#i felt as though it were shameful and humiliating for me

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month. 

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.  

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.  

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.”  You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.  

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.  

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.  

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.  

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you. 

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

 She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.  

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.  

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”  

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.  

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88

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if you’d like to be tagged, pls comment on the series masterlist (helps me keep track of everyone!!) 💌

[aft3rhrs]

— number: unknown ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: dead dove, yandere, manipulation, corruption, mentions of stalking, mentions of therapy, dirty talk, humiliation, obsession, mentions of masturbation & dub con sex, allusions to cnc, allusions to depression and anxiety, hints of fear kink, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut).

*use of the word “rape”.

masterlist

In the last few months, you've grown used to the sound of your phone ringing late at night. It still sent your heart into a frenzy, nerves sparking up like wires — but you peeked at the screen nonetheless, taking less and less time to hesitate to answer.

Number: Unknown.

Palms sweaty, you clicked accept on the call.

A chuckle greeted you.

"Lonely?"

You tried to ignore the chill his voice sent rippling down your spine, raising goosebumps along the way.

"What do you want?"

"Don't be like that," Jungkook cooed. "I missed you. Wanted to check in. What's up? How was therapy last week?"

The question came with a tint of mockery, instantly dusting your cheeks. It wasn't surprising by now that he knew; he knew everything about you, it seemed, from soul to entrails. But you couldn't wrap your head around how, or why he even paid such close attention in the first place. All you were capable of comprehending clearly was the anger blazing in your chest.

"Screw you."

"Aw, come on," he crooned on the line. "I'm just checking up on my favorite girl. Any progress? Did you tell your therapist you let your stalker fuck you right after filing a report? Did you tell him you pick up my calls?"

You felt his words swirl and burn in your stomach, as if you downed a glass of liquor. Shame crawled all over your skin, hot and uncomfortable. Why couldn't you find it in yourself to hang up? For a moment, you considered doing just that, but then quickly brushed off the idea.

Better to entertain him like this than to have him show up at your door.

Right...?

He could hear you breathe in, the lack of an answer curving his lips upwards.

"Well, that's okay. I really don't like you seeing him, though. I'm kind of offended you went to someone else for help."

"You're the reason I need help!" You hissed, unable to stop yourself. "You're seriously sick in the head."

"What a mouthy little thing you are," Jungkook murmured. "Pretty brave for someone who claimed she's afraid of me." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Pretty hypocritical too... I might be crazy, but you're the one still talking to me. Didn't you come all over my cock like a good little girl too? I think you might be a bit sick yourself, sweetheart."

Oh god.

No.

You pretended you didn't feel yourself clench around thin air, pretended your underwear wasn't getting drenched.

"But I don't mind," he continued, raspy, "I can be your therapist, baby. I'll help you feel better."

Your eyes fluttered closed, head growing foggy.

"Why keep running? Why keep running if you always let me catch up?"

"I don't," you whispered, "I'm trying to—"

"No," Jungkook tsked, "you're not. Are you too scared to face yourself in the mirror? Do you see my eyes when you try?"

You shivered for some reason.

"No."

"That's a lie... You like it when I chase you, and no therapy is ever going to help you. You know why?" He coaxed, soft. "Do you know where your sickness lies, angel...? It's not in your head. It's in your heart. You dont trust love, you don't feel it, unless it's got you losing breath, nice and tight, like a noose. Why don't you let me give it to you?"

Despite the pounding of your heart, you tried to keep his words out of your mind, tried to focus before you disappeared so deep into the fog, you'd become a part of it. But you were so tired... and floating in the dark, weightless, felt a little more like peace.

Still, swallowing thickly, you tried.

"Do you get off on taunting all your victims like some kind of psycho?"

"Oh baby," he sighed. "How many times do I gotta tell you? You're the only girl I want. No need to get jealous."

"Go fuck yourself—"

Another chuckle, then a groan.

"I should. I really want to... Miss you so much..."

Your stomach flipped.

"Miss your mouth. Didn't have time to fuck it back then... Would you let me now?"

"No," you breathed out, shaky.

Why were you still talking to him? Why were your thighs squeezed shut so hard?

"Mmm, that's what you said last time, and yet look who ended up begging me to fill that little cunt."

Your hand tightened around your phone, the pulsing in between your legs refusing to cease and getting harder to ignore.

"I know you could take it all," he breathed. "All down your pretty throat, no complaints. Would be too busy sucking, right, baby?"

"Why even bother asking?" you whispered, your voice small, like you knew the answer already.

Because you did.

"Makes me hard," Jungkook admitted, shameless. "It's cute to see you struggle. Acting like a frightened little doe, like you weren't waiting for a wolf to eat you up."

The confession was so dirty, nothing short of predatory; but it made your cunt throb and heat stick to your underwear, and you couldn't decide if you were more disturbed by him or by your own reactions.

"Fuck..." he swore hoarsely. "All that screaming and fighting only to end up begging for it. Do you like it forced? No need to think, no need to make choices. Just taking my cock like a good little rape toy, yeah?"

You weren't able to contain the hitch of your breath, thighs quivering and spine tingling all over.

Jungkook moaned softly in response, the sound shooting straight through your pussy.

"Wanna come?"

This wasn't happening.

You were losing grasp of reality, consumed by the need to find a lifeline. You felt like you caught a fever, your reply coming out more mellow than intended.

"No. Please stop."

"You're a bad liar, little doe. Without me your body and soul feel empty. You need me as much as I need you."

Your eyes fell shut. You shook your head, repeating your denial like a prayer.

"No..."

Your brain was running on automatic, trying to hold on to some semblance of rationality.

"Does it make you feel better to say that?" Jungkook muttered. "Wouldn't it be easier to give in? I know how much you wanna sneak your hand into your panties. Go on, baby. Rub all your thoughts away. It will feel so good."

You felt your thighs tremble again, the wetness between them unbearable. It was getting harder to breathe through the rising heat, your mouth falling open, trying to catch more oxygen into your lungs.

"Go on, pretty. I'll come with you... Just say the word."

Yes.

No, that wasn't right.

Please...

"No," you forced out again, something that sounded too much like a whimper. "I'm going. Stop calling me."

Jungkook just sighed.

"Shame. Can you at least move closer to the window? Do a little twirl for me. I missed you so much..."

Your head snapped in the direction of the window, heart jumping in alarm. Jungkook seemed to know; he sounded so amused, like it was all a game. And he was winning.

"Just kidding. I have some things to do, but I will see you soon, baby."

"Jungkook—" you panicked, shaking your head, "please don't—"

"Goodnight. I love you."

Beep.

He hung up.

You hugged your knees and lowered your head onto them, welcoming the darkness that greeted you, eclipsing the faint glow of your nightlight.

Was this your fault? You were in pieces for so long; surely that must have been to blame for the sickening pull you felt to answer the phone every time he called.

Maybe that was how Jungkook had managed to get to you. Slithered in through the cracks, took advantage of all the empty spaces. Poured himself in like poison, down to the last drop. Maybe that was also why he needed you so much; there was nothing left of him but you.

You let yourself slump onto the bed, probably the last time you'd be able to sleep through the night somewhat calmly. Because when Jungkook said soon... he always meant soon.

And the clock refused to stop ticking.

taglist 💌: @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @crisle19 @jksteponme @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @dolphinmochi

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT (literally pure FILTH), Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, DubCon(?), Fingering, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, Corruption Kink, Subspace, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Sadism, Semi Public Sex, PIV, Choking, Gagging.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

As the class finally drew to a close, the air filtered with an unspoken tension that shadowed over the room like a heavy fog--enveloping you and Mattheo in a world of charged silences and lingering desires. The classroom, once filled with the droning voice of Professor Snape, now echoed with the shuffling of papers and the distant sounds of students in the hallway.

Your hands moved almost mechanically, still trembling with the aftermath of your release as you briskly packed your bag--but each accidental brush against Mattheo sent a jolt of electricity through your skin, igniting a fire within you that refused to be tamed.

When you glanced over, his eyes locked onto yours, their depths a tumultuous storm of lingering, intoxicating lust that sent a thrill down your spine. The way he had treated you during this class felt like mere restraint, a mere fraction of what lay beneath the surface. Anticipating the upcoming encounter in the bathroom, you couldn't fathom the depths of desire he was capable of unleashing, and you'd honestly never been more fucking excited in your life.

Abruptly, the hypnotic trance Mattheo had ensnared you in shattered, as a familiar voice called out your name. Looking up, you found none other than Tom Riddle standing in front of your desk--his eyes, a mirror image of Mattheo's stormy gaze, flicked between you and his brother, a subtle tension creasing his brow.

"I heard what happened with Berkshire," his voice was gentle, yet laden with concern. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm glad you weren't hurt."

Your cheeks burned, nerves spreading through you as you could practically feel the frenetic energy coming from Mattheo multiplying by the second. Though you couldn't see his face, you could vividly imagine the clenching of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze, and the way his fingers must be tightening into fists, gripping his bag with a white-knuckled intensity. Ignoring the persistent heat between your thighs, you forced yourself to straighten up, your posture a facade of composure.

"Thank you," you said, your voice laced with genuine thankfulness, your eyes meeting Tom's with a blend of appreciation and depth. "I appreciate your concern...luckily Mattheo was there to help."

The simplicity of your words belied the complexity of the emotions swirling within you--a mix of gratitude, desire, and a strange kind of loyalty that bound you to Mattheo in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. Before Tom could get the chance to reply, Mattheo's arrogant sneer broke through the tension, his voice dripping with condescension as he mocked his brother.

"Quite the knight in shining armor, isn't he?" he scoffed, his eyes narrowing with disdain as he turned his gaze from you, back to his brother. "Inviting you to the party, only to disappear when things got tough...guess it was only a matter of time before you showed your true colours."

Tom shifted uncomfortably under Mattheo's piercing gaze, a mixture of shame and resentment flickering in his eyes. The tension in the room grew taut, a silent battle of wills unfolding before you, with you being caught directly in the middle of it. Tom cleared his throat, his eyes flickering with uncertainty before he composed himself, a veneer of calm settling over him.

"Well, you know how it is," he said, his voice steady but lacking conviction as he stared at his brother. "Parties can be rather...unpredictable."

His words hung in the air, an attempt to diffuse the tension, but the strain in his voice revealed the truth behind his carefully crafted facade. In an attempt to escape Mattheo's merciless gaze, he turned back to you, attempting a weak smile, though it failed to reach his eyes.

"I do apologize again," he said, attempting to muster up as much sincerity as possible. "I'd like to make it up to you. Perhaps we should cancel our meeting tomorrow? You could probably use the rest."

You nodded, grateful for Tom's consideration despite the lingering tension in the room. "Yes, that would be appreciated," you replied meekly, mustering a small smile. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, little witch." Tom managed another weak smile in return, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and understanding. "Take care. I'll see you Thursday."

As Tom made his exit, Mattheo shot his brother one final, dark glance--his eyes filled with a silent yet unmissable warning, one you knew only you would catch. Then, without a word, he too spun around on his heel and left the room, his departure swift and purposeful, leaving a trail of palpable intensity in his wake.

With a cautious pace, you trailed after him, allowing the tide of students to swallow his figure in the chaotic shuffle. Navigating the bustling corridor, you granted him distance, a deliberate move to give him space, hoping the interim might quell the storm brewing within him. Yet, an unsettling intuition gnawed at you, suggesting it might only intensify his brooding anger.

Upon ascending to the third floor, you took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling a sharp breath to steady your racing heart. As you gently pushed open the bathroom door, there he stood--Mattheo, his posture rigid, leaning against the sink with an air of restrained aggression. His eyes, sharp as flint, bored into yours, the confined space practically crackling with the weight of unspoken tension.

"Close the door." His voice was harsh, cold, firm. "Lock it."

Mattheo's command sliced through the air, his voice an icy whip that lashed at your nerves, compelling you to obey. Swallowing hard, your pulse echoing in your ears, you eased the door shut with trembling hands, the soft click of the lock amplifying the palpable tension in the confined space.

Mattheo watched you--his eyes, sharp and unyielding, drilled into your soul as he shed his uniform jacket, the fabric sliding off his shoulders with calculated grace. It landed on the counter beside the sink, forgotten in the intensity of the moment as he then methodically began rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, revealing the sinewy strength of his forearms. Every movement he made was deliberate, a display of control that left you breathless

"Good girl," he stated, devoid of any warmth, his words falling like cold steel. "Drop your bag and come here."

A hard lump formed in your throat, forcing down a gulp that felt like swallowing shards of glass. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a relentless bass drum, each beat threatening to shatter the fragile structure of your sternum. Fingers entirely unsteady, you allowed your bag to slide off your shoulder, hitting the ground with a muffled thud, its impact barely audible over the cacophony of your racing pulse.

And then, taking deliberate, slow steps, you began to move toward him, your cautious approach mirroring the delicate balance of a predator stalking its prey--but in this moment, you weren't entirely sure who was supposed to be the prey. You, or Mattheo.

Coming to a halt in front of him, you felt the intensity of his stare searing into your skin. His eyes, dark and magnetic, darted to your lips, a hunger burning in their depths. The palpable energy surrounding him was a living, breathing entity, wrapping around you both like a tightly coiled thread, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

"Hands behind your back," he commanded, his gaze lingering on your lips with a predatory intensity.

Obeying him, you slowly moved your hands to your back, your lungs quivering with anticipation. His eyes flickered down to your chest, a subtle challenge in his gaze.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety growl, the praise sparking heat in your veins. "You're going to let me unbutton your shirt, aren't you?"

His words hung in the air, laced with desire and dominance, demanding your consent without uttering the words explicitly, inspiring your thighs to throb with need. The commanding tone of his voice, coupled with the unspoken request, sent shivers sprinting down your spine. Your fingers trembled behind your back as you nodded, succumbing to his silent demand.

"Can't you talk?" Mattheo's jaw clenched, his eyes smouldering with intensity. "Use your words, Raven."

"Yes," you breathed, your voice a fragile whisper. "I'm going to let you."

He blinked. "Good girl,"

Mattheo emitted a low, appreciative hum, his fingers gliding over the buttons of your uniform shirt with deliberate slowness. Each button yielded to his touch, his eyes fixated on his hands' movements, as if he feared missing a single detail. The cool bathroom air caressed your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and a shiver rippled through you as his fingertips found the last button, fully exposing your bra and chest to his hungry eyes.

His gaze traced every inch of newly exposed flesh as though he were savoring a newfound delicacy, his intensity leaving you breathless in the hushed atmosphere.

"Mm," he murmured, his eyes slithering up to meet yours. "You fuck me up in the best way, you know that, Raven?"

Your heart hammered in your chest, your nails biting into your palms as if anchoring yourself in the moment. "Do I, Mattheo?"

Mattheo stood before you, a coiled spring of restrained energy--the raw power emanating from him made every muscle in his body tense, as if he were holding back a storm. This version of him, this potent mixture of control and desire, was utterly captivating. You had never witnessed him like this before, and the sheer force of his presence, unyielding yet tantalizing, had the power to send every nerve in your body into a full out frenzy, and bring you to the brink of euphoria without even a single touch.

"You make me feel fucking alive," he murmured, his eyes fixated on your lips as if they held the secrets of the universe. "You're the only drug I can't live without."

"Oh...Gods..." your breath caught in your throat, desire and desperation intertwining in a tumultuous dance. Every fiber of your being screamed for him, ached for his touch, your voice leaving your lips in barely a whisper. "Please...kiss me..."

In an instant, Mattheo's lips crashed onto yours with a furious intensity, a maelstrom of pent-up desire and longing. His hands found your hips, pulling you against him with an urgency that left you breathless. They roamed over your back, tracing every curve, before ascending to tangle in your hair, holding your head in place with a possessive, commanding grip. The kiss deepened, a wild, passionate exchange that ignited a fire within you, consuming every rational thought.

With a swift, graceful movement, he spun you around, your back meeting the cold, unforgiving surface of the sink counter. The sensation made you shudder against his body, amplifying the electrifying connection between you as he tightened his grip in your hair. His lips molded to yours, the world outside fading into oblivion as you surrendered to the storm of sensations, lost in the overwhelming fervor of his kiss.

"Fuck...you're such a good girl for me..." he pulled back, lips falling to attack your neck. "You'd do anything I fucking said, wouldn't you?"

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank his teeth into your skin, eliciting a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that shot through your senses like lightning. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his disheveled curls, holding onto him as if he were your lifeline, your body still trembling from the aftermath of the classroom encounter.

Words eluded you, your mind clouded with desire and need. "I...I-fuck..."

"Mm," he breathed against your skin, his tongue tracing a slow, tantalizing path up the side of your throat. "You're still sensitive, aren't you, pretty girl..."

