#and he's all haughty and shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raitonsfw · 9 months ago

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jjk men: sub edition

characters: gojo satoru, geto suguru, okkotsu yūta, kamo chōsō, & sukuna ryōmen.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, gn!reader (gojo), sub!characters, vibrating sex toys (gojo's and geto's), face riding (yuta's), pegging (choso's), refusal to submit (sukuna's), whining, whimpering, pleading, begging, dirty talk, bondage (gojo's), p in v intercourse (geto [riding] & sukuna [mating press]), anal sex (choso's obvi), slight rim play (gojo's), degrading & praising, pet names, gojo selfishly whines, geto can't keep his composure, okkotsu loves you, choso's completely fucked out, sukuna shares a body with itadori (& doesn't care about your kinks), fyi the reader isn't very dominant (more neutral, maybe i'll write another one of these with a dom!reader later on)

a/n: this came about 'cause of some hate from an anon about me writing satoru gojo whimpering & that men shouldn't whimper or moan? next time, be a dear and send it off anon? i'll answer you more thoroughly that way. i love having the option that is 'write to spite'. wc: 3.2k total. m.list

divider credit: @hitobaby

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮…❞ who isn’t really all that submissive– at least not on the surface. in public his exterior shone a haughty personality but in the midst of silk sheets, he whined like a little bitch.

soft whines of ‘please, baby…’ and ‘r-right there– yes…’ as you moved the vibrator towards the tip of his cock. he was sitting up against the headboard, his knees slightly bent and his bright eyes were glued on your hand that held the small pink wand.

you knew gojo quite well, the man could withstand almost anything sorcery related; curses expelling out left and right, best friends turned enemies– but he couldn’t handle the juddering feeling of a sex toy. he’d practically short-circuit. his entire body would freeze up as you ran it along the side of his thigh, a dulled lust sinking within his eyes and suddenly his cock would be rock hard.

you’d watch as his legs would spread open for you, a quiet obedience held within the air and you’d hum in content as he let you shed his trousers and boxers. and holy shit, it was so intoxicating to take in how fucking hard he got just from the slight indication of the vibrator buzzing up his thigh.

he wouldn’t be quiet for long though, no– that was just for show. as soon as your hand grabbed at his flushed cock, a choked gasp would follow and a bunch of pleas would spill out of his mouth like a waterfall.

“need the toy– give me the toy…”

“y/n, baby…sweetheart– c’mon...”

“please, don’t want your hand right now–”

“‘m sorry, i’m so sorry– fuck-!”

and despite his empty words (and the rushed apology when he vaguely realized his mistake), the vibrator would be set to the near highest setting. ‘cause there was something so hot watching him squirm from such a delicate thing, bulleting at an overstimulating press firsthand.

god, you could get drunk off of his whimpers and cries as they spilled from his mouth every time you ran the vibrator over a vein on the underside of his cock… his jolts of pleasure when you upped the setting by a hair as he was so sensitive and even the slightest change would send him spiraling… the constant clenching and unclenching of his fists within the confines of his blindfold– courtesy of you tying it that way.

you had the right mind not to edge him, his voice pitching higher and higher each second you ran the droning sensation over his slit, precum slathering the toy. his chest rose and fell quickly as you switched the settings to a different rhythm, his back arching out towards you and his cock bobbing against his tummy with a loud whine escaping him.

his head had knocked back into the headboard with his eyelids fluttering closed, a fucked out expression washing over his face as his thighs trembled– as his whole body trembled in front of you. you knew he was close; the tiny whimpers felling long with each stroke of the toy and the way his muscles tightened in his stomach with each roll of his hips as he desperately feigned for more friction.

which led you to take a quick gamble– and press the toy right against his rim.

you didn’t even have time to replace your hand on his cock as he painted his shirt white. long spurts decorated it, nearly up to his chin and you hummed softly to yourself as you pumped him through his release, your name heavy on his lips as he rode it out. you cooed out praises as he bucked into your hand, dribbling the rest of his cum all over it with small pants filling the room.

and as soon as he came down, his hands were slipping from his blindfold and pinning you underneath him– it was your turn now.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮…❞ who’s slightly submissive– but knows how to keep his composure. it wasn’t often you got to see him needy, the man wasn’t exactly enthralled in giving you a show; so instead of begging for what he needed, he did everything in his power to please you.

the most he’d give you were tiny hums from the constant drag of his cock as you rode him, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. when he had the pleasure of cumming inside you – when he could because you’d fall apart against him in mere minutes – you’d hear the most sinful whimpers bare from his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he gasped for breath.

you couldn’t escape the cuddling afterwards either, the quiet contented sighs that captured you whole as he worked his body around yours in a tight embrace when the stars fell away from your eyelids. his mind would be reeling with the aftermath, still painfully hard in his boxers since he didn’t finish; but you came on his cock and that’s all that mattered to him.

but there were just some days where he needed you more than ever – and the aching pleasure of his cock spasming inside you – a pliant buzz reigning him in as he heard you come home. his arms would wrap around your waist as you’d toss your keys onto the kitchen counter and you’d feel his breath fan against your ear as he spoke, a slight whine etched in his voice.

“y/n, come to the bedroom with me…”

“ah–! shit… please?”

“need you tonight… can’t wait any longer–”

“gotta be inside you– right now.”

and you thought it was the usual routine, you laid out underneath him with his cock driving into you like no tomorrow. but as you were pulled into the bedroom, the box of sex toys you shared with him had been dumped over the bed and you realized his neediness and the sound that droned lightly from him– the vibrating cock ring was missing.

you weren’t exactly sure if geto ever acted submissive in his life, never really wanting to push him too far as he already did so much for you; he never seemed bothered by the lack of reciprocation. but when he came home with the cock ring and your life sure flipped a sudden switch, your collected man reduced to nothing but a puddle as you drove him to the edge over and over again.

as you fully sank onto his cock, his ring would vibrate against your folds and you’d sigh out in relief when you noticed his face screwed up in pleasure– and pain as he was already so close to his godforsaken orgasm. needy– fucking desperate whines would leak from his mouth as you bounced lightly on him, some hiccuped noises escaping him and– oh? he might cry.

his hair was splayed out on the pillows, some of it stuck to his sweaty shoulders as the corners of his eyes brimmed with tears, his hands clutching onto you for dear life. he wouldn’t say anything, too drunk off of the overstimulation of your pussy and the vibrations pushing him over the edge; except he couldn’t cum yet. not until you took off the cock ring and honestly, did you really want to?

this was one of the only times you saw this side of him after all.

you eventually let him cum, pulling off his cock to ease the ring off while instructing him softly not to cum until he was inside you. and he’d be damned if he didn’t shoot off inside you, holding himself back for all of ten seconds before the feeling of your walls warm around him pushed him over– you felt him twitch inside you and a lengthy moan accompanied as he tried his best to pull you close into him through it.

he stole kisses from you afterwards, his demeanor returning to the same old facade he encased himself in and you wondered if you buy him vibrating beads– what would that do to him?

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚…❞ who is just the right amount of submissive. he would quiver at the faintest feel of your fingers ghosting his cock as he knelt before you. his eyes would be nearly blown wide, taking in your composure as his falls away when you bend down eye level to him.

he’d know better than to buck into your hand like a poor puppy, desperate for any friction you could give him as his fingers reach out to grip at your clothing. and he wouldn't even realize he broke a rule as he repeated in his brain ‘don’t thrust’ into the warmth of your palm.

as you backed away, you’d notice the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes, the pout that would cross his face when he tried to retrace his movements– and then his mouth would be going a mile a minute with apologies.

“baby… i’m sorry! i’ll be good, i promise– i won’t touch you again.”

“please… forgive me? use me to get off…”

and that wasn’t a bad idea in your eyes as you thought it over, squatting back up to let him breathe. god, he was so pliant with you, complete putty– pulled and stretched out for you. his cock curved up towards his tummy as it stood proudly from the confines of his jujutsu uniform; he was so excited he didn’t even care to unzip his zipper, he just pulled himself out ‘cause you told him to.

as you finally allowed him up onto the space of the bed after his relentless regret, a muffled ‘thank you’ spilled from his lips before you could even position yourself onto his face and you clutched the headboard to steady yourself; because he wasn’t allowed to touch– and he sure knew that as he was chanting it in his mind.

he needed you to use him, to just sit right on his tongue and ride him mercilessly; it’s what he deserves for breaking one of your rules. but you were nice, you weren’t mean with your punishments and honestly this seemed more like a reward for him. he was manipulative, that one– you had to be careful as he could get you to do anything for him with just a glassy eyed look and a pout.

his hands grasped at the sheets for leverage as you sat down against him, his tongue not hesitating in the slightest to swipe over the swell of your clit and you huffed out a relieved moan. you didn’t falter, your hips rolling against his mouth with the shock of warm pleasure flowing through your body. and he reciprocated your moans, humming gently into you as he lapped at your arousal trickling against the tip of his tongue.

and all he wanted to do was touch you – bury his fingers inside you and fuck the life out of you – anything for his girl. but he knew the moment he moved his fingers from the threaded sheets, you’d pull off with a whine falling from his lips. god, did he want to please you– and he wanted it in return; his cock was aching even as it laid against his tummy. he couldn’t take it anymore, between the sweet taste of your slick running down his chin and the insane amount of precum building at the tip of his cock– he begged.

“fuck, please touch me… won’t cum til you say so, i swear–”

“just need your hands on me, y/n honey… l-love you so much– god, thank you.”

when you leaned back to pull him off, your other hand feathered into his hair and you caught a glimpse of his dark rimmed eyes staring back up with such profound desire– you just knew he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨…❞ who takes the cake for being the most submissive slut known to man. when you sunk into him the first time with the strap nudging into him subtly, he couldn’t help but let out a choked whimper. he would be so fucking full– his rim clenching harshly around you and you’d coo at him; some praises that did you no good as he could barely hear you through the pounding rush of blood in his ears.

you couldn’t even begin to fathom the drunk passion you felt for this boy, arching his back for you as you started to ease yourself in all the way– it was fucking insane and you weren’t even the one with your nerves on fire. he’d grip at the sheets with a wanton moan, pushing back onto the strap with eager hips and it took everything in you not to collapse onto him with the heated arousal you felt in your cunt.

you’d be on your toes, basically straddling the poor boy’s hips, your hands flush against his waist to keep you steady and all you’d hear was ‘more, please… i can take it–! need you to move.’ christ, you haven’t even gotten your bearings yet and he’s begging for you to pound him into the fucking mattress.

his spiked hair wouldn’t be in their usual ponytails, it sleeked down the back of his neck and soon, it was going to be balled up in your palms while you fucked the living shit out of him.

once you actually rolled your hips into his tight hole, a broken moan flew out of his mouth and his head drooped down onto the side of the bed. his entire body shook in pleasure as you thrusted into him shallowly, hushed pants coming from him as his cock dripped onto the sheets beneath you.

you noticed his cock rather quickly– and how neglected it looked, hanging between his legs with a reddened flush and you snaked your hand underneath him to tug at it a bit, earning a repressed whimper that was muffled in the sheets he buried his face into. before you knew it, your hips found a rhythm you were content with and one he was ecstatic with, his body jolting upwards with every stroke of his cock and bruising of your strap.

you knew you nailed his prostate when his head snapped up, his entire body shuddering around you. his moan was so sharp in your ears, it delved straight towards spine and you threaded your fingers into his hair with the words ‘good boy, that’s it… that’s the spot?’ leaking from your mouth in a soft tone. to which he nodded, a heavy need carving out his common sense and replacing it with nothing whines and whimpers.

‘soo good, thankyouthankyouthankyou–’

‘right there, keep going…’

and you did, even when you noticed his tongue loll out of his mouth– the fucked out expression blatant on his face as you pulled his head back to look at you. his violet eyes were watery, his mouth completely open in near silent moans as you pounded into him now, and you swore you saw a blood tear drip from his mark as he squeezed his eyes shut through a particular thrust. and now he begged for you, pleaded like no tomorrow as you fucked him senseless; his entire mind clouded with nothing but ecstasy.

‘am i being a good boy? please– tell me i’m being a good boy for you…’

‘fuck me harder, yeah– yes… shit–! so close…’

as he came around the strap, you watched in awe– ropes of cum spurting against the sheets and harsh gasps filled the air as you kissed down his back with your hands massaging his waist through the heavy orgasm. you ran a quick finger down his spine, reveling in the way he trembled against you as you pulled out of him.

you wouldn’t even talk to him properly afterwards, just tiny adorations; because you knew as soon as he came to, he’d be out like a light.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧…❞ who isn’t submissive at all. the king of curses didn’t have a submissive bone in his body– completely overtaken by the dominant hull. you’ve tried to make him submit – more than once – but it never worked out in your favor.

your hands would delve towards his shoulders to pin him down as you rode him– well, tried to ride him as his cock pounded up into you harshly– but you’d be thrown off in an instant, a mating press following suit so you couldn’t move underneath him.

you’d whine for him to take you more than once in a single night, in pursuit of overstimulating him– but you failed to realize just how much stamina he had and you ultimately ended up being the one overstimulated with your cunt stuffed full of his cum each and every time.

there were some days where he played along with your endeavors to be nice. sometimes a quiet whine would fill his throat before replacing it with hefty growls and grunts while you sucked his cock. and other times he’d let you have the upper hand for more than a half a second, reveling in the way your body moved against him to try to overtake him.

your tits would bounce right in his face and it made him think twice– he almost begged for them, wanting nothing more than to take them into his mouth and litter them red with teeth marks. but that thought left his mind rather quickly as your cunt pressed warmly against his cock, stirring it awake from its confines and it was game over.

there was no way he’d beg for a lowly human.

why would he need to when you gave yourself up to him so easily? you’d practically jump him as soon as he switched with itadori, strong arms holding onto you as you pushed him onto the bed. but of course, he could flip you over in an instant and he would, his cock dragging deliciously along your walls within the next two minutes.

as much as it was fun to watch you squirm and cry about him not letting up his dominance, it also turned him on immensely. his cock would ache inside you as you begged for him to make a needy noise… his eyes would threaten to roll back as you clenched around him in hopes he would show some type of submission… and he’d have to recollect himself when you breathed hot in his ear that he was such a good boy for fucking you so well. why the fuck did that affect him?

but once he grounded himself, you were in trouble– his cock pounding into you with heinous phrases leaking from his mouth. he couldn’t bear to listen to you anymore, the idea drove him insane– a fucking human shouldn’t be calling him wretched pet names like that. so to shut you up, his palm would end up on your mouth and his tongue there would shove straight into it. he just needed to fuck the kink out you, that’s all.

and of course being the curse that he is, once you couldn’t speak, he’d tease (berate) you about your subby needs.

“ah, so you get off on pussy men now?”

“don’t look away from me, doll, answer the question.”

“what– you want me to whine and beg for you like a goddamn pup? i don’t think so.”

“now hold your legs open ‘n take my cock… like a normal fucking human.”

yeah, you tried and all it got you was a sore cunt each time, unable to walk without a bit of a wobble– his devilish smirk and targeted eyes followed you every step of the way before he relinquished his form to itadori in the morning.

taglist: @izakyun | @classyempathmongercloud | @satorawrrr | @winterskeleton

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

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cherienymphe · 3 months ago

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White Lines & White Knights

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, pr*stitution, power imbalance, classism, mentions of death, jealousy, humiliation, revenge p*rn, drug dealer!Rafe, drug use, Pogue!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You and Rafe are using each other until you decide that's not what you want anymore, and the spoiled rich kid will do whatever it takes to have his expensive toy back in his bed.

⭑

Your door shut behind you with a resounding click, and once in the comfort of your home, you took the time to decompress. You took advantage of your much needed reprieve, the back of your head grazing the wood as you allowed your eyes to fall closed. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, and you wondered if a day would come where it ever wouldn’t. After all, this wasn’t exactly “new” anymore…

It had been five months since you buried your mom, five months since you discovered the mountain of debt she’d done an impressive job of hiding from you, and five months since you thought you’d be homeless on the street in less than one. In two weeks, you’d dealt with a loss you didn’t think you’d have to for at least another forty years or so and took on the kind of responsibility you didn’t think you’d have to for at least another three.

Your mom died 152 days ago…

…and you’d started fucking Rafe Cameron less than a month later.

You liked to pretend to not know why you slept with Kildare’s prime rich boy that fateful Saturday night, but you were far more self aware than you wanted to be. Even if you weren’t, it wasn’t exactly some mysterious string of decisions that lead to being tangled up in the sheets with Sarah’s asshole of an older brother. You didn’t need to pay someone to diagnose you.

You were grieving.

It was really just that simple, and the monetary stress on top of that drove you to find comfort in strange drinks and hard drugs. To this day you still didn’t know if Rafe just happened to be at the right place at the right time or if he heard whispers about John B.’s best friend snorting pills and getting shit faced when her usual crowd was looking the other way, but either way, the stuffy Kook clearly saw an opportunity to kill several birds with one stone.

“First two lines are free,” he’d told you that night, the bass of the music downstairs muffled by the expensive walls of some girl’s house.

You remembered how you’d chuckled, drunkenly shaking your head.

“Well, two lines is all I’m doing, I guess,” you’d murmured, throwing your hands up.

Rafe’s smirk had been cruel, a mocking glint in his blue eyes.

“What?” he’d dragged out, head tilted. “Spent all that life insurance money, already?”

Any other time and Rafe’s insensitivity might’ve upset you, but at the time you’d been drunk out of your mind and looking for more ways to forget the sudden absence in your life.

“I can’t imagine why Sarah hates you,” you’d sarcastically replied, approaching the impressive desk and leaning over to inhale a line.

You wiped your nose as you straightened, lashes fluttering as you ignored the feeling of Rafe’s gaze on you.

“I’ll be lucky if I even have a house to live in next week.”

The words had come out slurred, accompanied by a light chuckle, and deep down you’d felt the flutter of stress that you’d been desperately ignoring for weeks. You’d quickly snorted the other line, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Turns out my mom was skilled at hiding more than just illnesses…”

You remembered the silence—from both you and Rafe—and how in that moment you’d allowed yourself a solid four seconds of lingering on the reality of your predicament. In those four seconds, your eyes had watered and your lips had trembled and your throat had tightened, and after those four seconds, you were turning to Rafe with a haughty smile.

“Guess you won’t be finding a new client in me, huh?” you’d wondered with a shrug, finding a seat on the desk.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been unreadable as he eyed you, sitting in the chair at the desk, legs spread as he ran his eyes over you—slowly and in a way you didn’t hate at the time. You hadn’t been able to tell what he was thinking, although looking back, you wondered how it wasn’t so obvious to you then. Maybe because it was just too cruel of a thought, and while it was no secret Rafe was a spoiled asshole, you had never once thought of him as cruel.

Rafe had merely shrugged.

“There’s plenty of fish in the sea,” he’d slowly said, the corner of his pink lips curving upwards just a tad. “Besides…”

You’d watched him stand, rounding the desk to come and tower over you where you sat.

“I like to think of myself as a pretty ethical kind of guy…”

You’d started to snort at that before his gaze met yours again, and you found yourself swallowing whatever you were about to say. You hadn’t done a thing when Rafe reached up to touch your arm, the feel of his finger so light. You hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the way your heart skipped a beat at both his close proximity and the change in atmosphere. You hadn’t been able to ignore—however—the heat that settled in the pit of your stomach.

“...and I’ve been known to meet people halfway. Accept whatever they can offer…”

You remembered your internal conflict that night.

You’d been drunk and high and sad…not stupid. You knew exactly what Rafe was insinuating to you, and you’d struggled with the idea of really sleeping with Rafe Cameron for more drugs. The man was far from unattractive, sure that if drugs weren’t involved you’d still consider sleeping with him. If you’d believed in any of that, you’d imagine that your mom was turning over in her grave. At the time though, you hadn’t been quite sure as to what you believed in, so when he took your silence for consent, leaning in and touching your nose with his…

You hadn’t stopped him when he closed the distance.

