~?

He could only wait for a response since you were so fucked out, your dumb little brain could only comprehend so much...all tied up in expensive silks, and lingerie adorning your soft, plump body; Rich!Yandere simply couldn't withstand fucking you mindless on his thick cock...

Oh, poor little you, eyes rolling back in your skull, hole getting no rest, orgasm after orgasm. Who could even blame you for not being there to answer?

The sheer extent of the sensations you have been experiencing has taken its toll on you, leaving you in a state of blissful exhaustion.

Now that Rich!Yandere had all of you to himself he didn't hold back anymore one bit, allowing his instincts to take over and just fuck into your more fragile body, your long eyelashes ornamented by tears only turning him more on than he already was.

But you'll be good and take it. After all, that's what a good little whore like you does.

Isn't that right?

REBLOG!!! ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎˚୨୧

[jonah0]

꩜ Room Content: GN! Dom! Reader x Male! Sub! Sydney the Faithful, no gendered terms for reader, jerking Sydney off in a cinema, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: This has been on my mind for so long, ugh the grip Sydney has on my mind is maddening. Might also do a corrupted Sydney version after this who knows teehee :3c

It was meant to be something relaxing. At least that's what Sydney had in mind when he agreed to a movie date with you at the cinema.

It's been a while since he's seen one so he thought that it'd be fun to watch one together. (He was even the one who suggested watching the newest romance movie after hearing about it from Robin.)

So how did it ever end up like this?

Maybe he should've paid more attention to Robin talking about the movie because when the beginning of a sex scene starts to play on the screen, he flushes instantly, hands shooting up and shielding his face to prevent him from seeing the lewdness on display.

His sudden actions catch your eye and you turn to take in the delicious view of your lover trying to tune out the raunchy moans from the actors, eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed so cutely that you just want to eat him up ♡

Your hand finds its way over to the edge of his pants, pulling the band before letting it go, snapping against his skin. A squeak escapes him as his eyes fly open, surprised by your actions.

"W-what are you doing?" Sydney's voice is shaky, volume slightly above a whisper.

"I'm just helping distract you from the movie, angel. Now quieten down, you wouldn't want the people to realise, would you?"

Worried, he surveys the other cinemagoers around the both of you and breaths a sigh of relief when no one else heard the squeak he let out. Turning back to face you, he notices the hunger in your eyes and the blush on his cheeks deepen.

His hands are still held up in front of him so you take the opportunity to slip your fingers past his waistband, teasing at the rim of his boxers. The sensation of your fingers on the skin of his hips has him quivering but he makes no move to stop you from taking this even further. You press on, dipping into his boxers and when you come into contact with his already half-hard cock, he jolts in his seat, biting down on his lip to muffle any noises from him.

Leaning closer, you take his cock into your hand, gradually stroking him until he's hard and dripping. His self-restraint wavers when your nails glide across his slit, hips bucking up with a sharp gasp. Alarmed, his eyes dart around the surroundings, heart jackrabbiting in his chest at the prospect at getting caught. Working him up to his orgasm, he's squirming in his seat, moving one of his hands down to bite down on to stifle his moans as he loses himself in the pleasure you're showing him.

A harsh tug and a scratch along the underside of his dick is what tips him over the edge, he doubles over and his hands immediately shoot to grasp at your wrist so that he can rut into your hand as pure euphoria overtakes him. There's a wet patch growing on the fabric of his pants but he's too caught up in the bliss to notice.

After he rides out his high, he slumps back against the backrest, boneless and panting as he tries to process everything that just happened. Retracting your hand covered in his spend, you hold it before him, expectant. Hesitant, he slowly licks away his cum. He's slightly put off by the taste of his own cum at the start but determined, he carries on until your hand is completely cleaned. Giving your fingers one last suck, he pulls away, face still hot from arousal. As thanks, you grab his face and pull him in for a heated kiss that leaves him melting in his seat, his brain mushy. The only thing he can think of is you, you, you. + + Love

Well, he can't lie, he supposes the movie was relaxing in a way! - - Sydney's Purity

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[jonah0]

tw: female reader, non - con, manhandling, religious subtext (it's sydney)

Sydney has never felt this way before. He doesn't know the name of that feeling, the warmth that fills his chest and tightens his throat and reddens his cheeks as you sit before him at the library counter. He can't explain the pulse in his loins and the sweat that sticks to his back when you lean in to ask him something and your shirt opens up slightly, revealing such soft, mesmerizing skin. His hands start to itch and his mouth waters and he feels almost thirsty - but water never seems to quench whatever it is he's deprived of.

He wants to ask someone - maybe brother Jordan or his father, but something deep within him, some basic instinct, rings a bell, a reminder that there is nothing pure or holy about the feelings he harbors towards you. He knows love. He's read about it - he knows he loves God, he loves his church, his friends, his books. He knows love is gentle. Love is caring and tender and quiet, love is giving.

But when it comes to you, he only wants to take. He wants to bite your cheeks when you smile, to squeeze you in his arms until he hears your fragile bones crack. He wants to rip off your skin and crawl in your shell - to see your insides, to admire every inch of your flesh for his own sick satisfaction. He even keeps a box of everything you've ever lost - small trinkets, cheap bracelets, ripped socks, locks of hair... Anything to feel closer to you.