"Yes," you gasped, your breath hitching in your throat, desire pooling in the depths of your stomach. His hands found your waist, fingers gripping your skirt tightly, pulling it higher up your hips, setting your senses ablaze. "Gods..."

Mattheo groaned against your skin, his hot breath tickling your ear. With a skillful movement, he shifted one hand, his fingers teasing your heat through the damp fabric of your panties. Your back arched as pleasure washed over you, your body reacting to his touch with unbridled hunger. Pressed against the counter, you squirmed and gasped, utterly consumed by the electrifying intensity of his embrace.

"Shit...still nice and fucking wet for me...you love when I'm in control, don't you?" He snickered, breath washing warm over your ear. "That's why you act like a little fucking brat around me all the time...you want me to put you in your place...you want me to do the most unholiest shit to you imaginable..."

A low, unrestrained groan escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the confined space, surprising even yourself. Your head fell back, offering him better access, as his mouth fervently marked your skin, leaving a trail of purple possessive bruises above your collarbone. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, grasping it aggressively as if you could pull your release from his scalp, his assault on your sensitive clit becoming relentless.

"Fuck-yes, Mattheo..." you whined, squirming against his hand, voice torn with pleasure. "I-I love it..."

"Yeah, that's right..." he sneered, his arrogance breaking through his hardened facade. "You want me to use you however I want, whenever I fucking want, don't you..."

His voice turned harsh, a husky growl escaping his lips as his fingers abruptly pulled back, yanking your panties aside before returning to swirl your clit with a relentless rhythm. A cry tore from your throat, louder than you intended, and Mattheo responded with a primal growl--his free hand moving swiftly, clamping over your mouth, muffling your sounds of pleasure as he claimed a new expanse of skin on the other side of your neck with his teeth.

"The things you fucking do to me, Raven..." he growled against your neck, fingers dipping down to your core, slipping inside you without warning. "I wanted to bend you over that desk so fucking bad...make you cum on my cock in front of that whole fucking class..."

Your lids fluttered as his thumb grazed your clit, two fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. "You're such a good little malleable slut I bet you'd have fucking let me, wouldn't you, princess?"

You attempted to nod against his hand, pathetic desperation fueling your insane compliance. It was entirely clear to you that in this moment, you were willing to say anything, do anything, just to coax release from him. Your craving was insatiable, a hunger that consumed you entirely. You needed him, every part of him, everything he was willing to offer, and you were more than prepared to fucking beg for it.

"That's what I fucking thought..." he purred, nipping your earlobe. "You're my desperate little whore, desperate to fucking please me, aren't you?"

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as he spoke, the arousal pooling between your thighs growing even more intense with each syllable. Part of you wanted to deny it, to protest and tell him that you weren't his whore, just to see how much further you could push him, but the words caught in your throat and seemingly dissipated into thin air as he pumped his fingers deeper into you, sending another tidal wave of pleasure through your body--and in response, your forced yourself to nod against his palm.

"Yeah, that's right..." his voice was a growl, his movements becoming more relentless. "Such a bratty little mouth, but when it comes down to it, you have nothing to fucking say..." you whimpered, legs trembling, threatening to give out from under you. "Just because this pussy holds power over me, doesn't mean for a damn second you can tease me like that...I will take you anywhere I want...I will fuck you so hard the people in Hogsmeade will hear your screams..."

He lowered his lips back to your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there as his fingers continued to work their magic. Gasping, you nodded again, completely melting at his words, the pleasure becoming too intense, too all-consuming as it threatened to overpower you entirely.

Mattheo's palm released your mouth, his fingers diving into your hair, tugging gently as he smothered your lips with his. A gasp escaped you, lost in the fervor of his kiss, your attempts to pull away to catch your breath immediately met with his unyielding force. His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that bordered on ravenous, as if he could devour you whole. Just when you felt your entire being coiling, ready to unravel in the throes of climax, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

"You want to cum for me, princess?" He murmured, tightening his grip in your hair. "Third times a charm, isn't it, baby..."

"Yes. Please-" you squealed, voice torn. "Please!"

"Good girl--so fucking good," he growled, his voice deep and rough with desire. "Cum for me, angel."

The nickname sent a thrill of excitement and warmth rushing through you, your body shaking with pleasure as you felt yourself teetering closer and closer to the edge. With one final thrust of his fingers, Mattheo pushed you over the edge, sending you into the waves of orgasm for the third time today. You let out a gasp that you couldn't hold back, and he quickly covered your mouth with his own--your body shaking with pleasure as waves of ecstasy coursed through every inch of you.

Finally, after what you were certain had to have been an eternity, the waves ebbed away, leaving you feeling breathless and overly sated. Mattheo withdrew his fingers from your throbbing core, a satisfied smile playing across his lips as he met your eyes.

"There's my obedient girl," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before bringing his fingers up to your lips, forcing them past your teeth. "Taste yourself off of me...tell me how fucking good you taste..."

Under the heat of his praise, you were entirely unable to resist--taking his command without protests, obediently sucking on his fingers, tasting your own slick arousal off his skin. You moaned around them, holding his burning stare, the taste sending a fresh wave of need through you.

"You like that?" He purred, his tone an exasperated drawl. "You like tasting what I fucking do to you?"

You nodded, whining in response as he pushed his fingers deeper, forcing a gag before he huffed, ripping them from your mouth without warning. Before you could even think to say or do anything further, his grip on your hair tightened, pulling you forward. You gasped as he spun you around, pressing your front against the hard surface of the counter, and you shivered as you watched his hand wrap around your throat in the reflection in front of you.

"You see that little slut in the mirror?" he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "She belongs to me."

You groaned, feeling his hand leave your hair before sliding down your back to cup your ass, flipping up your skirt as he pressed his throbbing erection against you, shoving your hips firm into the counter with enough force to make you yelp.

"I think you forgot who holds the power over your fucking goals...yet again," he groaned, tightening his hold on your throat, jerking his insistent erection against your ass. "You want that mentorship, then you're going to have to start watching that dirty little mouth around me more often princess...understand me?"

"Yes," you gasped, the feeling of his hardness pressing against you making your entire body quiver. You hissed the words out through the hold on your neck. "I fucking understand."

"Mm. Yeah you fucking do." He groaned, teeth nipping at your ear. You moaned softly in response, grinding your hips back against him. "Filthy girl. You're going to watch me fuck you."

It was then that Mattheo released your throat, his hand slithering back to hold a firm grip on your hair. With that, he used it to pull your head up and back against his chest, so that you were looking at yourself in the mirror above the sink. After a brief moment of manoeuvring, Mattheo had undone his belt and freed himself--his thick, smooth length pressing against your ass as he seethed in relief, before he reached down and slid his fingers along your slick folds, making you watch as he teased your dripping entrance.

"I wanted to throat fuck you until you begged me for mercy but I genuinely can't fucking wait anymore...I need to get inside this tight little cunt..." you mewled, watching your own desire on display as he circled around your entrance before thrusting two fingers inside you. "I've made you cum three times, Raven...this fuck is for my pleasure, not yours...understand?"

You moaned, nodding your head, feeling the orgasm rise within you as Mattheo pumped his fingers in and out of you with an experienced hand, his grip on your hair tightening.

Noting his dissatisfaction with your lack of words, you quickly gathered yourself and answered. "Yes, Mattheo...I understand..."

As your muscles clenched around his fingers, Mattheo pulled out abruptly, slapping your ass with a hard, firm smack--leaving your cheek stinging in its wake.

"Good girl," he said, positioning himself at your entrance now, teasing you with a few slow, sensual thrusts along your slick slit. "You're mine to use, to play with, to fuck. Say it."

"I'm-fuck!" Your words were cut short as he pushed inside you, splitting you wide with one long, harsh stroke--slamming deep, smacking your cervix with ease. "Shit-"

"Oh, fuck..." he hissed, his lips pressed against your ear. "You're so fucking tight, Raven...fuck, it's like you were made for my fucking cock..."

"Oh..." your sight blurred as you felt every single delicious inch of him inside you, felt him so fucking deep into your stomach that you were certain he'd split you in half if he kept going. "Mattheo-fuck-oh..."

"Say it or I'll fuck you so hard every breath you take tomorrow will remind you of my cock." You could see the pleasure etched on his face as he felt you clench around him, and you knew that he was enjoying this, enjoying every fucking second of it. "Go on, little whore...you can do it..."

"Ah-shit...I'm-" your words were cut short yet again as his hips started to piston in and out of you, hard and fast. He took you with almost ruthless precision--each thrust felt like it was calculated both for his pleasure and to test your endurance. You dug your nails into the countertop, clinging on for dear life as he moved inside of you without mercy. "Gods! Fuck-I'm yours! I'm-oh!-yours...please-"

At your plea, Mattheo huffed, jerking your head back and holding your eyes to his in the mirror as his free hand slipped up your front, finding your jaw and holding it firm in place. You could feel his hips slamming against your ass, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge of losing your sanity, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the empty bathroom.

"You're okay...just breathe, Raven," he cooed, releasing his hold on your jaw and moving to your lips, shoving two thick fingers past your teeth. "You can take me...you can take it all, can't you?"

You whimpered in response, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as he reached for the back of your throat, forcing a gag, his hand in your hair relenting only for a moment before sneaking down and clasping around your neck--holding you firm to his chest as he fucked deep inside your heat. Every inch of your being was focused on the raw, animalistic sensations that ricocheted through your body under his power--his cock spearing you open, splitting you wide with every single thrust.

"Yeah, you can..." he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "That tight little pussy can take this fucking cock..."

Your body trembled with pleasure as Mattheo's low, gravelly voice rumbled through you, his words only serving to increase the intensity of your sensations, emboldening you to take everything he had to offer and then some. With a growl, Mattheo's hand around your throat slowly loosened, gliding down the front of your body until he'd found your clit and began to rub tight, fevered circles against it. You cried out in pleasure, the sound muffled by his fingers still planted firmly in your mouth.

"That's it," he groaned, his lips pressed hotly against your ear as his hips continued to slam against you. "Watch yourself in the mirror, Raven...watch how this perfect little body breaks for me..."

In a desperate haze of pleasure, you met his gaze in the mirror, watching the way your body writhed under his demanding touch. The fire in your belly smoldered, stoked higher by the relentless pounding of Mattheo's cock. You groaned against his fingers, drool spilling from your lips and dribbling down your chin. You were so close, so unbelievably close to teetering over the edge for the fourth fucking time in one day, you couldn't even begin to comprehend it--your mind felt like it was about to melt into a mere puddle at your feet.

"There we go," he cooed, sensing your incoming climax, his fingers quickening their pace. "Watch yourself cum like a whore on my cock. You love this, don't you? You love being fucked like the dirty little slut you are."

His eyes roamed over you possessively, and you knew that he was taking in every detail, committing this moment to memory. His movements grew rougher, more insistent, as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your muscles tightening, and you let out a strangled moan as you finally broke for him, for the fourth fucking time. Your pussy spasmed around his cock as you came hard, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

"Shit-" Mattheo huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as your pussy milked his cock. "You squeeze me so fucking good when you cum-fuck..."

You knew that he was close now, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pounded into you with all his strength, rubbing you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until he pulled his hand away, both hands shifting to your hips, gripping you with enough force to bruise.

"Fuck-I'm gonna fill you up, baby..." you felt him twitching inside you, you felt his cock practically begging to cum. "Tell me you want my cum, Raven...beg me to cum inside this tight little pussy..."

"Please-" you squeaked, his thrusts turning erratic, his breath sputtering against your neck. "I want your cum, Mattheo! Please!"

"Shit...fuck-" finally, he let out a feral growl, his hands tightening around your hips as he thrust into you one last time before he stalled, his nails digging into your flesh with so much force you nearly winced.

You felt him twitching inside you, felt his cum pouring inside your heat as he came hard, his orgasm almost overwhelming you with its intensity. Gasping for breath, you leaned heavily against the counter, feeling completely spent, and Mattheo's arms slowly left your hips, slithering around your waist, holding you against his chest as he pressed a few small, sporadic kisses to the back of your neck.

After he'd finally come down from his high, and the both of your pulses had somewhat slowed, Mattheo pulled out, quickly moving to tuck himself away while you began piecing yourself back together. After a few silent moments, you felt composed enough to break it.

"Remember when you said you didn't want to take my virginity?..." you said, a sly smile playing on your lips, though you attempted to conceal it. "What a pretty little lie that was."

Mattheo stole a stoic glance at you, his emotions carefully veiled, as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, trying to untangle the sweat-drenched strands from his forehead. With a deliberate yet seemingly effortless motion, he reached for his jacket, the fabric clinging to his form in the heat, his jaw clenched in an attempt to suppress the grin that threatened to break free.

"That wasn't a lie, Raven." He said, his voice carrying a hint of sincerity beneath the playful banter.

Your eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. "Oh, is that so?"

"I didn't just want it," he confessed, his tone steady yet laced with unspoken emotions, as he meticulously donned his jacket, the fabric rustling softly. Moving closer, he closed the gap between you, his hand tenderly cupping your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. "I fucking needed it."

Your breath hitched, need screaming in your lungs with every inhale. Four orgasms in and somehow he still found a way to make your fucking thighs scream for more. "You're unbelievably insatiable, Mattheo Riddle..."

"Yeah, but so are you, princess..." he purred, leaning down closer, brushing his lips against yours. "I always knew you'd give it to me, it was just a matter of when...I'd have waited forever just to fuck you like this..."

You huffed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Your arrogance is insufferable."

"Am I wrong, though?" He murmured, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he brushed them teasingly against yours. "Godric knows I need to ruin that tight little cunt of yours...but he also knows I'm the only one you'd ever let do any of this to you..."

"Mm, you caught me..." you whispered, your lips meeting his in a fleeting, feather-light kiss. "Will you take that mentorship for me?"

"Perhaps I will," he replied, his fingers leaving your jaw and slipping into your hair, his touch both gentle and possessive. "But I suggest you refrain from pissing me off like that ever again...don't think it'd look too good on you if you wrote 'Mr. Riddle got mad and fucked me into the sink like the dumb little whore that I am' on the detailed log, now would it?"

You scoffed, your playful snarl hanging in the air, a testament to your exasperation, yet beneath it, a thread of amusement danced in your eyes, unable to be suppressed.

"You're truly something else," you murmured, your voice a blend of vexation and reluctant admiration. "I will figure you out, Mr. Riddle."

With that, he relinquished his grip on you, his eyes gleaming with a challenge. "Not before I figure you out, first."

————————————

Chapter 21->

[mypoisonedvine]

Your Tommy’s little pet and he takes you to the races with him and gets pissed when you try to run away from him and fucks you in a somewhat public place. And it makes you regret even thinking about trying to run away from him because he’s Thomas mf Shelby

OH you filthy little genius. i love this

warnings: DARK NONCON SMUT 18+ only, public sex, implied kidnapping/captivity, breeding kink, possessiveness

"Did you really think you could get away from me?" he growled in your ear. "Did you really think I'd ever let you leave me?"

"Tommy, please, n-not here," you whimpered, reaching back to try to push his hips away to stop him from fucking you so hard, "people are looking at us..."

He grabbed your hand and roughly forced it back in front of you, holding it down against the railing that looked out over the track. "Let them look, darling," he purred, "doesn't change a fuckin' thing... you're mine. If Tommy Shelby wants to use his woman, doesn't matter where we are or who's watching... m'gonna use you how I like."

You tried to hide your burning face in your arms, whimpering as Tommy drove into you hard and fast; he straightened himself, no longer draping his body over yours, and you felt even more exposed by that somehow. It would be obvious to anyone who looked what he was doing to you, and anyone who heard the loud clapping of skin on skin was going to look...

The more you avoided the thought of how many people must be watching you now, seeing Tommy take you so brutally, the more you were forced to think about how he felt inside you-- how his cock stretched you open and drove deep within you until your legs began to shake. If it weren't for his tight grip on your hips holding you up, you probably would've collapsed onto the dirty floor of the betting parlor.

One of his hands began to run up your back, fingers petting your spine through your thin dress-- over the roar of the race, you could still hear his low hum of satisfaction. Against all logic, your body responded to his touch so well, goosebumps breaking out across your skin wherever his fingers roamed. He leaned down over you again, wanting you to hear clearly whatever he had to say.

"When everyone knows you're mine, there's nowhere for you to go," he explained lowly. "There's nowhere you can run from me, love-- they all know you're my woman. And they know how far I'll go to keep you."

You shuddered, hating the moan that suddenly left your mouth-- and hating more that he heard it loud and clear, as he made obvious with his proud little chuckle.

"How about I breed you right here, hm?" he purred as he pet your hair out of your face, groaning beside your ear. "In front of all these people... how about I fill you up nice and deep you can have a little Shelby of your own?"