You hadn’t even known whose house you were at, only internally apologizing to them for having sex on their expensive desk. You didn’t know if it was the drugs or the alcohol or simply Rafe Cameron, but it was easily the best sex you’d ever had in your life, and at one point you’d really considered how much better it could possibly be to fuck him without the condom.

You had no idea that you’d eventually find out.

Once dressed, you’d walked home with a small bag of pills and a satisfied grin. You knew that your friends would host some kind of intervention if they ever found out, but all you’d been able to focus on was the simple fact that fucking Rafe Cameron for a little coke and pills wasn’t sounding like the worst idea. Of course, if you’d known that you’d eventually start fucking him for your livelihood, you might’ve made different choices that night.

You pressed your hand to your face and pushed away from the door, eager to start the shower and scrub the stench of him off of you. Per routine, you took the money out of your pocket before getting undressed, eyeing the wad of one hundreds that now sat on your nightstand. Two grand was nothing to someone like him, but to someone like you, it made all the difference in the world.

…and Rafe knew that.

He’d known that when he handed you a thousand dollars one night, the coke in your system just starting to hit. You’d looked up at him from where you sat in confusion, hesitantly wrapping your hand around the money as you alternated between eyeing it and eyeing him. You hadn’t known how to feel about it, especially since it had only been moments ago when he was inside of you…and there he was handing you a grand in hundreds.

“Don’t look like that,” Rafe had chuckled, walking to his dresser in search of a shirt. “You know you need the money.”

He wasn’t wrong…and that was the problem.

Unless you hit a lucky streak in life, you’d always need the money, and that was exactly why you were in the predicament you were in—four months later and putting up with the monster that was Rafe Cameron just to keep a roof over your head. The thought brought tears to your eyes, positive now that your mom could see you and was beyond disappointed in you.

Her disappointment could only be outdone by your own.

You were in a situation that you couldn’t get out of, on the verge of ending this arrangement so many times before asking yourself what better way could you pay your mom’s debts and survive? It wasn’t easy money by far, but it was fast money, and it was the kind of money that would take months to make at whatever low paying job you’d find around Outer Banks. Someone like you rarely got hired at the country club or working for some rich snob who wiped their ass with the kind of money you needed.

Rafe knew this too.

Tears kissed your eyes as you scrubbed your skin raw, wishing that you could scrub away the nasty bruise right along with the sweat and grime. You winced every time you touched it, cursing the blond and feeling one of those moments where you considered blocking him and moving on from this pathetic era in your life for good.

Fucking Rafe Cameron for drugs didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time, fucking him for money seemed like an even better one…until that entitled attitude started to extend to the woman he was paying good money to have access to. You remembered the first time you opposed something he wanted to do, the way in which he ignored you, the way he merely pressed your face into the pillow to shut you up.

It was the first time you felt truly icky about this whole situation.

Not even just icky.

…but afraid.

“I don’t pay you to tell me what you will and won’t do in bed,” he’d chuckled at you like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

You’d still been trembling and wiping mascara from your cheeks.

“I pay you because I want to fuck you,” he’d slowly whispered to you, leaning in. “...and you let me because you don’t want to be sleeping on the beach.”

He’d held your gaze for what felt like too long, impressing upon you the true dynamic of this arrangement, and you remembered the unease that had festered in your gut that day. Maybe all the drugs and alcohol hadn’t allowed you to fully look at this arrangement for what it was and the power imbalance here, but you had for the first time that day, and you hadn’t liked it.

You liked it even less now, wrapping the towel around you and wondering how you were ever going to get out of this predicament you’d put yourself into.

“My family’s going out of town for the weekend,” the familiar blond mumbled to you as he inhaled a familiar powdery substance off the back of his hand. “Pack a bag when you get home, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at that, huffing instead.

“I can’t spend the whole weekend on Figure 8,” you told him. “I have plans.”

Rafe nodded, and you hated the smile that danced across his lips.

“Okay, uh, be ready at 8, I don’t want-.”

“Rafe, I’m serious,” you cut him off, shrugging. “I can’t stay at your house all weekend.”

You watched him watch you, slowly swiping his tongue between his lips as a frown started to take over. His dirty blond hair kissed his brows, and the longer the silence stretched, the more nervous you grew. You watched as Rafe glanced away, seemingly deep in thought before those baby blues of his rested on you, much colder than they were a few seconds ago.

“What the hell am I paying you for?” he whispered.

The question was rhetorical, and you swallowed.

“Rafe…I’ve barely seen my friends in months. I finally made plans to meet up with them for more than five minutes and-.”

“...and whose fault is that?” he shrugged.

You frowned at him.

“Nobody told you to go off on a bender when your mom kicked the bucket…” you blinked at his callousness. “Maybe you should’ve been finding comfort in your friends instead of drugs and vodka…and me.”

He finished his sentence with a soft—and yet cruel—smile.

“I pay you good money—great money even!—to be available when I want you to be, and unless you’ve found some other rich asshole to open your legs for, which I doubt…be ready tomorrow at 8.”

He was standing, now, looking down at you where you sat on the bed. The harsh reminder of your roles here had you looking away, and Rafe turned away when he rightfully took your silence as confirmation. You stared at the wall for a few moments before turning to stare at his back, thinking to yourself that this couldn’t go on much longer. Whether it took 1 or 5 jobs, you couldn’t keep relying on Rafe Cameron forever.

What was once a weekly occurrence had turned into something entirely other, and it hadn’t bothered you so much when your mother’s death was still so fresh and you were seeking solace in the worst coping mechanisms known to man—including isolation. Now, however, you were waking up to the choices you’d made and you hated the feeling of being inebriated and being surrounded by people you barely knew.

You hated being away from your friends.

“I didn’t even know you’d gotten a job,” John B. said to you hours later, looking disappointed but understanding. “JJ’s gonna be real disappointed. He’s been talking all week about having you try some new weed he got.”

You gave a light laugh at that, a pang in your chest at how much you missed doing stupid shit with them.

“Yeah,” you sadly said. “The world—and bills—doesn’t stop just because my mom died.”

The brunette grew quiet at that, worriedly eyeing you now.

“You doing okay…?”

You sighed at that, looking out over the yard of The Chateau, fiddling with your fingers as you thought of a certain blond.

“I’ve been better, but…I’ve been worse too.”

Your answer was honest, and you briefly wondered what John B. would think if he knew just how bad ‘worse’ had been. You didn’t think any of them would hate you if they knew the full extent of just how far you’d fallen, but you knew they’d have a hard time wrapping their head around it. The drugs and alcohol were one thing, but Rafe Cameron was entirely another. The man was the worst example of a Kook if there was one, representing every bad trait attributed to them.

Your friends would not understand you essentially sacrificing your self respect for money and drugs.

Sometimes you didn’t understand it either.

Most especially when Rafe had his hands around your neck.

He picked you up at 8 on the dot Friday night—a man of his word if nothing else—and less than a hour later you were bent over his father’s desk as he pounded into you. Your head was hanging off of it, fighting hard to not scrape your nails against the dark mahogany. It wasn’t the first time Rafe fucked you on Ward’s desk, and you doubted that it would be the last time. There’d even been a few rare occasions when he fucked you in the older man’s bed, and you didn’t know what complex the blond had that fueled these decisions, but you weren’t a psychologist so you figured it wasn’t anything to concern yourself with.

Despite the tight grip on your throat, a choked moan managed to escape every time Rafe pushed his cock into you. Sweat made his skin glisten, and you were sure you fared no better. His hair wasn’t so neat, now, and you had the stray thought that you preferred it that way. Rafe being so far from ugly definitely made this arrangement easier to swallow down at times, but other times it just made you angry.

How was it fair that someone seemingly had everything, including the big dick to match?

Rafe walked around like he was God’s gift to the world, possessing one of the most rotten personalities you’d ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of, and he seemed to be rewarded with it with everything the average person could only dream about. As if any of that wasn’t enough, you practically rewarded him with even more by essentially telling him he could do whatever he wanted so long as the price was right.

It made you disgusted with yourself at times.

When he pressed a hand to your stomach, hips slowing to a pace that made your breath hitch, you squeezed your eyes shut. In the quiet office, the sound of his cock disappearing between your folds was loud, the wet noise telling you that there’d no doubt be a mess left on Ward’s desk when this was all said and done. You heard Rafe curse, and you didn’t have the energy to lift your head from where it hung off the desk.

“...and to think,” he panted from above you. “You were going to pass this up to sit around with those dirty Pogues.”

At this, you did attempt to sit up, a hand against his chest and one on the desk as he thrusted into you.

“Those ‘dirty Pogues’ are my friends,” you forced out, lashes fluttering. “...and clearly you forget that I’m one too.”

Rafe merely chuckled at that, perfect teeth winking at you as he grinned.

“Yeah, but you’re my dirty Pogue so it’s a little different.”

His words had your frown deepening, disgust filling your chest at the way he talked about you while literally fucking you. Completely turned off, you turned your head away, attempting to separate yourself from him. That haughty laugh reached your ears, and to your dismay, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“What…?” he lazily drawled. “You don’t like the sound of that?”

“You’re being an asshole, get off of me…”

He jerked his hips against you, making you gasp, and you squirmed in his arms as you fought to get away. Rafe leaned in to harshly nip his teeth at your cheek, his movements growing rough, causing the desk to shake.

“I’ve spent too much money on you to not say whatever the hell I want,” he evenly said. “So, yeah, at this point, I’ll confidently say I practically own you.”

Tears kissed your eyes at the disgusting words, and fed up with your resistance, Rafe merely placed a hand between your breasts before harshly shoving you back down. You winced at the action, but you had no time to fully linger on it as Rafe started to roughly plunge his cock into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours reaching your ears. He wouldn’t allow you to sit up, both of his hands wrapped around your wrists now as he leaned over you.

This felt too reminiscent of the time he’d pressed your face into the bed, telling you to relax as he pressed the head of his cock just above where your folds were. You recalled the uncomfortable feeling and the tears that stained the pillow as he slowly fucked you in a place no one ever had before. The deja vu of it all had your mind wandering, eyes defocusing as you just waited for it to be over. It seemed like Rafe’s grunts sounded from above you forever, and when he finally came onto your stomach with a low moan, you didn’t move for some time.

You were slow to sit up as he got dressed, trembling as you steaded yourself for what you were about to say.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

The words came out whispered, but in the quiet study, you might as well have yelled them. Rafe didn’t acknowledge you, and you knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard you. Frustrated with his refusal to take you seriously, you hopped off of Ward’s desk, angrily grabbing your clothes.

“I’m serious, Rafe. After this weekend…this is done,” you continued, voice firmer, now. “Don’t call me or text me or worry about any more money. I can’t rely on you forever anyway.”

By now, Rafe was actually listening to you, and you avoided his gaze as you got dressed. His silence was loud, and when you were finally decent again, only then did you lift your gaze to glance at him. His visage was unreadable, and after some time, he merely blinked at you.

“If I remember correctly, per your own words, your mom had enough debt ‘to file for bankruptcy’.”

His words made you sharply inhale, and you bit your tongue as he ran his hands through his hair in a poor attempt to tame the damp locks.

“Don’t ruin your life just because you’re pissed at me,” he coldly added.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“Personal feelings aside, I can’t rely on you forever, Rafe. That’s just the truth. I have to figure something out eventually, and there’s no time like the present,” your voice shook as he fixed you with an unnerving stare. “I miss my friends, and I don’t want to be the sad, damaged girl running to Rafe Cameron just so I don’t feel anything anymore.”

The blond followed your lead, folding his arms over his own chest as he leaned against the wall, staring you down with that annoying crooked smile.

“...and where exactly do you plan to find a job that pays you what I do?”

“There are jobs, Rafe. I’ll find one.”

You didn’t appreciate his tone nor the look he was giving you as he studied you. He was looking down on you, and yes while that wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, this time was different. He was looking down his nose like he didn’t believe in you, like he expected you to be crawling back to him in no time, begging him to fuck you again.

After a few moments, that crooked smile curved even more, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes.

“Well, I wish you luck…”

His voice didn’t match the words that came out of his mouth, and his gaze most certainly didn’t.

“I literally called this morning and was told over the phone that you all were hiring...and now I get here, and I’m being told you’re not…?”

You tried to keep the skepticism out of your tone, but your frustration at your predicament was bubbling up and threatening to be unleashed on the lone man before you. The inside of the country club was practically empty—a slow Tuesday—and you briefly glanced around at the two staffers in the whole room. Sure, you could write it off to a slow day that didn’t need a full staff, but something in you told you that it was more than that.

You didn’t believe the man in front of you.

“Look, I don’t know what else to tell you, miss. Whoever you talked to got it wrong. I’m sorry for the miscommunication on our end,” was his only explanation.

You didn’t dare bother to point out that both he and whoever you’d spoken with on the phone sounded damn near identical.

When it became obvious that this conversation was over, you turned away with a small huff, breezing outside to a familiar dark car. Kie was standing by it, arms uncomfortably crossed over her chest, glaringly obvious that she’d rather be anywhere but here despite being from ‘here’.

“Well…?” she wondered as you got closer.

“They’re not hiring,” you mumbled as you slid into the passenger seat.

She joined you inside the vehicle a moment later, a frown on her face.

“...but you called.”

“I know.”

There was a beat of silence before she scoffed, reaching for her door handle.

“If this is because you aren’t some rich snob looking for play money…”

She trailed off when you spoke up.

“No, I don’t…I don’t think it’s that,” you stopped her. “Let’s just go.”

She eyed you for a few moments, frown deepening.

“Are you sure? Y/N, this is like the fourth place you’ve been to today,” she pointed out. “...and I don’t want to add my stress to your stress, but it’s kind of fucked up.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t possible for you to be any more stressed than you already were, simply signaling for her to drive. You could feel her eyes periodically landing on you as she did, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, wondering why the universe had it out for you.

It had been weeks since you’d last seen or talked to Rafe, weeks since you ended your little arrangement, and weeks since you’d had a consistent source of income. It wasn’t a pretty nor respectable way to make money, but you’d been making money nonetheless. However, you couldn’t find it in you to continue sacrificing your self respect to keep sleeping with Rafe Cameron. You’d also been telling the truth when you told him you didn’t want to be this messed up sad thing anymore.

You had long let go of the drugs and cut back on the drinking, and now you’d dropped Rafe too.

You’d had hope…but now it was dwindling.

No one would hire you. In fact, no one had even allowed you far enough to officially apply just to get a foot into an interview. It was always the same. You’d call ahead so you didn’t waste your time, they’d tell you they were looking for people, and then the moment you actually showed up and introduced yourself, it was an entirely different story. It didn’t make any sense to you, and the thought of ever proving Rafe right made you want to be sick.

“How bad is it?” JJ asked you a few days later, the both of you away and isolated in some corner of some guy’s party.

You looked down at the weak drink in your hand, contemplating on whether or not to be honest.

“It’s…manageable.”

A whopper of a lie.

“...then why don’t I believe you? Come on, Y/N, it’s me. I know your mom wasn’t the best when it came to funds, and when she died…” he scoffed. “You weren’t exactly in any shape to march down to anyone’s job and fight for work just to keep things afloat.”

You looked away at that, throat tight.

“I’m honestly shocked you’ve kept it up for this long.”

If only he knew…

You felt his gaze on you as you wondered just how truthful you should be, but you reminded yourself that this was JJ. If he knew the full extent of everything, he’d be likely to rob a bank. Nevermind the fact that it would just make him ask more questions, like how you’d even managed to keep things afloat all this time. You didn’t think you could lie to him, and you didn’t think you could handle being on the receiving end of whatever look JJ would undoubtedly give you if you told him you’d been sleeping with Rafe to pay your bills.

You didn’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that the subject of your thoughts walked through the doors to prevent this conversation from continuing. His presence shouldn’t have shocked you—the party was pretty mixed with people from all sides of the island after all—but it still gave you pause, and JJ noticed.

“This asshole,” you heard the blond murmur, rolling his eyes.

You were inclined to agree, and you shrunk in on yourself with your drink, unable to ignore the knowledge that Rafe was at the same party you were at. In the weeks you’d been free of him, you’d had time to really ponder on your dalliance, and while you’d long accepted your hand in your own life choices, it was now hard to ignore Rafe’s own opportunistic choices in the situation. Sure, yes, you fucked him for money…

…but what did it say about him that he was perfectly happy to enter an arrangement in which he kept you off of the streets so long as you opened your legs for him?

If he was a good guy he’d just…keep you off the streets.

Like JJ would if you ever told him the truth.

You’d just decided to stop hiding in the bathroom when you came face to face with the man himself, heart skipping a beat at his presence. He was leaning against the wall next to the door, and you had the sneaking suspicion he hadn’t been waiting for his turn.

“How’s the job search going?” was how he greeted you, and you hadn’t been able to keep the ire off of your face.

He softly laughed to himself at that, nodding.

“I figured you’d look a little something like that.”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, and Rafe frowned, tilting his head to the side.

“You were, remember? And then you stopped…and that’s how you found yourself back at square one,” he reminded you.

The music traveled from downstairs into the dimly lit hallway, and you looked away from him just as he heaved a tired sigh.

“Do I need to apologize for calling you and your friends dirty Pogues? Is that what this is about?” he lazily wondered.

You didn’t dignify that with a response, and when you lifted your gaze, Rafe was rolling his eyes. He fixed you with a look, reaching up to touch your hair with a tsk.

“Come on, Y/N. You need me…”

He leaned in.

“We both know it, and you’re never going to find a job in this town.”

“You don’t know that,” you fired back, slapping his hand away as you took a step away from him.

Almost instantaneously, Rafe’s entire expression morphed, and you swallowed at the shadow that passed over his features. His pink lips pressed together, and those blue eyes hardened in a way you’d never been on the receiving end of. You watched his nostrils flare.

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

The combination of his tone and his expression and his words gave you pause, and your brows pulled together as you stared at him. For a moment, the music in the house faded into the background as Kie’s words came to your mind. ‘It’s kind of messed up’, she’d said, and while you hadn’t given that much thought to the statement then…you certainly were now.

“What did you do?” you shakily asked the blond, skin growing cold.

Rafe didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it was a lie anyway.

“I don’t know what you mean,” was all he said, one brow raised.

You felt tears kiss your eyes, and you felt silly for not putting the pieces together earlier. You didn’t know how, but somehow, Rafe had a hand in your lack of employment. It seemed exactly like something he’d do, but the only thing you couldn’t understand was why. Why do it? Just to see you fail? Just to feel like he’d won?

“Look, this little rebellious act…it’s cute and amusing and all…” he shrugged off with a small smile. “...but it’s silly. We both know you’re just going to end up right back under me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you hissed, moving past him.

“Yeah, and you knew that when you let me fuck you for drugs on some guy’s desk,” he threw at you, making you flinch and slow down.

“I was going through things then, Rafe! I didn’t…” you huffed a sigh, turning to glower at him. “I didn’t care about things I most definitely should have. It’s different now.”

You threw your hands up.

“I’m different, now, and I don’t want to keep sacrificing my dignity and self respect just to keep a roof over my head. I don’t want to sleep with someone who views me and anyone like me as beneath him. It disgusts me, and unlike you, I have no interest in sleeping with people who I claim disgust me.”

You watched Rafe’s lip curl over his teeth.

“Yeah, that’s real respectable and noble and all, but I wonder how noble it’ll feel when you’re being evicted,” he spat at you, moving closer. “You’re not getting a job in this town, that I can promise you, so you keep this up for as long as you want to, but we both know how this ends.”

You leaned away from the finger in your face.

“I fucking own you,” he bit out, roughly grabbing your arm and yanking you close despite your resistance. “You named your price, and I paid it-.”

“For a service! Not a person,” you harshly whispered.

Rafe’s chuckle was cold as he stared you down, perfect teeth winking at you.

“You think you’re the only girl in Outer Banks willing to spread her legs for some money? You think I’d have to pay any of them half of what I paid you?” your stomach dropped at his words. “I’ve been a lot more generous than you realize.”

