#coercion aesthetic
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Dolly!reader exists right between light and dark, constantly playing with the boundaries of control and freedom.
(scroll for master list)
Sheâs a contradiction, a direct oxymoron. Sweet and seductive right on the surface, but hunger and craving for more underneath.
Sheâs easy to give into her desires, playing into power dynamics, temptation, and pushing the limits of what is deemed acceptable. Addicted to control, whether itâs in her hands or somebody else's.
Her interest run deep and many would shy away from them.
She enjoys dark or haunting music, Nine Inch Nails, The Cure, or Siouxsie and the Banshees. It matches her internal intensity, constantly listening to it.
She desires control loss, weakness, and vulnerability. Sheâd prefer to be guided, and wouldnât mind if the guidance is over the top.
She's truly strange, her hobbies consisting of playing with knives and making strange looking dolls.
Her clothes is always baby pink and white, contrasting with her dark persona.
Drugs or intoxicants are appealing to her, serving as tools to deepen her sense of surrender and submission. Sheâs borderline addicted, enjoying the haziness and blur created by them.
She enjoys the loosening of inhibition, the ability to be coerced into a state of substances that overtake her senses. Sheâs fascinated by the taboo. She wants to be pushed into uncomfortable or morally ambiguous situations.
Dolly!reader is often torn between what she wants and what she is made to want. She has a dissonance that is encouraged by her partner, being made to do things she wants to resist only to be made feel like she needs to follow through.
Dolly!readerâs partner doesnât need to speak nor raise their voice to dominate, the control is in the subtle action. A glare or a hand on her shoulder can easily assert firmness and strictness.
Her partner encourages emotional dependency to make her feel like she needs them for validation and direction. Playing on her fears and insecurities creates a manipulated bond between her and her partner.
Physical dominance follows naturally, being pushed into situations almost forcefully. Her partner could take control of her body without permission, whether it be gently or with brute force.
Her partner will use Dolly!readerâs guilt against her, making her feel filthy or dirty for her desires that they play into. It compells her to please them more.
But of course, they only do this 'cause they love her. Her partner is attentive, whether it may seem like it or not.
They understand her and her needs, even if he goes against them at times.
Her partner only wants to show her their twisted love.
WORKS FOR DOLLY!READER:
sevika x dolly!reader
sevika x dolly!reader
#dolly reader#dolly!reader#dolly#dolly aesthetic#coercion#dark content#fanfiction#reader#y/n#wlw#mlw#wlm#writer#headcanons#manipulation#substance abuse#fanfic#ellie williams#vi#jinx#suguru geto#rafe cameron#gojo satoru
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tags...
#ă because it is fun ă (musings)#ă doors always open ă (open starter)#ă I'll never abandon you ă (ic)#ă the treasured recordings ă (study)#ă you'll get used to it ă (anon)#ă all sessions are recorded ă (asks)#ă do you remember your savior ă (headcanons)#ă to escape from your hell ă (isms)#ă doing all I can for you ă (memes)#ă rid the world of its garbage ă (crack)#ă unknown phone number ă (mobile)#ă out of coercion ă (ooc)#ă the one who saved ă (self)#ă the ring of a record player ă (aesthetic)#ă a ghost with your name on it ă (self promo)#ă a star patient ă (promo)#ă the list goes on ă (wishlist)#ă always here for you ă (event)#ă tools of the trade ă (resources)
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i'll be watching
pairing â jay x yn
warnings â smut, THERES A PLOT KINDA, stalking behaviour, he is OBSESSED, hes still a """"gentleman""", dom jay, fem reader, dubcon, reader gets drunk, coercion
wc: ~3.5k
synopsis â One smile was all it took. The moment your eyes glanced at him, he knew. Jay had already found your full name, your age, where you worked, and exactly where you lived. You just didnât know you loved him yet and that's okay. He was going to make sure you felt it, too.

You were always quiet, minding your own business and in your own world. It was peaceful, unbothered and drama-free. Juggling a full course load and working at the cafe, you didn't have the time to care about all the guys who tried to get your attention. A compliment here and there, maybe a little note slip on the counter with a phone number on it.
"I have work."
"This assignment is due tomorrow."