You figured he really must have no shame at all: it was bad enough that he was fucking you here, but to conceive a child at the race track? Would he stoop that low just to degrade you? But, then again, he'd been promising to get you pregnant since the start-- for all you knew, you already were.

You had plenty of shame, though; it ran through you and made your stomach turn, yet it made a pang of heavy pleasure hit between your legs. It took you this long to realize that the humiliation of being fucked in public like this was spurring on your orgasm, rather than hindering it. Apparently, Tommy had awoken something rather twisted within you...

"C'mon then, love," he groaned roughly, "let me feel you come for me-- say my name."

You whined, knowing from experience that you were better off doing as he said now before he forced you to. "Tommy," you moaned, but he

"Nice and loud, darling-- let them all hear you," he encouraged. "Say it!"

"Tommy!" you cried, tossing your head back as your walls pulsed around him-- you kept your eyes shut tight, terrified to see how many eyes were lingering on you. He moaned proudly through a smile as he came inside you, wrapping one of his arms around your neck to keep you still as he buried himself as far inside you as he could reach.

"Good girl," he praised as he caught his breath, kissing the side of your face sweetly. "I bet every man here wishes you were his, wishes he could make you scream like that. But every man knows exactly who you belong to... so they'll just having to keep dreaming, won't they?"

[ladyelissarose]

———————— ☠️

“Sergeant, you’ve been sitting there for the past 30 mins. Do you seriously think you have that much time to waste?”

Your Lieutenant Simon Riley’s voice was dead yet firm in its tone, being evident that he wasn’t very pleased at the moment.

Placing yourself in his shoes, you’d be upset too, there was a mission coming up and much preparation was still needed, from ‘everyone’ in the team.

Trying to swallow the heavy rock in your throat, you tried to put down the pain of your humiliation from earlier, and replied lowly,

“No sir, but I’m waiting for someone-“

“For 30 minutes? Don’t you think that after 5-10 minutes of waiting it’d be very clear that they’re not coming back for you.”

‘Oh.. but why would they do that? Their supposed to help me-‘

“Sergeant? I asked a question-“

“Yes sir, you’re right. I apologize for wasting time and being delusional.”

With a confident tone you had replied, which was the total opposite of what you were feeling. And though you apologized, you stayed glued to that damned seat, clenching your thighs and the gut wrecking pain that seared from your stomach to your legs- who would’ve thought that period pains would make you feel like you’ve been shot and stabbed?

You bit your lip nervously at the scolding that was to come in a few seconds as you hadn’t moved, and neither had your Lieutenant Ghost, meaning he was waiting for you to move your ass up from the metal chair.

And the longer the seconds passed, you grew more sick and worried, for Ghost wasn’t the most nicest to the newest ones in the team, he was actually very strict and took no excuses from anyone- including you.

Although you haven’t been on that side of him, but you’ve seen it and wouldn’t dare cross that bridge. So far you’ve been one of the best alongside Johnny Soap MacTavish, listening attentively and being the best shot on the job. But now you’re letting a natural cause hold you back, and in shame you couldn’t move or budge.

Not after you were mocked and belittled for it- and it wasn’t even your fault, but of course they all made you feel like it was.

A low gruff was heard above you, and Ghost’s large boots shifted on the ground before he practically barked,

“Well then move Sergeant!? What’d ya eat this morning that was to heavy for you to even get up eh?!”

And to put the cherry on top, when you’re in this abdominal pain, along with your daily sores from the job and stresses, you’re gonna get emotional and teary.

Especially when you knew it could’ve been solved a while ago when you had asked a teammate to help you out, but they had left you out to dry obviously, telling you to stay in that seat while they ran to your barracks to get new pants.

So now you kept your gaze on the ground, refusing to move a bit, not knowing how to explain or hold it all in, until you felt a strong grip on your arm as he lifted you up and spoke in a harsh tone,

“I’ll move you then-“

In panic you grabbed the collar of his vest and held onto the hand that grabbed you as you pleaded with desperate eyes,

“Lieutenant Riley please! Just- please.”

Your bottom lip now quivered a bit, and your eyes frantically searched his, hoping to find mercy in them so he could let you go, but he didn’t. He only locked his cold brown eyes on you, as he tried to read the situation.

That was Simon’s best tactic, he could read people like a book when he wanted to and wasn’t in a bad mood. And once he gave himself the chance to do so, he could clearly tell you were devastated and anguished, as your brows furrowed tightly and your eyes were growing glassy.

In regret at his actions, as he saw your state, Ghost immediately let you go and remembered Soap’s words,

‘Be more understanding of everyone’s situations, you may not always know why they are a certain way.’

He took a deep breath and pat your arm from where he had grasped you, not ignoring the fact how you flinched a bit and a fat tear was wiped away from your cheek by your shoulder. Simon was quick to mumble feeling guilty,

“I’m sorry Sergeant. Didn’t mean to be so harsh-“

“I bled through my pants pretty badly Lieutenant.”

“What?!”

He was ready to check you thinking it was probably an injury, but you instantly grabbed his jaw so he wouldn’t look, and quickly explained,

“It’s not an injury.”

You could see the way his eyes spoke confusion, as he questioned,

“Then what is it Sargeant?”

Your grip on his jaw loosened as you grew shy, realizing how close he was to you, and you grew more conscious of your state. As calmly as you could, you did your best to say the least but enough to understand.

“Please don’t let me say it... I’ve been humiliated enough.”

The gears in his poor head twisted and turned, as he tried to read in between in the lines of your words. He repeated your words in his head, and saw your state-

‘Oh.. OH.’

Ghost sucked in a deep breath and replied his thoughts,

“Oh. Sergeant- ok.. here.”

He quickly shrugged off his jacket, and like a carrying mother, he tied the sleeves around your waist, making sure it covered you were needed. He tapped your waist when he finished and ordered,

“Walk in front of me, let’s take you to your room.”

In a quiet voice you tried to reason, hoping he’d let you go on your own, as you were still a bit embarrassed.

“It’s a long walk Lieutenant- literally across the whole base-“

“Then we’ll go to my office, I have an extra pair of cargo’s.. they adjust to any size-“

He then held your cheek with his gloved palm as he assured you,

“I’m not letting you go on your own, I’ll help you.”

Nodding dumbly because of his sweet gesture, you agreed. And well, that settled it for you, he wasn’t letting you go on your own, so off you went.

Like a guardian angel his broad built covered your smaller form fully, and with a reassuring hand on your shoulder he guided you away to his office.

You felt small in front of his full build, but never insignificant as he treated you like a person, maybe he started off the wrong foot at times, but that’s who Simon Riley was.. he wasn’t used to being all nice and kind. But when he’d find out his mistake he’s pluck it out and make it right ten times more.

In the comfort of his little room, clearly showing he lived there as it smelled like his musky and citrus scent, and the decorations were to a bare minimum (it was actually just the little lamp and a few large bullet casings laid around in different places, like they were posing.

Oh and all the little gum wrapper things you made for him were all resting on his tiny window seal- anyways.. you were safe in his room.

He left you to change in peace after he made you stand in the pants for five more minutes- until you spilled the names of the soldiers that had humiliated you. You really didn’t want to cause them problems, especially with the Lieutenant himself who was stern and harsh.. but he made you understand that it was well deserved anyways.

Now you’re buckling up your fresh pants when you heard the door open and Ghost walk in, his head lowered as he began,

“You good Sergeant?”

Nodding to yourself you replied to him verbally,

“Yes Lieutenant.. thanks. They fit well.”

He took that as your signal of, ‘I’m decent you can look’ so he did, seeing his pants on you. Maybe they did look pretty big on you, but they fit, and were stainless.

Satisfaction with a hint of care in his eyes, he nodded with a soft grunt,

“Alright kid.. Oh and take these… they help with the.. the cramps?”

Smiling a bit at his shy voice coming out and at his attentiveness to what your body was going through, you replied,

“Yes.. the cramps.. thank you.”

“Hmm hmm.. now, be at the shooting range. I’ll be there in 5.”

Worry then crashed, wanting to hit you as you thought about the chance of seeing those soldiers again, but Ghost once again reassured you,

“Don’t worry Sergeant… I got your back. Go on to the range.”

Releasing a breath of relief you sent him a small smile then went, happy and confident to know you had your Lieutenant’s protection. Simon watched you walk away and he felt warmth in his chest, as he was able to provide help and be good to and for you.

Ghost hardly ever practiced shots or trained with you, afraid he’d hurt you or be too stern. But now he was afraid to leave you on your own, and be hurt by someone else. So he figured, you’d be safe and learn well from him, while he’d learn to keep his temper and tolerance in check, as he’d have you in sight.. a win is a win.

[d4ndylionn]

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder.

In which your all-time-favorite cannibal starts her day by insulting your attempt at a new look, your husband doesn’t take kindly to such insults.

Warnings - Body shaming, swearing, insecurities, Susan ugh Susan, Alastor in general, suggestive themes at the end

“You look absolutely fantastic, cher!” The Radio Demon loudly proclaimed, his trademark smile pulled wider than usual as he took in your form out of its usual wear.

“Stop, you. I’m only wearing this because it looked sad sitting in the closet.” Your reasoning was silly in his opinion, “Clothes have no expression!” He would’ve said but kept to himself to refrain from making you sad.

“Well, worry not, my dear!” Alastor began, taking your hand into his and pulling you towards him at a surprising speed. “Alastor!” You yelped as he twirled you in your new dress, closing his arms around you as soon as your back hit his chest.

“You’ll always look delectable in whatever you wear…”

His voice lowered as the static in his throat rumbled from behind you, making the hairs on your neck stand on end as you squeak and noticeably shiver. “My! Stop teasing!” You finally break away from his hold and slap his bicep, scolding your husband for his behavior while he only chuckled. “Alright, alright, cher, let’s go on an outing today. Rosie will absolutely adore your look once we visit Cannibal Town!”

“Oh my stars! Alastor! Sweetie! So nice to see you lot around here again!”

Once you and your husband stepped foot into Rosie’s Emporium and into the long lines of cannibals waiting to see their overlord, the said woman weaved through the crowd with a bright smile before gasping loudly at the sight of you,

“Oh honey! You look absolutely divine, you gorgeous, gorgeous girl!” Rosie quickly held both your shoulders and gave you a little twirl with how giddy she was about you. “Oh dear, we’re doing a lot of spinning today!” You muttered as the Cannibal Overlord settled you down on the ground while dusting your shoulder off with a pat. “I told you she’d love your look, cher.” Alastor chided in with a smug grin, leaning on his cane as he waited for Rosie to stop gushing over his beautiful wife. (He’d have to wait months before the smiley woman would ever stop). After an hour of conversing, Rosie had taken her leave to continue on with her work, leaving you two alone to stroll around outside the emporium.

“You look good, girl,” A voice as rough as sandpaper spoke from behind and down your gaze was the lady in blue that you know and hate love. “Thank you, miss Su-“

“For a waitress, that is!”

Well you were caught off guard and so was your husband, “A what now?” His eye twitched as he tilted his head, the hands that were gripping his microphone now dented it. “Your little wifey here looks like she could lose a few of those tubs workin’ at a diner! No husband would wanna stay with this.” Susan gestured to you, specifically your torso. So embarrassing, really, you were so humiliated that you unconsciously pulled at the fabric covering your stomach to at least let you gain a sense of non-exposure. It was all for naught when you felt Alastor’s hand snake around your waist, the fabric under his arm pinned to accentuate your hips.

“Maybe try and aim to be someone like me! A natural beauty! Unlike your sorry excuse of a-“

“I admire the concern, Susan!” Alastor’s ever-present smile felt as if he was baring his teeth at her instead, he pulled you closer to him in the process as he narrowed his eyes at the cannibal. “Certainly big talk for a woman with a big mirror for her equally big, sagging mass of skin she calls natural beauty!” With each venom he spat, he got closer to her face, the static in his voice becoming too loud for the rest of his insults to be heard, leaving Susan to just scoff and walk away from you and your husband. Even when he had the last word though, he still gave his last word, “We’re glad you had room for a conversation with us! I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to fit!”

“Slow down, Buck, the woman’s already leaving, let’s go home.” However amused you were, the lingering sense of humiliation gnawed at you, unnoticed by your husband who continued ranting about Susan. “Big talk! Haha! I was on a roll there, cher!” A laughing track played from his cane and when he received a hum in response was when he noticed your soured mood.

Night had fallen in Hell and the two of you spent it inside your shared hotel room, the gentle breeze of the bayou that took up his room did little to cool the burning sensations in your body. “Alastor, please, I-“ “No way in Hell are you listening to that ornery old bitch, dear.” The Radio Demon trailed his claws along your stomach before he gripped your hips tight, “Your body was made to be worshipped, not insulted.” he led his hands up to rest one hand on your neck and the other intertwining with yours. “Praised by me alone.”

Your throat constricted in the way you knew well enough and as his hand left your throat, a ghostly-green chain was left in his wake.

“I alone own you, body and soul.”

[agirlcandream84]

Neighbor!Frank Giving Daddy Vibes When He Offers To Help You

This isn't smut but it also isn't fluff but it is comfort but also hot? Like listen, I want Frank to step in and make.things.better. And you know he would.

Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 1,732 (~6 min read)

You felt like an idiot, sobbing on your living room floor over a damn futon. It wasn't even the futon, really, it was the colossal mess that acquiring the futon created. As a single girl, you should have guessed Facebook Marketplace was a sketchy place to buy your furniture but you were broke and desperate.

You'd been in your new apartment for a month and your living room was still an empty box with some pillows on the ground as a sad replacement for a couch. You saw the listing for a futon for $50, including delivery, on Marketplace and jumped on the offer. The guy had seemed nice enough and you arranged a time for drop-off on the front stoop of your building but the man pulled up in his truck with a hunk of dissembled futon parts instead of the assembled futon in the picture. Your heart sank instantly and you told him you didn't have the tools to assemble the futon.

"Not my problem," was all he grumbled as he opened his truck bed and started unloading the parts onto the sidewalk, clanging with every toss.

"Please, I'm sorry, I can't take this. I don't have any way to assemble it," you shout over the rattle of the pieces amassing on the sidewalk. He ignores you and continues to unload until the last scrap is cleared from his truck.

"I'm not paying for this," you tell him indignantly. "This isn't what the picture looked like."

He spits on the sidewalk as he strides over to you, grabbing your wrist roughly and yanking the $50 from your hand and mumbles, "Yes you fucking are."

As he drives away you contemplate just leaving the pieces there but your landlord has security cameras and the problem will circle back to you quickly enough. And so, after 30 mins of hauling parts up four flights of stairs and nearly two hours of attempting to assemble the futon using god knows what tools you had lying around the apartment you find yourself in heaving sobs on your living room floor.

The sharp rap at your door snaps you out of your spiral as you mumble a faint, "hello?" towards the door.

The voice on the other said says "Hey, uh, it's me. It's Frank." Frank kept to himself but you had both settled into a kind rhythm with each other. You occasionally dropped off your leftovers (he didn't seem like the type to cook much for himself) and he'd occasionally help take your trash out to the dumpsters or made sure your windows had working locks.

He wasn't one to talk much, usually just ringing your bell and grumbling something before lending a hand, and you assume it's by design. The thing is, you worried about Frank. Though he'd never say anything about it, you saw the way bruises would occasionally bloom across his face. Or the way he'd limp back to his unit down the hall. Sometimes he seemed to be gone for days on end. But despite all signs screaming, DANGEROUS MAN, you trusted Frank and he always treated you nicely. His presence was a comport even, if he did seem to attract danger.

"Oh, uh, coming," you mumble as you weave through the maze of futons parts scattered across your floor and quickly the wipe the tears from your cheeks. You open the door to find Frank leaning with his raised forearm against the doorframe, his hulking form above you, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Hey Frank, everything ok?" you ask, eyes cast upward toward him, door only cracked a little to conceal the mess you were currently in.

"Came to ask you that question," he responds, chin jutting up to indicate your direction. "Thought maybe I heard some cryin' in there," he adds.

Shame flushes your face and radiates through your body. You weren't above asking for help when you needed it but to be caught in the middle of your mental breakdown was another humiliation entirely.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you could hear. I hope I didn't bother you. I'm so sorry," you rush out, your cheeks a vibrant pink.

"Hey, no no," he stops you, those brows furrowing, "don't apologize. Jeez sweetheart, I came to see if you're ok. Somethin' I can help with?"

You couldn't decide if it felt infinitely more embarrassing to accept Frank's help or if it was a tremendous relief.

"Well, I don't know. It's this.." you trail off, motioning to the room he can't see.

"Let me see, a'right?" he offers gently, "Can you open the door a bit for me?" he asks, his hand landing on the knob. You nod and step back, making room for Frank to enter.