He roughly let you go, practically shoving you away from him, and you stumbled. He eyed you with an expression filled with promise, and when you turned away to finally find your friends and hopefully leave, you descended the stairs on unsteady legs.

You pushed against Rafe’s arm and chest as he held your chin in a tight grip. The vehicle you were next to hid you both from view, everyone on the beach none the wiser to what was happening in the parking lot. Your feet tripped over one another as he forced you back, trapping you between him and the metal contraption.

“Is that what you came up with? You think that pathetic Pogue is going to pay your bills? Give you a place to stay when that eviction notice is taped to your door?”

“Get…off…of me,” you snarled, finally shoving him away with difficulty.

Your breathing was heavy as you glared at the blond, lips trembling and heart racing at the downright evil glint in his blue eyes. You glanced over his shoulder for any way to get away from him, your frustration growing as he moved closer.

“Color me curious, but is it somehow more dignified to fuck someone like JJ instead of me?”

The jealousy dripping from his every word threw you for a loop, and you weren’t in the right headspace to even linger on how strange that was.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re not like that,” you drunkenly choked out. “I don’t know why you feel like I need to answer to you about my personal choices.”

It had only been thirty minutes ago that you were dancing with your friends. JJ—ever the flirt—had gotten a bit handsy, but it was nothing unusual. He could get handsy with a tree, and you’d merely smiled at the behavior, ignorant to the heated gaze that was hyper focused on you. You hadn’t even realized he’d been following you when you went to get a drink from Hayward’s truck.

“Butt out of my life already. You’ve already done enough,” you hissed at him, moving to get past him when he stopped you.

“We’re not done talking-.”

His words were interrupted by your hand, the sound of the slap echoing in your ears, and he’d just harshly pushed you against the car at your back when a familiar voice interrupted you both.

“Get off of her!”

Kie was suddenly there, helping you in shoving him away, and she looked at Rafe like he’d lost his mind—like she’d bore witness to an even sinister side to him. The blond didn’t seem all that fazed by her presence, barely sparing her a glance as his jaw clenched, his eyes on you. Clearly he felt that whatever he was contemplating wasn’t worth it, because without another word—but not without a final scoff—he made his way back to the party on the beach.

Kie wrapped her arms around you when you started to cry.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

What a loaded question, and you realized that the truth was just on the edge of your tongue. Unable to stop yourself, you threw your arms around her, collapsing under the weight of all your choices and what had led you to make them.

“Kie,” you started, voice trembling in her ear. “I have to tell you something.”

If she was horrified by the truth, she didn’t show it much. You could tell she was shocked as the words tumbled from your lips, her brown eyes stricken and face draining of color. You didn’t know what bothered her more—the drugs, the prostitution, or that both involved Rafe Cameron. As it turns out, it was none of those things.

“Why didn’t…why didn’t you let us help you?” she tearfully wondered, looking between your eyes. “We know how hard it’s been for you, and we wanted to be there for you, but you…you just disappeared. You barely came around, and John B. heard things, but he didn’t want to believe them.”

She whispered that last part, and your chest ached at the thought of your friends hearing about your out of character behavior but feeling powerless to stop it, accepting it as part of your grief.

“Rafe’s a demented asshole,” she finally spoke on the elephant in the room. “...and we won’t let him win, okay?”

There was conviction in Kie’s voice, the kind of conviction that made you want to believe her, and so you nodded at her words.

She helped you straighten, wiping your face and taking you back to the party, quietly promising you that she wouldn’t say anything about any of this to the guys. She stuck to you for the rest of the night, and a week later, she made good on her promise, her parents shaking your hand as they welcomed you to their staff.

“We could always use the extra hands,” Mrs. Carrera told you one Friday evening. “It gets crazy busy, especially on the weekends.”

All the noise in the restaurant only validated her statement.

You’d been working at The Wreck for a week, and while it was nothing like what Rafe had been paying you, it was a job. It was a means of earning your own money that didn’t involve lowering yourself to the likes of Rafe Cameron. It was grueling, sure, and you sometimes wondered if it was truly worth the money, but then you’d think of the alternative, and you’d decide that it was worth something and that’s what mattered.

You hadn’t been paying that much attention when you approached your last table for the night, looking up from the apron at your waist and stopping in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here too,” Topper said, a fairly neutral greeting.

Topper may have been just as much of an asshole as his friends, but he at least played nice for the public. Your gaze traveled around the table, quickly looking away when it connected with a familiar blue.

“It’s…a fairly new gig,” you finally said, getting your notepad ready.

“Hey, if you’re going to use your friends for anything, might as well use them to become a productive member of society,” he told you, his tone now making you frown.

Opting to ignore the comment, you asked them what they wanted. You didn’t make eye contact with Rafe when he gave you his order, hand unsteady as you wrote it down. When you left them to go and get their drinks, you weren’t surprised to hear the scrape of a chair behind you. You were focused on rounding the counter, reaching for some clean glasses.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You didn’t forget your last encounter with the rich blond, tempted to ignore his presence altogether, but you were unfortunate enough to know how Rafe operated. Pausing in your movements, you turned to look at him, not surprised at all by the unhappy look on his face.

“I’m working, Rafe. What does it look like?”

You eyed the way his jaw ticked, finger gently tapping against the counter as he simply…stared you down. You glanced away, realizing that he didn’t have any power over you anymore. No, you weren’t completely out of the woods, but you had a secured source of income, and you’d happily struggle and scrape over sleeping with Rafe ever again.

“Go find some other struggling girl to take advantage of,” you finally said to him, grabbing their drinks and making your way to their table without a backwards glance.

Working at The Wreck was hard work, and no matter how many shifts you covered and how many tips you got, it was still long and hard work for half the money Rafe had ever paid you. You knew this when Kie came to you about the job, but on the other side of it, you were so beyond grateful for it. You were still stressed, of course, your monetary problems not going away anytime soon, but it was the normal stress of the average working twenty-something.

It wasn’t the kind of worry that came from a violent and abusive lover.

Rafe had been by the restaurant a few times since that day, and each time was more nerve-wracking than the last. Sometimes you served him, sometimes you didn’t, but it didn’t really matter because his gaze always found its way to you either way. On the days when Kie worked too, she’d ask you if you wanted her to do something about him, but you always declined.

After all, what reason would you have her give to her parents for kicking out the son of Ward Cameron who—to their knowledge—hadn’t done anything to warrant it?

Maybe you should’ve listened to Kie though. While you didn’t know if that would’ve changed things, you at least would have felt better about attempting to do something. Perhaps it was the mere sight of watching you work—watching you earn money independent of him—that made him snap, made him drop all pretenses completely. Barring him from the restaurant while you were there might’ve triggered some out of sight, out of mind response. It might’ve forced him to slowly get over whatever this thing was that he had about you.

It might have…

…and it also might not have done shit. Perhaps nothing would’ve changed, and you still would’ve found yourself tearfully staring at Kie’s mom as you took off your apron for the last time.

It was a normal Saturday when the texts and emails came through. The busiest day of the week, the most packed the restaurant ever would be for the next six days, and you’d been placing some fries down in front of some family’s kid when the noise in the restaurant…changed. You hadn’t been able to pinpoint how it changed, but if you did your best, it was like the chatters went from excitement about their food or whatever happened during the week to something else entirely.

One single thing that everyone was talking about.

You weren’t getting paid to mind your patrons’ business, but you started to think differently about that when the people at the table you were next to started to heavily eye you. The whole restaurant was loud with hushed chatter, so you couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the glances between the phones in their hands and you had you frowning.

You were slowly glancing around—realizing that that table wasn’t the only one—when you were yanked by your arm off the floor.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” you worriedly wondered the moment Kie had you hidden from view.

The look on her face was hard to read, but her parted lips and wide eyes told you that she was horrified. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly unable to get the words out before slamming it shut, swallowing. The combination of her expression, her silence, and the lack of silence out there had a ball of dread forming deep in your gut.

“Kie,” you softly said. “What…what’s wrong?”

It took her a moment to speak.

“It’s Rafe,” she softly said.

Your confusion only grew, still not quite understanding.

“What happened? Is he bothering you? Did…he do something to you?” you hesitantly asked, fearful that your former tormentor had turned his sights onto your friend.

“Not to me.”

That simple sentence started to put the pieces together, and you turned your face towards the front of the restaurant, recalling the stares and whispers and listening to the excited chatter. Your skin grew cold, goosebumps erupting all over you, and that dread was long gone. It was instead replaced by nausea.

“He sent everyone something…”

“No,” you heard yourself whisper.

“...a video.”

You turned to her with wide eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. Glancing down, you caught sight of her phone in her hand, and before Kie could stop you, you’d snatched it out of her grip. You moved out of her reach as she extended her arm, desperately trying to protect you, but it was too late.

You felt like you were weighed down by bricks as you stared at the two familiar faces on the screen.

It had to have been taken months ago, during one of the first few times you’d slept with him. You both were in Ward’s bedroom, and you remembered the day all too well, recalling the feel of his palm striking your skin and his voice in your ear before pulling your head down to his lip. Of course, it was that one and not one of the ones where he’d held you down and forced you to take his thrusts.

Your hand was empty, not even realizing when Kie had taken it back, simply staring into space at the memory of what was on that screen.

“Y/N, when my parents find out—and they’re going to find out—they…”

Her words died in the air at the sound of footsteps behind you, and you flinched when you heard a familiar voice call your name. Mrs. Carerra didn’t sound happy, and her expression fared no better when you turned around. You couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over as she gestured for you to follow her further into the back of the restaurant. You knew what was coming, what Kie was trying to prepare you for.

It was what Rafe wanted, after all…and he’d gotten it.

It was hours later when you were sitting with your back against your door, your phone turned off, overwhelmed by the influx of missed calls and messages from your friends. You’d only gotten a glimpse at them before finding your head bent inside of your toilet. Every single one of them bar Kie were shocked, their horror and confusion clear as day through their words. Only Pope had eventually sent a text that asked if you were okay.

…and the truth was that you weren’t.

You were so far from okay.

Rafe had won, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and even though Mrs. Carerra had expressed sympathy for your plight—more angry at the situation than anything else—she’d still had no choice but to let you go. Every other business in town valued the Cameron family way too much, and the only place that had been willing to hire you had been swayed by Rafe too in the worst manner possible.

It was well after midnight when your door shook from harsh knocks. You hadn’t moved in hours, just blankly staring at the wall, and you closed your eyes at the sound, positive it was one of your friends. You didn’t have the strength to face them, to answer questions and either break down or pretend you felt far better than you actually did.

You did, however, have the strength to face Rafe, your gaze lifting when his voice met your ears, demanding that you open the door.

His fist was still in the air when you swung it open, looking at him like he was something you’d find on the bottom of your shoes. He looked as put together as ever, completely unfazed by what he’d done. And why wouldn’t he be? This wouldn’t hurt his reputation and success in this town a bit. If nothing else, the video would have even more girls falling at his feet, but for some reason he didn’t seem to want that.

He preferred to force your hand instead.

“What is wrong with you?” you tearfully asked him, throat tight.

He didn’t respond right away, touching his tongue to his lip as his gaze roamed behind you.

“You gonna let me in?”

Your eyes almost popped out of your sockets, and he gave a haughty laugh.

“It’s not like I’ve left you with much of a choice, now, have I?”

He sounded so…proud of himself, and all you could do was cry as he brushed past you. He closed the door for you, noticing that you were struggling to move, and he kept his hand on the wood, his chest grazing your back as he pressed his face into your hair. You heard him deeply inhale, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I told you how this would end,” he whispered. “I gave you a chance to be smart about this.”

You went to move away from him, but his other hand shot out to grip your arm.

“You’re the one who made things way more difficult than they needed to be.” he continued. “We had a good thing going…and then you had to go and get sensitive and sentimental.”

When he forced you to face him, you kept your eyes on the collar of his shirt. The silence stretched as you refused to look at him, and you eventually heard Rafe heave a sigh. He let your arm go, and you watched him reach into his pocket, disappointed but not surprised by the roll of one hundred dollar bills he pulled out. When he straightened, he took your hand and placed the money in your palm, clasping your hands together.

A few more tears escaped when his fingers threaded through yours.

“Do you still feel like fighting this?” he quietly asked. “Let me know, right now, because I have all the time—and money—in the world.”

He slowly pulled you closer.

“You don’t.”

You shakily exhaled, reluctantly lifting your gaze to meet his own. You stared at one another for what felt like too long, and when he leaned in, taking your silence as defeat, you let him kiss you. It was a salty kiss, your own tears mixing in, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind, moving his lips against yours with a growing smile. His arm snaked its way around your waist, and the animalistic noise he let out told you just how excited he was to have you back under his thumb.

The couch seemed sufficient enough for him, bringing you both to it as he peeled your clothes off. You shuddered as the air hit your naked skin, thoughtlessly moving closer to his own body heat, and Rafe pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he laid you down. It felt like ages since you’d last slept with him, but you knew that wasn’t why you were trembling.

You were trembling because you finally realized you were sleeping with a monster. Before, Rafe had just been an opportunistic asshole to you. Rich, spoiled, selfish, the list went on, but now he was so much more than that. He was now someone who’d raped you on more than one occasion, and who had proved that he’d do anything to make you completely reliant on no one but him.

How else could he ensure that you’d never leave him? Never have any other choices but him? You’d eventually have to leave Outer Banks one day, you knew that to be true if you ever wanted a life independent of him, but that video could follow you around for the rest of your life, and very probably would.

When Rafe sheathed himself inside of you, stretching you out in a way that was regularly familiar to you, you gasped. The blond wasted no time in adopting a steady pace, fucking you hard against your couch, his fingers pressing into the arm of it. His grunts were soft in your ears, and despite your combined hatred and fear of him, you weren’t able to swallow down the whimpers that escaped your lips too.

You didn’t know what kind of hard on Rafe had for fucking someone he deemed so far beneath him, even more so to go through so much trouble of forcing you right back into his bed. You didn’t understand it one bit, and part of you never wanted to. You didn’t want to understand a thing that went on inside of his head, didn’t want to understand the thought process behind doing what he’d done to you.

His fingers scraped down your thigh before yanking you forward as he sat up some, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you. He was focused on the sight, lips parting as he panted from above you. He didn’t lean back down until your leg was over his shoulder, preventing you from moving much as he used you to chase his high, hips repeatedly curving against yours and forcing you to grip the couch.

“I missed this pussy so much,” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth as he spoke. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

You hadn’t before, but you did, now.

When his hand landed on your throat, it didn’t hurt, but his thumb applied just enough pressure to keep you alert.

“I’ll stop calling your friends dirty Pogues if that makes you feel better,” he whispered, a gentle kiss from his lips to yours. “...but you still belong to me.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks I'm

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pin-k-ink · 2 months ago

Text

CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR ⋆✦⋆ sakusa kiyoomi

synopsis ➸ you and sakusa have always hated each other, but when atsumu suggests it’s all just sexual tension, it forces you both to rethink everything—and now your arguments take on a whole new meaning

tags ➸ enemies(?) to lovers, making out, masturbation, dry humping, grinding, biting, dirty talking, degradation, hair pulling, implied atsumu x reader, unprotected sex, blowjob, face fucking, deep throating, throat bulge, fingering, orgasm denial, creampie, praise kink, pet names, squirting, manhandling, begging, atsumu is tired of your shit

wc ➸ 12k

"Say it again, Omi-kun. I dare you."

Your voice positively dripped with challenge as you leaned across the dining table, glaring daggers at the smirking figure lounging opposite you. Sakusa Kiyoomi regarded you evenly through those heavy-lidded eyes, handsome features arranged in an expression of haughty nonchalance.

"I said," he drawled slowly, relishing the way your fingernails dug grooves into the wood, "that your pitiful attempt at laundry left everything drenched in bleach. Again."

A muscle in your jaw ticked with barely restrained fury. You opened your mouth to unleash the torrent of vitriol building in your chest when a loud clatter from the kitchen interrupted.

"For fuck's sake, you two!" Atsumu groaned, stomping into view with his hands buried in his hair. "Can't ya give the bickering a rest for just one goddamn hour?"

You and Sakusa both ignored the blond's outburst, locked in an intense staring contest from across the table. The air crackled with unresolved tension, neither of you willing to be the first to back down.

"Well?" Sakusa eventually prompted, lips curving into that maddening little smirk he knew got under your skin. "Gonna try to tell me I'm wrong again?"

That did it. You shoved away from the table, the chair clattering to the floor as you surged to your feet.

"Why you arrogant, condescending prick! Like you'd know the first thing about doing your own laundry!" you spat. "That stick so far up your ass must be why you're constantly—"

The rest of your retort dissolved into wordless sputtering as Sakusa rose to his full, intimidating height as well. He leaned forward, elbows propped on the table as he pinned you with that heavy-lidded stare.

"I'm sorry, did you have a point or were you just enjoying the sound of your own voice again?" He spoke slowly, each word dripping with disdain.

Fire licked beneath your skin and you stepped forward without thinking, fists clenched by your sides. "That's rich coming from Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Constipated over here! At least when I speak, it isn't just to revel in my own ego for once!"

Beside you, Atsumu groaned again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not this shit again...am I gonna have to get the hose or something to break you two up?"

Neither you nor Sakusa paid him the slightest mind, too busy sizing each other up in a heated battle of wills. Adrenaline hummed in your veins, face flushed with righteous indignation at Sakusa's unrelenting arrogance. You itched to wipe that stupid smirk off his infuriatingly handsome face.

"Well?" you demanded when he just kept staring at you silently. "Nothing else to say now that you're called out, huh? Typical coward."

Something dangerous flashed in Sakusa's gaze. He took a single step forward, now well within your personal space as you held your ground defiantly.

"Be very careful what you wish for," he murmured in a low tone that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. "You might just get it."

Your breath hitched at the implicit threat simmering in those words. But before you could formulate a retort, Atsumu hurriedly inserted himself between the two of you. He planted his hands against both your chests, forcibly separating your bodies as he shot looks of sheer exasperation in each direction.

"A'right, that's enough outta the two of ya horny bastards!" he huffed. "I can't take another second of watchin' you two go at it before things get legitimately X-rated in here!"

You blinked dumbly at Atsumu's outburst, barely registering the dismissive scoff from Sakusa behind you. Your roommate pinned you with a pointed look that brooked no argument.

"Omi-kun, you're leavin'. No more tormentin' my roommate tonight." He then swung his severe gaze to you. "And you! Take a cold shower or somethin', yeesh! The sexual frustration is chokin' the whole damn apartment at this point!"

You opened your mouth to retort but Sakusa leveled you with one last burning look before turning on his heel and stalking towards the door. Atsumu gave you both a warning look before following to show him out.

Left alone in the tense silence, it finally started to sink in what exactly your supposedly oblivious roommate had been implying. Surely he couldn't think there was...that you and Sakusa...

As if on cue, a vivid flash of Sakusa leaning over you resurfaced in your mind's eye - all intense gaze and parted lips whispering those cryptic words. The image sent an undeniable thrill skating over your skin like a physical touch.

Across the apartment, the front door slammed shut and Atsumu reappeared, pinching the bridge of his nose again. You glanced between him and the empty space Sakusa had occupied, perturbed realization dawning.

"Oh..." You breathed the word on a soft exhale.

Atsumu snorted indelicately. "Yeah, welcome to my own personal hell, Roomie. Told ya you were both horny idiots."

For once, you found yourself rendered utterly speechless as certain puzzle pieces finally clicked into place with searing clarity. And though the implications should have struck horror into your heart, a tiny, secret part of you couldn't quite quell the spark of salacious interest now burning brighter than before...

You tossed and turned restlessly, sheets tangled around your legs as vivid images from earlier tormented your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, memories of Sakusa's smoldering gaze and the dangerous timbre of his voice resurfaced with alarming intensity.

"Be very careful what you wish for..."