And yet Sydney tries to fight his urges - he averts eyes when you bend to pick something and pretends not to notice your bare legs in those mini skirts, the way the school swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly, or how your lips part when you bite down on a pencil. Or the marks of you teeth on the yellow wood, your smugded lipstick as you leave the bathroom, your hands on his shoulder with your nails digging in—

Sydney is a man of God, but you make him question his faith. In the sunlight everything is brighter, but when night comes, so do the nightmares. His pillow becomes softer, warmer - it lingers with the scent of your hair and he can't help imagining you laying next to him with an adoring smile on those luscious lips of yours. And as fatigue spreads over his tired body, his prayers long forgotten, the same dream haunts him - the one he's had since the day he first saw you.

You're no longer laying next to him - you're under him instead. Your hair isn't spread out angelically, but twisted and disheveled, wrapped around his fist. He's towering over you, tilting your chin up - holding you so tightly against his body you can't move an inch. Your eyes are red and swollen, lips bruised and bitten bloody - and you're trembling like an injured animal. You look so small, so pathetically adorable, so very naked and afraid, and splayed out like a feast in front of him, and he just devours you like the predator he knows he is.

You whine something incomprehensible along the lines of a plea, begging to be let go - but all your words become white noise to Sydney. His hands circle your throat painfully and only a few broken moans escape before you shut up completely. The man keeps thrusting into you without a sense of shame, egged on by the deep, inaudible sobs that shake your body to its core. The voice inside his head chants "mine, mine, mine" like a spell, like a curse that binds you both for all eternity.

Sydney always wakes up in cold sweat, unable to catch his breath. It's terrifying, seeing his darkest desires play out over and over each night. And as he tries to catch his breath and forget the taste of your neck on his tongue, there is one thought he never seems to fully rid himself of. How long until dreams are not enough to feed the monster inside of him?

How long until it all becomes reality?

[jonah0]

Male Kylar x Fem! Reader

TW: 18+ MDNI, Dub-con, BDSM, Anal, Pegging

Much to your annoyance, Kylar constantly begged you to fuck him. He'd hump against your leg like a dog in heat, with tears in his eyes he'd plead you for just a touch. For a taste of your body. He only wanted you just once he said, knowing that he was lying, but the painful ache in his pants couldn't be sated by his hands any longer. He promise he'd be good if you just let him put it inside you.

The day you finally decide to give him what he wants, he's over the moon. Kylar lays on your bed, naked with his dick twitching and hard. He's never leaked this much precum before, the entire tip of his cock looking wet and slick with the liquid. He's just waiting for you. You who said that you needed to step into the bathroom to freshen up.

He tries to hold back the shock he's feeling when you finally step into your bedroom. Your bare tits sitting beautifully has him panting, your waist, your stomach, but then his eyes fall on something else. The large pink strap-on cock that's on your body.

"Spread your legs,"

Out of fear, he'll do so immediately, knees pulling apart while trembling. You'll position yourself between them, grabbing his thighs to keep him spread open. A bottle of lube will be pulled from your bedside table, something he was certain was going to be used on you, but instead the slimy liquid drenches his asshole.

The fake, plastic cock pushes into his ass, making him see stars for a moment. His first time ever doing something like this is with you, which makes him happy, but the way you're mercilessly pounding into him is uncomfortable. He begs you to stop or slow down. Instead you grab his cock, using all that precum he had as lube as you stroke it at the same pace that you're fucking him.

He sobs that it's painful. That he doesn't want it. He starts those pathetic moans for a while, but after a few moments of you hitting his prostate with the tip of your cock, his sobs of pain turn to moans of pleasure.

"M-mo...more!" He manages to stutter out, causing you to smirk down at him.

And you give him more. Spreading his legs wider to give yourself access to that tight hole. He mewls while grabbing at your hips, trying to keep you as deep inside his ass as possible. He's drooling all over himself while taking it, little toes curling at each thrust.

He can't even announce that he's about to cum, all that leaves his lips is mumbled gibberish. But you feel it. The way his ass is squeezing your cock tells you enough.

He shivers a bit, green eyes clenched shut. His dick twitching in your hand, his balls tensing. His cum shoots from his cock. Shot after shot of the white liquid, as be practically screams out in pleasure. His face and chest are covered in his cum, a beautiful sight to behold.

You pull out from his ass and his body goes limp. He lays there on your bed, covered in his own semen, body shaking every so often. He falls asleep like this, without your permission. But as he snuggles into your bed, you find yourself unable to wake him.

He'll definitely ask you to fuck him again.

[jonah0]

i dont think you've discussed kylar using just the tip to it's fullest potential... he'd be whining and begging, tears streaming down his face while he barely moves at all... IMAGINE IT!!!

hehehe m!kylar x gn!pc

“Don’t move.”

Kylar let out a feral-sounding whine, but nonetheless heeded your words.

“P-please, my love,” he whimpered, his fingers strengthening their clutch on your hips. It would probably hurt, if you weren’t enjoying the situation so much. “Why?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds, delighting in the way tears were welling up in Kylar’s eyes as you made him wait. “Mm. I dunno, actually. It’s just fun.”

He tried to glare at you, but tears started spilling at that moment and the impact was lost. “You’re—you’re mean,” his fingernails were nearly piercing the flesh on your hips and you couldn’t have felt more gleeful at that moment.

“Please, my love,” Kylar was begging now. If his cock wasn’t (barely) inside you, you imagined he might literally be prostrating himself in front of you. “Let me move. Let me love you. I—I need to feel inside of you, completely, so, so badly.”