"My schedule is packed for this weekend."
You say over and over again. Some would nod their heads understandingly and leave. Others got upset, accusing you of being a tease, wasting their time. But it was always the truth. You just didnât care to date. It wasnât a priority. Never was.
The cafe became a soft space for you, and it was a routine you enjoyed. Coffee, latte, baked goods and the warm hum of happy customers filled your days when you weren't busy daydreaming or studying.
"Hi! What can I get you?" You asked, voice light and shining with infinite possibilities. The greeting rolling off your tongue like a script. You didnât glance up this time, opting to refill the cupcake stand that was being sold at a pace faster than you could keep up with.
"Coffee. Black." The voice was low. Rushed, like he didnât want to be here longer than necessary.
You finally looked up, and what a sight it was.
Neat, dark hair. Sharp features that didn't look real. His hands fiddling withâ what looks to beâ an expensive watch. He didnât look like the usual customers who came in between classes or after lectures. He looked out of place. Cold, quiet and probably had way too much money.
Then he looked up, staring right at you.
You gave him a warm smile, polite and practicedâ the same one you offered to every customer. But his gaze didnât soften. It stayed locked on yours, curious, unwavering, like he could see past the surface. Like he was trying to figure something out about you that even you didnât know yet.
When you called out his order, he grabbed it from the counter and left with a quick "Thank you" slipping from his lips. What an interesting guy, wasn't he? And you continued your shift, forgetting all about the strange man. But he never forgot about you.
Jay hated cafes.
Overpriced coffee. Pretentious menus. The same recycled âminimalistâ aesthetic with fake plants and Instagrammable drinks that tasted like burnt water and regret. He took his coffee seriouslyâdark, rich, and brewed with precision. Not watered down through shit using a machine that's probably already rusting.
But today was different.
His morning meeting had been moved earlier without notice, and he didnât have time to grind the beans himself, didnât get to hear the satisfying sound of it being poured, didnât get to take that first quiet sip in the dark comfort of his kitchen. Instead, he was running late. Annoyed. And in desperate need of caffeine.
What a waste, he thought bitterly, eyes scanning the ugly brown exterior of a small cafe on the corner. The obnoxious chalkboard screamed âOPEN!â and jutted out onto the sidewalk like it was begging for attention. Tacky.
Still, he stepped inside, the little chime above the door making his eye twitch. The place was warm, smelled faintly of cinnamon and espresso. Surprisingly, he didn't find bright lights or fake plants or Instagrammable murals. He joined the short line, checking his watch every few seconds.
This better be quick.
He was already thinking about how heâd never let Heeseung schedule his meetings again when something shifted.
A voice.
âHi! What can I get you?â
You.
The barista behind the counter.
Eyes that shimmered with somethingâ curiosity? Joy? Maybe it was just the reflection of the morning sun, but it caught him off guard. You had a warm smile, a soft voice that was so effortlessly kind it almost irritated him. No fake chipper tone. No forced customer service greeting. You looked real.
His mouth moved before he could think. âCoffee. Black.â
And for the first time that morning, he thought about something other than killing Heeseung.
He kept visiting after that. The cup you made him didn't taste disgusting, he was pleasantly surprised. But it wasnât the coffee that brought him back the next day. Or the day after that. At first, he sat by the window, pretending to scroll through emails or read a news article. Something to excuse the fact that he hadnât taken a single sip of the drink cooling beside him.
He was watching you.
The way you tied your apron without thinking, the way you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear when you were focused on something. The soft laugh you gave when your coworker said something stupid. It annoyed him how much of your attention everyone else got.
So he listened.
He learned that your favourite pastry was the chocolate croissant, that you hated oat milk, and that you were taking some brutal university class you always complained about on Mondays. He would do all your work for you if it meant you never had to lift a finger. Anything for you to smile.
He learned you only worked mornings on weekdays and full days on weekends. He picked up the rhythm of your schedule with unsettling ease, pretending as if it were his own. Jay started telling his assistant he'd be working remotely more oftenâfrom home, he said. But home wasnât his apartment anymore. It was the window seat at the cafĂŠ.
Your cafĂŠ.