His murmured words echoed in your head, stoking the embers of a treacherous curiosity you'd been ruthlessly suppressing for who knows how long now. Because if you were being truly honest with yourself, the antagonistic spark between you and Sakusa had stopped feeling like genuine animosity ages ago.

No, what fueled those heated exchanges and barbed insults was something else entirely - a slow-burning friction that ignited every nerve ending and left you breathless for reasons beyond just anger and frustration. You squeezed your eyes shut as flashes of Sakusa's powerful build looming over you infiltrated your mind again, heat blossoming low in your belly.

You couldn't deny the undeniable pull of attraction simmering beneath the surface, no matter how often you masked it with irritation or acid-tongued taunts. Deep down, on some primal level, your body craved the delicious friction of Sakusa's presence in a way that had nothing to do with combativeness.

The realization came with a dizzying rush of arousal that left you squirming between the sheets. You tried to dismiss it, chalk it up to a sleep-deprived lapse in judgement after an eventful night. But as the minutes ticked by, visions of Sakusa's chiseled features and unholy smirk persisted in tormenting your senses.

You gave in with a low whine, chasing the forbidden images as your hands wandered across your overheated skin. What would happen if you stopped retreating from the tension between you? What if you finally let yourself lean into those heated exchanges with abandon instead of biting your tongue?

Perhaps Atsumu had been onto something about scratching a certain itch. You shuddered at the thought of finally submitting to the magnetic pull drawing you towards Sakusa, of letting go and allowing instincts to take over instead of fighting tooth and nail against this undeniable chemistry.

Your fingers dipped past the waistband of your shorts, circling your swollen clit with a practiced rhythm as you pictured the man himself. You imagined what Sakusa's hooded gaze would look like if aimed anywhere lower than your face. How his voice might drop into a sinful growl of approval as you gave in fully to your salacious urges right in front of him, consequences be damned...

A twisted moan escaped your lips as you worked yourself higher with each fevered thought. Yes, you realized dimly. You were well and truly addicted to the slow torture of this constant foreplay between you, hooked on that tantalizing friction no matter how much you'd pretended otherwise.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow when Sakusa inevitably showed up and resumed your sensual battle of wills, you decided right then and there that you'd abandon the pretenses entirely. Just to see what would happen when the spark you'd been smothering finally ignited into an all-consuming blaze.

The thought spurred you towards a shuddering orgasm, back arching off the mattress as you rode out the waves of release with Sakusa's name staining your lips in a breathless keen. Only then did you finally relax again, boneless and tingling in the wake of relinquishing your stubborn denials to the oblivion of sweet surrender.

Because win or lose, you realized there was no longer any escaping the pull of this slow-burning inferno you'd both helped fan to roaring life whether you wanted to admit it or not.

The following morning dawned bright and clear as you reluctantly roused yourself from the tangled sheets. An odd sense of anticipatory tension thrummed through your veins while you went about your usual morning routines.

You kept picturing all the various ways you might be able to rile Sakusa up today - subtle touches and low-hanging innuendos he'd never seen coming from you. A sly grin tugged at your lips as you recalled his scathing insults and thinly veiled disgust from last night. How quickly those disdainful expressions would drop the second you disarmed him with a little bold flirtation instead of sputtering recriminations.

Just the thought of his domineering gaze snapping wide while you trailed fingertips over his chest or leaned in to murmur something filthy had your pulse racing. Maybe you'd casually brush up against him, sway your hips enticingly and see how flustered the normally stoic Sakusa grew. Make him finally admit there was more behind his contemptuous facade than—

"Morning, Roomie!" Atsumu's overly chipper voice cut through your heated musings. "Nice of ya to finally join the rest of us today."

You startled slightly, blinking at your roommate as he deposited a plate of toast dripping with butter on the table. He shot you an amused look over his shoulder.

"Whoa, someone kill your favorite puppy on the way over? What's with that 'cat who ate the canary' look first thing?"

Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized where exactly your thoughts had wandered. You shook your head vehemently, refusing to take the bait or acknowledge your brief lapse into an entirely different fantasy.

"Shut it, Blondie. I just had a good night's sleep for once now that the human embodiment of tension headaches wasn't around."

The reminder of Sakusa prompted a flicker of last night's...revelations to niggle at the corner of your mind. You suppressed them ruthlessly, trying to cling to the irritation you'd used as camouflage for so long instead. After all, he'd be arriving at any moment and you needed to be on guard against letting anything slip—

"It'll take much more than your simple attempts at deflection to fool me, [Y/N]," a low, familiar voice drawled in your ear.

You jolted again, whirling around to find Sakusa suddenly looming over you with that infuriatingly smug look plastered across his features. How the hell had he gotten so close without you noticing? More importantly, what exactly did he mean by—?

"Although I must admit," he continued in that same arrogant purr, eyes raking over you lazily. "Judging by those lovesick puppy looks you keep tossing my way, it's clear even you've realized the little game we're playing here now."

A muscle twitched in your jaw and you straightened fully, squaring off against his proximity and heated gaze with defiance even as your heartbeat kicked up a notch.

"Game?" you echoed flatly. "What the hell are you on about now, Omi-kun?"

His nickname dripped with acid as you enunciated each syllable. Rather than react with his usual disdain or irritation, however, Sakusa simply smirked wider and leaned closer until you could practically taste his clean, minty scent with every inhalation.

"You know exactly what I mean," he murmured, all predatory heat and sinful promise as his gaze dipped lower. "This little dance of denial you've got yourself caught up in, trying to convince yourself you aren't hopelessly afflicted with the same inconvenient cravings for me that I've been—"

The rest of his whispered taunts dissolved into a startled grunt as you lunged forward mindlessly. Only vaguely aware of Atsumu's choked curses from behind you, you seized fistfuls of Sakusa's crisp button-down as he instinctively caught your hips to brace you flush against his powerful frame.

"You arrogant prick!" you hissed, glaring up into those hooded onyx eyes roiling with sheer masculine possession now. "What makes you think I'd ever crave—?!"

"Woah! Hey hey hey, break it up assholes! We're not doin' this here!"

Atsumu wedged himself between your bodies, glowering at you both as his hands connected with both your chests to shove you apart with surprising force. All at once, you became aware of just how tightly clenched in Sakusa's unbreakable grasp you'd been mere seconds ago, and a dizzying rush of heat flooded your senses.

"I swear to God, you two are gonna give me gray hair before I'm even 25 at this rate," your roommate groused, pinning Sakusa with an exasperated look. "Sakusa, kindly take a cold shower 'cause my poor roommate can't handle whatever filthy material you're whispering about again."

He then turned and took you by the shoulders, steering you bodily towards the front door even as you sputtered half-formed protests.

"And you!" Atsumu huffed without slowing. "You're goin' for a nice little walk around the block to cool off before you try jumpin' that constipated weirdo's bones or something, capiche?"

He bundled you swiftly out the front door with a none-too-gentle shove. You whirled back to him in outraged confusion, mind still whirling from the sheer hunger in Sakusa's fiery gaze you'd been drowning in just moments ago.

"Wait, what the hell, Tsumu?! I need to teach that arrogant jerk a—"

"Tsk tsk," Atsumu chided, that severe expression melting into one of fond exasperation as he shook his head. "I gotta keep you two horndogs separated until you actually deal with all that pent up tension properly. I ain't dealing' with a screwin' match on my livin' room floor."

You felt your jaw drop at his blunt words and transparent implication. He sighed heavily at the look on your face and placed his hands on his hips.

"Look, not that I don't enjoy watchin' you guys torment each other until one of ya literally jumps the other out of sheer desperation," your roommate continued, "but there's a time and a place for that kinda stuff, ya know?"

He arched one eyebrow at you pointedly and you felt the heat in your cheeks rising once more under his exasperated scrutiny. Of course because no matter how you tried denying the reality of what just happened, or the nights spent fantasizing feverishly, Atsumu could see right through you—

"Like Bokuto's birthday in a couple days?" he supplied, jarring you from your whirling thoughts. "Surely you dolts can keep it in your pants and behave for that, yeah?"

Oh. Right. The event you'd been simultaneously dreading and looking forward to ever since the invites went out. Bokuto's annual raging party guaranteed to be a complete shitshow on top of all the usual chaos of his social gatherings. With you and Sakusa's rising friction now exacerbated by Atsumu openly confronting you...yeah, things were likely to implode.

"Tch, be a little easier if your weird ass friend would stop intentionally trying to goad me into destroying him in public," you shot back defensively.

Atsumu sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before fixing you with a long look.

"Just...try to chill for a bit, alright? Cool off, think long and hard about whether you want to actually pursue where Omi-kun's leadin' things now. And if you do decide to go there, for the love of God, do NOT spring it on him publicly at Bokkun's—"

The sudden wail of a cell phone cut your roommate off and he grunted, digging into his pocket to scowl at the screen. He shot you one more look before swiping to answer the call.

"Yeah, yeah I'm on my way," he griped, turning to head back inside. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Omi-kun hasn't killed my idiot roommate...yet."

You watched as he slipped back inside, leaving you standing alone on the sidewalk to gather your scattered thoughts. Frustration and residual heat still swirled through your veins, fanned anew by Sakusa's unsubtle taunts and the scorching image of his intense gaze. But underneath it all, Atsumu's knowing words and sly insinuations stoked fresh questions you weren't sure you were ready to examine properly.

Did you really want to give in and embrace this undeniable tension instead of battling it any longer? And if so, what would that mean—especially with the chaos of Bokuto's bash on the horizon?

You groaned and raked your hands through your hair, already dreading whatever fresh hell awaited you with that upcoming powder keg just waiting to explode. Either way, you sensed this little game between you and Sakusa was about to reach a fever pitch you could no longer run or hide from.

The music thumped through the car like a physical force as Atsumu pulled up to the curb outside Bokuto's place. You eyed the clusters of people spilling in and out of the front door apprehensively, the bassline vibrating through the soles of your shoes even from this distance.

"Looks like the party's already in full swing," you remarked, twisting in your seat to shoot Atsumu a sidelong look. "Think Bokkun will even notice when we roll up fashionably late or what?"

Your roommate scoffed and killed the engine, slinging one arm over the back of your seat as he turned to face you properly. His gaze was unusually severe, golden eyes narrowed beneath that swoop of blond bangs.

"Listen up, beautiful," Atsumu began without preamble, leaning closer. "I'm only gonna say this once before we get inside and all hell inevitably breaks loose."

You swallowed thickly despite yourself, feeling heat prickle along the back of your neck under his intense stare. Atsumu rarely took on such a no-nonsense demeanor in casual settings, and his solemnity made your stomach twist anxiously for reasons you couldn't quite place.

"You and Omi-kun have been dancin' around this..." He waved a hand vaguely, "this unresolved thing goin' on for way too damn long now, ya hear? All the flirtin' and teasin' has reached a boilin' point."

Your heart began thudding painfully in your chest as Atsumu pinned you with an inscrutable look. He knew. Of course he knew how badly you'd been craving release from these simmering tensions with Sakusa - especially after last week’s explosive confrontation and subsequent...personal reflections.

"So I need ya to promise me," your roommate continued, voice pitched low and gaze unwavering. "Whatever happens between you two crazy idiots tonight - and ya know as well as I do that somethin' is gonna give - just...try to keep it under wraps around the others, alright?"

Heat flooded your cheeks as indignant protestations bubbled up instinctively. But before you could release the torrent, Atsumu held up a hand to silence you.

"I ain't judgin' or anythin'," he stressed with surprising gentleness. "I just...ya know how batshit Bokuto's parties get. Wouldn't want you two finally lettin' off steam to end in a situation that can't be easily, uh...rectified later."

He arched one eyebrow meaningfully and your mouth snapped shut with a sharp click. Because really, what could you even say to refute his point? Between your rising provocations and Sakusa's indisputably unresolved attraction, there was only so much holding back either of you could sustain before fracturing entirely.

Letting out a heavy exhale, you reached for the door handle and pushed it open. You paused and glanced back at Atsumu over your shoulder, offering a tight nod of acknowledgment.

"Don't worry," you rasped out after a beat of weighted silence. "I'll...try to keep things low-key as possible."

The corner of Atsumu's mouth kicked up in a wry smirk at your careful non-answer. He shook his head wryly but waved you off with a theatrical flourish.

"Good enough for me. Now let's go get shitfaced and hope for the best, yeah?"

You couldn't help but snort at his return to his typical snarky cadence, the anxious knot in your gut loosening fractionally. Sliding from the car, you were immediately swept up in the roar of Bokuto's raging party as whoops and laughter echoed around you.

It was easy to get caught up in the madness at first - bodies pressed close together as you jostled your way inside. Random acquaintances and half-remembered faces called out greetings and raised glasses in drunken salutes as you passed. By the time the writhing knot of people finally parted, you were face-to-face with none other than the man himself.

"[Y/N]-CHAN!" Bokuto bellowed directly into your ear, big arms sweeping you up in a vice-like bear hug. "You made it! I was beginning to think you got lost on the way!"

A startled laugh bubbled up as you fiercely returned the embrace, familiar affection swelling at Bokuto's typical enthusiasm. Before you knew it, he was dragging you further into the melee with an iron grip around your shoulders as he called greetings to every acquaintance in range.

Familiar faces and conversations swirled around you in a headier rush than even the drinks being pressed into your hands could account for. You laughed and joked and danced, losing yourself in each friend's anecdotes or salacious gossip offered up for entertainment.

But no matter how raucous the music grew or how many distractions presented themselves, a tiny sliver of hyper-awareness lingered in the back of your mind - always tracking the nearby crush of bodies for a particular head of artfully mussed curls and a towering, brooding presence that could command any room with scant effort.

You knew Sakusa was here somewhere, likely tucked away in a quieter corner with Atsumu and the other teammates they still tolderated regularly. And though you continually told yourself to relax and simply enjoy the party without complications tonight, that same insatiable itch that tormented you constantly in his presence prickled stronger with every passing minute he went unseen.

It didn't help that flashes of last night's lurid imaginings and lingering heat kept resurfacing unbidden behind your eyes. Your wandering gaze sought Sakusa out almost instinctively, half dreading and half yearning to feel that heavy stare sear over your skin from across the room soon.

So attuned were you to this frenzied frequency, that when a familiar lithe figure finally broke through the human current nearby, you keyed in on his presence immediately. You froze mid-laugh, mouth parting around a startled exhale as your eyes drank in the sight with ravenous hunger.

There he was, striding through the crowds with his usual self-assured grace. A fresh cocktail dangled from his fingers with leonine disregard, eyes hooded and lips twisted in that same arrogant curl that always made your insides flutter deliciously.

Without conscious thought, you found yourself breaking away from your drunken companions and weaving a path right towards him through the masses. Sakusa's gaze, keen as ever even in chaos, snagged on yours instantly - twin sparks of heat and challenge igniting in their depths as your locked stares collided.

Some magnetic, unstoppable force drew you both together like filings to a lodestone. You didn't even realize how rapidly you'd closed the distance until Sakusa loomed directly over you, an immovable mountain of dark intensity radiating dizzying auras of poise and primal power.

"Well, if it isn't the neighborhood pest come to harass me yet again," he drawled in that razor-edged purr still tinged with amusement. "Color me surprised."

You stared up at him defiantly, chin tilted and jaw set even as your heart ratcheted higher in tempo. He was doing it again - pushing and needling like always with those arrogant words that got your blood boiling every single time.

"If by harass you mean have the good fortune of running into your pretentious ass at a party, then guilty as charged," you shot back, tone dripping with acid. "But don't give yourself too much credit, Omi-kun."

Rather than look affronted or irritated, however, Sakusa's eyes simply danced with dark mirth. He cocked one hip and lifted his glass in a sarcastic toast, leaning just close enough for his cologne to tickle your senses with sudden intensity.

"My, my. Such sharp wit as always, pet," he practically purred. "Although if memory serves, you were the one utterly tongue-tied and fawning over me this time last week."

Heat flooded your cheeks as vivid recollections of your late-night reverie starring Sakusa threatened to unhinge you completely. He knew. Of course he knew exactly what he was doing, pushing you until you snapped again like that morning.

Before you could collect the necessary vitriol to spit back, however, a drunken partygoer collided with your elbow from behind in their haphazard dancing. You startled and stumbled forward, the precarious contents of Sakusa's glass directly in your trajectory as you flailed.

It seemed to happen in slow motion - your forehead connecting with his chest in a blunt collision, his tumbler upending with a splash of amber liquid that sprayed across his crisp button-down in rivulets. You froze in open-mouthed shock as the soaked fabric clung revealingly to Sakusa's sculpted form, droplets slowly trailing beneath the waistband of his pants as the heady tang of spirits cut through the crowd's musk.

"W-Woah," you stammered instinctively, coming back to yourself in a sloppy rush. "Omi-kun, shit I'm so sorr—"

"So what else is new?" he cut you off with a sneer of clear disdain, raking a dismissive glance over the mess you'd caused before his inscrutable gaze snapped to you once more. "I swear it's like you were born without functioning motor skills or brain cells sometimes."

Your jaw clicked shut with an audible snap, renewed heat flooding your face that had nothing to do with earlier embarrassment. No, Sakusa had ignited the familiar, smoldering embers of belligerent fury you always felt in his presence with those contemptuous barbs.

Before Atsumu's stern words of warning could even register in your whirling thoughts, your lips curled in an acid simper as you tipped your chin up further to meet the onyx storm roiling in Sakusa's heavy-lidded eyes.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Omi-kun," you growled in a biting coo meant to get directly under his skin. "I'll make sure to replace your precious drink immediately since I know you need it to wash down that enormous stick shoved up your—"

"Woah hey!" Atsumu's panicked voice cut through the music abruptly, hand clamping around your elbow in an iron grip as he wedged himself between your snarling forms. "Easy there, kiddos. I think we could all use a refresher, yeah?"

He leveled you both with the same imploring, strained expression that just begged you to back down before things escalated any further. On your other side, Sakusa's free hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist as you glowered at each other over Atsumu's shoulder in a heated stand-off.

This wasn't over, your screaming instincts howled even as your roommate inserted himself as a buffer once more. Not by a long shot. Not when you tasted rapturous victory over Sakusa's insolent slights so close you could practically inhale it already.

Without warning, you plastered on a tight, saccharine smile and stepped back from Sakusa's bristling frame - offering an exaggerated shrug for Atsumu's benefit.

"You know what? You're absolutely right, Tsum-Tsum," you cooed without breaking eye contact with Sakusa's intense glare still boring into you. "We could all use a fresh round right about now. One sec and I'll get my friend Omi-kun's sorted out pronto!"

You winked at Sakusa then, all bared teeth and challenge as you pivoted on your heel towards the makeshift bar stations. This had stopped being about keeping things under wraps or sticking to protocols long ago. Because after that last scorching slight to your pride?

Sakusa Kiyoomi had once again set the bar for mutual destruction in motion entirely. And you had absolutely no qualms about leaning into each gloriously unholy crest and fall anymore - all under his smoldering scrutiny and gleeful provocation at long last.

The bartender passed your order across the sticky countertop and you snatched it up before whirling on your heel to head back towards the writhing dance floor. A triumphant grin split your features as you surveyed the crowds for that artfully tousled mane of dark curls, mind already whirring with plans for payback.

Sure, leaving Sakusa stewing in his own self-righteous agitation was immensely satisfying on a petty level. But where was the fun in simply walking away after he'd goaded you with those scorching taunts of his yet again? Especially when you already knew exactly which buttons to mash to send the usually stoic spiker into a spiral of indignant fury.

By the time you located his towering silhouette still flanking Atsumu in a quieter corner, the twisted smirk was plastered across your face - brimming with perverse delight at the prospect of sparking whatever delicious meltdown awaited. You wasted no time slipping through the press of partygoers until you stood directly before his chiseled form once more, drink outstretched with an air of saccharine innocence.

"There you are, Omi-kun!" You called sweetly over the pulsing music, watching those hawkish eyes zone in on you with a mixture of wariness and brooding intensity. "I went ahead and got you a new cocktail since you seemed so devastated over losing the last one."