Truth be told, you wanted that, too. But the joy of making Kylar suffer was almost as good as being fucked by him. And if your theory was right, it would end up being even better because of it. “Ah ah,” you smirked. “You can only move when I decide to let you.”

You could tell Kylar was desperate, the way his teeth were gritted and sweat dripped down his forehead, intermingling with his tears. “And when will that be?”

“I haven’t decided.”

Kylar practically howled at that, his face flushed beet red.

“Oh, fine,” you said with a huff, trying to act like it wasn’t affecting you as well. “Go on, then.”

The words had barely finished leaving your mouth before Kylar’s hips slammed against yours, leaving you breathless.

“So mean,” Kylar muttered under his breath as he repeatedly jackhammered into you. You were unable to form a response. “So, so mean.”

“Ky—” you managed to squeak out before you were cut off by your own, loud moan. His eyes flashed before he slipped a hand between your legs and began to stroke you. Clearly, your meanness hadn't damaged his dedication.

“F-fuck, I...” you yourself whimpered as your climax hit. A manic grin grew on Kylar's face as he felt your walls clench around him.

He didn't stop his rubbing nor his thrusting as you rode out your orgasm, his free hand still digging into your skin. The pain and pleasure mixed, and you could tell by the look on Kylar's face that it was exactly what he had wanted.

“So-hah-good!” Kylar panted as his hips slammed so hard into you that you felt yourself move several inches. “I love you!” He cried out as he thrust as deeply as possible, gripping your hips for leverage as he came inside of you. He didn't move, just stared at you possessively for a moment, his entire body slick with sweat. Then, with a huff, he dropped his full body weight on top of you, burying his head in the crook of your neck with a sniffle.

“You're so mean,” he whined for what felt like the millionth time. You giggled in response.

“You did a good job,” you told him, running your fingers through his hair. He pulled back to give you a pleased smile, humming happily. A twitch inside you reminded you that Kylar still hadn't pulled out.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyeing him. “Seriously? Again? Already?”

He pressed feather-light kisses to your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you. Then, he flashed you a devious smile.

“My turn to be mean.”

[jonah0]

M!Kylar x F!Reader - Puppy Love (SMUT)

Basically you go to a party looking for a hookup and Kylar catches your attention. Being the first person who doesn't treat him like shit, he instantly falls in love and agrees, especially with your earlier flirting.

2.350 words.

“Isn't he kind of cute...?” you mused to yourself, eyeing up your prey. Around your height, dark hair, green eyes. Nervous. He looks at the floor and holds his cup, shoulders tense, back leaning against the wall. You moved towards him with a glint in your eye. Everyone seemed to avoid him. You weren’t really sure why, but you won’t complain. It just meant less competition for you.  

With confident steps, you neared the young man. He still didn’t notice you. But that’s fine. You would get him soon enough and all his attention would be on you. Soon, you were only a few steps away from him. You leaned against the wall next to him, before putting your head on his shoulder and giving him the cutest, innocent smile, you could muster. He seemed like the type to enjoy it.  

A shy blush rose to his cheeks as he gripped the cup tighter, the plastic in his hand denting slightly from how hard he was gripping it. He made no attempts to move away, which you took as a quiet yes. Pretty, vibrant green eyes stared back into yours. He gulped as you took in his expression, his adam’s apple moving. Your gaze followed subtly lower, noticing his exposed collarbone, before flicking back up again. His face reddened as you leaned closer to him, your warm breath brushing against his neck.  

“How about we leave this party... And get to know each other better, hmm? Would you like that?” keeping up the innocent facade, your hand trailed up his arm, before locking your arms together. As soon as he gave the smallest of nods at you, you started to lead him away from the bustling gathering, opting to move away from the bar at the beach and going to the park instead.  

Sitting down on the fountain, you immediately closed the distance between the two of you, your thigh touching his. A squeak escaped him as you kissed him. His lips were slightly chapped, but soft and pleasant anyways.  

His palms gripped at his jeans, clutching the material tightly as he was breathing loudly, unsure of what to do. You continued to kiss him, leading him slowly as you put your hand on his cheek and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Your other hand traveled to one of his hands, hoping to calm him down as you trailed soft patterns consisting of stars and hearts on his hand.  

You could hear his heartbeat. His breathing got heavier. 

Opening your eyes, you saw a gaze so intense that it made you feel hot in your lower stomach. Was he observing you all this time? It made you a little self-conscious. You pulled back from the kiss, both of your cheeks flushed a pale shade as he continued to stare at you, anxious as ever. Smiling at him, you gave him another kiss, this time on his hot cheek, before whispering. “Is this what love at first sight feels like? I think I like it. It would be nice to know the name of my love, though.” 

Pulling back again, you have him an innocent expression yet again. He was wrapped all around your finger, now. You could tell by his gaze. Lovestruck, shy, but most importantly, so, so eager. Poor boy couldn’t hold in his excitement so much that he pulled you into another kiss, this time sloppy and wet. All hesitation seemed to escape his reasoning as he tried to recreate what you did earlier, trying his best to deepen the kiss. His hands, compared to how they were before, impatiently twitched as he placed them on your hips and brought you closer. Towering over you as you were forced to lean back because of the close proximity  

Like a switch, he turned into a whimpering, pathetic mess as you refused to grant him access as he probed at your lips with his tongue. “Noona... P-please, m-more...” 

With a shaking breath, he was basically begging you while you smiled at him teasingly. “I don’t know, Puppy... Maybe if you tell me your name? I’ll give you mine as well, hmm?” 