It was a calm morning, he was still watchingâ still listening. As he sat at his usual corner table pretending to answer emails, he heard your name.
"Y/N, can you grab another box of lids from the back?"
Y/N. It echoed in his head like a siren's curse.
His fingers twitched around his cup. How could your coworker say something so sacred without a care in the world? It annoyed him. But that was all he needed; Jay had a name now. A real one. The moment he heard it, something settled deep in his chest. Like he unlocked a new level. As if knowing it gave him some invisible thread that tied you to himâwhether you realized it or not. You let him know your name.
You hadnât looked at him since that first day. You didnât remember him. He was just another customer, a regular who always ordered a black coffee. You smiled politely like you did to everyone else. That irked him more than he expected. How could you show that to everyone? It was only supposed to be for him.
But it was okay. He was patient. He'd wait for you forever.
You didnât know you were his yet. But you would eventually, heâd make sure of it.
You were already running late to classâyour shift had dragged longer than expected, and your manager needed help with the register changeover. You said yes, of course. You always did.
Then the kid happened.
Sugar-high, giggling, and sticky-handed, he barreled straight into you as you stepped out from behind the counter. Your drink slipped from your fingers, crashing against your front, staining your white t-shirt in a swirl of espresso and foam. You laughed it off with his mom as she scolded him for being a handful, apologizing profusely while dabbing at your clothes with napkins.
Back in the kitchen, you tried scrubbing it out with soap and water, but the mess clung to the fabric like it belonged there. You were soaked. And the coffee smell followed you like a curse. You had ten minutes to make it to your lecture, barely enough time to breathe, let alone run home and change.
You stepped out of the cafĂŠ with your head down, already mentally preparing your apology for walking into class late and causing a scene. Suddenly, you hit something solid. No, not something. Someone.
You stumbled, arms flailing slightly as the impact caught you off guard, but before you could trip, two hands grabbed your arms. Steady. Warm. Strong.
A chest. Broad. A body, hard with muscle beneath his shirt. It was hard not to stare for a bit.
âCareful,â a low voice murmured above you.
You looked up. One of the regulars at the cafeâ Jack? Jake? Jay? His name was something along those lines. His eyes flicked down to your soaked top, his brows pinched together, like he was in pain. How odd.
You scrambled for words. "I'm so sorry!" you blurted, looking up and meeting his gaze with wide, apologetic eyes. That nearly killed him.
"Your next cup is on me, but I really have to go! Point me out next time at the counter," You say, embarrassment taking over your face. You back up, getting ready to sprint across campus.
He almost let you go. Almost.
âDo you⌠need a sweater?â he called after you, his voice lower, more careful. âFor the stain. On your shirt.â
Suddenly, you're standing in front of him and he's taking off his sweater. A neat navy blue quarter zip, as he lifted it over his head, you got a glimpse of his midriff. Tone, perfectly sculpted abs. You ripped your gaze away, masking the awkward silence with a cough. He handed it to you with care and told you to keep it.
"I'll give it back next time i see you I swear!" You said running off waving at him with a smiling. There it was, that smile. Only for him.
He replayed the moment multiple times in his head. How you smelled of vanilla and dark roast. How you felt so warm and soft, his mind often wondered if you would feel the same under him. Jay palmed his dick night after night. How your shirt clung so tightly to your chest. He could see everything. And the way you smiled at him had him unravelling on his sheets. Moving up and down, breathlessly saying your name like a chant.
Life was a blurâ assignments, lectures, shiftsâ and the sweater ended up in your closet. You wore it to work the next week, not thinking twice. At the cafe, Jay stood in line ahead of you. He turned, eyes landing on the sweater, a slow smile spreading. âSo, youâre still wearing it.â
You spew out apologies and explanations but he let out a chuckle. Low. Deep. It vibrated in you.
âKeep it,â he laughed. âLooks like itâs yours now.â His gaze lingered. âLet me take you out, I'm sure you're tired of coffee by now.â His tone was light, but his eyes were focused on you. He was handsome, kind, and you basically stole his sweater, this was the least you could do to make up for it.
âSure,â you smiled and wrote your number on his cup with a small smiley face beside it.