"It was a Facebook Marketplace thing... the guy was a jerk," you start and describe what transpired. Frank appears to be growing more agitated at the story continues, his arms crossed across his chest and big breaths huffing out through his crooked nose.

"fuckin' prick," he mumbles under his breath when you finish as he squats to the floor to inspect the task. "These are the only tools you got honey?" he asks gently, not meaning to embarrass. After nodding your head yes he replies, "Yeah, no wonder you were frustrated. This is a nightmare. I'm gonna get my toolbox and I'm coming straight back, ok sweetheart?"

You nod your head again and he's gone for a moment to his own unit. You will yourself to take a few deep breaths to not only wash away the last of the tears but to calm your nerves. Frank always made you nervous. It was that energy of his -- always in charge-- it was simultaneously immensely comforting and slightly frightening.

You hear his footsteps approach from the hall as he calls "S'me honey," so you wouldn't be frightened. He enters with his toolbox at his side and crouches low to get to work on building.

"Are you sure about this Frank? It's so much work, I know it's a pain," you ramble, twisting your fingers in knots, your embodiment of anxiety. You know he's capable but the man probably had other plans for his afternoon.

His eyes land on your twisted fingers as he replies "Happy to do it, alright? I gotcha," and you relax just a bit. After getting him a glass of water you decide to busy yourself in the kitchen, washing last night's dishes and tidying up. After 30 mins of work, he's nearly complete.

"Hey sweetheart," he shouts into the kitchen, "can you do something for me?"

"Yeah, of course," you reply entering the living and tossing the dish towel aside, "how can I help?"

"Alright, you see this piece here," he says pointing at a bent metal bar that wasn't aligned to the screw hole, "that asshole mangled this piece when he disassembled it so we gotta force back in place. Need you to screw it in here when I start bending it back alright?" he asks as he indicates to the screw hole. You nod in understanding as he hands you the manual screw driver. He places his hands on your hips and says gently, "need you stand here honey," to guide you to stand directly in front of him, the futon in front of you. He feel heat flame your cheeks and thank god Frank is facing the back of your head.

Frank engulfs your form, his chin hovering over your right shoulder as his arms reach around either side of you to land on the bent metal bar. You hear the comforting rhythm of his breath in your ear and squeeze your eyes shut a moment to shake the heat rising in your cheeks. He steps forward an inch to get the right leverage on the bar, his broad chest grazing your back.

"this, uh, this ok?" he mumbles in the shell of your ear, his voice soft and rumbly, confirming your comfort and managing to raise the temperature in the room by about 50 degrees. You can't manage an audible yes but you nod instead. With that, you feel him lean closer, a grunt escaping his lips as he forces the bent bar back into place. You watch as his broad hands grip the cool metal, the ropes in his forearms taut as he bends it back to shape. As the holes line up, you begin screwing as fast as you can, securing the bar in place.

He pants as he releases the effort, an "attagirl" tumbling from his lips as his calloused hand wraps around yours, making the last, hardest 90 degree turn to tighten the screw in place. "Practically built the thing yourself," he teases, releasing your hand.

"I can't thank you enough," you start, turning to face him, his face now only inches from yours, the expanse of his shoulders nearly consuming the room. "I.. uh I..." you mumble, the rest of the thought terminated as you stand close enough to smell the mossy freshness of his deodorant.

"Yeah, hey, like I said, happy to help," he responds, one landing landing on your upper arm and squeezing gently before grazing down to let go. He adds after a beat, "Listen, you talk to me about it next time sweetheart, yeah? I’ll take care of it. Don't go gettin’ in a mess like that," his brown eyes nearly boring into yours.

"What do you mean... take care of it?" you ask, nearly a whisper, tiptoeing over a boundary you weren't sure you wanted to know more about. What was Frank's definition of "taking care of" something and why did you think it involved more bruises? Or worse.

His eyes flick away for a moment before finding yours again. "Yeah, that's nothin' you need to worry about honey," he responds, more breath than voice, and you had decided you didn't prefer to know any more.

After a few minutes collecting and packing his tools, Frank made his way to the door and you followed him behind, thanking him again for the help.

"Yeah, it's no problem. Let me take care of you sometimes, yeah?" he replies, leaning in to kiss your cheek, his hand landing softly on your opposite cheek for only a moment, before turning to walk towards his unit, leaving you with a new problem: were you in love with Frank?

[livelaughlovesubs]

Poe's hair looks so pullable

I bet he whines oh so prettily when you accidentally pull his hair while you push his head down into the pillows fucking him from behind -🦀

Let’s bet on the same thing cuz whoever believes otherwise is wasting money ✨✨ (I hope you like it cuz I think I rushed it a little)

Dom!reader x sub!poe

Reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (can be read as a strap), hair pulling

“Ah-mhm..!” Poe gasped, whimpered even. Head pressed into the pillow below him to block out the noises he makes. This was too shameful, why was he so vocal? With those thoughts pestering his mind, he hugged the pillow even tighter and bit it, hoping it would help him quiet down. It was impossible to not make any sounds when you were fucking him so so so good, enough to make him see stars. Your every movement made him squirm, and each time you whispered some dirty words into his ear he could feel his heart pound out of his chest.

The way you hold his waist made him feel so loved, and how you always made sure he was comfortable. All those soft sides of yours got him feeling so warm, so much that he was on the verge of tears. Then there was the rough and merciless side, how you’d degrade him with every chance you got and rearrange his insides. That side made him cry and sob, all the humiliation he feels turns into immense pleasure. “Mhmm..!” More of his muffled moans escaped, and soon he felt you stroke his hair.

“Come on Poe, I want to hear your voice.” You asked him while keeping the same pace, trusting into his needy hole. It clenched around you so tightly, like it doesn’t want to let you go. This wasn’t the first time you two slept together, yet he was still this shy. It was adorable nonetheless, but his voice was the highlight, the way it would went up a few octaves, how he’s so breathless all the time.. simply heavenly.

The poor boy couldn’t answer you, too busy trying to hide his own pleasure. You couldnt let this slide though, you really wanted to hear him, that’s why you tucked on his hair. Using the hand stroking his fluffy locks to pull on it, causing him to arch and throw his head back, a loud whine followed, “aaAHHH..!” Soon the realisation hit him, it was so embarrassing! He tried to immediately hide in the pillow again, but your hand was preventing him from doing it.

Whenever he tried to go down, you’d pull on his hair, and he’d end up moaning louder. Suddenly you increased your pace, hitting all the sweet spots inside him. This was too good, this was unbearable. If this keeps up he’s going to break!!!

Pleases and begs fell from his lips, his entire body twitched and trembled. You watched in amusement as he cried and whimpered, his dick was leaking uncontrollably, making a mess of the sheets. The expression he pulled was engraved into your memories. Eyes rolling back and hair sticking to his forehead, tears running down his cheeks like a drama. Not to mention how red he was, it was almost concerning. Then you leaned down to his level, caressing his hair again and changing the way you treated him. Your voice was like a spell, hypnotising him, amplifying all those blissful feelings. “You like having your hair pulled, Poe? Like it when I’m rough with you?” After you finished whispering the last word, he felt like he almost came because of your voice. He gave you a small, hesitant nod, wanting to bury himself in a hole afterwards.

“Talk to me, pretty boy.” You demanded with a gentle tone. How can you be so domineering but soft at the same time? The male gulped, shivering as he murmured, “I, UhmM..I liked it, ah-aHHh~..!” So adorable, you wanted to be more mean to him, he was basically asking you to bully him. Out of nowhere you yanked on his hair again, the pain ran through his veins and he gasped. “Ga-ahH-!!” You wanted more of him with every passing second. “Good boy, Poe, now let’s see what else you like?” He knew it wasn’t really a question, it was a promise. And he knew he won’t be able to hold a pen the next day.

[rinhaler]

hii!! i just read your jjk fics/drabbles and im literally in lovee ❤️_❤️ i was wondering if you could write barou or ryusei from bl with a crybaby/bratty virgin sister .. and they non con her into behaving !!

I LOVE Barou and as badly as I want to write him one day, I'm picking Ryusei this time. I feel like Barou drinks his respects women juice so I can't imagine him doing this 😭😭 Ryusei however...

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, noncon, reader is drunk, step/incest (not specified), praise, petnames (baby), readers pussy described as chubby :3, fingering, clit rubbing, vaginal sex, creampie.

words: 1.1k

“Who are you trying to impress?” Ryusei asks, looking you up and down as you prepare to leave your bedroom. Your friend is waiting for you, she’s taking you to meet up with your other friends so you can go and see a movie together. You tell him as much, though he looks at you sceptically.

You aren’t about to tell him there might be guys there, too.

“Change your skirt.” he commands, tugging it down. He’s a little taken aback when he feels you slap his hand away. He doesn’t comment on it though. “I don’t like this, either.” he tells you as he tugs at your tube top.

“Why not? It’s cute!” you tell him, moving away from him to check yourself out in the mirror again. It’s simple, white, with a pair of cherries embroidered in the centre.

“I can see your nipples.” he informs you, tugging it down until your tits bounce free.

“Hey!” you yelp, pulling it back up and protecting your modesty once again. You flush with heat, feeling nothing but shame and embarrassment knowing that your brother has now seen you, however briefly, in such an indecent state.

“Why are you being shy, now?” he asks. “I can still see ‘em poking through. Y’don’t care about guys seeing you like this?” he wonders. And you shake your head. “Get changed.”

“No!” you argue. “Leave me alone, my friends’re waiting for me!”

You barge by him and rush out of your room. He doesn’t get a chance to argue with you anymore before you’ve already ran down the stairs and out of the door to the safety of your friends car. He watches the two of you drive away, a glimmer of malice in his eye.

--

When you return home late, and drunk, he can’t say he’s surprised. He knew you were downplaying what your plans actually were. Getting hammered under the guise of a movie. Maybe the day started that way, maybe you didn’t know what was going to follow afterwards.

But he knew you’d be home late, especially in a little outfit like that.

“Who did you fuck?” he asks, coldly, switching on the pink, fuzzy lamp on your side table like a camp supervillain. It scares you, so much so that you jump at the sound of his voice booming throughout the room. Your heart is too busy pounding to notice how hard he’s trying to conceal the smirk on his face.

“Move, Ryu.” you groan, pushing him on your bed so that you can get under the duvet beside him. “’m drunk ‘n tired.”

He grabs the lower half of your face and forces you to look at him. Your heart beats rapidly as you see anger flame behind pretty pink hues. You’ve never seen him like this before. Not with you, anyway.

“I asked you a question.” he reminds you, his forehead presses against yours as he waits for you to answer. You aren’t sure what he wants you to say. You didn’t fuck anyone. But you worry he’ll take your answer as nought but a lie.

“R-Ryusei…” you whimper. “’m a virgin.” you confess, that very same feeling of humiliation washing over you that you had felt earlier in the day. You aren’t sure why your virgin status makes you feel so ashamed. Maybe because you know you’re the only one of your friends who hasn’t done it yet. Maybe it’s because you know Ryusei fucks a lot, you’ve met countless one night stands he’s brought home after hours that you can’t help but feel sorry for.

Instead of ridiculing you, though, he groans in satisfaction. His eyes roll back into his head as your words replay in your head.

“Good girl,” he praises you. Your eyes widen as he captures your lips with his own and he kisses you deeply. “You’re still mine.”

“W-What…” you trip over your words. “What are you doing?”

“Baby, today was too close a call,” he whispers, kissing you again. “Almost lost you today ‘cause you wouldn’t fucking listen to me.” he continues, his hand travels down your sternum and cups your chubby cunt. Delight fills him as he feels how divinely sticky your panties are.

He moves them aside, wasting no time plunging his fingers into your tight heat. You hiss, you sob as you feel his thick, heavy fingers stretch your virgin hole open for the first time.

“Ryu, s-stop!” you cry, “You’re my brother! ‘n it h-hurts…” you whimper, but he doesn’t care.

You wince as he continues pummelling his fingers into your aching hole, slow and deep. His. He watches you throw your head back in ecstasy as he stimulates your clit with his thumb. He feels him self growing harder and harder, watching you wrestle with the guilt of enjoying the touch of your big brother.

“Ryusei, p-please, stop…” you beg, but he won’t listen.

“You don’t mean that.” he tells you. He’s your big brother, he knows best. And better still, he knows what he wants. How can he expect you to behave and listen to him if he stops now. He pulls his hand away from your slippery flesh, tasting them briefly before shoving his fingers into your mouth. You dare not argue as he looks at you with a determination you only see when you attend his football games. So you suck, beautifully. “Good girl… wanna know something?”

You nod, humming sweetly as you continue to suck and lick his fingers clean.

“Don’t care if it hurts… don’t care if you don’t want it.” he warns you, spreading your legs apart as he climbs in between them. He lines his cock up with your twitching hole, teasing your entrance with his tip. He pushes in and out, softly, barely pressing in at all before he finishes talking. “Your little cunt needs to know who she belongs too.”

And with that, he bullies his cock into you. All of the way to the hilt until he’s snuggled inside of your warm wet walls. He holds your face and doesn’t let you look away as he destroys your virgin cunt. His thick cock batters against your sweet spot repeatedly and he can’t allow you to look away from what he’s doing to you.

Despite your whining, despite your protests.

He wants to see how your face contorts as you’re despoiled by your big brother.

You hate how he rubs your clit so exquisitely, so celestially, while he jackhammers his length into you. He cums with a strained moan and you hate that he somehow forces you to do the same.

Your once pure slot now wholly impure, stained with your elder brother’s sperm as he ejaculates rope after rope into your tremoring walls. And despite being so rough, so uncaring, he gifts you with a romantic, soft kiss.

“Don’t defy me again,” he warns you. “You’re not a virgin anymore, I’ll be rougher with you next time.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[misguidedasgardian]

The price of war, part 2

Part 1

Summary: You are getting accustomed to your new life as the Lady of Winterfell

Warnings: it is implied that reader has a "midsize" body or rather she is plus size, cursing, forced marriage, a bit of humiliation and degradation (just between them both), talks about body shaming (not towards reader), reader is concern her body will change, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy, body changing, SMUT, body worship, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation I think, might miss some warnings but you know me.

Notes: no please this will not become a story, I just felt kinky

This happens a couple of months after the first part, but BEFORE that little flash-forward

This wasn’t easy, not at all

Cregan was not going to support your brother, but he has decided to kept you with him

You married him a couple of days later after he had you, Jace even gave you away to him with a mocking stance after he himself took his liberties with you once in Cregan’s chambers

Only once

Because the wolf didn’t want to share you, he said so himself…

The trace of Jace’s hands vanished quickly from your body, Cregan had made sure of it

Now two months had passed and even though you were the lady of Winterfell, you barely left the castle, you barely did anything…

Your days consisted of rising up with Cregan inside of you, he would fuck you tired, when you’d come to your senses he would be finishing breaking his fast, leaving you with a small feast as he went away to deals with matters of importance to the biggest of the 7 Kingdoms. He wouldn’t tell you what he’d do… you thought because they were preparing for marching…

Against your family.

You’d spend your short days… as winter was coming… sewing, reading northerners history, and chatting with servants maids and people of the castle.

They were becoming… softer towards you.

They were sweet and nice but… there was a secret arrangement between the servants and soldiers of Winterfell… you were not to leave…

Nobody would physically stop you, but those days you dared go outside to the courtyard, you felt the soldiers sting you nervously, how the maids would never leave you alone…

So you’d return inside, it was chilly anyways

At night when Cregan returned, no matter how much you’d try to initiate conversation, he would quiet you with kisses and caresses, he would take you once and again, and those sweet times when you would lay over him, your head in his chest… you try to ask him about his day…

And he would imply, annoyed, that you didn’t need to know it…

He thought you were trying to spy on him

And that made you sad

Three full moons had passed since that fateful day you landed your dragon outside the double walls of Winterfell…

And all that time alone with yourself.. had make you more aware… self aware

Something was off, as you broke your fast… alone… the sole smell of those wild boar sausages made your stomach do somersaults inside of you…

You had been feeling.. heavier lately.. more sensitive, and now you wanted to throw up

Perhaps you were dying

Catched some desease that only southerners in the north could catch…

But oh you knew the truth, deep inside

You weren’t an idiot

The maid catched you with your hands in your sensitive breasts…

The maester was called, and your doubts dissipated

You were with child

Cregan was coming home tonight and you were waiting for him with a small feast and candles lighten

You… we’re conflicted about Cregan, he was gruff, a bit wild, but he never mistreated you, he was gentle and sensual with you, and wether you had liked it or not, he was your husband…

You just wanted to melt the ice around him…

So when he entered his chambers he found you waiting for him with a soft smile

He smirked

Now you were changing tactics… he thought… you were trying to soften him, get him to lower his guards… he found it endearing

“What’s all this my sweet lady wife?”, he asked, you got nervous all of a sudden

“I wanted to tell you something…”

The child you were expecting… it was not Cregan’s first born, he already had a son, Rickon, who he wouldn’t let you meet yet… he had no need of a heir, he already had one… so you’d imagine he didn’t care much, but if he didn’t want more children… he wouldn’t have bed you as much…

You only hope this could bring you both together

“Go ahead”, he encouraged

You knew he didn’t trust you

You had this plan to ease him into it, to start dining, to chat a bit about his day, and then finally you'd tell him about your condition, but his piercing gray eyes were drilling into your nervous stare, and he seemed impatient, so you guessed it was better to just tell him.