"Tch...like I need favors from a clumsy, ill-mannered cretin such as yourself," he growled out flatly. But despite his venomous tone, Sakusa's gaze tracked the tumbler with poorly concealed interest betraying his parched thirst.

You pouted exaggeratedly, swaying your hips in a movement you knew would draw his lecherous study whether he admitted it or not. Sure enough, his dark eyes sharpened infinitesimally before flicking back up to meet your taunting smirk.

"Aww don't be like that now!" You scolded in a rich coo brimming with challenge. "It's a peace offering from me to you, Omi-kun. I even put a little...extra somethin' in there special!"

Sakusa's brow furrowed at the clear invitation behind your words, lips parting as he drew a sharp inhalation. Atsumu was wise enough to extricate himself from the brewing confrontation and move to join a cluster of rowdy teammates, leaving you and Sakusa alone at last.

"The hell are you blatherin' about now, pest?" Sakusa rasped at length, eyeing the proffered drink with unconcealed suspicion and a hint of intrigue. "Did you spit in it or something to try continuing your vile routine?"

Rather than deflate or offer denials, however, you felt a fresh thrill careen down your spine at the unspoken challenge hanging between your bodies. Yes, of course he'd deduced what fresh torment awaited behind the gesture - he knew you far too intimately by now for it to go unnoticed.

"Well," you began in a sultry murmur, tongue darting out to wet your lips theatrically. "Why don't you take a nice, big sip and find out for yourself, Omi-Omi? I was simply trying to be...considerate for once."

You stepped closer, breaching his personal space until the weight of your shared heat charged the scant distance into an electrified field. Sakusa eyed you for a long, tense heartbeat through lowered lashes stained in blatant consideration. Then, with agonizing leisure, he plucked the glass from your fingertips and swiped his tongue over the rim in a filthy glide - never once dropping your stare.

Your breath stalled out completely at the brazen gesture, heat blooming low in your abdomen at the sinful promise laced through every unhurried motion. Sakusa tipped the glass back and drained the liquor in two deep pulls, throat undulating with each swallow as you keened silently from between parted lips.

Only when the final drops vanished past his swollen mouth did he finally lower the empty tumbler and inhale a shuddering breath. And rather than erupting into disgusted fury like you'd expected, Sakusa remained unnervingly composed - eyes half-mast but gleaming with something darker and more ravenous than mere irritation as he regarded you.

"Well?" You managed to rasp out after several charged beats. "I'm sure it tastes exactly how you expected, doesn't it?"

Sakusa remained perfectly still, coiled and predatory as those piercing eyes drank in every subtle shift and hitch of your chest in rising anticipation. Despite all your childish antics and provocations leading to this point, some instinctive part of you found yourself inexplicably pinned by his unwavering intensity.

Then, before you could summon up another petulant rejoinder, Sakusa surged forward with the speed of a coiled serpent - powerful hands snarling in the fabric of your dress until you were hauled flush against his unyielding frame. The breath punched from your lungs in a ragged gasp, body igniting in a conflagration that seared straight through to your tingling extremities.

"You twisted little gremlin," he growled out low and wrecked in a way that made your knees liquify. "Did you honestly think poking this particular bear was wise when you've been skating on such thin ice with me already?"

You opened your mouth to fire off another heated retort, determined not to let Sakusa gain any more ground with that smoldering stare alone. But before the words could rip free, he tugged you forward with bruising force - chest colliding against yours as your startled gasp muffled against the searing brand of his mouth crashing over yours hungrily.

Despite the rough handling, you found yourself melting against Sakusa's unforgiving frame as his tongue lashed past your lips in a scorching glide. An embarrassing whine punched from your throat at the first velvet sweep claiming you fully without preamble. Any lingering pretense of calm detachment shattered as your hands shakily fisted in the front of his ruined dress shirt.

Rather than shrink beneath his ravenous onslaught, however, you instinctively pushed back - all teeth and nails as you savagely nipped at Sakusa's pillowed mouth in furious retaliation. He growled in clear approval, hips canting to grind his swelling arousal against your pelvis in a blistering promise of consequences to come for your impetuousness.

"Always. So. Damned. Difficult," Sakusa bit out in a wrecked rasp against your slick lips between each punishing reclamation of your mouth, large hands bracketing your shoulders to keep you pinned in place.

You keened breathlessly at the rough vitriol still laced through his gravelly timbre, nails scoring down the sculpted ridges of his back in open challenge. Sakusa shuddered against your provocation, enormous palms dropping to seize twin handfuls of your ass and haul you flush against his writhing form with a harsh groan.

"R-Rich coming from you, bastard," you managed to gasp out before his mouth was on yours again in merciless possession, tongue sweeping between your parted lips on a searing glide.

Coherent thoughts became an impossibility as the two of you grappled for dominance through the molten exchange - all snarling clashes of teeth and desperate whimpers punctuating each greedy inhale for more. Desire throbbed through your veins in concussive waves, rapidly whiting out every fleeting impulse beyond surrendering into the delirious rapture of Sakusa's lithe power sheathed over your quivering curves.

You bucked against the rigid plane of his abdomen shamelessly, palms cupping the sharp cut of his jaw with feverish ardor to keep his mouth sealed over yours without pause. Sakusa growled low in the back of his throat, the rumbling vibration cascading across your melding nerve endings in further waves of unbridled longing. You writhed against him, already dampening through the lacy barrier of your panties with the scorching promise of how relentlessly he would claim you fully when the time came.

Despite your best efforts to give as good as you got, it rapidly became clear Sakusa remained undaunted - subjugating your thrashing form against his with single-minded intensity. Before you realized what was happening, deft fingers were already trailing beneath the hem of your dress, gliding up the slick skin of your inner thigh—

"Oi! What the absolute fuck is going on over here?!"

The bewildered shout lanced through the haze of your heated tussle with Sakusa, his tongue still tangled with yours in a filthy glide. You startled apart at the familiar rasp of Atsumu's voice cutting through the thrum of music and chatter.

"Seriously, you horny bastards?" Your roommate's tone dripped with a mixture of exasperation and dark amusement as he folded his arms, surveying your rumpled states. "Couldn't keep it in your pants for one goddamn night, huh?"

"Piss off, Miya," Sakusa growled, glaring at Atsumu through hooded lids still glazed with naked hunger. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips possessively as you panted against his rigid frame.

Rather than looking remotely contrite, Atsumu simply arched one brow higher. "Don't give me that look, Omi-kun. The last thing we need tonight is Bokkun catching you two in the middle of..." He waved a hand vaguely at your entangled bodies, lips twisting wryly. "...whatever the fuck twisted shit this was inevitably spiraling into."

"And why the hell would Bokuto have any say over what I choose to do?" Sakusa practically purred, the low rasp making you shiver against him instinctively. "Unless you're implying we require supervision now like misbehaving children, Miya?"

Atsumu's eyes glinted with a flash of something harder for a beat. "Cut the attitude, asshole. You know damn well I'm just tryin' to keep your dumb ass out of hot water here." His pointed stare flickered over to you briefly, naked concern warring with exasperation in his expression. "Both of you."

You bit your lip, flushing slightly at the undeniable truth in his words. For all his bravado, Sakusa would hardly thank you for being the catalyst to potential fallout with Bokuto. Especially not over something as stupidly petty as whatever messed up courtship ritual had been unfolding between you until Atsumu intervened.

"He has a point," you rasped out at last. Sakusa cut you a sidelong glare, clearly put out by your backing down even fractionally. You met his heavy-lidded stare steadily, lifting your chin in silent challenge. "We could just...go somewhere more private instead?"

The air fairly sizzled with charged tension as your suggestion hung between your tangled bodies. Atsumu looked vaguely nauseous by the implication, shaking his head slowly as if to dislodge the mental images no doubt flooding his brain. Sakusa, on the other hand, simply stared down at you hungrily - chin dipping in an infinitesimal nod that made your belly swoop.

"A sensible suggestion for once," he murmured, blatantly ignoring Atsumu's derisive snort beside you. "I'm sure there are plenty of places we could...relocate to and get better acquainted, hmm?"

Without warning, he looped one arm around your waist and hauled you flush against his chiseled torso - the other hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he dipped towards your parted lips with dark intent. You inhaled sharply at his bold manhandling, arousal spiking as his tongue swept inside to taste you with possessive fervor. Your palms came up to brace against the firm plains of his chest on instinct, nails raking across the muscled expanse in retaliation.

"Woah-! Easy there, big guy," Atsumu cut in dryly, though his reproach sounded distinctly lacking in any real heat. "You're gonna scar me for life with the visual of you sucking face with Roomie here."

"Mmm...jealous, Miya?" Sakusa rumbled against your swollen mouth, drawing back just enough for the words to rasp across your sensitized lips. "Should I have [Y/N] bend over the nearest flat surface to help you work through whatever repressed issues you're still wrestling with?"

You flushed hotly at his lascivious suggestion, torn between scandalised outrage and a fresh wave of reckless arousal pooling in your core at the mental images his words conjured. Atsumu, however, looked utterly unmoved by the jibe - simply rolling his eyes at his teammate with exaggerated weariness.

"Uh, no thanks," he shot back, emphasising the refusal with a sarcastic pat to Sakusa's shoulder. "I'll sit this particular freak show out. Just do me and the rest of us poor, innocent bystanders a favour - use protection so we don't gotta deal with little Omi juniors runnin' around terrorising the rest of us in nine months, yeah?"

Sakusa regarded him in stony silence for a beat as you gaped between them, flabbergasted by the crude exchange. Then, without ceremony, he bent and hoisted you clean off your feet into his arms as he straightened. You squeaked in surprise, instinctively looping your arms around the broad span of his shoulders as he adjusted his grip beneath the curve of your ass.

"Hey!" You protested as he began striding away purposefully through the throngs of bodies, your thighs bracketing his narrow hips with dizzying intimacy. "What are you doing, asshole?! Put me down already!"

"Quiet, pest," Sakusa growled down at you without breaking stride, his baritone laced with dark promise that made you shiver. "Unless you'd prefer to put on another show for our dear teammate to get his kicks from?"

You snapped your mouth shut, leveling him with a defiant glare he simply returned with an arrogant smirk - entirely unrepentant in your damsel-in-distress position cradled against his granite frame. He turned to toss a parting shot over his shoulder at Atsumu, tone almost idle despite the tension radiating off him in sizzling waves.

"Oh and Miya? Do keep those wise words of caution in mind when you're inevitably imagining the different 'uses' I'm about to put your little Roomie through in the very near future..."

Before Atsumu could formulate a response, Sakusa had already spirited you away into a secluded room away from the raucous main party. The moment you were out of view, he promptly locked the door, hiked you higher and pinned you back against the wall - weight settling snugly between your parted thighs as your harsh pants mingled between your fevered frames.

Any pretense of deference imploded as his mouth crashed over yours in a filthy reunion, tongue lashing inside to taste you thoroughly with muffled groans of relief resonating from his chest. You clung to him helplessly as the uncompromising waltz of his hips undulated into yours over and over - determined to claim and conquer until not a single inch of territory remained for denial between your writhing forms.

"K-Kiyoomi..." you whimpered against his pillowed mouth when he finally drew back enough to catch your breath. To your mortification the sound emerged high and needy, lashes fluttering with naked want you couldn't quite smother even if you'd wanted to.

Far from sounding smug or victorious, however, Sakusa merely raked you with a weighty stare hot enough to sear you straight through to your very marrow. "No more posturing or pretending or fighting it, [Y/N]," he rasped in that sandpaper growl, flexing his hips in an unhurried grind that had your head thumping back against the plaster. "The dam's been breached past the point of no return now, don't you see?"

You swallowed thickly at the heated vow glittering in those depthless obsidian depths, insides liquefying beneath his potent stare alone. In that suspended heartbeat everything crystallized with blinding certainty—that you were both scrambling at the precipice of no return, with any attempts at clawing your way back into the comfortable ambiguities of before inevitably doomed to collapse in failure.

Sakusa braced his forearm alongside your head, face dipping to sear your parted lips with a fresh clash of bruising possession as you melted against him helplessly. One indomitable palm slid beneath your dress to rake searing lines across your inner thigh with unapologetic worship, rasping a promise of much greater indecencies yet to come against your fevered skin.

"No more taunts or masks or holding back," he growled as your kisses spiraled into delirious re-initiation once more. "Tonight I make you fucking mine at last, pet..."

Sakusa disregarded you abruptly, mouth crashing over yours in a filthy kiss that tasted of possession and dark promises. His tongue lashed inside with unapologetic fervor, stoking the scorching embers of lust already lapping at your senses.

You clung to his powerful frame helplessly, whimpering into the sinful waltz of his mouth claiming you thoroughly. Sakusa's hips surged forward in a calculated grind, pinning you flush against the wall as every nerve ending in your body sang with naked yearning.

"Fuck...Kiyoomi," you managed to gasp out when he finally allowed you a desperate inhale, fingers tangling in the soft curls at his nape demandingly. Far from sounding meek or cowed, your tone dripped with pure challenge - stoking the simmering flames higher. "What are you waiting for?"

His lips curved into a predatory smirk against yours, eyes glittering with roguish heat. You panted together in hazy intimacy as Sakusa leaned in until your noses brushed with blistering promise.

"Always so impatient and insatiable, aren't you pet?" He rumbled, sending shockwaves of depraved lust ricocheting through your very marrow. "Miya gave you that wise little warning about wrapping my cock up nice and tight before letting me go to town on that greedy little cunt of yours..."

His hand shot out to fist in your hair, yanking your head back to bare the stuttering pulse at your throat to his searing scrutiny. You whimpered high and needy at the rough handling, arousal spiking as he dropped open-mouthed kisses along the fevered column.

"But you want me buried in that tight, dripping heat raw and throbbing, don't you?" Sakusa growled against your racing pulse, tongue laving over the tender hollow between your collarbones. "Want to feel every brutal inch stretching you open on my cock with nothing between us, don't you slut?"

"You arrogant prick," you bit out through gritted teeth, nails raking over his shoulders furiously despite the fresh gush of slick tingeing your underwear at his crude words. "Don't act so high and mighty like it isn't exactly what you're desperate to feel too, asshole!"

He groaned in clear approval, licking a searing path up the line of your throat to capture your mouth again in a bruising clash. You gave as good as you got, all teeth and venom - furious lust spiraling ever higher.

When Sakusa finally broke away, you were both panting harshly. He leaned his forehead against yours with a snarl, flexing those powerful hips in a slow grind that had you seeing stars.

"That's right, baby girl..." he rasped with dark satisfaction. "Keep running that pretty little mouth while you still can. Because once my cock is hilted so deep inside you that you're choking on it, the only sounds coming out will be pathetic little whimpers begging me not to stop ruining you."

You keened at the promise blazing in his gaze, hips bucking shamelessly against his rigid bulge. But you refused to be cowed, dragging your nails down his chest with enough force to sting deliciously.

"You're all talk, asshole," you spat with naked defiance, upper lip curling. "We both know you're too jealous of Tsumu and me to really commit to fucking me properly anyway."

Sakusa stilled instantly, a dangerous calm settling over his frame in warning. You smirked up at him triumphantly until his jaw flexed and he dipped to graze your lips with his own in a deceptively tender brush.

"Baby, that poor excuse for a line wasn't even worth a half-assed attempt at riling me up," he murmured with an intimacy that clashed with the simmering venom in his tone. "We both know there's not a single part of Miya that's ever piqued my jealousy or interest at all."

You opened your mouth to retort but Sakusa abruptly rocked his hips forward, grinding his scorching hardness against your molten core with punishing friction. Your protest dissolved into a broken moan, head thumping back against the wall.

"No...the only thoughts keeping me green with envy?" Sakusa husked directly in your ear, undulating in a tantalizing rhythm as one hand slipped under your dress to palm your dripping heat. "Are how many chances Miya's had over the years to bury his face between those pretty thighs and drink you down until you're ruined...opportunites I've only dreamed of indulging in."

Your breath hitched as he dragged his palm up to thumb over the slick lace covering your pulsing clit teasingly. Arousal crashed over you in sweltering waves, clawing and slick at the crude reminder of just how excruciatingly long Sakusa must have burned with repressed lust for you both.

"So believe me, sweetheart..." he growled softly, sealing his mouth over yours again to plunder you thoroughly with dark intent. "Once that needy little cunt is finally wrapped around my cock with nothing holding us back?"

Sakusa thrust his tongue into the velvet cavern of your mouth until you were delirious, pliant putty in his unforgiving embrace. Nipping at your lips for emphasis, he sealed the wicked promise with a lick of searing venom:

"The last fucking thing on my mind will be caring about where Miya's thoughts happen to wander during the main event..."

One hand buried itself in his inky curls, tugging sharply until his hooded eyes locked onto yours with a fresh spark of challenge smoldering in their depths. Rather than rise to your predictable goad, however, Sakusa's mouth curved into a sinful smirk that had your belly clenching with anticipation.

"My twisted little minx," he husked against the fevered hollow of your throat, stubble deliciously abrading your sensitized skin. "I fucking live to watch you crumble apart beneath my attentions over and over until that bravado bleeds away completely..."

He punctuated the filthy vow by grinding the insistent ridge of his cock against your cotton-clad heat in a blistering grind of friction that had you writhing for more. You threw back your head with a high, plaintive whine as your thighs instinctively cradled him closer—already molten and aching to be split apart on his thick length without further preamble.

"Oh? Is that slimy bravado I'm still detecting woven through your bluster too, Omi-omi?" You managed to pant out in a breathless coo once you'd regained a sliver of coherence. "Don't tell me the great Sakusa Kiyoomi is still clinging to the last pathetic shreds of feigned indifference over my pussy?"

At that, Sakusa let out a low, resonant growl from deep in his chest - a thrilling vibration that lanced straight to your neglected pussy with relentless intensity. Before you could so much as process what was happening, he had hoisted your other thigh over his narrow hip to bracket his waist completely, the scorching brand of his dick cradled snugly against your drenched heat through twin barriers of flimsy fabric.

"I'll give our mouthy friends a reason to keep their judgmental warnings about 'precautions' to themselves," Sakusa snarled with hot finality against the fragile curve of your jawline. His teeth found purchase along the sensitive span of tendon in an unhurried graze, forcing your head back as he rolled his hips in a tight grind that had you whimpering unabashedly. "Because make no mistake [Y/N]...the only thing I plan on claiming with total, reckless fucking abandon is that soaked little pussy gripping me so sweetly right now."

You keened shamelessly at the sheer, uncompromising lust dripping from each gravelly syllable - utterly unmanned beneath Sakusa's merciless onslaught of words and tongued promises against your electrified form.

"And once I'm buried inside you at last?" he continued in a hoarse snarl, punctuating the rhetorical question with a shallow thrust that dragged his scorching length against your neglected pearl deliriously. "I'm going to ruin you over and over until the entire damned party can hear just who you truly belong to loud and clear..."

Despite the dominant cadence flowing through every word like a malediction, you detected the faint fractures subtly wavering beneath Sakusa's arrogant mask of lascivious control. Little hitches in his breath and slight tremors rippling along his flexing frame as he seemed to surrender more mental footholds to the smoldering conflagration consuming you both inch by searing inch.

Perhaps Atsumu had sown enough seeds of doubt to prick at even Sakusa's unwavering certainty in whatever forbidden desires were now scorching unchecked between your entangled forms after all. A fragile tendril of awareness that you weren't the only simmering powder keg primed for rapturous detonation within this incendiary rendezvous at last...

You curled one hand around the nape of Sakusa's neck, delighting in the way his throat bobbed convulsively at the intimate caress even as his hooded stare tracked your every breath with ravenous captivation. Slowly, you feathered the other palm across the ridged vee of his abdomen - savoring the way each corded muscle spasmed beneath your teasing caress until your fingertips grazed the hard swell of his arousal straining obscenely against those sweat-dampened sweats.