That date turned into hours of talking. Jay was funny, attentive, remembering tiny details like your love for plants and how you refused to allow any fake ones in the cafe, fighting the manager if you had to. You didnât know heâd studied you online, memorizing your posts, your likes, the plushy bear youâd mentioned wanting. He knew you more than you knew yourself.
The second date was perfect: a park walk, dinner at a cozy bistro. The third was a movie night at your place, laughing together with his arm around you. He never crossed a line unless you wanted him to, always checking if you're okay with whatever he's doing, whether it be a hug or a light kiss on your lips. Jay was a nice guy; he would never do anything weird, maybe that's why you were so comfortable with him. He liked everything you liked. He listened to you rant about your professors and classmates. It was like he was made for you.
By the fourth, you knew you liked him. Jay was perfectâhe opened doors, never let you pay, always drove you home and walked you back to your door. When he handed you the plush bear youâd mentioned offhandedly weeks ago, your eyes lit up.
âYou remembered,â you beamed, pulling it into your arms.
âOf course I did,â he said, watching you like you hung the stars.
You didnât notice the glint in the bearâs right eye, a tiny lens tucked behind the button. He wanted to keep seeing you smile. Even when you thought you were alone.
At night, when you changed, he was there, on his screen, heart racing. Jay sat in his darkened apartment, the laptop screen casting a sickly glow across his face. The plushyâs camera feed showed you in your room, taking off your shirt after a long day. His breath caught, uneven, as you unhooked your bra, your breasts spilling free, soft and perfect under the lampâs dim light. He licked his lips, imagining his tongue swirling over your nipples, sucking hard until they pebbled, leaving wet trails and purple marks across your chest. He wanted to bite, to claim every inch of you.
âGod, Y/N,â he growled, voice thick with lust, leaning so close his nose nearly brushed the screen. If he stuck out his tongue he could taste it, he could taste you. His eyes devoured youâyour delicate collarbone, the maddening curve of your waist, the way your hair draped over your shoulder like an invitation for him to hold your hair up. His hand was already in his pants, gripping himself, the ache unbearable, so needy. Your body was a fucking altar, and he was a starving worshipper.
He groaned as you bent to grab a tee, your breasts swaying slightly, the view sending a violent jolt through him. His strokes were frantic now, sloppy, his palm slick with precum. He pictured pinning you to the bed, spreading you open, licking every curve until you screamed his name. The thought of anyone else seeing youâyour classmates, those cafĂŠ creepsâmade his gut fill up with rage. âMine, mine, mine,â he gasped, hips bucking as he came, hot and messy, splattering across his hand. He panted, eyes still locked on you slipping into bed, oblivious, his perfect obsession.
He wiped himself off, breath uneven, knowing you curl up with the plushy. His plushy. His eyes. Heâd never let you go.
Jay invited you to his place for dinner, and you couldnât say no. His apartment was stunningâsleek, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The table was set with candles, a spread of homemade pasta, and a bottle of red wine. âYou cook?â you teased, impressed and honoured.
âOnly for you, angel,â he said, pouring you a generous glass. His smile was warm, but his eyes burned with something darker, a need. He kept refilling your glass, his hand lingering on yours. âYou deserve to take a break, Y/N. You work so hard.â He cooed.
The wine hit fast, warming your limbs, clouding your thoughts. Jay was charming, leaning close, his smile growing bigger. You giggled, head fuzzy, his voice smooth and low as he talked. By the third glass, the room tilted, your cheeks flushed, your body uncontrollable. He moved to the couch, patting the spot beside him. âCome here love.â âYouâre so⌠nice, Jay,â you mumbled, head lolling slightly, cheeks flushed. By the fourth glass, the room spun, your body heavy, limbs loose. Guilt clawed at youâheâd done so much, the dinner, the plushy, the sweater. You owed him, didnât you?Â
You stumbled, and he pulled you into his lap. His scent wrapped around you, intoxicating. He looked at you like you were his everything, and it felt too good, too warm, even as a faint voice screamed to leave. His hand slid to your thigh, squeezing, inching under your skirt. âYouâre so pretty like this,â he murmured, voice thick. âAll soft and sweet, just for me.â
âJay, I⌠Iâm really drunk,â you slurred, trying to push his hand away, but your fingers were clumsy. Your head felt like clouds, the wine drowning out your senses. âMaybe I should⌠go home.â
âShh, angel,â he cooed, fingers tightening, ignoring your weak protest. âYou canât leave me after all this, can you? Youâre my special girl tonight.â His eyes locked on yours, intense, needy. âYou trust me, donât you? Iâve been so good to you.âÂ
Guilt twisted harder. He had been goodâperfect, even. The sweater, the bear, the way he always showed up at the cafe with a smile. He was so kind and caring, always attentive to your needs. He never pushed any lines; you owed him this, right? Just this once. âOkay..â you whispered, voice small, embarrassed, your body betraying you as his touch sent shocks through you.