"I'm with child", you said with a small smile.

You were happy, you always wanted to have your own family, you did, perhaps it was your father's neglect, or your mother's stern interactions with you all, but you wanted to have children of your own, just so you could love them as much and as best as you could, because you knew you could do better than what you had

Cregan chuckled darkly

"Oh my sweet, innocent little wife, I had noticed already", he purred, with his usual smirk

"Uh?", you muttered, one of your hands in your yet somewhat flat belly

"Your tits are bigger, you get all whiny when I touch them, and your waist and thighs are thicker...", he said with a mocking tone, "So I already noticed, I just wanted you to tell me"

"Oh", you whispered. You didn't see a change in his attitude towards you, perhaps he wasn't extremely happy, maybe this was what he expected from you, so that's why he wasn't particularly excited

You looked down as your nose tickled, a tell tell sign that you were about to start crying

...and your waist and thighs are thicker...

You ahd noticed how your sisters' bodies changed, both of them, Rhaenyra had lost the figure she had, you don't remember her young and thin, but older, as your mother, and thicker, but you did remember Helaena, her body, after having the twins, became softer, rounder... Aegon had made sure to point it out shortly after she gave birth... while in his cups he mocked of how he didn't desire her now with her new body

He made her cry, Aemond had grabbed him and smacked his head against the stone floor of the dinning room until Alicent cried to stop him

"I'm sorry", you muttered, and now he looked confused, "I'm afraid is a thing Targaryen women suffer while carrying a child... they loose their figure..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for", he didn't mean it like that, he thought, alarmed, when he saw you were about to cry.

You thought he had insulted you, when for him was the opposite

He took two long steps and grab you softly

"I can't wait for you to get fat with my child", he growled, you looked up into his eyes to find his pupils enlarged, ready to pounce on you, "more for me to grab, to caress, to kiss..."

"Really?", you asked, suddenly embarrassed, not really believing him

"You don't believe me little one?", he growled, his big hands, even over your dress, surrounded your and grabbed you under your ass cheeks, making you whine in surprise, "you are even more beautiful than the day you arrived here, and each passing week you'll be even more", he leaned in and kissed you then, more like... he devoured you

You completely gave in as he trapped your lips with his, you already know how it went, but this time felt different

Before you even knew it, you heard it, he ripped your dress with one tug, in a second leaving naked to his eyes

"You are so fucking delicious... can't fucking wait till' you are all round for me", he whispered adoringly, made you want to cry but this time from happiness

Still with his hands on the back of your thighs, he managed to get you off the ground and wrapping your legs around his waist, as he took you to the bed

"It seems I wasn't clear enough", he said softly, "It appears that no matter all the times I've bedded you, you still think I'm not attracted to you, that I don't take you seriously as my wife"

He placed you softly to the bed, he accommodated between your thighs. He looked down at you, admired your form, and you wanted to cover your breasts at least, feeling watched so intently...

"ah ah ah", he chided, grabbing yours arms, preventing you from covering, "you are mine to see, remember?", he took his own clothes very quickly, until he was as naked as you were.

He was a magnificent creature, his muscles visible under his beautiful skin, his body thick, his chest ample, hsi arms and legs thick as logs... his... manhood... thick, generous, you had nothing to compare it with, but it was so big... thick as almost your wrist

"You like what you see too, don't you?", that devilish smirk that made your knees tremble

You were feeling more confident, now more desired so you nodded strongly

"Yes husband" you admitted, his smirk grew even more, and his big rough hands grabbed your soft thighs, squishing them, admiring them

"Who does this thighs belong to?", he asked then, looking down at you

"To you", you answered without even thinking

"And who does this belly belong to?", he asked grabbing your sides, squeezing a bit too

"To you", you repeated, a smirk of your own appearing in your mouth, his thick but nimble fingers sneaked between your thighs then, you jumped, buckling your hips when they teased your entrance, his thumb in your clit

"And this cunt?", he teased, "that will bear me many children"

"It's yours", you moaned, spreading your legs even further, asking for more... and he indulged you sinking in another finger, to tease your insides.

"Ah", you almost lost it when he found that special spot inside of you and bullied it relentlessly until you could hear the squelching sounds you were making

"All wet for me too", he teased, "so precious, my beautiful, desired little wife, all mine to breed"

You didn't know why his words turned you on so much but they did.

"Please...", you begged buckling your hips once his fingers abandoned your inside

"Please what?", he teased

"Please... I need you inside me", you begged, not caring anymore, he was your husband, you wanted him and he wanted you, there was no power play, no more no between you.

"I shall indulge you then", he said, pleased, his hands would not leaving your soft thighs, squeezing them, caressing them, his eyes never leaving your form... his pupils enlarged making his eyes seem all black, his teeth... in his mouth hunger for you...

"But firt", it happened fast, he layed on his belly between your thighs and sunk in your cunt

It made you scream the contact of his wet tongue between your tongues, your hand went to his wild hairs, the other to the sheets under you

You herd him, rather, you felt him chuckle between you, making goosebumps blossom in your skin. His rough hands in your thighs, his mouth, his wet large tongue. He devoured you like a man starved.

It was not the first time he'd done it, the first time you felt akward, he could sense it, it was less intense than this, more tense rather...

But not now, when you were coming undone for the second time, and he lapped at your juices like it was water and he was parched

He finally released you when he was satted and your legs were shaking around him.

He ludely wiped his mouth with his naked arm, smiling birghtly at you from above

"Fucking delicious", he but as moaned, "now that you indulged me, love, I'll indulge you"

"Wait... wait i can't"

"Yes you can, just take it my love", he teased, he took his hand wet with your arousal to his cock, stroking it. You whimpered, your senses heightened.

You whimpered again, but you welcomed him spreading your legs wider.

He entered you slowly but steadily, you melted under him as you felt every centimeter of his thick cock.

"Oh gods", you whined your head falling back

"It's not your gods, my love, it's me", he growled, "your loving husband"

He wasted no time in moving, retrieving himself until his very tip, making you whine and then he sank himself back inside you to the hilt, with more purpose this time

"You look so beautiful like this", he teased, "taking my cock, so full of it"

"I like it", its the only thing you were able to mutter, your mind clouded

"Of course you do", his strong arms were placed by the side of your face, you could see his muscles working as he kept himself from crushing you under his weight

His thrusts were deep and strong, you could swear the tip of his cock reached your belly every time.

"You are going to look so beautiful", he said, "more than you already do, but don't think this is going to end", he promised with a dark smile, "it will only get more frequent, I won't be able to keep myself from you", he kept ramming into you

The bed make dangerous sounds under you, threatening to break, you you didn't care

"Are you well?", he had to ask, your eye had rolled almost to the back of your head, you were shaking and moaning without restraint

"Please don't stop", you begged making him chuckled darkly

"I love you", he promised in the middle of his grunts, keeping his rhythm steady, just as you needed.

That did managed to slip in your mind

"You do?", you asked, grabbing onto his arms, looking into his eyes

"I fucking do, from the moment I saw you enter that room I knew, you belonged with me", he promised, as he resumed his thrusts, "I needed to have you, breed you", you moaned, feeling your orgasm building again, "and turn you into my little slut", you whined in protest but he quieted you down with a dark chuckle, "now here you are, desperate for my cock, aren't you?", you nodded quickly, "of course you are you little thing"

"Please", you begged

"Admit it", he teased, fucking you slowly

"I am, I love it", you whispered, giving up so easily, there was no reason to hide it

"Good girl", his hand cradled your cheek, his thumb caressed your cheek

"I love you too", you whispered, he fucked you harder, finally cuming inside of you

That triggered your own climax

You almost lost consciusness

You certainly missed your husband chuckling at you, leaving your form, and cuddling you next to him, after bringing you water

[yolelejiju]

The Longest Walk Home

After a night out partying with Suguru and Satoru, you naively make the choice to let Suguru walk your inebriated self home.

This is an old fic and was posted before on AO3.

TW : NONCON, Somnophilia, Suffocation, minor blood mention (you get a scratch)

CW: dry humping, drinking, public/exhibitionism, situational humiliation, creepy geto

Word Count: 3,890

Disclaimer: I don’t condone noncon acts or taking advantage of people. I just like to write fucked up men.

It’s not that you didn’t like partying, but that you rarely had the time to. So when you finally did get the opportunity, you’d sometimes go a bit overboard.

Tonight, Satoru and Suguru persuaded you to tag along to some random party. Satoru always felt that you were too serious and needed to “take it easy” but he felt that way about everyone and everything. Suguru often sticks up for you when Satoru would tease you. Knowing he would be at the party allowed you to comfortably say yes.

Tonight was going to be a good night.

Checking yourself out in the mirror, you looked back, making sure your dress hugged your curves well. You rarely dressed up, but if you’re going to be seen by dozens of people, you might as well look hot.

You were feeling your outfit and was eager to see if your boys liked it.

You exited the bathroom with an exaggerated model strut. Your anxiety tells you to hit various dramatic poses to make showing off your slightly slutty ensemble less awkward.

Satoru and Suguru both sit on your bed, appreciating your little fashion show.

“So, what do you guys think?” Despite your attempt to hide your nervousness, your voice cracked toward the end of your sentence.

Satoru leaned back into his hands and spread his legs wide with. You could hear his grin stretching across his face. You were expecting a bigger reaction from them, but all you got was… a thumbs up… from Satoru....

That goblin of a man always found a way to get under your skin in a matter of seconds

“A thumbs up? That’s it?!" you blurted out.

“Can you turn around for us real quick?”

You awkwardly followed his order, showing off the back of your dress. You opted to wear a thong so no panty lines would show. You prayed they wouldn’t say anything about it. Your thighs and ass were on the larger side, so too much movement caused the dress to rup up a bit. Despite it's the size, it was like the only piece of “party” clothing you owned.

“I think-" Suguru attempted to break the silence before being interrupted by Satoru

“I love it!”

“As do I” Geto chimed

Making sure this validating moment turned sour quick, of course Satoru followed with

“It makes me want to fuck you”

He doesn’t even flinch as he lets these rancid words tumble from his mouth. Immediately becoming self-conscious by his crude response, you wrapped your arms around your chest and shifted to run back into the bathroom.

You wanted to look nice, but are you sure this is the attention you craved?

Before you get far, you hear Suguru sigh as he stands up.

“You don’t have to change y/n, ignore Satoru” he places his hands on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. He pulls your dress strap into place before giving you a light tap on the side of your face. “Come on, let’s do some shots then head of over”

By the time you got to the party, the shots already had you giggly, annoying, and clingy. Not drunk enough to not be as annoying as Satoru, though.

“Stop being so meaaaan, I’m sorry for earlier,” Gojo whines while pulling you by your waist to his side.

You had been giving him the silent treatment all night. You refuse to acknowledge his antics, so you pull away from him, making your way to the drinks.

You were quick to lose track of how much you drank. What was this? Your third cup? Fourth? Who knows?

All you know is right now, all you want to do is let loose and dance. You squeeze through the crowd and make your way to the dance floor. Moving with no shame, swaying and gyrating your hips in circular motions. It’s when you got lower with your gyrations and you felt a hand press onto the arch of your back.

You immediately stood up straight and got pulled back into the warm embrace of a towering man. You had to crane your neck and arch your back to look up at whose hands were on you. Luckily, you were greeted by none other than your crescent eyed, raven-haired friend Suguru.

“You really seem to be enjoying yourself!” the warmth of his breath tickling your ears.

“Mmmm, I am” your words slurred and your giggles were back. You felt him pull you even closer. He felt so welcoming, and so warm, his arms so strong. He nuzzled the crevice of your neck, letting his hair cascade over your collar bones and his breath tickles you. All the stimulations makes you squirm in his arm and your giggles return.

“Stop tickling me” you whine as he sways your body with his from side to side

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to tickle you” as he squeezes you again and gives your neck a light kiss.

“Let me dance with you,” he whispers into your ear before landing another kiss on your neck.

Your chest rises as you let out a heavy exhale. The reaction of your body tells says to keep going. He peppers the kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. There are marks along your neckline after he sucks. He presses his pelvis against you, feeding into his desperation for any friction. You're barely in control of your dancing. It's him causing your hips to sway.

He’s rolling his hips into you from behind as his hands rub up and down your sides, stopping his hand at your ribs just under your breast. The room feels so much hotter with his hands on your body.

You could feel his erection grow as your dancing progressed. With one hand gripping your waist, he uses the other to tilt your chin. Bringing his face to yours for a deep kiss. His lips smell like alcohol, but taste so sweet.

You let out a small yelp when he harshly bites, then sucks your lower lip. Your responses are pushing to keep going further and further.

One of his hands finally leaves your waist and cups your breast. He massages your breast, squeezing harshly with his entire palm. H just rolling into you anymore, he’s now humping you shamelessly in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

With each thrust, his tent in his pants pushes your dress up further and further. A slight brush burn forming on the skin cheeks from the coarseness of his jeans. He hoicks you away from him and spins your body so that it could press your chest up against his. His hands creep up the back of your thighs and sneakily slide under the curve of your ass his thumbs rubs small circles as he lifts you up to kiss you more easily. You’re on the tips of your toes with your arms wrapped around his neck.

The two of you desperately and shamelessly making out despite the discomfort of the surrounding people. As soon as he felt your tongue enter his mouth, the strings that were preventing him from fucking you on that dance floor were breaking. He knows he’s getting too excited, but that doesn’t stop him from using both his hands to firmly grope, then spread your ass cheeks.

He slides his hand down further, hoping to feel the wetness between your legs. With his palm pressing into the lower part of your ass, his finger glides past your perineum, then slides between your folds.

Before you could fully enjoy the first circle his finger drew on your clit, someone threw you back into reality.

“Your asshole was showing, so I wanted to save whatever decency you had left”

It’s Nanami’s hand.

He looks at you with a face mixed with exhaustion and disdain. Geto releases his grip from your bottom and pulls his face back to make eye contact with Kento, who so rudely just cockblocked him. He cleans off his fingers before giving Nanami his faux apology.

“ Sorry Kento, we’ll be sure not to have too much fun next time”

Nanami rolled his eyes, then disappeared back into the crowd to presumably track down Gojo. His words rock in your mind and you felt an onset of shame and embarrassment.

You felt so ashamed of letting yourself get felt up in front of dozens of people, let alone many of them being your friends. You couldn’t allow yourself to think too much, so you found your way back to the jungle juice and downed some more.

“You alright? You’re gonna get yourself sick” You look into the annoyingly beautiful blue eyes of your lease favorite member of the three blind mice, Satoru Gojo.

A man who seems to be very where.

You let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine” your voice shakes a bit as you tell that lie

“I saw you and Suguru on the dance floor, seemed like the two of you were….getting a frisky”

You don’t even have to turn to look at Gojo to know he has the biggest shit-eating grin.

“Oh, my god, shut up Satoru”

You pivot to look at Satoru you notice that there’s two of him. Your legs aren’t working as hard anymore to keep you up, leaving you in a losing battle with maintaining your balance.

“You seem pretty fucked up, so let’s get you outta here” Gojo can see you’re way too drunk. At this rate, you’re going to end up somewhere drowning in your own vomit.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates you through the crowd. As he guided you through the crowd, he spotted a multiple attractive girls. He was originally planning to hand you off to Nanami but, so he felt so relieved when he spotted Suguru.

“Keep an eye on her, I can’t get my turn with her if she’s dead” Gojo pushes you it Geto's chest before running off to catch the attention of some innocent girls.

You fall into Suguru's warmth once again, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling yourself between his pectorals. A big, childlike smile extends across your face.

“I always wanted to do this”

He can’t get over just how cute you can be. Smiling warmly, he wraps his arms around you.

“Come on y/n let’s get outta here”

……………………………………………………………………………………

Suguru was a strong man, but with both of you under the influence, getting you home was a bitch.

You were far worse off than him. Couldn’t walk straight, let alone stand up on your own. You put almost all of your weight onto him when you clung to his arm.

When he arrives at your apartment complex and realized the elevator was down, he felt so defeated. They warned it would take about 3 hours to fix.

There was no way he was going to walk up 9 flights of stairs this drunk.

Well...