It was all it took for him to tell you about his name with a stutter, before latching onto your neck and placing wet kisses all over it. His eagerness was really endearing. It almost made you reconsider sleeping with him. Such a cute and innocent dude, so flustered and eager for you. “Good boy...” you moaned out, before roughly tugging at the back of his head, exposing his neck as was forced to pull away. A whiny moan left him as he looked at you, eyes full of desperation. It soon changed to surprise as you pulled him in towards you, lips meeting, giving him what he begged for earlier.  

The moan he let out was shameless as he wrapped his arm around your waist, letting you take back full control of the situation once more. Kylar wanted nothing more than to make you happy in this moment. “I... I want to be with you... P-Please, Noona!” a rush of excitement filled him as he took in your appearance, completely mesmerized as he admired your beauty. You didn’t even notice when he took his hands into yours, tumbling and playing with them in a similar way you did earlier. 

He didn’t need to say more as you dragged him back to your house after he begged you so nicely. As soon as you stepped inside your room Kylar didn’t hesitate to drag you to the bed, him falling first and you following shortly after, falling on top of him and straddling his hips. The sheer size of his manhood surprised you at how big it was, even under your body and under the layer of his clothes. 

“Noona...” his hips buckled upwards, meeting yours and dry humping you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he tries to encourage you to move with him as well, desperate for your touch.  

Seeing him under you was almost magical. Big, bright blush, reaching past his ears and his neck. His shirt rose up slightly upwards from all the moving and dry humping, exposing his stomach. Eyes soaking up your every curve on your body, slightly teary from how sensitive he was being, his expression erotic. 

It made you want to tease him more, but you were already pretty eager to get it going. You made sure to give him a nice view as you look off your shirt, exposing your lace bra. You bended your body forward, almost pushing up your breasts up his face, before you got rid of the bra as well, throwing it somewhere on the ground.  

Kylar’s hands twitched as he licked his lips, eyeing up your body hungrily. He could feel his self-preservation slip the more he looked at you and your body, his heart beating so fast he was sure you could hear it. Your expression was cute as well. He loved seeing the way you got all worked up for him. He hoped only he saw that naughty part of you.  

“Come on, Kylar~” you gave a teasing roll of your hips. “Let’s get you naked as well, huh?” 

You didn’t need to tell him twice as you got off of him, giving him the chance to take off his shirt and the rest of his clothes as well. Giving him a show, you made sure to arch your back as you took off your pants and panties at once, exposing your sex. Although you couldn’t see his expression, you did hear a gasp and a belt unbuckling, before being dragged back into the bed and being thrown on your back.  

Kylar didn’t waste any time as he eagerly positioned himself between your legs, running the tip up and down between your folds. He moaned at the way his tip glistened with your arousal. One of his arms was above your head, pinning you. Poor Kylar was begging for you to let him enter you, a soft whine escaping him as he continued to move his cock up and down impatiently.  

You couldn’t help but giggle a little at his eagerness. This time you were the one leaning on your elbows as you looked down, curious on what his cock looked like. It was easily described as large, with a pretty, swollen tip. He was already leaking lots of precum.  

The thought of having something so big inside you made you shudder. You couldn’t help but notice how it’s his first time, and suddenly, you felt much more self-conscious than before. You were confident, but you didn’t really want to disappoint him. Everything felt so intimate, now. It wouldn’t hurt to make it a bit more special for him, right...? 

“Come here, Puppy.” 

You reached out your arm and wrapped it around his neck, before bringing him closer and kissing him, using as much passion as you could. You opened your mouth and gently probed at him with your tongue, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. He followed your lead eagerly, leaning into you some more, almost laying on top of you.  

Your chests were touching, and Kylar couldn’t help but let go of his cock to grab one of your tits instead, giving it a curious squeeze as he panted into the kiss, enjoying the close proximity and the feel of your body. You muttered a soft “Good job.” under your breath at how he tried his best to please you. As a reward you flipped him on his back and positioned his cock at your entrance, but not before spitting on your hand and giving his cock some extra lubrication.  

Watching his reaction, you lowered yourself gently on his length. His eyes widened in surprise as your velvety walls enveloped and welcomed his cock. A loud whine followed by a high-pitched wheeze as he grabbed at the sheets, his hips moving upwards automatically, trying to reach as deep as possible. When you gave your hips an experimental roll, he swore he could see heaven. A moan of your own leaves you at the feeling, it’s been a while since you’ve had a cock this good.  

“Oh, Puppy...” you said in a scolding tone as his chest heaved up and down, struggling to catch his breath. You think you saw him almost biting his tongue, trying his best to hold in the noises as he already spilled inside you from the stimulation. As much as you wanted to find it annoying, it was... Endearing in a way.  

“Look at the mess you made, so eager...” you moved your hips, with Kylar still being sensitive in his post-orgasmic bliss, not minding the cum that leaked out of your hole and dripped down onto your sheets. It’s obvious cumming once won’t do it for him and you were more than happy to accommodate that.  

His expression looked almost like he was in pain from the over-stimulation. His hand moved from the sheets and to your thighs, to your stomach and your waist, anywhere he could reach in the state he was in. He was basically shaking, drool leaking as he looked at you through teary eyes, his voice trembling as he apologized to you, “S-Sorry, I-I'll be good, I p-promise...” 

You took the initiative and brought his hand to your cheek as you rode him and moaned his name, leaning into his touch. Poor baby was in heaven, drinking up the sight of you riding him, his cum oozing out of your cunt. It’s okay, he calmed himself, gulping down the air. He’ll just make sure to fill you up some more. Everything for his love.  