âGood girl,â he said, kissing you deeply, his tongue and yours mixing perfectly, tasting the wine off your lips. He pushed you back on the couch, hands roaming all over you, tugging off your clothes with a rapid pace. âSo fucking cute,â he murmured, unhooking your bra, lips grazing your collarbone. He smiled, sliding your skirt up, fingers hooking into your panties and pulling them down. âLook at you,â he whispered, playing with your folds, finding you slick despite your confusion. âSo wet for me, arenât you? And you wanted to go home like this?â He circled your clit slowly, teasing, watching you squirm. âYeah? You like that?â
âSâgood,â you slurred, hips twitching, embarrassed but unable to stop the heat building in you. His praise felt like a drugâcute, perfect, his angel.
âAw,â he teased, slipping two fingers inside, pumping gently, his thumb on your clit. âDo you think of me when you wear my sweater?â he asked, voice low, eyes glinting as if he didnât already know the answer. Heâs watched you do it countless times by now.
âY-Yes,â you admitted, voice shaky, picturing the cozy navy quarter-zip and how many times youâve touched yourself while wearing it. He groaned, fingers curling. âSo dirty,â he whispered, voice thick with approval. âMy dirty little angel, thinking of me like that.â He moved faster, but when you whimpered, close to the edge, he stopped, pulling his fingers out, licking them clean while staring at you. âNot yet. I want to play with you longer.â
You whined, needy, head too foggy to argue, the alcohol was making everything feel lighter. âJay, please,â you begged, barely coherent.
âPatience,â he chuckled, spreading your thighs wider. He didnât wait long, his need overtook him. He shoved his pants down, freeing his cock, thick and heavy, the size making your eyes widen even through the drunken haze. âJay, wait,â you slurred, panic flickering. âItâs⌠too big.â
âItâll fit angel, itâll fit,â he soothed, voice dripping with false gentleness, his hand rubbing your stomach as he lined himself up. âIâll make it fit.â He pushed in, slow but relentless, stretching you, the burn making you cry out. You were wet, dripping even, yet he was still too big. âHurts,â you whimpered, hands pushing weakly at his chest.
âI know, love,â he murmured, kissing your forehead, his hand pressing your stomach, feeling the bulge where he filled you. âYouâre taking me so well. My perfect fuckdoll.â He thrust slowly, savouring your whines, each whimper and gasp fueling him. âSo cute like this, whimpering for me,â You were gone. Your head was dizzy and all you could do was moan his name out, gripping onto him like he could save you.
You clutched his shoulders, nails digging in, your head lolling as the pain mixed with pleasure. âToo much,â youâre slurring, but your body arched into him, betraying you.
âYouâre doing so good,â he said, thrusting deeper, still slow, watching the bulge in your stomach move. âMy perfect girl, letting me have you like this. You owe me this, donât you? After everything Iâve done for you.â His words sank into your drunken mind. You really did owe Jay everything. You nod barely understanding, just wanting to please him.
âThatâs my girl,â he praised, picking up the pace slightly, his hand stroking your hair. âYou feel so good, Y/N. Made for me.â He groaned, voice tightening. âFuck, Iâm gonna cum.â
You blinked, a flicker of clarity cutting through the fog. âJay⌠condom?â you mumbled weakly, too drunk to care fully, the question more curiosity than concern.