Maybe, maybe if the girl he’s in love with has herself drunk out of her mind, grappling and feeling all over him. Then he would consider. He would do anything for you and maybe even to you.

Three of the nine flights of stairs had you both beat, but it wasn’t like the two of you could sleep outside on some stairs.

It was cold and dark in the stairwell. The cement was unforgiving. The worst best part was there was no surveillance. This had been an ongoing issue. The cameras at your complex worked half the time and there were none in this stairwell.

Geto noticed on the fifth flight of stairs that you were almost completely out of strength. After the first two flights, you went from walking to crawling on all fours like an infant.

He walked behind you as you crept your way up the stairs, unknowingly showcasing your dampened panties and whole ass. Your dress has hiked itself up to your waist and your breast spilled out of your top.

God, you already got him half hard in the club, but the version of you he is seeing right now has him about to cum at any moment.

You looked so slutty with your swollen lip, smudged lipstick, and streaking mascara.

When you tried to stand up again to walk upright, you slipped off the edge of a stair and fell backward into him.

“I’m so-so sorry sir” your slurred apology was adorable.

“It’s fine, just get back up, and let’s keep walking”

He held you against his chest. His arms were both wrapped around your midriff and your back pressed against his chest. He told himself he did this to prevent you from falling forward or backward.

This had nothing to do with the extra friction his dick was getting with every single step, every squirm of yours. From time to time, he’d press his erection into the back of you to see if you would give him any reaction. You never complained, only letting out a small whine.

Now that he knew he could get away with that, he wanted to go a step further. He slid one of his hands up your chest and groped your breast, lightly.

You maintained the same reaction. It honestly didn’t seem like you even knew anything was happening.

After some time, he realized you weren’t even trying to walk anymore. He heard a low snore from you before he realized passed out in his arms.

He shook you to see if you’d wake. The most you gave him was your lashes fluttering a bit. He called your name and got no response from you.

He decided he’d let you down east, slowly dropping your body down onto the landing of the eighth floor. Your upper body pressed against the landing whilst your lower body hung off the side lying on top of the stairs.

You were fast asleep. As if your face wasn’t pressed against cold concrete and your body was exposed to the harsh weather.

Kneeling beside your face, he brushed his hand against your cheek, admiring your precious resting features. He leans down and gives a gentle kiss on your temple.

Suguru scans the area once more to be sure there’s no camera around. He shuffles back a few stairs to look at your cunt at the best angle. He presses his face between your legs, taking in your scent and giving kitten licks to your pussy.

He grips your ass cheeks with both hands. Squeezing, spreading, and jiggling the cheeks independently. He pulls back from your body to take care of his painful erection. Pushing his pants just below his balls, letting his heavy dick slap against his stomach. Shifted to put his legs at your sides. Straddling your upper legs. He slid your underwear down. Admiring the string of your arousal connecting your pussy to the gusset.

To be sure you were still sleeping peacefully, he checked again. He looked back.

Going with his first senses, he pressed his tip into your entrance. His dick wouldn’t go in. He would try to push into your pussy just for it to slide up against your anus. He considered, but he’d rather save that for the next time you get shitfaced drunk. Your pretty asshole was seducing him, but he needed to feel the grip of your cunt first.

Hoping to stretch you out, he forced his finger inside of you. Pushing just his middle finger in and out of your hole. Taking his hand out briefly to taste you before shoving both his pointer and middle finger in this time. You let out a low whine and it went straight to his dick.

He didn’t know if this groan was from pleasure or pain, but he knew just your voice could get him off.

Reminiscing on the times you’d call, he’d have himself on mute pretending to listen to your complaints on life when really he was getting off, fantasizing about you using your mouth to suck him off instead of bitching about work. You didn't even care about how short his responses were. You would drone on and on. He would cum all over his abdomen because of your daily rants.

He waited a long to get a taste of your pussy. Pulling out his fingers and pressing his tip against your entrance again. He hesitated just as he watched the mushroom head spread your lips. He thought about the times you’d go out on dates with various guys.

Who else got to use your pussy?

Letting his frustrations boil over, he pulled his hips back and shoved in his full length in one stroke.

You didn’t wake up, but your brows furrowed, your nose scrunched, and a whimper escaped your lips.

You felt so fucking good to him. Your pussy felt like it was made for him as it sucked in his enormous cock.

Had you known how wet your unconscious body got for him, you would’ve been ashamed. Were you truly so desperate to be fucked that your pussy juices were dripping down your legs with basic teasing?

His thrust started slow yet deep. He didn’t want your knees or face to get scraped on the concrete, so he held himself back as long as he could.

He almost forgot that he was fucking you in a public space. He didn’t have time to drag it out. Before anyone could catch him violating a drunk girl's body, he needed to cum.

He l picked up the pace, gripping your waist more tightly with his left hand as he pulled your hips into him. His right hand crawled under your body to grip your right breast. His knuckle scraped along the concrete as he fucked into you from behind. Your body would slide forward with his thrust, but he’d use his grip on your right breast to pull you right back into him.

As he fucked into you, your pussy sang beautifully for him. He’d never forget every squelch it produced, and how the lips spread when he pushed himself in, seeing how your little pussy struggled to accommodate his size.

The brush of his hands gripping your breast and rubbing against the concrete was becoming too much. He snatched his hand back, wiping off some of the blood onto the back of your dress before pushing it up a bit more so he could get a better view of the fat on your back shaking when he fucked into you.

He spread your ass cheek with his right hand. Adoring the sight of your asshole. He shoved his thumb inside, sinking his thumb in when he pulled his hips away from you and pulling his thumb out when he pushed his dick deep inside of you.

You let out low moans after he began playing with your asshole.

He started thrusting faster as your body reacted to the new stimulation. Your pussy started hugging him tighter. The squelches got louder. Anyone who passed by in the halls would hear the slapping of your skin connecting. Part of him almost hoped someone would catch him. So they’d know that he owns your pussy.

Your pussy belonged to Suguru Geto

He forgot about the pain you were enduring from the rubbing of your skin and the concrete until felt your core grip him differently.

The breaking of your flesh on the concrete stairs woke you up. The burn of your lower body and the broken skin was slowly bringing you back to sobriety.

He was too close to stop now, but he couldn’t have you wake up and realize your so-called best friend was fucking you in an apartment stairwell. His thrust slowed when he saw your hands move

Out of panic, he pulled your dress up, locking in your arms and blocking your view. You could only see the darkness of your clothing. Nothing behind or in front of you. You did not know where you were and barely understood what was happening.

Your breast swayed as your body twisted and squirmed as you tried to escape the dress. The scars from your brush burn speckled with blood.

He grabbed the opening of the dress and pulled it back as he would your hair. One hand held the bottom part of your dress that had gathered at your shoulders down and the other pulled on the opening closest to your head. He started fucking so deeply that his cock repeatedly kissed your cervix. Taking full advantage of the dress's stretchiness. He yanked it back further and harder, causing your back and neck to arch painfully. Because of the amount of elasticity of the dress and the flexibility of your body, he could hold both ends of the dress in one hand.

Your pussy started squeezing him even tighter as your panic doubled. You couldn’t see, and with the strength he was using to pull back on your dress, you could barely breathe. Every inhale just sucked the cloth into your dry mouth and the band of the dress at the base of your neck was crushing your windpipe.

This is the best pussy he’s ever felt. He just knew you were the one for him. No other cunt gripped, pulsed, sucked, and was wet as yours.

His orgasm was coming sooner than he wanted it to as he heard your moans get louder. He felt your pussy pulse around him and suck him in. Your own body betrayed you when he changed the angle of his hips. Thrusting up into your g-spot. His abuse of the spongy sensitive area sent you over the edge. Your legs elongated and shook as your orgasm shot through you. You felt a burst of liquid shoot out of you as your vision no longer saw the darkness of your dress but the light of your orgasm.

The mix of his now wet abdomen with your moans, coughing and choking sent him over the edge. His last thrust was hard, sending your whole body forward, stealing the last of your wind, arching your back until he heard pops.

He plowed his dick deep into your cunt, emptying his balls. A guttural noise left his throat as he did his last thrust, fucking his seed deep into you.

He felt remorseful and felt even worse when he pushed your head forward, your covered face flat to the ground as he pulled his softening cock out and tucked himself with one hand back into his pants.

Kissing you on the back of your head as the best aftercare he could offer at the moment. Afterward, he knotted the excess cloth off the end of the dress, buying as much time as possible before you could see again.

He knew it would take your wasted ass a decent amount of time to get out, so his anxieties about getting caught subsided.

He took a few steps back to snap a shot of your used cum stuffed pussy. Considering if he should brag about his night to Gojo or keep this all to himself.

Suguru swiftly exited the building, running down two flights of stairs to the hallways of the apartment, just to exit through the now working elevator.

After all that transpired, your body was tired, and you passed back out. At sunrise, you awoke to the rays warming your torso and a scarred-up body.

[neobomb]

give into things i (dont) want to [lee haechan]

bully! (yandere) stalker! Haechan x innocent! church girl!reader Part of the give into things i (dont) want to series. Word Count: 1.2k Inspired by this drabble made by @neocentral Warnings: mature themes, toxic/inappropriate behaviour, stalking, forcing??, slut shaming, masterbation, choking & breathplay?, hair pulling, manhandling, MDNI, there will be smut in part 2 [Pt.1] [Pt.2] Summery: bully!Haechan is secretly in love with you and loves pulling your hair as it feeds into his perverted fantasies. btw, donghyuk is haechan's real name © 2023 @neobomb. Unauthorized copying, translation, manipulation, or alteration of this work is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

Haechan is hopelessly in love with you, a secret he vowed to take to his grave. However, his misguided attempts to gain your attention had spiraled out of control. What began as innocent teasing morphed into malicious intent. He has gone too far now. There is no going back. Over the years, he subjected you to relentless bullying: mocking you with derogatory names, spreading false rumors, and cornering you against his locker to threaten you. For as long as he had known you, he couldn't recall a single moment when he had treated you kindly.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to..” he loves hearing you plead for forgiveness. Tears welled in your eyes as he pulled your long luscious hair, your eyes looking up at him with an innocence he couldn't ignore. 

“A slut like you should know when to keep their dirty mouth shut.” he says, looking down on you. You looked like a mess. A hot mess. You’re on the floor, tears running down your face as heavy breaths left your lungs after the assault. When he goes home, he would picture this exact image of you in his head while mercilessly stroking his dick. He would imagine ramming his dick into you while pulling your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze. It was the primary reason he enjoyed pulling your hair during confrontations.

Everyday, he would follow you home after school. It didn't appear unusual since his house was only a few blocks away from yours. You never thought much of it. Each time you entered the safety of your home, you assumed he would just keep going until he reached his own. But oh…how you were wrong. 

Haechan would always linger around you at a close proximity. Your bedroom is on the first floor, facing a large oak tree, his favorite hiding spot. Peeking through the leaves, he watches you through your bedroom window. You’re sitting on your bed, reading a book. You look so peaceful. So beautiful. Whenever your hair gets in the way, you tug the strands behind your ears, revealing more of your neckline each time. Occasionally, he would take photographs of you as you undress, showing it to his friends as "evidence" of your supposed slutty behavior, but primarily keeping them for his own twisted satisfaction later on.

Haechan knows better than everyone that you’re anything but a slut. He doesn't even think that you have had your first kiss yet. Over the past year, he's spread rumors about you sleeping with countless older men, intending to dissuade other boys from showing interest in you. In truth, you're a devout church-goer with a deep love for immersing yourself in books and fiction. But still, he loves calling you a slut. The humiliation that marks your face each time he calls you those names does wonders to him. 

—

An intense heatwave has gripped the town. The scorching sun felt like it was searing your skin as you used a book to fan yourself. This summer break, aside from working at your cousin Kun's restaurant, you hadn't accomplished much. During your shifts, Haechan would consistently appear, each time accompanied by a different girl. What a manwhore, you thought to yourself. 

“If you feel as though he is bothering you, I can take his table. Just slice the salmon for me and keep an eye on the fryer.” Jaehyun offers, extending his knife to you. As your fingers lightly touch, a swarm of butterflies stirs in your stomach. You've harbored feelings for Jaehyun for some time. He's tall, amiable, strikingly handsome, and an exceptional chef. He embodied everything you desired in a boyfriend. Though only a few years older, he appeared to have everything figured out. 

From a distance, Haechan observed your exchanges with Jaehyun. Not paying any attention to the girl he was on a date with. He took note of your hearty laughter at Jaehyun's jokes and the way your face flushed crimson with every compliment he paid you. Saying Haechan was jealous would be a severe understatement; he was profoundly possessive over you. 

—

The community you live in organized a grand gathering, and by chance, your parents had offered to host the entire event in your backyard. Such events were never to your liking as you would panic at the social interactions. Worst of all, lee donghyuk was present at the event. You seek refuge in your room, after hours on end, having to endure awkward conversations. 

“Why did you cut your hair, Y/N?” Haechan stands in front of your bedroom door. He stared at you intensely, noticing how your hair falls right at your shoulder, revealing your pronounced collarbones. He suspected you might have cut your hair based on the conversation he had overheard between you and Jaehyun a few days ago, where Jaehyun expressed his preference for girls with shoulder length hair. It seemed evident to him that you were attempting to align with Jaehyun's preferences, which angered him greatly. “Yes, why do you care?” 

“Is it because you can’t just grab onto it as easily anymore?” The words you just uttered struck him with the realization that you might have uncovered his dirty little secret. He restrained himself from showing any emotion. Keep it cool. Keep it cool. You’re probably just being paranoid, he tells himself “Huh, What a big mouth. Why would you say that?”

“You obviously have something against me. I mean, every day at school, you pull my hair and shove me against your locker," you state, setting your book on the surface of your nightstand. He steps into your room, wearing a deeply unsettling grin, and closes the door behind him.

"Why do you think you can just come into my room, DongHyuck?" You ask sharply, rising swiftly from your bed. You urgently sought an escape from the situation, but Haechan's imposing stature blocked your exit.

“You’re not going anywhere, Y/N.” He gets a rough grip around your neck, pushing you into your bookshelf. Once again, he noticed the familiar panic in your eyes, a sight he disturbingly loves.

“You think I won’t be able to man-handle you just because you cut your hair short. Well, think again.” His grip around your neck gets tighter and tighter. You were no longer registering his words. His words became a distant echo as your mind retreated to a different realm. He has never grabbed onto your neck before. It was certainly a new sight for him, a sight he was going crazy for. The way your hands grab onto his wrist, desperately trying to ease his grip, and the way your eyes almost fall shut by the intensity of the situation. It all turned him on so much. 

He gradually loosened his hold on your neck, observing as you gasped for air and color that returned to your face. As you caught your breath, Haechan abruptly pressed his lips against yours. The fervor of the kiss was overwhelming. He bit down on your lips with force, leaving a faint metallic taste behind. His patience has ultimately run out.

[creedslove]

BETRAYED - PART TWO

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, Pedro being a dick

A/N: I'm so sorry but I can't manually tag anyone on the post, the app won't just let me do it!

1.6k words

PART ONE

When Pedro woke up in the next morning he knew he had screwed up. He knew he had screwed up bad. Though he barely remembered what had happened, he just had a gut feeling he'd screwed up. His head was pounding from his excessive drinking the night before and his back was sore, he groaned in pain as he shifted in bed and flashes of what happened the night before crossed his mind.

Clothes flying around the room, scattered on the floor, sloppy kisses, dirty touches, he had no idea how he'd look at you and tell you your night together didn't mean what you probably thought it meant. He swore to himself he wouldn't touch you, no matter how bad either of you might want, he knew he couldn't lead you into thinking you had a chance of anything romantically happening between you both. He sighed heavily before turning in bed and being shocked to see you were not the woman who was lying next to him.

If he hadn't slept with you, then, who did he sleep with? What was her name? He had no idea. The man cursed under his breath as the stranger slept deeply in his bed and grabbed his phone. He felt his heart pounding with anxiety, worried he'd done something embarrassing in public, but luckily, he hadn't. He was still the internet's sweetheart.

He let out a sigh of relief and managed to get out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom and getting under the shower so he would clear his mind. The cold water poured over his naked body as he rested his forehead against the wall tile, he was definitely too old for that routine or partying, drinking, fucking. He shook his head as he replayed everything that happened the night before, from getting styled, to taking you to the gala, dancing with you, having a few drinks and then leaving with another woman. She got him horny, he was a man after all, he was single and he was free to be with whoever he wanted, so he decided to end his night with some female company. What was so bad about that?

But Pedro knew what was that bad about that. He simply ditched you for someone else, he already knew about your feelings and even if the two of you pretended it didn't exist, he was conscious enough to know it wasn't polite to make you go back home on your own because he'd found something better to do. As his towel hung wrapped around his waist, he checked his phone again, it explained why you hadn't replied to any of his drunk texts. He knew he'd play it cool and let you take your time.