"Mmm...bold words from someone so clearly struggling to keep their composure already," you murmured in a smoky taunt, tracing reverent lines around the swollen heat radiating off his turgid arousal. Sakusa's jaw twitched noticeably, hips rocking into your tormenting touch in minuscule thrusts he clearly couldn't stop himself from chasing despite the flinty mask attempting to remain impassive. "What's wrong, Omi-kun? Can't stand the thought of me calling your bluff and making good on that promise right here and now?"

He sucked in a sharp hiss when you palmed his erection boldly, thumb brushing the wet spot darkening the grey fabric. The muscles in his thighs visibly flexed, as though straining to resist the impulse to buck into your grasp with animalistic urgency.

"Fuck," Sakusa hissed through clenched teeth, hips canting into your ministrations without his volition. You could see the internal war raging within him as his pupils dilated further, nostrils flaring as he struggled to smother the urge to surrender to the depraved fantasies he'd clearly harbored for far too long.

But the moment Sakusa's dark stare flicked up to yours with renewed determination, you knew his ironclad willpower had won out. He surged forward to crush his mouth to yours, devouring your gasps of protest as his fingers found your swollen pearl through the slick lace of your underwear.

"Oh, my greedy little brat..." he purred, breaking away with a satisfied smirk at your whimper. Sakusa's fingers curled possessively into the elastic of your underwear, tugging them aside to brush his bare fingertips through your soaked folds. You jolted against him with a choked moan, hips stuttering against the teasing caress. "The only reason we're not fucking in that bed over there right this instant is because I'm going to take my sweet time breaking you down completely..."

Sakusa pressed the pad of his middle finger against your entrance, the faintest pressure that had you whining in frustration. He smirked at the obvious hunger flushing your face and chest, clearly enjoying the way your neediness spurred him on.

"Because I want you absolutely dripping by the time I slide that pretty little cock inside you..." he husked, nudging forward incrementally as his fingers curled around the hem of your dress. You trembled with need as his palms dragged up the backs of your thighs, thumbs digging into the tender crease where your legs joined your pelvis as he hiked the skirt up and bunched it at your hips.

"I want to see your mascara run down those flushed cheeks while I ruin you," Sakusa continued with a dark growl, fingers finding your clit to roll in tight circles that had you panting openly. You squirmed against him, unable to bite back the wanton moans rising in your throat as your head thumped against the wall. "I want your hair in tangles and your lips swollen and puffy, and for every inch of that perfect skin to be covered in bruises and my cum..."

He punctuated his filthy declaration with a sudden thrust, burying two fingers knuckle-deep inside you without warning.

"FUCK, Omi," you sobbed, thighs clenching around his narrow hips as he curled the digits inside you. The rough stretch was almost too much, your walls already fluttering helplessly around his intrusion. "Kiyoomi, please—"

"Such a dirty little mouth," he murmured in a voice laced with gravel, tongue swiping over his lips as though eager to sample the profanities spilling forth from yours. "Let's see how it fares once I've got you on your knees and my cock down your throat."

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream when Sakusa suddenly began pumping his fingers with slow, measured pumps. He smirked at your incoherence, the pad of his thumb grinding against your neglected clit mercilessly as the thick intrusion of his fingers speared deeper into your sopping channel.

"God, the way your greedy cunt is swallowing me up, pet..." he groaned, eyes fluttering closed briefly. Your walls contracted at the broken moan that ripped from his lips, a surge of wetness gushing down his fingers. "So fucking tight and wet for me, baby girl. Do you think anyone has ever filled you up as well as I do? Does Tsumu get this sloppy mess creaming around his cock?"

The lewd taunt should have enraged you - but all you could do was whimper at the raw, unfiltered need dripping from Sakusa's words as his pace quickened. Every filthy syllable had your pussy throbbing, aching to be filled until the burn eased.

"Fuck," he hissed, gaze raking over the way his fingers were disappearing between your trembling thighs with feverish hunger. "You're so wet and warm, sweetheart...just begging to be used. So why don't we give those greedy little holes what they really want?"

He punctuated his demand with a punishing thrust, crooking his fingers against the bundle of nerves that had you crying out. You clenched around his digits, a rush of wetness soaking your thighs and dripping down his knuckles as you neared the edge.

"You're so close, aren't you, darling?" Sakusa murmured, leaning forward to ghost his mouth over yours. He licked a searing path from your chin to the soft shell of your ear, sucking the delicate lobe into the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Yes," you moaned, fingers fisting in the damp fabric stretched across his shoulders. Sakusa growled at the sharp bite of pain, his tongue tracing the edge of your ear in a featherlight caress that had you shivering.

"Good," he purred, abruptly withdrawing his fingers from your clenching cunt. You cried out at the loss, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you glared at him accusingly.

"Kiyoomi, if you don't finish what you started—"

"Shut up," he snapped, cutting you off mid-threat. Before you could so much as draw breath, Sakusa had hoisted you over his shoulder and was stalking towards the bed with purpose.

You yelped as he flung you down onto the mattress with little care, your head hanging off the edge of the mattress. But Sakusa didn't give you so much as a second to regain your bearings before he had dropped his sweats, letting them pool at his ankles before stepping closer.

You stared up at him with wide, hungry eyes, drinking in the sight of his thick, rigid shaft jutting proudly from a nest of neatly trimmed curls. You had no time to register anything else about the delectable specimen hovering mere inches from your face, however, before he was sliding a hand around his length and dragging the dripping tip along your cheekbone.

"Now..." Sakusa began in a dark, velvety murmur. You swallowed hard, trying and failing to ignore the way his cock jumped as your breath ghosted across the sensitive flesh. "Open wide, brat. Show me that your filthy mouth is good for something other than backtalk."

You opened your mouth to let a witty retort fly, but your eyes widened when Sakusa seized the opportunity to drive his hips forward, feeding the thick head past your parted lips with a hoarse grunt. You gagged slightly, hands flying to his thighs only for him to catch your wrists and pin them to the mattress on either side of your head.

"Hands off, slut," he commanded, rolling his hips shallowly. Your jaw went slack at the salty, tangy flavor of his arousal, a fresh wave of moisture gushing between your thighs. "Just lie there and look pretty while I use your throat, yeah?..."

You groaned low in your chest, a fresh rush of slick dripping from your folds at the filthy praise. Sakusa's grip tightened, holding you down as his hips snapped forward. His cock slid across your tongue, bumping the back of your throat and making your eyes water.

"Fuck, your mouth feels incredible," he moaned, withdrawing only to roll his hips forward again. His movements were slow, methodical, savoring each shallow thrust as you fought not to gag.

Your fingers flexed against his palms, nails digging into his skin in silent retaliation. Sakusa hissed softly, but didn't pull away. If anything, the slight sting of pain seemed to spur him on, hips beginning to thrust faster, balls resting snug against your nose.

You could feel him pulsing against your tongue, a steady rhythm that had your cunt clenching emptily. Each drag of his cock against your palate sent another jolt of arousal straight to your clit, the heady musk of his arousal flooding your senses and making your head spin.

Sakusa was panting above you, his movements becoming more erratic. You could feel him growing thicker against your tongue, the vein along the underside throbbing in time with his racing pulse.

"So good," he growled, fingers digging into your wrists almost painfully. You could feel him beginning to tense, the muscles in his thighs quivering as his movements became more urgent. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well. But you can do better, can't you, sweetheart? Take it deep like a good little cock-slut."

You whined around him, the sound vibrating against his length. His hips stuttered, a strangled groan tearing from his lips. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, the tip of his cock sliding down your throat with each brutal thrust.

"That's it, just like that," he moaned, his words tumbling over themselves. He was close, you could feel it in the way his muscles tensed, the way his breathing grew more ragged, the way his thrusts became more erratic. The last push he needed was the sight of your throat bulging around his girth, each movement visible through the smooth column of skin.

"Holy—fuck," he gritted out, hips jerking forward one final time. You felt him pulse against your tongue, his cock twitching once, twice before he pulled out with a groan, thick ropes of cum painting your face in messy streaks.

You gasped, eyes flying open as his spend coated your lips and chin. He released your wrists to grasp his shaft, pumping the last few spurts of seed out onto the exposed curves of your tits and throat. You whimpered, arching into the hot spray as his cock continued to pulse, your walls fluttering in desperate need for him.

Sakusa panted heavily, his hooded stare drinking in the sight of your thoroughly debauched appearance as he wiped the head of his spent dick against your parted lips. You swiped your tongue out to catch the salty fluid smeared there, eliciting a low groan from the man looming above you.

"Such a good girl," he purred, tracing a line through the sticky mess painting your lips. You could feel the tension humming beneath his skin, his fingers flexing against your cheeks as his darkened eyes burned through your form. "And so goddamn beautiful like this, covered in my cum..."

Sakusa leaned down to capture your parted lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his release heavy on your tongue as he plunged his into the molten depths of your mouth. You groaned into the heated embrace, fingers curling around his forearms to cling to him desperately as your tongues swirled and tangled together.

But just as suddenly as he'd initiated the languid assault, Sakusa pulled away - leaving you dazed and gasping as he straightened. Your eyelids fluttered open to see him gazing down at you with hooded, lust-darkened eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his nostrils flaring and the sharp planes of his face drawn into an expression of carnal hunger.

"On your stomach," he ordered, voice thick with need. "Ass in the air."

You obeyed without hesitation, scrambling to roll over and lift your ass in the air. Sakusa gripped the bunched skirt of your dress and yanked it up to bare the slick curves of your ass, a soft hiss of satisfaction leaving him as he took in the sight.

"Fucking gorgeous," he rasped, his hands gliding up the backs of your thighs to knead the swell of your ass. You whimpered into the mattress, hips grinding back into his touch instinctively.

"Please, Omi," you moaned, your voice muffled against the duvet. You couldn't even care that you were begging, that you were practically mewling like a bitch in heat - you just needed him, needed to be fucked so badly that you could hardly think straight. "Need you inside me, need your cock filling me up."

Sakusa groaned, the sound a mixture of approval and impatience. He tugged your soaked panties aside and positioned himself at your dripping entrance, the head of his cock sliding between your embarrassingly wet folds.

"Is this what you want, pet?" he asked, rubbing his length through your folds teasingly. You shuddered, the sensation nearly sending you over the edge as the swollen head brushed against your clit.

"Yessss," you hissed, arching back against him. Sakusa chuckled darkly, one hand reaching around to grab a handful of your hair. He yanked your head back roughly, the bite of pain sending a fresh wave of desire crashing through your veins.

"Beg me," he ordered, the tip of his cock bumping your clit again. You choked out a moan, your entire body trembling as his hips rolled in slow circles, grinding the aching flesh against your throbbing nub. "Show me how bad you want it, baby."

You sobbed with need, the sound coming out somewhere between a plea and a curse. Your whole body was buzzing, your mind completely blank save for the need burning white-hot in the pit of your belly.

"I-I'm sorry," you moaned, barely able to recognize the needy, pleading tone that spilled from your lips. "Omi, please, I need you so bad. I'll do anything, just please fuck me!"

The last word came out as a scream as Sakusa suddenly surged forward, sheathing his cock to the hilt in a single thrust. You were already so close, the sudden fullness was all it took to send you over the edge, your pussy spasming around him as hot, searing liquid gushed around his girth.

"F-fuck," Sakusa groaned, his grip on your hair tightening. He didn't bother to wait for you to come down from your high, pulling out and slamming into you again with a low growl. "Such a needy little thing, coming on my cock before I even got started."

"Omi," you mewled, his name the only coherent word you could manage. The room spun as your head swam, the sensation of his thick cock splitting you open overwhelming every sense.

"Tell me who owns this pussy, princess," he snarled, fingers digging into the curve of your hip as he picked up the pace. Each punishing thrust had you keening, the angle allowing him to bury his girth to the hilt with each snap of his hips. "Whose cunt is this?"

"Yours," you gasped, back arching to grind back against him. You could feel his balls slapping against your clit, the delicious friction sending shivers down your spine. "Omi, I'm yours. Please, make me come again."

"Shit," he growled, his hold on you tightening. He began to fuck you in earnest, his strokes growing deeper and more frantic. The head of his cock slammed into the tender bundle of nerves, forcing you closer and closer to the edge. "So fucking perfect, taking my cock so well."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, accompanied by the obscene squelch of your soaked folds. Sakusa was growling with each thrust, the guttural groans spilling from his lips urging you closer and closer to the breaking point.

"You gonna come for me again, sweetheart?" he gritted out, his movements becoming more erratic. His free hand reached around to circle your clit, middle and ring finger sliding up on either side of the swollen nub to squeeze in a firm pinch.

The added pressure was too much, and you screamed his name as you came apart beneath him. You convulsed around his girth, the waves of pleasure washing over you, drowning you. Your vision went white, and the only thing you were aware of was the same feeling of hot liquid gushing from your core.

Sakusa hissed as your walls contracted around him, the wet, sloppy sounds of his cock sliding into your dripping pussy sending him over the edge. He let go of your hair, his hands moving to grasp both your hips. He used the leverage to yank you back against him, slamming into you one last time as his own orgasm crashed over him.

"Fuuuck," he groaned, his fingers pressing bruises into your hips as his cock twitched, releasing the last of his load deep inside you. You could feel him pulsing against your inner walls, his release mingling with yours and filling you to the brim.

You collapsed bonelessly onto the bed, whimpering when his softening length slipped out of you. Sakusa groaned at the sight, his thumbs parting your cheeks to watch as a trickle of pearly liquid dripped from your swollen folds.

He gave a satisfied hum, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He slid his index and middle fingers up through the mess, pushing the slippery mixture back inside.

"That's a good girl," he crooned, pumping his digits lazily. He relished the way you writhed and clenched around him, the sight sending a shiver of satisfaction through him. "Keep all my cum inside that tight little pussy."

He pulled his fingers out with a soft pop, and you shuddered at the loss. You lay sprawled out across the mattress, panting heavily. Your limbs felt like jelly, and your core ached deliciously.

You were still floating somewhere in the clouds when Sakusa climbed up onto the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. He gently turned you onto your back, his dark gaze sweeping over your debauched form with an appreciative hum.

"You alright, princess?" he asked, the husky undertone of his voice sending a fresh rush of arousal straight to your core. But despite your lingering need, exhaustion was creeping in, weighing down your eyelids. "Ready for round two?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but all that came out was a tired, unintelligible moan. You blinked up at him, eyelids heavy and vision blurring. You heard him chuckle, and felt his fingers slide along your jaw, tilting your chin up so you were looking at him.

"I’m just kidding, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips over yours. The gesture was surprisingly tender, a marked contrast to his previous treatment. "We’ll work on your horrible stamina some other time."

"Fuck off, Omi," you mumbled, trying and failing to muster a glare. Instead, you leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. "Just hold me."

You heard him laugh softly, the sound accompanied by the rustling of sheets. Sakusa wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his chest and cradling you close. You nuzzled into him, sighing contentedly.

"Whatever you say, baby."

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #sakusa x reader smut #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #msby sakusa #sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi x reader smut #kiyoomi smut #kiyoomi x reader

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etfrin · 11 months ago

Text

❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ higher with my lover — coriolanus snow ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞

☆　Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, handjob, mentions of blood & blood sucking, Capitol! Reader, reader is mentioned to be a virgin, mentions of poison and death, district+lucy gray slander (necessary to the plot), mention of Sejanus, degradation & praise kink if you squint, dry humping | lmk if I missed anything!

☆　Pairing: fem! Reader x young! peacekeeper! Coriolanus Snow

☆　Summary: Lucy Gray left but you find him in the forest instead and shit goes down

☆　A/N: this fic is inspired by the fact that i imagined myself to be the one sucking the 'poisoned bite' and be like now we both die and i like you lmao, i hope you guys like it!

Ps. This is the official canon ending :D

Ps². Listened to this song mainly to write the smut, so i am just gonna leave it here. . .

| masterlist | taglist | bc: @cafekitsune |

“Lucy Gray! Are you trying to kill me!?”

Coriolanus Snow yelled as he kept pointing the gun in random directions. It wasn't long after that he began shooting in the sky causing the murder of numerous mockingjays up in the air.

He had found the necklace, he had found the scarf. She left. She was a loose end. She needs to die, fucking die so Snow could have the life he deserved. The life he worked for, the life he was entitled to since birth. The life of a Snow.

“Lucy Gray! We can talk about this!” He yells out, “Just come out!” But Lucy Gray was nowhere to be found, as if she was a ghost. As if she was the Lucy Gray from the song, a mystery to never be found.

He pointed his gun in the direction where he heard the sound of a twig snapping. It wasn't Lucy Gray but you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving as you slowly walked towards him with your hands raised. “Coryo,” you whispered, scared, your feet walking towards him with hesitation but never flattering.

He had no idea how you had found him. He wasn't sure why you were either here. It was already too much for him that Sejanus came (and now he is dead, dead, dead. The third person he had killed). And you followed him too, pulling in favors, deciding to be a medic along with Sejanus, serving time with your best friends (not his, he never considered you or Sej as his friend).

“Where's Lucy Gray!?” He yelled, walking towards you, gun still pointed. It makes you walk backward until your back hits the hard bark of a tree. The rough texture of the bark is uncomfortable due to your thin shirt. You scrunch your nose at the mention of her. You never liked her much. He didn't know why but perhaps it was all a ruse just for this very moment. This very betrayal from her.

“How would I know?” You scoffed, the haughty attitude of a Capitol citizen coming through despite having a gun pointed at you. He pressed the end of the gun at your chest. “Tell me the truth,” he growled. “That girl tried to poison me. Tell me where she is!”

“I don't know,” you hiss back, your eyes ablaze. “And get the gun out of my face. You should be heading to a fucking medic right now. Are you sure she poisoned you?” Your voice was now laced with concern, eyes softening as you looked at him, his t-shirt clinging to him with sweat, his cheeks flushed, eyes so wide that the blues were hidden with black instead.

Coryo gets the gun away from you to put his arm forward. Showing you his snake bite, the puncture wound oozing out beads of red blood on his snow-like skin. “It's probably non-poisonous,” you said, trying to sound optimistic.

“No, it's not!” He growls, and anger fills in every movement and word of his. “She's trying to kill me. She's district! I shouldn't have- shouldn't have-” You hold his arm, your fingers around his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“It's fine,” you whispered, trying your best that the tone you use with him is soft and gentle. You want to shake him out of the mental breakdown that was happening. He shakes his head and you press your fingertips into the wound.

“It's fine,” you whispered, “let's get you back. Come on.” You try to urge him forward, only for him to pull himself out of your grasp. “No! I need to find her. She's a loose end. She will tell. She's a snake, not a songbird,” he rambles.

Despite the confusion you felt with his words, you grit your teeth. “Come on, Coryo! We need to head back,” you said, your hand on his wrist, trying to drag him out of the middle of the green forest.

“No! We need to find her out before the poison works” he yells, pulling you back and pushing you. Pinning you effectively between him and a tree.

You glare at him before a moment of impulsivity takes over you. You take his arm, your mouth around the bleeding wound and you suck letting whatever ‘poisoned blood’ onto your tongue. His eyes widen as he sees the redness of his blood now painting your lips. “Now can we go back?” You said as you licked the blood clean. “Because if it's poison, we will both die.”

“Why would-” he visibly freezes. He doesn't want your blood on his hands. No- it would be on Lucy's hands. It's her fault. Everything is her fault. “Why would you do that?” He whispered, leaning closer to you, his face now mere inches away from yours. It was like he was seeing you for the first time. Like he never saw you for you until now. Someone like him. Unhinged (not that he's willing to admit it).

He hooks his fingers under your chin, holding your jaw and tilting your lips towards his. His eyes were searching for sanity but seemed to have found none as a smile (filled with insanity) spread on his face. “You're crazy,” he whispered, “Are you that desperate?”

“Desperate for your well-being, Coryo,” you whispered, hating the fact that your gaze fell on his soft-looking lips. “I don't know what's wrong, Coriolanus. But come with me, let's go back. Lucy Gray isn't worth anything.”