âShh, love, itâs okay,â he whispered, hand cupping your cheek, thrusting harder. âWeâre gonna have such a good family. Iâll take care of you, always.â His hips snapped forward, and he came, hot and thick robes flooded inside you, groaning into your neck as he filled you, no hesitation. Like he planned this.
You whimpered, too fucked out and drunk to process, your body limp beneath him. He held you close, kissing your forehead, murmuring, âMy perfect girl. You did so good.â You drifted off in his arms while he cleaned you up. What a gentleman.
a/n: jay being devious is my new favourite thing I fear... anyways I HOPE YOU ENJOYED! sorry for not posting for a bit I've been super busy so let me yap for a bit. i started my summer courses KILL ME and I just started my new job YAY! I have wayyy too many drafts rn LOL pls lmk what you think! comments and reblogs are appreciated I LOVE YOU GUYS! <3
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Honestly I think Shawn, a grown man, can stand up for himself lol
âHeâs a grown man, he can stand up for himself.â
Rightâbut that response isnât as neutral as you think. Itâs a deflection. A way of shifting responsibility for boundary enforcement back onto the individual whoâs been placed in an uncomfortable position, rather than asking why he was put there in the first place.
Because this isnât about whether Shawn Hatosyâor Pedro Pascal, or any other manâcan assert a boundary. Itâs about how weâve created a culture that expects them not to. Itâs about how consent is routinely ignored, overwritten, or turned into a joke in public spaceâespecially when it comes to men, especially when itâs dressed up as irony, âfeminist thirst,â or progressive kink-positivity.
Itâs about the refusal to admit that consent isnât just about sex.
Consent is about presence. Itâs about participation. Itâs about emotional safety. And itâs about power.
And that matters in every contextâincluding fandom, celebrity culture, and the increasingly blurred space between admiration and projection.
When you call a male celebrity âdaddyâ in the middle of an interviewâon camera, unprompted, fully aware itâll go viralâyouâre not giving a harmless compliment. Youâre placing him inside a sexualized, hierarchical, kink-coded role, and demanding a performance. Youâre not inviting him into a shared dynamic. Youâre building one around him and daring him to resist.
And thatâs not just parasocial behavior. Thatâs coercion. Coercion dressed up in a clickbait blazer and a winking âteehee.â
And patriarchy? Patriarchy loves that. Because patriarchy has always taught us that men, especially older, stoic, men, arenât allowed to have boundaries. That they should be flattered by sexual attention. That their discomfort is a flaw in the man, not a failure of the situation. That a manâs silence means yes.
So when a male celebrity tenses up or shifts uncomfortably after being called âdaddy,â we donât pause. We dismiss him. We say:
âCome on, itâs just a joke.â
âHeâs hot. He can take it.â
âItâs part of the job.â
Thatâs not the language of consent. Thatâs the language of normalized entitlement.
Now compare that to when I commented on Shawn Hatosyâs TikTok and said he was âso babygirl-coded.â And he liked it.
Why? Because âbabygirl,â as it functions in contemporary online fan culture, isnât built on dominance or performance. It doesnât demand control. It doesnât assign erotic authority. Itâs a term that signals affection, vulnerability, softnessâa playful, sometimes absurd, often tender reverence for men who deviate from traditional masculinity.
That kind of language lives within fandom cultureâinside our sandboxes. And when I call someone âbabygirl-coded,â that person can ignore it, engage with it, scroll past, or opt in. Thereâs no pressure. Itâs an aesthetic label, not a demand. So when Shawn likes that comment, heâs participating on his own terms. Thatâs what parasocial consent looks like: voluntary, pressure-free, and rooted in choice.
Now imagine if I had written, âYouâre such a daddy. Ruin me.â Totally different tone. Totally different power dynamic. Even if he never saw it, Iâd still be inserting a kink-coded script into a public space as if he had agreed to it. And if he had seen it and felt uncomfortable? The onus would fall on him to disengage quietly or laugh it off, because culturally, weâve given men almost no tools to say ânoâ without backlash.
Feminist methodology asks better questions:
Whose comfort is protected?
Whose silence is treated as consent?
Whose body is seen as public property?
Whose boundaries get overwritten for the sake of the bit?
We know the answers. Theyâre gendered. And theyâre broken.