You muttered another “Good Boy...” against his ear, putting your back into riding him to another orgasm, this time eager to reach your own as well. Kylar wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you as close as possible, his own hips moving, chasing his sweet release. He choked on air when you started to kiss and bite down on his neck, moaning more praises all the while, encouraging him to move as well and to touch you.  

He knew you didn’t cum yet, which prevented him from cumming to early again.  

He guessed you were close by the way you were clenching down, milking and squeezing him each time your hips moved, and the way your breathing was uneven, hitching each time he hit your cervix. His own pace was relentless, not giving you any time to stop even when you were gasping for air. He continued to rut into you even after you came, refusing to leave you unsatisfied and empty.  

“Noona... N-gah! Noona... I l-love you!”  

His hips stuttered as he reached his second peak, a content sight and grunt leaving him as he spilled inside of you, coating your walls once more. You were all spent, not bothering to remove yourself from him, instead still straddling his hips, his cock deep inside you as you tried to catch your breath, your sweat glistening in the dimly lit room. Kylar didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it very much, going as far as to bring you closer to him, encouraging you to lay your head down in the crook of his neck.  

He didn’t hesitate to inhale the scent of your shampoo as you guys cuddled. His arms were wrapped around you protectively, refusing to let you go. His vibrant eyes were filled with so much love it made you feel a certain type of way, your own heartbeat quickening. You were sure he could hear it as well.  

Eventually, with some light giggles, you finally could lay beside Kylar normally. You were no longer straddling his hips, and he took the chance to cuddle into you instead, his head on your chest as he pressed soft kisses wherever he could reach, one of his hands on your hips as he traced patterns with his thumb. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep like this. You’ll talk things with him tomorrow instead.  

[jonah0]

welcome home, slut

whitney the bully x fem!afab!reader

contents: semi-public, whitney is a bully, hair pulling, mention of cigarette burning, masochism (f!receiving), piv, spanking, degradation (slut, whore), spit, inspection (f!receiving), ask to tag

w/c: ~2.2k

from the cottage: hey hun, you've been out here at the farm for some time now, did you even tell anyone you were out here? i have a feeling someone's lookin' for you...

++Lust ++Jealousy

three months.

it had been three months since the last time you had come to classes. 

prior to this rebellious stint of yours, your only other absences were when you had disappeared because of bailey, and disappeared during one of the blood moons and needed to see that creepy doctor in the hospital to feel better.

but this… this was different.

that friday, whitney had clearly remembered the lewd look on your face when he yanked you off of the sidewalk to put a cigarette out on your arm. your eyes had crossed and you had even moaned a little before he shoved you to the floor and laughed at your pathetic nature.

it was normal. an almost comically average interaction. nothing you weren’t used to.

and yet, you had disappeared. 

it had rained that sunday after, he remembered. and you didn’t come to annoy him at the park like you always did. 

he should’ve known something was possibly wrong, but he didn’t think of it.

every day you weren’t in math class felt like he was the guilty party in your absence, the one who drove you away.

he wasn’t, it was almost definitely a problem that you had gotten yourself into, but still… something was eating at him.

it was about to be three months and one day until the door to river’s classroom swung open five minutes late, and in you walked, calm and steady as ever.

what the fuck?

you looked… cleaner. stronger, somehow. you looked as though you had been successfully roughing it for the past three months, like you had spent a majority of your time outdoors. you skin was practically glowing, your arms bulkier, your thighs plush. you even looked well-fed.

where had you been?

whitney was blinded by his anger, his body moving on his own as he got up and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you right back up out of your chair. you yelped, kicking and squirming and trying to push him off of you, but his grip just tightened as he tugged you right out of the classroom and into the now empty hallway.

river protested, shouting something down the hall at him as he dragged you along, but whitney ignored him in favor of tossing you into the nearest empty classroom and slamming the door shut.

“welcome back, slut,” he snarled at your cowering form, standing over where you were on the floor, sniffling and wiping at your eyes. mascara was trailing down them you could barely afford anything before, let alone makeup.

“where the fuck have you been, huh? probably showing yourself off at some strip club far away to make a buck. is that it? left to be a camgirl?”

he kicked one of your legs to shove them apart, standing in the space between your knees that he had created for himself as he towered over you.

you shook your head, still trying to gather yourself from being tugged down the hallway by your hair. “i-i got a job, on the farm-”

“a job on a farm? really now?”

“y-yes! i’m h-helping rebuild the farm, get it in working order- alex needs a lot of help, i didn’t realize-”

“i bet he’s fuckin’ you, whoever this alex is.” whitney growled as he stomped his foot down next to your left arm, making you jolt. “i bet you just spread your legs so he could fuck you like an animal while you forget about the rest of us back here in the city. how fuckin’ dare you run off like that.”

you stammered as you looked up at him, sitting up on your elbows as your lip wobbled. “i- i’m sorry, i didn’t realize how long i was away for, i’d work and work and be too tired to walk home, i can’t ride horses yet-”

“‘m sure you know how to ride cock just fine, though, am i right?”

“whitney!” you blurted out, trying to get him to stop talking so you could finish a sentence, “i didn’t have sex with him! i got caught up, i-i missed you!”

now that, whitney hadn’t been expecting. he was maybe expecting your normal demeanor, your normal protests and cries of pain and i’m sorry’s, but not i missed you.

something sickening crawled up his spine as he stood over you and crouched down, bringing his face up close to yours. his fringe hung down; you could see both of his eyes, dark and looming, so clearly. 