Exiting the shower, he found the naked stranger in his bed, and god, she was gorgeous. She smiled at him, noticing how his gaze burned her skin. Pedro knew there was nothing he could do for Y/N at that moment, so he just shrugged and jumped into bed again, letting the woman tangle her legs around his body.

•••

You had a rough day as everything that happened insisted on being on your mind. No matter how much you tried to forget it or let it go, you were brought back to that night every time you closed your eyes. Your face still burned with the shame and humiliation you felt. Even if no one seemed to have noticed, you never felt so exposed to Pedro before. And you also couldn't believe the nerve he had to drunk text you during the night, he repeatedly asked if you'd arrived home safely, as if he cared about it at all. If he did, he wouldn't have told you to take an Uber home while he drove that skank back to his house, undressed her and fucked her all night long. You honestly felt sick to your stomach just to imagine him grabbing his phone to send you a text while she probably had her mouth or other holes busy with him. At that moment, you wanted to erase Pedro from your existence, and hoped he would give you a break, not wanting to face him at all.

However, it took him a week before he was again after you, he texted you at random hours during the day, always asking you if you wanted to facetime or hangout. It baffled you how he simply acted as if nothing happened and was unable to give you space when you clearly didn't want to be social. You always declined his invitations and though you still replied to his messages, anyone who had access to them could tell you were being nothing but polite and distant from him, because that's exactly what you wanted: distance.

Pedro on the other hand, just couldn't accept that, you out of every single person in the world would never do that, I mean, stay away from him? Not a chance. He knew you'd rather be by his side as a friend than be without him, and he wasn't afraid to admit he was that selfish. He didn't want you out of his life, even if he couldn't give you what you wanted, but at the same time, he couldn't sacrifice his freedom like meeting women because of you. So once again, he told himself he would accept your decision of having a break for him, but he wasn't going down without a fight.

Showing up at your job at the end of your shift was the solution he came up with. In his mind, it was the perfect plan. There were enough people so you'd be too shy to tell him off, but not crowded enough to drag everyone's attention.

You were just finishing your tasks with some of your co-workers when you saw him standing there. He was in his regular sweater, glasses on and a messy hair that showed he'd been out in the wind. He smiled sweetly, his warm brown eyes scanning the tight jeans you were and the high knee boots had on.

"Hey Y/N, can we talk?" He asked as if nothing had happened, he stared into your eyes with his puppy ones and slowly took both hands to your face, cupping your cheeks and stroking them gently.

"I missed you, mi cariño" he mixed the two languages knowing damn well how that made you weak at the knees.

You're heart raced and your breathing wasn't steady anymore, the butterflies got all agitated and you bit your lips, before reminding you it wasn't real, it was just one of his tricks, how Pedro learned to read you over time and used this on his favor.

You gently held his hands and took them away from your face "I'm sorry, I was busy" you gave him a lame excuse and he knew it was bullshit, but still, didn't care at all.

"It's okay, princesa, I wanted to see you… wanna go for a coffee?" He asked sweetly and frowned softly at your refusal. You had never said no to going out with him.

"I really can't, Pedro, I'm still in the middle of tasks here and I can't leave early" you half lied as you were indeed very busy but if it was any other occasion, you would always make time to him.

He sighed and took a step back "alright hermosa, just… stop by Saturday night, I'll have some friends over, it's our group and I'd really like to see you there, you know it is never the same without you" he said in a sweet way and said goodbye, leaning towards you and pecking your cheeks, dangerously close to your lips.

•••

Saturday arrived faster than you could tell, if you were excited about the dinner party the week would've probably dragged itself, but as you were still feeling awkward, in a blink of an eye, you found yourself checking your makeup in front of the mirror. You didn't take long to get dressed and knew you should get going, so you wouldn't be too late. You decided to take an Uber instead of driving, unsure of how much you'd drink. When your screen lit up, the first thing that drew your attention was the headline to some high profile gossip website that said

'Pedro Pascal seen with mysterious beauty blonde as he's out'

You felt your hand shake lightly and your whole body heat up again, clicking on the link and being redirected to the article that said he was spotted a couple of weeks ago walking down the street with the woman whom you immediately recognized as the skank from the party. The text said some fan recognized him and snapped a picture of the two while out for lunch but it only went viral on TikTok two weeks later.

You could see she was still wearing the same dress she did at the party which was an obvious proof they'd slept together and she didn't have spare clothes to change while he took her out for lunch.

He took her out for lunch. The son of a bitch had told you to go home by Uber late at night knowing you had drunk considerably and that could make you an easy target in case the driver or anyone else had bad intentions. And yet, he made sure to take her out for lunch and drive her home like a real gentleman.

You couldn't believe what you were reading, as angry tears blurred your eyes, you threw your phone onto the bed and began taking off your clothes. To hell with Pedro and his dinner party. Judging by his behavior in the last few weeks, there was a huge chance the skank would be there as well, and you would not humiliate yourself like that, not for him, not for anybody.

"Fuck you Pascal" you mumbled under your breath as you removed your makeup and turned off your phone.

-----

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed it!!! Part 3 is coming soon!

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 10. Something more than immediate joy

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu @wo-ming-bai @torossosebs

People always want something more than immediate joy or that deeper sense called happiness. This is one of the secrets by which we shape the fulfilment of our designs. — Leadership Secrets of the Bene Gesserit

When she was done tending to Feyd she tried to start her morning but found she hardly could. Still a little dizzy after the night before, and weak and sore, she thought to take a shower but remembered that they were on Arrakis. She’d have a better chance of trying to bathe in gold. Water was more available in the palace than among the natives, even in Arrakeen, but they were all subject to restrictions. All of them except the ruling class. Feyd offered to let her wash with him when he saw how dour and upset she was as she scrubbed her body clean with a rough cloth — a suggestion he made with ample delight — but she wasn’t ready to be so close to him again.

“Are you sure?” he asked, cocking a smooth brow.

“Yes, thank you,” she muttered, feeling bitter that he even offered. She would not find herself in his debt, not for physical comforts at least.

Her mind was still reeling from his viciousness and love throughout the morning. He had been merciless in taking her, and to her shame, he noticed how much she enjoyed it by the end. She was never supposed to enjoy it… At least that wasn’t her plan. It terrified her to think that maybe it was his. And then, as if she hadn’t been confused enough, he’d melted before her like a globe of snow when she sat in his lap to paint his teeth all black. She was quite relieved when he left her for the day, but not before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. His lips felt softer than she thought they should.

Meditation was ruined as well. All her thoughts kept turning to him, to herself, to what they’d done together, to how she submitted. It was all going according to her plan for survival — he liked her and he seemed to like her more and more each day. She should have been happy because with each humiliation she was closer to getting off that planet, maybe even rejoining her Sisters. So why wasn’t she happy…? Why wasn’t she even satisfied with herself and instead felt a disappointment? Every way she turned her thoughts she met a wall built by herself and which she was too scared to pull back down. It was a decision her mind almost made for her that she should wander off outside the palace and into Arrakeen. She knew the lay of the city and could navigate it even blind if need be, even though she hadn’t been there more than a dozen times throughout her stay. I have to be somewhere that doesn’t remind me of him, she thought, justifying it to herself.

The streets of Arrakeen had the quality of being loud and quiet all at once. The stilted Fremen speech had adapted among the city dwellers to something more descriptive, more precise, bordering on rude and yet eminently practical. Low voices carried far between those square stone buildings and the noise of animals and pottery filled in all the empty spaces. The market drew her in by being the noisiest, perfect for forgetting and losing herself in a crowd. With her black robes and the veil around her head, she could pass through unseen, without drawing any glances. Raw artistry surrounded her from every side, simple things with quite elaborate designs, ordinary objects vastly different from anything found now within the Harkonnen-held palace but frail, and temporary, and weak. Nothing caught her eye, but nothing had to. She wasn’t there to buy. But she stopped when something glinted on a seller’s table that snagged on her memory and pulled her in. As she approached, a shadow swathed in black among a sea of grey and brown, she realised why the little broken items were so familiar to her. They were scraps from when the Atreides were there. Leftovers picked up after the sacking… Stolen, perhaps, but certainly with no owner now.

“What does the lady want?” the merchant asked in his weak, raspy voice. Only his eyes were visible, bright blue from between threadbare rags.

“Nothing,” she said, still looking at his wares.

“Cheap,” he said. “One Solari for ten.”

“No, thank you.”

“Twenty.”

“I don’t barter,” she said, shocking him into silence.

Still, she stayed and looked, her eyes traversing the items on their own as if her mind had her own design. Memories of her past life came to her just from the gentle glint of a spoon, its handle beautifully ornate with little silver waves, or a hair comb with two teeth missing, or a half-filled bottle of perfume. She wondered if she’d ever see such things again, items small and beautiful just for beauty’s sake, bright and coloured and loved. She was sick already of Harkonnen black... But these thoughts were unworthy of a Bene Gesserit, and she pulled herself away before the merchant could tempt her into spending her paltry sum of money on a useless thing. And she was in mid-step when she noticed from the corner of her eye a square and greenish thing that had often appeared in her nightmares as a girl. She stopped, head turned toward it to confirm what she was seeing, and remained transfixed.

It was difficult to barter its price down once the merchant saw her interest, and she was reluctant to use the Voice over so small a thing, but she bought it in the end for a fraction of what it was worth, even though it missed its poisoned needle. It was a Gom Jabbar, or more specifically the box that went with one. Impossible to say if it belonged to the ladies Jessica or Margot or to someone else, but it was hers now, and she walked back to the palace with a new spring in her step.

Feyd had asked for one of these at their first meeting, and as she got to know him she learned just how much he enjoyed pain. Their first night together with her between his legs came back as a dizzying flash in her mind and made her blush. She could return to that again now, return to that sense of power over him — and make him happy too. A part of her was also privately excited to see just how he would react. How long he’d last.

She hid herself in some small room upon arriving, far away from the shouting and the crying that came along with the Harkonnen household. And there in dark and silence she took it out, placed her hand in it, and felt the still familiar burn. She had to try it out before she presented it to him. Find out if it worked. Find out if it hurt just as badly as it used to. This is just what he needs, she thought, and perhaps what I need too. The agony ran up her arm, singing her nerves, setting her skin on fire, and settled like a swarm of butterflies at the back of her head. Her body sang with the instinct to pull her hand away — and she could, she could at any time. There was no Gom Jabbar at her neck, no Reverend Mother there. But there was something about knowing that it wasn’t real, something about knowing that she was safe while doing it that made her addicted to the feeling. Her eyes stung, her heart stuttered, and a cry fought its way out of her throat. It was decadent, being able to cry out with no one there to hear it…

When she greeted Feyd that evening in his quarters, he paused at the sight of her. The expression on his face gave her perverted joy.

“Hello,” he greeted gently, slowly letting the doors behind him close. “Good day?”

“You can say that…”

“You’re smiling. Glowing, even…”

She sat upon the windowsill, leaning in a sapless pose against the wall, and watched him as he watched her while he moved across the room. He took his blades out first and placed them on the table, as he often did, and started to undo his armour.

“Let me help you,” she said.

“I thought that sort of thing was beneath you,” he murmured as she came close.

She smiled as she began to pull the straps away, first at his arms and then his chest and then around his waist.

“I only do it,” she whispered, “because I want to.”

“And why do you want to?”

“Do you check your spice for the perfect shade of orange?”

“I have it checked for poison.”

“No you don’t,” she laughed.

“No, I don’t, but perhaps I should.”

She pulled his armour away, smiling — because she knew he was more delighted than suspicious.

“Sit on the bed,” she said softly, brushing a hand across his naked shoulder. “I have a gift for you.”

He seemed to choke on hearing that and a thought like a cloud passed over his mind. She wondered if he had any bad associations with gifts — because he seemed to — but she was in far too good a mood to worry about that now. Feyd listened to her and sat down, and waited with a knot in his throat for her to come back to him in her veil of vaporous black. She didn’t show him what she had until she was right in front of him, kneeling, with the little thing she had hidden in a drawer by the bed.

“You asked me for something on the day we met. Something I can give to you now. Something I think you deserve…”

“You’re awfully vague for someone so happy,” he said archly, leaning back on his strong arms. “Well? What is it?”

“If you’ll be petulant, you’ll get nothing.”

“You better give it to me before I turn petulant, then.”

“Incorrigible…” she muttered.

Feyd didn’t seem too sure he would enjoy her gift until she unfolded the towel she’d hidden it in and revealed the small metal box. He recognised it immediately and his face turned from a frown to a smile to a look of wonder.

“I thought you said —”

“I only found it today. Left by the Atreides, I believe.”

She tilted her head slightly as she looked up at him. He was like a child getting a long-desired birthday present, and she couldn’t help but want to coddle him. And what a dour present it was… To anyone other than a Harkonnen it would’ve been an insult, even an ill omen, or at least exceedingly strange. Not to Feyd though. He reached out for it, his pale hand suspended in the air for just a moment, then pulled away.

“Does it still work?”

“It does.”

“How do you know?” he asked, then paused to look into her eyes. “You tried it,” he noted with a grin. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Not as much as you seem to,” she smirked. “In fact, not much at all. It brings back… uneasy memories.”

“We’ll make new memories together, then.”

How sweet he is, she thought, when he gets what he wants.

She placed it on the bed beside him with her hand above and looked into his eyes. He’d done it before. He knew what followed. He swallowed the knot in his throat and took in deep breaths, steeling himself the way he would before a fight in the arena.

“Do you want to put your hand inside it?” she whispered.

Feyd kept his gaze fixed on the little thing as if he expected a scorpion to crawl out of its mouth. If he were capable of it, he would have blushed.

“How long do I have to keep it inside?” he asked in a rough low voice.

She reached into her dress again, moving as slowly as a snake, and then, in a motion that was deceivingly calm as if she did it every night, she took out a slender blade.

“As long as you can,” she said, holding the edge against his stomach. “That’s the game.”

Feyd’s eyes moved to the knife against his skin and then he looked at her and giggled. He placed his hand in the box and licked his lips, his pale eyes staring her down from above.

[2kiran]

◜ᐢ..ᐢ◝ ᶻz ➜ din didn’t know how it lead to this. you were his bounty and you made him chase after you then, eventually, he got to you. he was annoyed at you for being so stubborn when he caught you. but now? he’s completely at your mercy.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𖤐 pairing ☆ din djarin x dom!m!reader ˖ ࣪ ˖ cw ıllı bonus. helmetless!din. thigh riding. use of sir. blowjob [ giving ]. orgasm delay/denial. praise + degradation. ⪩⭔⪨

At first, a plan was quick to formulate in your mind. Intent on escaping his harsh grip as you were seconds away from boarding the Razor Crest. Unfortunately, you didn’t succeed. The Mandalorian’s reaction time was better than you expected. What was happening now, though, completely makes up for your earlier humiliation.

The feared and brutal bounty hunter, was on your thigh with his face bare, reduced to a whimpering mess.

“Shame that you have to wear that helmet of yours all the time. ‘s a waste for your pretty face.” He seemed utterly helpless, eyes pleading to you to end this enjoyable torture.

You guided him on your thigh, so slowly that he got quickly frustrated. “Faster...ah!” You sped up your movements briefly, only to slow it down again, earning a whine from him. “So impatient. We’ve only begun.” He shook his head, “Sir, I ca–can’t. I need—” You interrupted him, “You can. Be thankful that I haven’t already left after you’ve embarrassed me.” He moaned lowly as he rocked against you just right, “I’m sorry, f-fuck.” His hands rose, gripping your shoulders for dear life.

“It’s too late for that.” You lifted him away from your thigh, making Mando let out a sob. You put him on the crate you were sitting on and you pulled down his boxers, revealing his leaking cock. “I’ve barely done anything to you.” You leaned in without warning, licking up from the shaft to the tip. “Ah! Fuck, fuck,” He instinctively bucked into your warm mouth, a breathy moan escaping him as you hummed. The vibrations were dizzying his brain.

“Mmngh...Feels s’good. You’re doin’ so good...your m–mouth, ngh!” Your own cock strained against your pants at his words, laced with bliss. You surfaced, pulling off him to breathe. He groaned in disappointment, “No! I was s’close.” He slurred, a frown on his lips.

Oh.

He deserves this punishment.

You suddenly take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. “Oh! ‘M go–gonna—” On cue, your mouth was off of him again. Tongue ghosting over his tip. “What... why’d you stop?” He panted, “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His eyes widened, “I’m... I’m so sorry. Need your mouth on me. Please.” Your thumb rubbed lazy circles into his thigh to calm him down, “You can do better than that, yeah?” Tears brimmed at his waterline.

“Please... I need you. Need you to help me cum, to help me feel good, please. I’m sorry.”