“Lucy Gray is worth everything!” He yelled, pressing his body with yours, pain in your bones flaring as he without noticing crushed you.

“I am sure she will have poison for you too. I am sure she will come back then,” you spit out. You felt outrageous at his behavior. “She ran, didn't she? To the North. You gonna go there too, Coryo?” you questioned, your eyes now meeting his. You try to find an answer but find something deeply tangled instead, neither a yes or a no.

You never felt such pity for Coriolanus Snow before as you did now. You put your palm on his cheek. “Come with me,” you said, softening your voice. “Back to the peacekeepers, the general told me about District 2 and I can put in favors so we can be back in the Capitol in no time.”

“You didn't choose Sejanus,” you whispered, the mention of Sej causing him to freeze. “Choose me,” you plead, feeling pathetic for being reduced to this. But it was for your Coryo so it was worth it. Wasn't it?

A chip from the bird makes him look away but you use your hand to make him face you again. Tears begin to pool in your eyes. You find your heart preparing itself for a rejection. “Choose me,” you choke out, a sob in your throat ready to come out when he says no, no, no Lucy Gray it is, never you.

You wait and wait for the rejection, your eyelids closing themselves so he doesn't see himself (or the way you looked at him with love) in the reflective tears. “Look at me,” he whispered, feeling his hot breath on your lips now. And you didn't want to listen but your eyes opened back up, light coming in and he's in your sight.

All glorious as you always thought of Snow.

Snow lands on top.

Haven't every Capitol child learned that from history? You were no exception. And you never planned to be. Even after finding out the truth about his situation, you never thought less of him, if anything everything you felt about him increased tenfold without your consent. Oh, how you should hate him. Oh, but how much you love him.

He leaned in and you didn't move. He stops for a mere second as if reconsidering his decision. But then decided to fuck it because the next thing you know his lips against yours.

He tasted like cheap alcohol, he tasted like ruin and danger. You ate it all up by parting your lips so his tongue could slip in. You let out a moan as his teeth bite into your lips. For a moment you think he's a snake and that he's the one poisoning you. His poison is more potent than an actual snake’s ever could be.

You were simple prey, that's it. Instead of a bullet, he was shooting your heart with a kiss. And it was working because in the future he will be the end of you. A slow, slow poison, he controlled the kiss despite the way his tongue slid against yours was clumsy but so perfect.

You kissed him back to the best of your abilities, wondering briefly if you tasted like the pastry you had in the morning. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth to suck and bite however he wants. Your hands find his buzz cut instead of his golden curls and a whine leaves your lips from the frustration of the loss.

Your hand is on his nape and another is still on his cheek as neither of you breaks the kiss. It didn't matter that you were getting lightheaded. It didn't matter that you could feel your heartbeat increasing due to lack of oxygen. He was everything, you would be damned if you broke the kiss.

You gasp as the kiss is broken. You stare into his eyes, searching for something, anything. But you find nothing but ice blue. It sent chills down your spine but at least he had calmed down now. “Feeling better?” You asked and you got a rough nod as a reply.

“Come on, we have work to do,” he whispered as he pulled back. His dog tag dangles as he begins to walk towards the cabin again, navigating the path with his father's compass.

You find the cabin and the guns. Coriolanus looks at you waiting for a protest, disgust, expecting you to run away just like Lucy Gray. You didn't do anything except sigh, your shoulder wearing down as you realized the truth of it all. You didn't say a word but your hand finds his. He doesn't say anything either but squeezes your hand back. An unspoken promise. He had chosen you. You had chosen him. You were in this together now.

There's no going back.

Both of you row the boat and let the guns sink into the river, never to be found again. You find your way back to the cabin, the rain pouring down again. You sit beside Snow- no, no, still Coryo. Always Coryo. Your head on his shoulder, your knees pressed to your chest as you hear the tip tap of rain outside.

Not a single sound is made. But as time passes and the rain doesn't stop, you begin to crave his lips again. As if that one kiss was morphine, and you needed more to heal the ache of your soul. “Coriolanus,” you whispered.

“Coryo,” he reprimanded softly, his tone enticing as if he was trying to bewitch. You feel your palms sweat as embarrassment begins to nag your mind. You blurt it out before you can think about how pathetic you sound.

“Can I have another kiss, Coryo?”

The next few moments were a blur. Lips on lips. Clumsily tongues meeting each other and whining into each other's mouths. You were shamelessly grinding on Coryo's lap as your lips continued to stay locked with his. “I want you so bad,” you admit as you feel his cock harden underneath you.

“Since the academy,” you whispered against his lips, a moan escaping your lips when he held your hips and began to guide them to grind on his completely hard bulge.

“Oh, yeah?” He mocks, “It's pretty fucking obvious.” He choked off a groan coming out of his mouth, “You're willing to let go of the fact that I am a murderer, huh?” You let out a whimper as he mentioned that. But both of you knew the answer to that, a part of you knew what kind of predator he was. Ever since you knew about how he killed a tribute, you just called it. It never mattered to you how horrible he could be or in this case, is.

“Yes, yes,” you moan into his mouth. Was it an answer or a mere whine about how perfect the friction felt against your pantie-soaked pussy? You didn't know but Coriolanus thought of it as the former. “You gonna be my girl, then? A capitol princess being a peacekeepers’ doll to fuck,” he whispered, his tongue licking a strip of skin on your neck.

You moan as his teeth begin to harshly assault your skin, covering your neck with marks. “Yes,” you gasp, “as long as it's you.” God, how much more pathetic could you be? But it didn't matter, it got him higher and fed his ego after everything that had happened. He loved it and perhaps, he could grow to love you.

Not in the way, Coryo loved Lucy Gray but in the way Snow would love his First Lady.

Your hands tug off his wet t-shirt and throw it on the floor. His hands do the same with your peacekeeper's uniform. He grabs your hips, squeezing the plump of flesh there, his mouth panting into you and he looks at you with dilated eyes.

Time seems to have slowed down as you touch his dog tag, your fingers tracing the name carved into the metal. “I want this. You, right now, right here,” you whispered like it was the biggest secret of your life. “Do you?” You ask as your hands go lower to fiddle with the zipper of his pants.

He doesn't give you a verbal answer, only pulling you into another kiss with his fingers woven into your hair in a fist as his free hand goes down below to free his cock from the confines of his trousers.

You grip his length, stroking it and squeezing out pearly pre-cum from the tip. You savor the deep groan that leaves his lips. “Fuck… just like that, doll,” he instructed and you obey. Your strokes get faster and his pre becomes natural lube as you continue. He lets out a hiss when you twist your wrist and his hand snares around your wrist. “Wanna cum in your cunt first,” he said, breathless from the ecstasy of having your hands on him.

Within moments the remaining clothes on both of you were scattered around the cabin. You moan into his mouth, your fingers desperately clawing at his shoulders as you begin to grind your soaking wet pussy against his hard cock. You gasp, elated by how your folds pressed against his length, his cockhead being teased by your slit but unable to breach the threshold.

The kisses you shared with him were sloppy. Saliva coating his chin as neither of you was willing to separate your lips for a single unnecessary moment. You knew your lips would hurt by the end of this, that they were swollen and the inside of it bleeding because of how insistently his teeth loved to bite your lower lip. He was no better either. You tasted more blood from the kisses now than anything, and it didn't matter to you because somehow the salty, rusty taste felt like just him.

You let out a sound unfitting of a Capitol-raised woman when his cockhead slips inside your gummy walls. His tip now profusely leaks pre-cum inside your gummy walls. You pulled back, biting your lower lip to stop the whimper as you feel his cockhead stretching out your virgin walls.

“That's it, dove,” he lets out, all needy and heated. His hands squeeze your hips to be encouraging as you let yourself down on his cock slowly. “Take it all in. You can do it, doll,” he whispered, as his eyes were down looking at his length entering you, being surrounded by the wicked, addicting warmth of your tight cunt.

“I can?” You let out a whine, as the pain bleeds into the pleasure, the ratio of it throwing you off the dizzy full lust. He hums in encouragement as you finally fill yourself with his dick to the hilt. Your slick walls pulsate around his length.

“Atta girl,” he smiles at you, his eyes brightening up from how well you took him and without any complaints whatsoever. “That's a good slut,” he whispered and smirked when he felt your walls clench around him deliciously.

You tried to move your hips but gave up when the burn made your eyes water. He coos at you encouragingly, telling you to adjust to his girth first. He wasn't going to rut into you like a dog, you're a Capitol girl, not a district whore. He wasn't going to disrespect you like that, no matter how much he wanted you to begin rolling your hips.

So your lips latch onto his neck, while your arms are around him and your legs around his waist. You were clinging to him, as if afraid that if you ease up in your grip he will fade away from your life, from this moment and your reality together. The smell of sex and sweat begins to become stronger than the smell of gunpowder as you continue to give him hickeys in various places on his skin.

Coriolanus doesn't complain that you're marking him like this, not when he's doing the same task with his tongue tracing the love bites his teeth left. And you suspect he rather enjoys when you bite, as his cock twitches whenever your teeth dig into his flesh as if you're eating and your wet tongue licks over the bite as if you're tasting the flavor of his skin.

When you're finally comfortable with his cock being inside the most intimate part of you. You slowly but surely begin to make small, shallow thrusts that have you gasping, your eyes rolling back with how good it feels already because he was fucking into your g-spot with every roll of your hips. The thrusts were teasing, it had him groaning praises of you being a good girl and his hold tightening over your hips, surely leaving bruises.

You begin to relish the feeling of being stuffed, his cockhead kissing your cervix when you get the angle just right. Your folds coat him with your creamy juices, a ring of white forming on his base with how wet you were. Slowly but surely the pleasure begins to build up, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to put up force with the way you rock back and forth on his cock.

You pant into his mouth, your lips letting out sharp moans when his dick strokes your walls just right. He lets you control the pace, his mouth busy latching onto your nipple to suck. His tongue swirls around the bud, hardening it inside his mouth and he nips your nipple just to have you jolt from the bite and squeeze down on his cock.

One of his hands now kneads the other breast he wasn't giving much attention to, his fingers rolling the nipple, pinching the bud, and playing with it. His other hand goes between your bodies and finds your clit. You soon realize he was working with a pattern that was driving you insane, turning your cunt into a hotter slicker mess.

When he swirled his tongue around your nipple, his fingers did roll the other bud. Meanwhile, his thumb would drive small, rapid circles onto your swollen bundle of nerves. When he bit into your nipple, his fingers pinched your clit making you gasp with thunderous pleasure filling your veins.

He continues at this and tension begins to build up in your tummy. You close your eyes as animalistic instincts begin to take over your body. The need to cum overrides everything else as you begin to roll your hips faster and harder. Desperate to cum around his cock for the first time of many times in your life. He feels the same way because he encourages you with his hips bucking into you, thrusting perfectly inside of your slick walls.

“So close, Coryo!” You moan, your nails leaving red lines in their path on his shoulders. He latches off your breasts to whisper, “Cum then, my slut. Let me feel you milk my cock like a good cockwhore would.” You let out a louder moan at his words. His condescending tone snaps the tension that had formed in your tummy, you begin to cum.

Your pussy spasming around his cock, triggering his orgasm. He empties his balls inside of you without any hesitation, filling you up with his thick, hot cum. “That's a good girl. Look how well you took me. Look at the cum leaking out, dove,” his tone teasing, like many times he has teased in classes but the context of this was entirely different.

You look down, your pussy clenching around his cock again when you see his seed ooze out of you. Your body slumps into him, tired from all of this. Both mentally and physically. The storm was still going on. You lay in his arms, his cum now coating the insides of your thighs.

“You're smarter than Lucy Gray,” he said, “I pray you know better than to run. I won't miss the next time.”

You shake your head, trying to hide the smile forming on your face. Others would have run from his words, anyone sane would. Lucy Gray did after all. But you were just you.

“If I wanted to run, I wouldn't have found you in the first place,” you whispered, sealing your words with a soft kiss on his lips.

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sttoru · 1 year ago

Note

toji with a whiny bratty gf :3

tags. mean dom!toji x female reader. manhandling, mating press, daddy kink, degradation, breeding, size difference, toji calls u ‘little girl’ & ‘ma’ at the end.

you had lost count of how many times you’ve begged toji to forgive you for your behaviour earlier. he had you pinned to the couch, body pressed into a mating press with your big, beefy boyfriend hovering inches above your face.

it all happened because you were acting up while toji was on the phone. he was calling his agent regarding some business and that’s when you randomly decided to be a brat. you were teasing him by ‘unintentionally’ grinding against his crotch as you cuddled.

toji tried to make you to stop by giving you death stares, tightening his grip on your waist and gritting his teeth. despite all of that, you still acted like you didn’t know the impact your actions had on him.

once the call ended, the phone went flying onto the carpet beneath you. you were easily flipped on your back and your clothes were ripped off in under a few seconds. there was a fire in toji’s eyes; you were not getting away from his wrath this time.

“sorry—‘m sorry, daddy! nhhh, sorry!” your hands were clenching onto toji’s biceps, his arms on either side of your body. toji was steadying himself on his arms which made the veins on them even more visible.

your pussy was forced to stretch out and accommodate to toji’s thick girth as he currently didn’t possess the mercy to give you a break, “too late now, ain’t it?”

there was no backing out now. you had asked for it the moment you decided to tease him. toji had given you enough warnings beforehand to remind you of the consequences of such foolish actions,

“where’d that bratty attitude go, hm?” toji scoffs. your confidence from earlier had gone extinct as you were reduced to a whiny, teary-eyed mess underneath him;

“ya really thought i’d let you off the hook after that shit you pulled?” toji mocks you with a mean grin, “tha’s real cute.”

you sobbed and your words were getting a bit jumbled up from the way your boyfriend was using and abusing your overstimulated pussy to release his frustrations, “mmnhh ! n-never doin’ again— never d-doin’ it again,”

your promising words were answered by a simple haughty chuckle. toji knew that you’d do it again. you like to be a brat and you absolutely love the reaction you get out of him each time. you enjoyed the thrill of messing around with a man like him who could easily manhandle you and get what he wants, whenever he wants.

the teasing on your part was all fun and games until it wasn’t anymore and toji’s degrading and fucking you brainless. he always had the last laugh. that’s how your relationship is.

“t-toji— mhhhngg ! please..” your plea was left unfinished once you felt more pressure on your body—toji putting more of his weight on you to hit deeper into your cunt. your eyes rolled back and your lips were parted to let out soft moans instead of proper words.

“fuckin’ pathetic,” toji grunts, savouring the way your small body was struggling underneath him. your entire vision was obstructed by his bulky physique. it’s all you could see through the tears; “my little girl jus’ needed a cock to shut that pretty mouth up.”

you nod along to his words since, at this point, you couldn’t even think straight anymore. it truly felt like you were being broken by your boyfriend as your legs were stuck in the air, his hips slamming against yours in an inhuman pace, his balls clenching as toji desperately wanted to fill your womb up to the brim with his seed—breeding you full, which gave him a sense of ownership over you in the heat of the moment.

and once he eventually finished and dumped his big load into you?

“ass up, ma.”

toji’s already putting you in another position. even if his dick went limp after having his earlier orgasm; he knows he’ll be hard again in under a few seconds. he can easily cum over and over, as long as his semen was well-spent and put in your cunt.

you weren’t going to catch a break today.

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #toji smut #jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk x you #toji x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader

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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months ago

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Successional Pleasure: The Rite (II)

A Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my regular Masterlist is here Summary: (2) Loki arranges a meeting, and you're offered the opportunity of a lifetime (w/c 4.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Thirsting for unattainable royals. Language. Heavy petting. Ridiculous Asgardian HC lore. Smuttish.

This morning the palace criers announced mandatory palace court attendance for all of Asgard.

Word travels fast, you muse as another person shoves into your shoulder; especially when the Odinsons will be in full ceremonial dress.

A swell ripples through the crowd, pulsing forward. Only one row of people stand in front of you, and the guards lining the jostling mass are becoming impatient.

You always make an effort for these events; everyone does. However bland and self-aggrandising the subject matter (and with the Allfather, when is it not?) – one never knows who’ll attention you’ll draw. But this time, it’s different.

This time, as you fixed your hair and let your solitary maid tighten the laces of your dress – there was only one person you wanted to impress. Him. Because this time, for the first time, he may actually notice you.

But that’s madness, you think as you try and focus. His lovers are legendary. He has his pick of…anyone. Literal deities.

But then, the memory of Prince Loki’s glistening chest emerging from the palace baths with wet hair plastered over his brow as he grunted through his orgasm erupts in your mind. That’s a memory not easily forgotten. In fact, it’s very easily encouraged. And each time you think of it, more layers appear.

In the extended, delusional version, he crosses the pool, the lapping water licking around his proud cock snug to his stomach as he wages a path to cage you by the stone edge and—

Trumpets blare. “They’re here,” a woman beside you squeals. Her hand flies to yours, clawing with unhinged excitement. The guards straighten, spears thudding against marble in ceremonial greeting.

He probably does that shit all the time; wanking in the palace baths with people he doesn’t know. He won’t see you amongst thousands of faces. That’s madness. But when it came to Loki Odinson, didn’t that make it more likely? Nerves tighten your stomach. The glint of their ostentatious headwear is the first sign of approach; two small figures against the expanse of the ancient doors floor to ceiling of the hall. Cheers thunders like a burst dam through a canyon as they move in sync down the wide aisle, each set of guards they pass thunking their staff in salute. Each thud made your pussy clench. And finally, you catch sight of his face.

It's the picture of haughty expectation at the wild crowds losing their minds as he passes. Every slice and draw of his bone structure is set like marble. He’s above it all; stunning decorative armour that would be absolutely no use in battle accenting broad shoulders at sharp angles. Impeccable posture, as ever. Today, the prince wears full leathers beneath – ridiculously fitted trousers which melded seamlessly to a forest green tunic stitched in golden trim.

To complete the act of war that’s his outfit, a stiff collar cut to the curve of his jawline sweeps up to his earlobes; a solitary curl of ebony hair lying against the leather, freed from his helmet. Thor wears the same red and garish gold he always does, beaming greedily at the crowds.

Your eyes roam over Loki’s sweeping entrance and you smile to yourself that the last time you’d seen him – he’d been naked. The woman beside you begins to breathe heavily as they draw closer. You have no idea, you smirk.

Loki’s cape billows with theatrical elegance down the open aisle, and you wonder briefly if his magic has something to do with it. Thor’s certainly doesn’t flutter around his ankles with the same effortless gravitas. Thor’s doesn’t undulate with every stride, timed with the military precision of its master’s thighs.

The guard in front of you lifts his spear, ready to thrust it to the marble floor. You hold your breath, biting your lip, their glory radiating with each falling step. And then, time seems to stop. Because then, Loki, Prince of Asgard, looks at you. His eyes flicker to the side, narrowing softly in your direction. A low dimple in his cheek flashes, only for a moment. And then - -thunk

The metal clang makes you jump out your skin, and by the time you get your bearings, the princes have moved on. They each face the platform, sinking on one knee with bowed heads while Odin pats down the cheers. He begins to rumble on, something about war, or tradition or blah blah.

The dark prince’s jawline is a work of art as he kneels in performatively rapt attention. With each swallow, his cheekbones flash. The golden helmet highlights the harsh lines of his face, lids dropping every few minutes as he struggles not to roll his eyes. You smile.

“Oh that’s good,” the woman beside you hums. You frown at her, concentration broken. It was her turn to frown. She shakes her head, gazing back to Odin. “Thor reached a treaty with Muspelheim.”

The next hour passes slowly, and for once, you’re grateful. When Odin stops, it’s the Crown Prince’s turn to regale the audience of thousands with his diplomatic success. Only half-listening, you use the time to your advantage, perving on Loki kneeling on the polished floor with those long, pale fingers clasped around one knee. When the dark prince stands, the rest of the high-nobles do the same. He whips his cape back, allowing the crowd a gratuitous view of his muscular ass and thighs flexing beneath tight leather while he unfurls. Loki’s imperious eyes scan the heaving crowd with an air of disdain. The look rolls like a sea wind, cold and unforgiving until you feel its weight land on you.