“say that again, slut.”

“i said i missed you, i’m sorry, i missed you while i was gone, i didn’t have sex with him, please believe me…” you were starting to really cry now, lifting yourself up as much as you could before wrapping your arms around his neck to try and hug him.

and, well, he allowed that, not reciprocating, for all of maybe thirty seconds. he caught the scent of a foreign shampoo in your hair; you’d been staying somewhere other than the orphanage. probably on that farm. probably with him, whoever he was.

he grabbed your shoulders tight and shoved you back down onto the floor, away from him, listening to you gasp with surprise at the action. he grunted as he shifted positions oh so easily, backing off of you only to throw you onto your stomach and hoist your hips up with his hands on your waist. 

you yelped in reply, your cheek hitting the cold tile floor a little hard, pain blossoming under your eye. you braced yourself on your hands as your hips were dragged up into the air. “wait, whitney, i-”

“say it again, slut. tell me you missed me. say it again, ‘cause i still don’t believe you.” he grunted down at you, grabbing the hem of your skirt roughly and flipping it up to reveal that you weren’t even wearing panties, something he had demanded you do months ago. you were still obedient to him, it seems. “whore like you still not wearing panties? do you want to get fucked like this?”

“whitney, please,” you simpered, squirming under him and trying to find grip on the tile floor as his calloused fingers danced over your folds. you could feel the heat between your thighs, how your body instinctively unfurled for him; it was a pavlovian response to being underneath him as he barked and bit at you like a dog. your folds started to glisten with your juices as his thumbs hooked around your pussy lips to spread them apart. he glared down at your clenching hole as if studying the way you were getting soaked from his inspection before pooling a thick glob of spit between his lips and letting it drip down onto your cunt.

you gasped at the feeling and shuddered; you’d barely been touched outside of being thrown to the floor and manhandled, but you were already so receptive to him.

“fucking whore, already fucking wet f’ me. say it again, tell me who you missed and maybe i’ll give you this cock.” as he spoke, he let go of one of your hips to undo his belt buckle, letting the cold metal hit your thigh as he worked on freeing his cock from the confines of his pants.

“you!” you immediately started to warble, like a bird in a cage, “i missed you! missed you s’ much, i didn’t let him touch me, i promise-”

“you just let him buy stuff for you huh? your makeup’s running, you never wear makeup.” he leaned his body over your back, his chest hot to the touch as he brushed his chapped lips over your ear. “did you let him make you into a little farmer’s wife, huh?”

“i didn’t! whitney, please, i didn’t! i got it for you!” you were bleating at him like a lamb, and the confession made his cheeks grow hot. he was suddenly glad he had you face down rather than on your back. “bought it for me? wow, what an attention seeker,” he snarled against your ear, and yet the fat head of his cock was slipping through your folds with a shlick, shlick sound. 

you felt yourself thrusting back against it, trying to get him inside. “please, missed you s’ much, whit, please- inside-”

“i guess you proved it. maybe i should give you a reminder of what you were missin’ out on while you were away.” he growled a little, unable to hide how he really felt about your absence as he sat up from your back and guided the wet, leaky tip of his cock into your spit-soaked hole. he hissed from the tightness; you cried out from the sudden sting. it wasn’t like he ever really prepped you to take his fat cock, but after being away from him for so long, it felt like the first time all over again.

tears ran down your cheeks as you bit down on your lip and whimpered, feeling him push himself in deeper despite your tight cunt clenching around him and almost forcing him out. he groaned as he watched the way you struggled to take him. “feels like you’re a virgin again, fuck, guess you didn’t get fucked, unless he was real small.” 

you moaned when you felt his hips connect with yours, your hands curling into fists. his hand found your hair again, winding it up to get a good grip as he yanked your head up off the floor and made you arch your back.

“now you’re gonna stay right here and fuckin’ take this cock like the whore you are. you need to be retrained.”

you sucked in a breath as he pulled his hips back, the veins of his cock dragging along your gummy walls, before he started to piston into you, his hand gripping your hip with a bruising pressure as he fucked you like you were an object.

the feeling made you see stars, crying out with a slack jaw. for a moment, you were in another world instead of on the classroom floor. your scalp ached but the pain sent fizzles of pleasure flying down your spine; the way his heavy balls slapped against your clit with each thrust had you clenching down around him.

whitney had the gall to breathe out a laugh as you gurgled on your own drool and tears, sobbing on his cock and drooling for more. “i know you fuckin’ missed being treated like a cocksleeve, huh? missed having this cock shoved down your throat? missed it in this tight little pussy? yeah? bet you couldn’t even cum on your own without me to help you, so fuckin’ needy and pathetic.”

he let out his own little moans as he tugged on your hair to get a better look at your fucked out expression, and the look on your dazed face made his cock jump inside of you. it spurred him on to fuck you harder as you moaned for him, your juices making a mess of the front of his slacks.

“whit- please, missed you- missed your cock, need to cum, wanna cum, please-”

“oh, you need to cum? poor thing.” he laughed down at you as his free hand came down hard on your ass, making you cry out from the sudden pain. you shook; you felt like you were teetering on the edge as his leaky tip pounded that spongy spot inside of you.

“gonna cum? gonna cream all on this dick that you missed so much? say it. say it again.”