When a man is called âdaddyâ during a press tour, heâs not being asked to play. Heâs being expected to perform, sexually, powerfully, on command. And if he doesnât? The consequences arenât just social, theyâre structural. Heâs seen as less fun. Less marketable. Less valuable as content.
That isnât just unfair. Itâs anti-consensual.
As Sara Ahmed writes, to be the one who names a problem is so often to become the problem. The one who says âthis feels off,â âthis crosses a line,â or simply, âthis makes me uncomfortableâ is marked as difficult, humorless, or ungrateful. We see this dynamic unfold constantly with male celebritiesâespecially those who donât laugh when called âdaddyâ in person, or who subtly resist being pulled into a sexualized performance they didnât agree to.
When a man sets a boundary, even quietly, he disrupts the fantasy. And instead of asking what created the discomfort, the culture asks why he couldn't just go along. Because admitting that men can say no, that theyâre allowed to feel uneasy, that they donât exist for our projection, requires challenging the very entitlement fandom often runs on.
So letâs be clear: You can thirst. You can spiral. You can bark, cry, and post your little essays about his shoulders in peace. You can call him whatever in your sandbox corner of the internet.
But forcing someone into your kink-coded fantasy in person, without their consent, and then reacting negatively when they donât play along, isnât empowering. Itâs not subversive. Itâs just public boundary crossing, dressed up as flirtation.
Itâs not âowning the gaze.â Itâs replicating itâjust with the roles reversed.
And reversing the roles isnât the same as dismantling them.
Rolesâno matter how ironic or reversedâare still roles. And assigning someone a role without their participation isnât liberation. Itâs just performance under pressure.
So yes, heâs a grown man.
And thatâs exactly why his boundaries matterâespecially because heâs not just a celebrity, but a real person, and a parent. Being called âdaddyâ in person, during a professional setting, isnât just awkwardâitâs an unsolicited invitation into a kink-coded dynamic he didnât agree to. And when that man is a father in real life, the term becomes even more jarring, blurring roles in a way thatâs neither funny nor flattering. His visibility shouldnât come with the expectation that he absorb sexual projection or emotional labor just to keep the mood light. Silence is not consent. And feminist ethics, if weâre actually practicing them, demand more than clever thirst and role reversal. They require awareness, accountability, and respect for boundaries, no matter who youâre talking to or how attractive you think they are.
And if your only defense is âHe can take it,â youâve already admitted he might not want it, and decided you didnât care.
Thatâs not fandom. Thatâs entitlement. Wrapped in a punchline and passed off as progressive. (referencing this interview)
#ask#anon ask#if any of u want more feminist pieces im more than happy to rec#but sara ahmed covers everything in her book so well#PLEASE STOP FORCING DADDY / MOMMY ON CELEBS IRL#feminist theory#consent culture
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Tainted red â Finnick Odair (18+)



âfem!reader x finnick odair (wc; 6k!)
âsynopsis: In the heart of the Capitol, a junior stylist stumbles into the hidden world of Victor prostitutionâand finds Finnick Odair waiting in the Red Room. What begins as an accident turns into something deeper as vulnerability, trust, and unexpected intimacy spark between two people trying to remember what real touch feels like.
âwarnings: angst, sexual content, non-consensual implications (not between main characters), trauma responses, prostitution and commodification of victors, emotional vulnerability, mild language, references to past abuse and coercion
â song recs while reading: not a lot, just forever â adrianne lenker + bulletproofâŚI wish i was â radiohead
â (definitely one of the sadder fics iâve written, so please proceed with caution. Not proof read!)
You arrived in the Capitol only four days ago, green as the silk swatches in your portfolio. A new stylist, barely old enough to have graduated from the Academy, assigned to your first real clientâa young tribute from District Eight. It was meant to be simple. Temporary. Just help dress them, keep them alive long enough to impress a few sponsors. Your mentors told you not to get attached.
They also told you not to explore the tower alone.
But youâd gotten turned aroundâtwice. The elevators were glitching again, and the signage on the twelfth floor had been removed for "aesthetic renovations." You were supposed to meet your tribute in the fitting suite, but somehow ended up wandering down a corridor lined with velvet wallpaper and ornate sconces, flickering low and red.