“Stand up.” He followed your order, his shaky legs threatening to give up on him but you quickly pinned him to the wall. Swiftly, you took your pants along with your boxers off. Mando felt drool build up under his tongue at the sight of your cock. “Open your mouth for me, pretty boy.” He opened his mouth and you shove in three of your fingers, taking him by surprise. “What’re you waitin’ for? Suck on them, slut.” He did, surprisingly obedient and filthy.

Once he coated your fingers with his saliva, you put one of them into his hole. Then a second, scissoring him. Then there comes a third. “You’re taking me in so well, huh? Greedy little whore.” His dick twitched, his teeth biting on his bottom lip to muffle his sounds. You lined up your cock and slid it in, filling him up instantly. Din’s tears finally flowed down, staining his cheeks, “Please,” he weakly begged, voice more of a whisper, “Please fuck me, sir.” You couldn’t help it. Your hips drew themselves back, pounding into his entrance. The way he moaned your name seemed like it’s the only word he ever knew. You could consider it poetical, but it was absolutely whorish.

Mando swears a silent oath that he’ll never admit that he wants you to ruin him — to make a mess out of him in front of those who fears him.

But if you’re lucky enough, you could fuck it out of him.

“I’m going to—” He half-warns, “Don’t. Not until I say you can.” He quietly whimpered, choosing to keep silent. Mando knew better than to complain. He could only shut up and be your little toy.

The once silent Razor Crest was filled with his moans and the sounds of his squelching hole. You leaned in and kissed him, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Successfully silencing his moans until you pulled away, “You’re better when you’re quiet.” Your hand met his cock, setting up a quick pace, “Cum for me.” Almost on command, he came onto your shirt. His hole sucked you in so tightly, sending you off the edge.

You pulled out of him after a few moments, some of your cum dribbling down your cock. You kissed his tear-stained cheek sweetly, “Good boy.”

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere coworker (part 3)

Tw: fem reader, getting yelled at, getting kissed not consensually

Masterlists, part 1, part 4

You get to change into your freshly washed and dried work clothes later that afternoon, and you think you understand why he didn't want you going down there. Because as soon as you stepped into the laundry room, all eyes were on you and Cyprus. Without a shame in the world, they started ribbing him for having a girlfriend, hollering in excitement and telling you what a catch he is.

They all seem fairly young, either they're university students or people who just entered the workforce. They're comfortable enough to act like that around him, it painted you a picture of the community here.

It only took him a glare to shut them all up though. They all went back to their business as you collected your clothes from the dryer.

You went back up and he gave you privacy to change, you noted how he lived on the second floor. But there was no elevator, only dark and dingy, alloy stairwells. You don't think he paid very much for his rent.

You went out to see that he was still half naked, lounging on the couch as he waited for you to come out of the bathroom.

You asked him if you could have your phone back.

"Oh, you want this?" Without turning his head to face you, he lifted that familiar digital brick of yours to your eye level. "Come and get it then."

You walked up to the couch and tried to take it, but he jerked away from your hand. You tried to grab it again, but he pulled away. The faster you tried to swipe it, the faster he would dodge it.

To such a point that you're chasing him around the apartment. It wasn't a fair game, he had training, his legs were longer than yours and you're just an office worker who's out of shape.

You panted and rested your hands on your knees. That was when he decided to stand tall in front of you and dangle your phone over your head. You tried leaping into the air to catch it, but he would pull up at the last second, making you just out of reach.

You tried begging, hitting his chest, and dry sobbing for your device. Nothing seemed to work as he continued teasing you.

"Look at you, hopping like a cute, little rabbit. I like how you're so small against me, so weak and helpless." He scrunched his nose at you and nuzzled your nose. Cyprus saw what you're trying to do, he pulled away and avoided your grabby hands trying to remove his glasses from his face.

You felt humiliated and inferior to him, hot tears started streaking down your cheek as you kept trying to grab your phone. His laughing stopped and his shit-eating grin was replaced with an apologetic smile.

"Aw. I'm sorry, Princess. Don't cry. Here, I'll give it back." He brought it down to your chest level. You reached out to take it, only for him to retract his goodwill. "-If you let me take you out to dinner."

You tried to snatch it away a couple more times when you thought he wasn't paying attention, he was staring straight into your eyes! How could he have seen-

"I'm a boxer, doll. I can sense your hand."

You begrudgingly agreed to go with him.

"Great, it's a date then." He beamed, shoving your phone into his pocket.

You said he promised he would give it back to you.

"After the dinner, pretty girl." He clarified, walking towards his bedroom. You assume that he's going to put on some clothes.

He left the door open as he began to strip his shorts, you let out a gasp and covered your eyes when he pulled the band down too low and revealed a bit too much of his privates.

You ran to the part of the apartment where you wouldn't see anything that goes on in his room.

He rolled his eyes and stood up tall. "You're so dramatic- What are you running away for? We're going to fuck sooner or later, You're going to see it anyways!"

You refused to answer his remark, which earned an audible laugh from him while sounds of zippers and belt buckles could be heard throughout the room.

He came out a few minutes later, wearing jeans, a tight white top, and a faded leather jacket that takes on a dark brown hue instead of black. Cyprus sported clipped-on, polarized sunglasses on his prescription glasses. His combat boots were loud and demanding for every step he takes.

"Come on, Baby girl. Let's go." He gently hooked his arm around your waist as he led you out of his unit. You said that it's still afternoon, and it's too early for dinner.

"That just means we're not getting dinner now then. Come on, get out of the way, I need to lock the door." You stepped aside for Cyprus.

You asked him where is he taking you.

"Somewhere special." He jiggled his doorknob to ensure that it was locked shut.

You said that your bag is still in there with your wallet.

"You don't need either of those when you're with me." He leads you down the stairs by the small of your back.

__

You held onto him tightly as he zipped through the highway, getting dangerously close to other vehicles as he squeezed through an impossibly small gap. The wind was whipping against your helmet and his, it was noisy when coupled by the sound of his roaring motor.

You're screaming in the protective helmet he made you wear, you think Cyprus is insane for doing a wheelie with you at the back.

Your heart is thumping against your ribcage as he twisted the handles to rev up his engines. The front landed onto the asphalt with a slight bump, making you and him bob up and down with the aid of his shock absorber.

You felt your entire body jerk to the right as he made a sharp turn. You shriek, but you don't think anyone could hear you.

His motorcycle came to a screeching halt as he drifted to the side, fitting between two other unmoving cars. Cyprus did a perfect parallel park just like that, you could see the fresh tire marks on the concrete ground.

He kicked his stand down and balanced his vehicle on it, killing the engine. Cyprus got out of it and took off his helmet. He hung it on the handles before helping you off.

He laughed as you struggled to find your footing, using him as support as you stumble around with wobbly legs.

In the end, you pulled your helmet out revealing a frazzled face and hair. Which made him guffaw even louder.

He put both helmets away and stored his keys in one of his pockets. Cyprus clipped on his sunglasses and wrapped his arm around your waist, urging you to walk with him.

You asked him where he is bringing you.

"You'll see." He smiled.

You and him had to go through a path with a lot of foliage. The road was rocky and uneven, it was hard to traverse. But Cyprus was behind you the entire time, telling you to go on and making sure you're not falling.

Eventually, you reached a massive clearing with vibrant green grass and a scene that covers the entire city. There were families and other couples scattered around as they watched the sun slowly plunge into the horizon.

He took his jacket off and laid it on the ground. Cyprus gestured for you to sit on it. So you did, while he sat next to you on the grassy dirt.

There was a slight breeze blowing against you and him, but the warmth from the glowing ball in the sky is keeping the temperature to a comfortable degree.

His arm is loosely draped around your shoulders as you and he watched on. You squinted, the sunset was too bright for you to watch it normally.

"Here." You turned to him and he handed you a pair of sunglasses. You thanked him and put it on, now it's much more bearable to watch the sun setting.

It's a beautiful place. You like it here, you liked the silence. Unfortunately, Cyprus had to break it.

"It's definitely working."

You asked what was working, fighting the urge to punch the handsome smirk off his face.

"You're relaxed."

Then you noticed that you are. Your movements and speech pattern is much slower too.

"I used to come here when a couple rounds of boxing wasn't enough to calm my nerves."

You and he were quiet once more. Watching the sun's luminance become dimmer and dimmer as it slowly disappears. You weren't even bothered that he was mindlessly kneading your arm with his thumb.

Once the light is completely snuffed out and the area becomes pitch black, you suddenly feel a large hand holding the back of your head.

You instinctively turned your head to Cyprus, but that was proven to be detrimental when he pressed his lips against yours. It was soft, save for the scar that provided a bit of texture. His eyes were closed behind his glasses while he molded his kissers with yours.

He lets you go when you start thrashing, you wipe your mouth using your sleeve and spat. You began angrily complaining about his behavior, and how it isn't right for him to do this to you.

"Oh, you drama queen. Stop whining, you liked it too." He utilized the torch of his phone to light up the way, Cyprus offered you a hand, but you refused to take it and got up on your own.

He bent down and collected his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder before encasing his hand in yours. It was both rough and smooth, most of the calluses were on his knuckles.

The ride to the venue he chose for dinner was uneventful. He was calmer in his driving, no more reckless stunts that would give you deadly heart attacks.

It took another 20 minutes of riding to get there, you didn't trust him at all, that is why your arm constricted his torso tightly to make sure you kept your balance.

He parked properly this time, nothing like a daredevil as before. Checking his mirrors and adjusting his position accordingly.

"Watch your step." He said, pointing at the ledge between the entrance and the outside.

The familiar sounds of chatter, soft music and the smell of alcohol reached you. The lighting was somewhat dim and very warm, clinks and pours could be heard over the counter. He had brought you to a pub for dinner.

The waiter seated you and him in a booth. However, before he can bring the menus in, Cyprus already ordered for you and him: two plates of Steaks and fries, two pints of beer.

You said you wanted to see what they had.

"Trust me. Everything is shit except their steaks." He thanked the waiter for bringing the beer.

You watch him drink from his glass as he stares at you for not doing the same.

"Like what you see?" He winked at you.

You looked away, making him chortle at you.

"God, you are just so cute. Are you doing it on purpose, dollface?"

You scratched the back of your neck out of bashfulness. If it wasn't for Cyprus, you would be home right now, either doomscrolling or binge watching a show. This is all so new to you, having a meaningful life outside of work.

"For real now. What do you do on the weekends?" He asked.

You said that you were truthful. If you weren't invited by your friends or colleagues, you would be working or scrolling through social media.

He grunted in contemplation, sipping on his mildly bubbly beer.

"Yeah. That's not going to happen. Not on my watch." He declared. "We're going somewhere new every Saturday and Sunday."

You gave him a half hearted 'okay' before asking him for your phone back.

His pleasant smile turned into a scowl. "Will you forget about your phone for a second?!" He snapped, loud enough to spook you, but not loud enough to garner the attention of others.

"We are on a date, for fuck's sake." He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing and softening his tone. "Listen, I want this night to be just for us. No work, none of those fake assholes from work. Just the two of us. Okay?" He examined your face closely and softened his eyes.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you, baby doll. Don't cry. You know I didn't mean to make you scared." He wiped the tears that you didn't realize were falling from your eyes. It was embarrassing, to say the least. You think that you're not in control of your own emotions recently because of the stress of being shoved into this situation.

You pulled away and sniffled, wiping them away and trying your hardest to regain composure.

Neither of you spoke a word in the next few minutes, you would always swat his hand away when he tried to hold yours or your face.

Cyprus was frowning. But there really isn't much he could do other than to drink his beer and to tone down his antics.

You wanted to go home and rot in bed. It's comfortable, it's familiar. You do not want to eat dinner at 8pm, you wanted to be cocooned in your air conditioned room and fry your eyeballs with the light from your fucking phone.

At this point, you don't even want your phone to contact anyone. It's like your pacifier, a distraction from the daily horrors of the world. Those silly little dances you would see people do online really make you forget what a terrible life you've lived.

You think your emotions are unravelling at a dangerous rate because you haven't had your phone to soothe you for an entire day now.

You didn't even want Cyprus as your boyfriend, fling or whatever. You just wanted to be single in peace.

You told Cyprus you're really tired and you don't want to be here.

"What's so horrible about me, that you have to pull every trick in the book to get away?"

He watched you with his eyebrows knitted in concern and sadness while he tipped the rim of his glass to his lips.

You said that you're not compatible with him. You were genuinely not interested in romance and adventure, preferring to live a life of patheticness instead. So you begged one more time for him to please hand your phone back.

He continued drinking his beer while yours remained untouched.

"That won't work on me. So, no." He replied.

Exasperated, you slumped into your seat.

The food arrived, it looked delicious with steam wafting off it. The thick cut pub fries were crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside. The sauce was perfectly seasoned with a side of carrots and broccoli.

You're too tired. Mentally exhausted to bring yourself to eat.

You looked elsewhere as you heard his fork and knife softly clattered against his porcelain plate as he cut his beef into bite-sized pieces.

"Here." You looked back up and saw that he switched plates, you got the one that was cubed into nice edible chunks while he took the one that was untouched. "It should be easier to eat."

Now that it takes less effort you picked up a fork and began stabbing it.

"You really are a princess..." He mumbled before pushing a large cut of steak into his mouth.

Cyprus had a taste of his own medicine when he tried multiple times to start a conversation, you would respond curtly. It doesn't matter what topic he chose, nothing seems to pique your interest. All you focused on was clearing your plate.

You had to pack the leftovers in a takeaway box because the portions were abnormally large. You don't think someone like you could finish it in one sitting without vomiting it all back up.

You had to wait for him to smoke his cigarette before he would drive you home. He's taking his sweet time, trying to coax a chat out of you in the process.

You remained monotonous, answering with one word or nothing at all.

He sighed as he disposed of his used cig in an ashtray built into a trashcan.

"Come on, pretty girl. Let's get you home." His hand was dangerously low on your back.

__

He knows where you live now, but you don't care. You just wanted to recharge at home, maybe isolate yourself until it's time to face everyone at work again. Keeping on a mask is exhausting, you do not want to have a boyfriend because of that exact reason: you couldn't help yourself but to act around him.

"This is the place?" He asked, propping his motorcycle with a foot on the road. You nodded, hopping off and removing your helmet.

"Wait." He parked his vehicle properly on the sidewalk before following you. "I'll walk you to the door."

You had no energy to say no, so you just kept moving forward like a zombie.

"What's wrong?" He asked when you froze. You saw the silhouette of that one creepy guy who seems to have a crush on you. But you caught him stealing your underwear from the dryer one time.

Before you could explain, the pervert came out of the lobby and called your name. He was happy to see you and was even making a mad dash with his arms wide open. But his smile dropped upon seeing Cyprus's foul glower and how you're snugly tucked under his arm.

"Who's this?" He asked, eyeing him up and down. Your stalker has to crane his neck up in order to reach your unwanted boyfriend's eyes.

"Her man, what's it to you?" Cyprus snarked, pulling you behind him while he balled his fist, readying himself for a fight. He has no chance against your coworker, he's small and scrawny with fragile bones.

"I-I didn't know she had a boyfriend!" He stammered, trying to look at you, but you took advantage of Cyprus's wide, muscular frame.

"Now, you do. Fuck off before I beat the shit out of you." He barked, making him jump and scurry away.

"Who does that asshole think he is, looking and talking to you like that? Did you see what he was about to do?" He grumbled on, riled up by your creep's presence and stressed that you wouldn't give him the attention he craved.

You thanked him and kept moving. Cyprus had to jog lightly to keep up.

He followed you all the way to the elevator, shooting a nasty look at anyone who went too close to you. They're your neighbors who were once curious as to the gentleman beside you, now fearing the rabid dog you called a colleague.

He constantly has a possessive grip on your shoulders. You wonder if he's suspicious of everyone he comes across in this apartment because of that one creep. You hope that he wouldn't act like this at work, or you would have to visit the HR more than you visit the toilets.

Finally, you reached your room. Because you're drained of life, you struggled longer than usual to unlock your door. Cyprus even had to step in and help out.

Once opened, you turned around to look at him expectantly.

He took your phone out of his pocket and brought it close to you. Of course, you reached out to grab it, only to have his face loom closer and closer to yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut and pursed your lips, but he ended up kissing you on the forehead instead of your mouth.

He pushed your beloved device into your hands.

"Goodnight, beautiful." He whispered. "Have a good rest."

You nodded and closed the door in his face. You couldn't bring yourself to slam it because he protected you from that weirdo.

You let out the biggest breath of relief as you slid down your door into a fetal position.

But that bliss was short-lived when you realized that you left your bag and wallet at his place.

You let out a frustrated scream in your palm as Cyprus descended the stairs with his hands in his pockets, mouth already holding an unlit cigarette.