“yes! yes, wanna cum on your cock, missed you, missed it, please let me cum-”

“fine, slut. make a mess of this fuckin’ cock, then.” he growled as he spanked you again and gripped the flesh of your ass.

you felt like you ascended into heaven for a brief moment, flashes of white sparking behind your eyes as your body jerked and pulled taut. you came, hard, your body spasming and jerking underneath where he was keeping you pressed to the floor.

he moaned against your back as he felt you tighten and spasm around his cock, a frothy ring of white forming at the base as he continued to bully his way deeper into your cunt. 

“that’s it, your pussy just missed me so much, bet nothin’ satisfied her like this.” he grumbled through his teeth before huffing out little ah, ah, ah’s until finally he jerked his hips a bit sloppier, and then he was cumming deep inside your cunt, barely moving so he could fuck it deeper into you. 

his forehead dropped against your shoulder blades as you both recovered, his hot breaths fanning out over your neck. you whimpered when he finally lifted away from you and pulled out, his cum dripping down your thighs. 

he grunted as he got to his feet and tucked himself away, brushing his sweaty fringe away from his forehead as he looked down at your trembling form.

“don’t you ever leave like that again, understood?”

you nodded vaguely, lip trembling before curling up into a smile. “i missed you.”whitney squinted down at you before turning his head away and tossing you some tissues from his back pocket. i missed you too, slut.

[jonah0]

Ever so often I go back to play some DoL and in my new run I got a bit more interested in our lovely school bully, so I looked them up and spoilered myself found some things out that inspired me to write about them ♥

Isn't it so cute when the bully starts to care a bit more about their victims than they should?

Characters: Male!Whitney (Degrees of Lewdity) x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con, Public Sex, Derogatory Nicknames, Creampie, Fear of Pregnancy, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Picture Taking) Bullying, Posessiveness, Mental Struggles, Threats

Sobbing, you clung to him as his cock pounded into you. Merciless and without much thought to your obvious state of distress, Whitney abused your hole, grunting as he caved it out even though you had pleaded with him not to. Not like he had ever listened to you before, but you wondered if there was ever a "too much" in his books, your hopes silently shattering as you bit back a moan from escaping.

Giggles and mean comments rained down on you from the sidelines, phone shutters going off, the sound deliberately turned on so you would hear it. The embarrassment was like a cloud of heat, cooking you from the inside out and blurring your judgment. You wanted to struggle, but every bit of movement would make your body more visible, even though you wanted to hide it away more than anything. Your legs were held apart by the ankles, giving you very little support as Whitney pushed into you recklessly, but they kept you in place enough that his cock wouldn't slip out.

All while the onlookers took videos from below.

You knew better than to make more of a fool out of yourself than you already were to these bullies. They wouldn't listen to your pleas, and your screams fell on deaf ears around the almost empty school. Although you could try fighting, who were you kidding? Whitney wasn't known to be a weakling. It wasn't the first time you had to deal with him and the humiliation, but no amount of repetition made the crime less severe.

Letting out a loud sniffle, you buried your face in his chest, his grunts breaking for one push, and you felt one of his arms snake around your back as he grew even more eager. It was no embrace that could comfort you, but at least he didn't force you to face the cameras and make your expression a public amusement and the next best blackmail material.

"Hey, Whitney! Stop hoggin' them! We all want some of the fun!" some student called out, gripping your bully by the shoulder. With surprising ferocity, Whitney twisted his body around, slapping the hand away while pulling you tighter against his body.

"Fuck off!" he hissed as the student tumbled and crashed into the tables. "Y'all can get lost, you're not getting your dicks wet today!"

His movements halted while he was occupied with the groans and shouts of his peers, needing to keep them in check as they crowded close, calling him 'unfair' and a killjoy. He bit back just as aggressively, and more embarrassment flared up inside you as people got closer.

Scared, you clung to him, fingers buried in the shirt on his back, and with your legs being released, you clasped them tightly around his hips. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and Whitney hissed, the voices of the other students briefly stopping before they rose up in laughter.

"Seems like our good pal got hitched!"

"Pussy-drunk bastard!"

"Man, this is no fun. Let's go somewhere else."

Sighs turned into small talk, into discussions about where to have dinner, until all your bullies had crowded out of the room, leaving only you and Whitney behind. It was fascinating how quickly they could change their interest, how little all of this truly meant to them while the trauma clung heavily to you.

"Urgh," Whitney groaned, leaning forward until your back hit the top of the table. "Why are you sticking so close to me? Stop being a fucking leech."

"S-Sorry..."

Within seconds, Whitney had snapped his hips back against yours, burying his cock deep inside, and you grunted in response, covering your mouth to hold back the moans.

"You're really getting on my nerves—stop that!"

Tearing your hand away, Whitney pinned it to the table, leaving you defenseless. His other hand gripped the edge of the wood, giving him the leverage to pound into you, spreading your walls far apart while messing with your insides.

"Why..." you mumbled, breathless. "Why did you stop them?"

"The fuck kinda question is that? You want them to fuck you? I can call them back if that's—"

"N-No! Please don't..."

His lips curled into a mean grin as he stared down at you, eyes moving from yours to your lips, to your breasts jiggling beneath. "You owe me now, big time," he grinned, and you felt a knot form in your stomach.

Reaching down, Whitney gripped one of your thighs, lifting it higher for better access before his pace quickened. "You're so fucking done," he grunted. "I'll make your life hell, and you'll love every second of it. That'll teach you not to question me."