You’re pinned by that stare as plainly as though it’s his hands; his body. Goosebumps ripple beneath your dress. I see you, he mouths silently, subtly, before his gaze falls on his brother once more.

The royal family wave a final time before slipping to the doors at the back of the Great Hall. Loki’s attention hadn’t fallen upon you again, but the waiting. The anticipation; it was exhausting.

Around you, the bustle of a thousand conversations grows to a roar. The front rows of the crowd begin to file out and follow the same path the royal family had taken through the golden doors. High-court, only. Friends and family, that sort of thing. A huge curtain hangs behind the throne, buffeting gently from some unseen breeze. It’s a rich amber with threads of green and red and blue, shimmering patterns that no mortal fingers could accomplish woven over centuries, millennia even.

Gods, noted warriors and chancellors all dutifully bow to the empty throne before circling around the platform and disappearing behind the curtain. On their way to a feast, no doubt.

A set of bird-like fingers wrap around your wrist. With a yank you pull it away, whipping round to see the expectant face of a young boy.

“Get out of here,” you snarl. Pickpockets are rife at these sorts of things. The boy stares. Puberty hadn’t darkened a shadow on his skin, and despite his age, he was un-phased by the abruptness.

“You are requested,” he says, bored eyes searching your face. People jostle by your shoulders in annoyance. “By who?” you scoff. They’d try anything these days.

The boy tugs your hand. “Requested,” he says again as though it explains everything, turning and pulling you earnestly towards the line of guards. With a single glance at an insignia on his tunic, they part for him.

You traipse behind him at pace, clutching long skirts in one fist while eyes in the crowd follow you down the marble aisle against the sea of people and behind the mysterious curtain. “Name?” a voice grunts.

You look from the back of the boy’s head to the bulky figure in front of you. He’s dressed in robes of scarlet, the hint of a dagger’s hilt beneath a thick belt. A wiry red beard hangs down his chest, resting on a buckle of black steel. “I know you not…” he sneers slowly. “No names,” the boy snaps. He barely came up to the gatekeeper’s stomach. “She’s been requested.” The gatekeeper’s face crumples and his eyes dart to the emblem on the boy’s chest before standing aside, holding his tongue.

The youth gestures with his head to follow him, and you do…. down a short corridor flooded with buttery light. Delicate jangling of lutes and laughter ring to ornate cloisters, a glittering view of Asgard below the balcony-walkway taking your breath away. “Hurry,” the boy snips without a backwards look. “Master is not a patient man.”

He claps his small hands three times and a set of golden doors at the end of the cloister swing open. Thor comes into view mid-conversation, still wearing his ceremonial armour, a goblet spilling over the sides clutched in one hand as he gesticulates wildly. There’s a rumble of polite laughter. Your hand shoots out, grabbing the boy’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mutter. He shoots a scathing glance over his shoulder, casting a salty look down to your feet and back again. “You have been—”

“—requested,” you finish petulantly. “Yeah, I know.”

Your ribs thrum as you walk through the doors, pulled by invisible hands. There can only be one person who harbours the desire to have you at this exclusive gathering. And even that’s beyond insanity. Has he mistaken you for someone else? The boy, that is. He’s a barely more than a child. You were about to ask where you should go, when you realise he’s gone. Casting a frantic look around the room it’s evident that familiar groups have already formed, jokes cracking in waves; picking at piles of nuts and fruit and meats. Frigga herself stands by an ornate silver trolley, ladling wine into a goblet while Lofn whispers in her ear. Your knees buckle slightly. There he is.

A small figure works through folds of silk and armoured angles to the back of the room. You follow him, before halting abruptly, steadying yourself against a table. The boy’s come to a stop in front of a shadowed figure, exchanging a conspiratorial nod. Loki Odinson claps him on the back, raising a goblet to his lips. He rests against a pillar, choosing to stay apart from the revels. Watching. Waiting. His eyes meet yours as he sips; dark and dangerous over a rim of gold. One brow twitches upwards in, you presume, greeting. Sweaty palms run slip the front of your dress and you fight the sudden urge to run. It’s pale blue, the finest you own. Which isn’t saying much. The same colour as his eyes, you realise.

The Prince lowers the goblet, cocking his head. He’s still adorned with the ensemble his part in the day’s festivities required save one, the helmet. Dark curls spill freely over the shoulders of the cape fastened to guards beneath, intricate folds of fabric worked to perfection.

He raises a hand, forefinger beckoning twice in subtle succession before lowering it again. Just like the baths, you think with a shameful thrill. Your gaze darts to faces you’ve only seen in paintings around the court as you glide over, trying to look like you belong - but no one bats an eye. Loki unhooks one foot from behind the other, nudging himself off the column. Leather boots gape teasingly around his calves. You wonder, if you beg like a common trollop, if he would fuck you wearing those boots. Only those boots—

“You’re not wearing green,” the Prince drawls. You open your mouth and close it again, irritatingly mute while his blue irises smoulder. “Usually they wear green.” You press your lips together, collecting yourself. “Who?” “Those trying to bed me,” Loki says.

“I’m not trying to—” The prince waves a dismissive hand. “—Catch my attention, then.”

You feel your cheeks heat under scrutiny, a very obvious swallow working its way down your throat. “I don’t know what you mean your Highness,” you say. “You summoned me.”

“Indeed, I did. So I imagine I must have a very good reason,” the Prince murmurs. He brings the pad of a fingertip to his lower lip, brushing it across the skin as you stand in silent bemusement. “Loki! Did you send for a jester? What fun!” You inhale sharply as Fandral slides into view beside your shoulder. His hair is on point this evening, a lush wave cresting over his forehead and swept to the side as his eyes trail to your feet and back to your face. “Oh, my mistake. Just someone getting a little a carried away with the rouge, it seems.” Your stomach tightens. “I’m leaving, your Highness,” you say with a lacklustre bow and a bitter taste in your mouth. “But you do not have my permission,” Loki growls quietly. His feet come into view on the floor and you raise your head, inhaling the sweet breath from his lungs clouding your lips. “More wine, Loki?” Fandral asks brightly, already pouring into Loki’s goblet. The prince’s eyes don’t leave yours, but his mouth hardens.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asks through gritted teeth. Fandral looks at you with mock-surprise. “Oh yes, most recent conquest is it? Come for a peek behind the gilded curtain before you’re sent back to the depths of banality? I thought he’d run out of new faces.” He winks; it makes your stomach churn. “She’s not a conquest,” Loki says, hovering the goblet by his lips. “Not one of mine, anyway.”

Your eyes dart to his and catch them narrow slightly. Fandral looks genuinely confused. “Well, what then? Why is she here? Who is she?”

Suddenly there’s a loud crash to the side. Thor stumbles against the table laden with wine-soaked pears and pastries and mounds of tartlets, knocking a pile of cold meats to the ground. He wobbles after them, kneeling on the floor and beginning to pick them off the stones as if they were jewels. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Loki mutters, and you feel the gentle pressure of a hand on your waist. “Walk with me,” he urges in your ear and a shudder rolls down your spine.

“Loki?” Fandral calls as the figures around you start to blur and the Prince manoeuvres you through the crowd like a feather. “Loki, I must speak to you about the…matter, I’ll…later. Yes, later. Quite.” A wall of fresh air skates over your skin. You hadn’t realised how warm it was inside. The two of you come to a stop at the wall of the balcony, nails skimming against polished marble. Loki clears his throat.

“I apologise for Fandral he’s…” Loki looks up from beneath his lashes, a performative sheepishness softening his face, “well, himself.” You stifle a laugh, focusing on the edge of the moonlit waterfalls in the distance. Silence hangs between you, made louder by the jumbled festivities inside. “Why am I here, Prince Loki?” you whisper, not daring to look at him. “If it’s about what happened in the baths, I won’t tell a soul I swear—” “—It’s not.” Irritation begins to brew in your stomach. “Well then Fandral has a point. Why am I here? I’m no one.” “Exactly.” A prickle of heat rises up your neck, stinging your ears. “Am I a joke to you, your Highness?”

Loki’s eyes flashing in moonlight, but he says nothing. It stings.

“You bring me here to make a fool out of me in front of your friends? In front of Frigga? Frigga.” “I needed to see if any of them knew you.” Loki’s voice is eerily calm, his gaze as unflinching as a cliff jutting into night. “And clearly, they do not. Fandral would recognise you if they did; that little fishwife knows absolutely everything.” “Why would they know me? And what does it matter?” “It matters a great deal. To me, at least. And to you, perhaps.” You push a strand of hair back from your forehead, hating that its damp. The skin feels hot. Hot and flustered and clammy with embarrassment and…shit, arousal. Can he tell?

Black strings of lax curl blow gently around Loki’s jawline, pale lips stained with wine. “Tell me, my Lady…have you heard of the Rite of Successional Pleasure?” he asks, and suddenly all other noise vanishes from your ears save the hum of his voice.

Loki’s eyes run down the blue chiffon of your robe, wondering if he could peel it off and cast it skating across the stone with a solitary swipe of his hand. Allowing you a moment to collect yourself, he decides that yes, he could. “Surely just a legend, my Prince…” you answer demurely, busying your hands and staring off into the distance as an unmistakable waft of heat courses from your bare neckline. He licks his lips, feeling a smirk curl the corners.

“Aren’t we all?” he purrs. Their eyes meet. “I assure you it is very real. A relic, to be sure. But real enough. And I require a partner to enact this Rite, else my succession to Asgard’s throne will not be entrenched in law. I have waited too long as it is, as I keep being reminded.”

“That’s very…interesting,” you say.

Loki straightens. He hadn’t taken you for a dullard, but he does appreciate the delayed gratification of enthusiasm at the proposal. Loki can hear your heart thud faster; he wonders how much of that blood is flushing to your sex beneath the gown billowing about your ankles. You glance at him and quickly look away. It makes Loki’s stomach twist. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps events in the bath-house were simply…opportunity. Or worse, fear. You clear your throat. “What is it, exactly? The Rite of Successional…” “—Pleasure,” Loki finishes abruptly. He rolls his shoulders back, steadying the flurry of unwelcome nerves in his chest.

“One of my family’s farcical traditions. When Asgard’s twin moons are in perfect equilibrium within the heavens, once every half millennia – eligible members of the royal family suitable for rule must, in order to be considered for finite succession, perform the Rite.” “Which is?”

Loki’s eyes fall down the curve of your neck, hovering on your moist lips. He’d thought of nothing else in the days since the bath-house; those lips sucked between his teeth, stretching around his cock; swollen and wet and…

“Pleasure.” It comes out sterner than intended. “To be given, only. A king must not just be skilled in diplomacy, in combat, in war and sacrifice, but in giving pleasure,” he says, imitating the cadence of his father’s voice with a caricatural wave of his hand. “How else can Asgard’s citizens know we are to be trusted, to be benevolent, if is not documented in the annals?”

“You can’t be serious,” you say. “I thought it was a joke, like the other things.” “Contrary to belief, I can be very serious indeed, little owl,” Loki replies with a smile. It fades. The weight of the pet name plucked from nowhere hangs in the air like smoke as you fidget with a fold of your dress. Gods, how he hates that it’s blue. “I still don’t see what it has to do with me,” you posture meekly. Loki tenses, words hissing between his teeth. “Bifrost’s blood, woman. I’m asking you to be my partner for the Rite. Must I carve it in stone?”

The widen of your eyes makes his stomach flutter and you attempt a clumsy curtsey which makes Thor’s staggered collapse among the strewn meats look elegant. “I…I don’t know what to…I—” Suddenly, you look up. “Is it witnessed?” “Of course.” Horror blossoms in your eyes. “Oh…it’s very tasteful,” Loki says, inspecting his nails. “Much more so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed, I assure you. It relies more on…aural methods. For the most part.”

“I’ve never been invited to that,” you reply absently, and Loki notes that your fingers have curled around his wrist armour, steadying yourself. “When is the…the moon thing?” “Five nights from now,” he says, and your jaw drops. “I understand I’ve left it rather late, but I really am in rather a bind.” The irony of him practically begging this unknown woman of the court to bring her the greatest ecstasy she’s ever know wasn’t lost on Loki, but for the moment at least…he decides to restrain his natural urge to remind her of that fact.

“Your reputation will only be enhanced, I assure you,” he adds. “It’s a great honour. And I am, if I may say, quite renowned for my skill in that department.” “Why me?” she asked. And there it was. He grimaced. “Don’t lie to me,” she added bravely, and his grimace deepened. “The Rite will only be valid if the recipient has never known the touch of a god. Or, more specifically their…essence. Our essences must never have touched each other. The punishment is severe; there are tomes and everything; rules…how I loathe them,” he says, offering a weak smile. Realisation blossoms in your eyes. “And…I’m afraid my roster has been rather full these past centuries.” A small laugh erupts from your throat that makes it incredibly difficult not to shut you up with his mouth. “Surely you can’t have fucked everyone in the high-court?”

Loki bit back a laugh of his own. “Rather brazen, aren’t you?” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Regrettably, my options in that circle are limited to Fandral. And I’m afraid I cannot bring myself to give him the satisfaction he most desperately desires; it’s far too much fun tormenting him.” You raise an eyebrow and Loki scoffs, smoothing a curl back. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I know what they must say about me.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, your Highness,” you say with a conspiratorial smile.

“Liar,” Loki replies softly. The sparkle of your mischief fades, and he finds he immediately misses it. “So, I’m…a last resort, then?” “Somewhat, yes.” You bristle, goosebumps rising along your bare arms in the evening chill. Loki watches them flare, fighting the urge to soothe them with his fingertips. Another eruption of his brother’s drunken laughter bounces from the archways.

“What happened in the baths,” she says, eyeing him warily. “Wouldn’t that count? Wouldn’t your…uh, essence have…travelled?”

A small noise scratches from Loki’s throat. “Far too diluted. Fortunately…we were rather far apart.” She moves a step closer, looking up at him beneath her lashes. Her scent makes his mouth water. “And besides, if memory serves you made rather a hasty exit.” “If I agree to this, what’s in it for me?” you ask with a coolness he isn’t expecting. He frowns. “Aside from the obvious?” You shoot him a scathing glare. “You’ll be an honoured guest of Asgard’s highest echelons until the ceremony; luxurious quarters, the finest garments…yours to keep, naturally. A feast in your honour, the honour of my escort, a place in Asgard’s history, and of course…my eternal thanks.” He waits until you turn fractionally towards him before deploying a calculated wink. Your expression is stamped with suspicion, and yet he sees the intrigue nestled beneath the veneer of resistance. He’s not surprised when you shuffle closer, glancing over your shoulder. “Is there um…practice, involved?” Loki feels his brows shoot up. “Practice? Norns haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Our…”

He whips his cape as he spins, eyeing over his shoulder, catching the glint of Fandral’s flaxen hair hovering by the feasting table. “Our evidence of arousal cannot be in contact before the Rite…not a single drop, lest the entire ceremony be declared null and my honour as a successor questioned.” “Right,” you say stiffly. “Of course.” He can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from your skin.

You need her, fool. Loki clears his throat with a dry rattle. “But we may…get to know each other. That is expected, at least. If you agree, of course.” You turn to him, eyes shimmering in moonlight. Loki wonders again how he could possibly have missed such a rare jewel in the drab sameness of Asgard’s court. He straightens as your finger runs over the metal at his wrist, trailing up the hem of his cape. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” you ask. A thick swallow works down his throat, his trousers tightening as you add, “What do the rules say about that?” Suddenly it feels as though he could be three-hundred again, unfamiliar nerves sizzling in his belly like fire. “I…there is no impediment to that particular act, no.” “Don’t you think it would be wise to…make sure we’re compatible before you make such a momentous decision?” A flush creeps up Loki’s neck above the high collar of his tunic as the clink of goblets and laughter continue inside the archway and he’s thankful for darkness. A muscle in his jawline twitches, fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides. There it was again, that audacity. So wilful, and yet…

In a flash his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you back with him into shadow. He slips a hand around your back, cushioning your spine as you meet rough stone with a gasp. Your sultry eyes look up at him with manufactured innocence.

“Let’s spare ourselves the virginal theatrics,” he hums, drawing his nose up the line of your cheekbone. The shiver that racks your body makes the toes in his boots curl. “You will be my partner for this sacred Rite?” You catch his lips with the brush of an autumn breeze, grazing against the words. The scent of you overwhelms him; a deep forest tang with overtures of a fragrant sweetness he can’t place.

He groans into the kiss, hungrier with every work of his mouth against the reach of your tongue. Loki’s hands slide up the swell of your breasts, each moan shivering from your throat into his making him want to explode.

As your fingers card through his hair, he realises the other hand is working down the harsh wall of tunic, sliding down his abdomen, hungry for the engorged lust strapped to his hip. There is a barrier, he thinks wildly, tempering his fear. There is a barrier. You squeeze. “Norns, woman…” he growls between gritted teeth, steadying a forearm against the wall behind your head as his gnawing kisses work down your neck. Stone veins spread in crunching crackles under the pressure. “Loki,” you gasp beneath him, bucking into the press of his armour into your endless curves. The realisation he can’t sate it hits with sudden, unwelcome clarity.

“Far too familiar,” he chides against your ear with a feigned derision that makes another moan snake from your throat. Loki’s cock throbs harder. “I remain your Prince, and you will address me as such.” You crush his lips with a kiss full of such desire Loki thinks he might shatter. His cock rubs against your stomach, harsh friction sending jolts of pleasure lancing through his body and suddenly, you break from him with a pant. “Do you want to know my name now, my Prince?”

His saliva rings your mouth; lips swollen and puffed. He nods twice, keeping his chin low on the second as his eyes flutter closed as you lean to his ear, whispering the word. Now that he knows it, he can’t imagine it being anything else.

“…and I’m no one’s last resort, not even a god,” you say, meeting his eyes. Loki steps back, jaw hardening as you smooth down the front of your dress. “I didn’t mean to imply—” “—Well, you did. So, if this still seems like a good idea in the morning, I expect to see you again under less…crowded circumstances.” Loki bit back the urge to protest, but as much as he was loathe to admit it…she had a point. Preparations for the Rite were usually conducted over months, and as he widened his stance, clasping his hands behind his back, a familiar coiffured sheaf of golden hair glinted and disappeared with suspicious urgency. “Unless you’d rather partake with Fandral?”

Loki’s stomach flips but he swallows down the urge to answer. “You’re familiar with my apprentice?” he asks. You nod. “He shall come for you at noon tomorrow.” A small smile flickers at your glistening lips. “Very well, your Highness,” you say, sinking into a curtsey that makes Loki’s cock ache before rising and gliding towards the open archway. He rolls his lips together, fighting the urge to follow you – but he’s already shown his hand too heavily tonight.

As you pass through the arch, Thor wobbles in the other direction, casting a quizzical glance backwards. “There you are, brother,” he slurs, slumping onto the balcony. His arm makes a heavy gesture towards the party, swinging wildly. “She is the one?” Loki bristles. “Yes, brother.”

“Finally. Norns preserve us, I thought you’d never make it. You know she is not suitable for the ceremony if she has been...sampled, already?” he asks as both eyebrows rise. Loki scoffs and throws his brother an incredulous stare. “I know that,” he snarls. “What do you take me for, some kind of rube?” Thor sighs, picking a slice of cured boar from his breastplate and dangling into his mouth. “Let’s hope you can satisfy her, then – in every way. For all our sakes.” Loki’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “If you can scrape past the requirements, we both know I shall have no issue.” “Mmm,” his brother hums. “If it wasn’t for the other matter her response will be measured on.”

“It’s all in hand, brother,” he lies, ignoring the thump of his heart, watching the bob of your head as you wind between intoxicated council members towards the door. “Five moons is more than enough time for that.” And beside him, Thor snorts.

Chapter Three: Measurement The Masterlist for the Rite is here Tags in comments (≧ヮ≦) 💕

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