"S-Sorry! I just wanted to know!"

Months of bullying had worn down your defenses, and you should have known better. But Whitney had never been one to show you any mercy before, so curiosity had gotten the better of you. And like an idiot, you had fallen into his trap again.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt another knot form in your stomach, this one much more frightening than the one before. You didn't want to come from this, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making you come. Still, every time he pushed into you, you felt closer to that edge, toes curling. At the same time, you listened to the embarrassing sound of your pussy squelching. Whitney, too, sounded close, not afraid to let out his voice as he dug inside, fulfilling his desires primarily.

In the truest sense of the word, you two crashed hard as Whitney leaned down, lips smashing into yours as both moans collided pitifully. His hips still jerked a few times, and you gasped as you felt the hot mess he spilled inside you, fearing the worst. You absolutely couldn't get pregnant by him—what kind of sick nightmare would that have been?—but even as you tried to push him away, ramming your knees into his chest, he wouldn't budge. Usually, things ended after humiliating you, but with no one around, apparently, Whitney didn't think it was necessary to sully your face or body, leaving his cum inside you without a second thought.

"N-No!" you mewled into his savage kiss, but Whitney only grinned, rocking the table until it tilted back, forcing you to wrap your legs around his and your arms around his neck to not slip off the surface and hurt yourself. Though with this, escaping was pretty much impossible, and despite your panic, your body filled up nicely with his cum, taking every spurt he gave.

"Fuckin' hell," Whitney complained when he finally released you from the kiss, setting down the table and wiping his mouth. He looked down at you with the same condescending gaze as usual, and you wondered how pitiful you must have looked in those dark eyes of his. "You need to take classes on how to kiss, you fucking suck."

"S-Sorry," you sobbed, feeling the deliberate slow pull of Whitney as he freed his cock from your pussy, popping it out after wiping it thoroughly against your walls. Giving your left thigh a slap, he let them both drop uncaringly as he stepped back, moving his cock back into his pants and underwear and zipping it up.

"Get dressed, slut," he ordered, nodding his head in the direction of your discarded panties and skirt, and you slowly got up from your position, waddling over to your clothes with shaking knees. It didn't take a moment longer than you had pulled them up when you felt Whitney's warmth at your back, his hands snaking around your body and towards the zipper of your skirt. You held your breath as you listened to the sound of him zipping you up, giving you back some line of defense now with your clothes on.

"Just so we're clear, you're not just anyone's little plaything. Those buffoons don't get to enjoy you unless I give them permission. And today..."

You looked up at him as his hand fell to your throat, squeezing it in an attention-demanding grip. Whitney's dilated pupils searched for your gaze, locking onto it with a ferocity that made your legs quiver, a small whimper escaping you as he tightened his grip around your throat threateningly.

"Today, I really didn't feel like sharing."

Lowering his mouth to yours, Whitney nipped your lower lip with his teeth, prompting yours to part so he could stick his tongue inside. For someone who claimed he didn't enjoy your amateur kissing, you two stayed like this for a while, breaths heating up between you as the intensity rose. His eyes never strayed from you, capturing them, forcing you to look at him, and making sure your thoughts wouldn't stray from what he was doing. Whitney wanted these moments to be burned into your soul, the utmost cruelty he could muster, always making you remember the things he did to you.

With his hand positioned as it was, you didn't dare challenge him to squeeze harder, allowing him to ravage your mouth, his other hand falling on top of your skirt, cramming it up to grab your asscheek hard. The sudden pain of his palm hitting your skin made you jolt, and you whimpered into the kiss, Whitney finally pulling away. You felt your underwear damping as fluids leaked from your pussy, wetness coating your inner thighs as you were reminded of Whitney's claim on you.

"Seriously, get good," he mumbled as he pushed you aside, wiping his mouth from the excess drool you two had produced. "Next time, you'll need that sucky mouth of yours."

Passing you by, he smacked your rear once more, laughing as you jumped and hit another desk's edge, more pain flashing through you. However, when you finally got a grip on yourself, you looked up to catch him still watching you from the doorframe, almost as if he was waiting to see if you were okay.

More cum mixed with your juices ran down your legs as you squatted down, picking up your bag and books the bullies had thrown around. "I don't get it," you mumbled quietly, still feeling his gaze at your back.

"Speak up if you got something to say, clown."

Shaking your head, you walked after Whitney, who only huffed at your refusal, walking five steps ahead of you as you two made your way out of school. Something about his behavior was strange, and you had difficulty pinpointing it. But where he usually didn't seem to care about you, he stuck unnecessarily close to you that day.

"Ugh! Finally!" you heard a girl yell once you two reached the school gate. You looked up to see Whitney's clique waiting for him. He split from you and walked to them while you hurriedly marched in the other direction, as far away as possible.

"What is it with them?! Do you like that slut?!" the girl asked, the insults hurled directly at you even though her question was as ridiculous as the whole bullying.

"No," Whitney firmly denied, and for some reason, it made the knot in your stomach twist. You knew that, but it made the situation almost worse.

"But they're mine, so fuck off."

"What!" the girl screeched, and you halted in your tracks, slowly turning around to look at Whitney's back. He kept walking, unbothered by his friend's reaction. The others started to cheer and mock him, but he simply kept walking, his head slowly turning around after a few more steps.

Your eyes met.

You couldn't read his lips well from the side, but his smirk and the gleam in your eyes made you assume a thousand words he could have mimed at that moment.

Only one stuck.

Mine.