The air was too warm. The walls too quiet. Still, you walked.
Eventually, you came to a door. Gold-handled, unlabeled, slightly ajar. You hesitatedâjust a breathâbut curiosity won out. You pushed it open, just an inch, just to peekâ
And stepped into a dream.
No. Not a dream. A fantasy painted in lust and silence and blood-colored light.
You froze just inside the threshold. The room was drenched in redâcurtains spilling like wine, cushions that looked like they'd been bruised by too many bodies, walls painted in the deepest shade of sin.
Perfume hung in the air like smoke, clinging to your throat. And in the center of it all, he sat.
Finnick Odair.
He lounged on a velvet chaise, one leg propped, an elbow draped lazily over the backrest. Shirtless, glistening faintly like heâd just stepped out of a bath. His sea-glass eyes lifted, and for a moment, they didnât seem to register your faceâonly your presence.
He smiled. Practiced. Beautiful. Empty.
"Are you early," he said, voice dipped in honey, "or just curious?"
You opened your mouth, but no words came.
Because now you understood where you were. This wasn't a lounge. It wasnât even a dressing suite. This was one of those roomsâŚthe whispered-about ones. The Capitolâs Red Rooms. The ones they never taught you about in stylist school.
The ones where victors came to serve again.
And you werenât supposed to be here.
You shook your head, the motion slow, instinctive. âIâIâm sorry. I was looking for the tailoring suite. I didnât mean toâââ¨Your voice trailed off, swallowed by the velvet hush of the room.
Finnick didnât move. Didnât flinch. Just watched you with that unreadable stillnessâlike a predator unsure if its prey was worth chasing. Then, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth appeared. Not quite a smirk. Not quite real.
âThey never label the doors,â he said, as if that explained everything. âKeeps things⌠discreet.â
His gaze dropped, flicked briefly across your clothes. Your Capitol-issued badge still hung around your neck on a silver chain, flashing your name and title: Junior Stylist. District 8. Temporary Placement. When his eyes returned to yours, something in them had shiftedâjust slightly. The performance cracked.
âYouâre new,â he said. Not a question. An observation. A confirmation.
You nodded.
He sighed, leaning back into the chaise like gravity had grown heavier on his shoulders. âOf course you are.â
You should have left. Apologized, turned, shut the door behind you and buried this memory somewhere deep. But you didnât. You stayed. Rooted in place by something you couldnât quite name. Maybe it was the way he looked at youâlike you werenât Capitol. Like he was trying to decide if you were safe. Or dangerous.
âWhat is this place?â you asked quietly.
His eyes flicked up. Amused. Tired. âItâs whatever they want it to be.â
âItâs not really a room,â Finnick continued, his voice quiet but steady as he realised you still hadnât got it. âItâs a performance space. A fantasy. A punishment of some sort.â
âThey rotate the colors depending on what they want us to be,â he continued.
âRed means passion. Or violence. Or love, if theyâre feeling generous. Sometimes itâs whiteâwhen they want purity. Or black, when they want to pretend weâre in control.â
He smiled, but it didnât reach his eyes. âItâs never really about us. Just what we represent.â
You didnât know whether or not you should attempt to say something, or continue listeningâŚyet you knew deep down, you couldnât bring yourself to speak.
âThey call it hosting,â he said getting up, pacing slowly, like the weight of the room was dragging at his limbs. âOr entertaining. Or fulfilling Capitol tradition. Anything really.â
You stayed still. You didnât breathe too loudly. You just let him talk.
âThis is where they bring the ones who pay the most,â he continued. âOld money. New money. Sponsors. Politicians. People who want more than just to watch us die. People who want to own us, even just for a night.â
He turned to look at you. Not accusingly. Just⌠tired.
âThey dress us up like gifts. Perfume our wrists, oil our skin, teach us how to say the right things, touch the right way. Sometimes weâre given as prizes. Sometimes as bribes. We never know what name will be on the card until the door opens.â
His voice dropped lower. There was a rawness to it now, like something he hadnât meant to share was slipping out anyway.
âIt started when I was fourteen,â he said. âFirst Victory Tour. President Snow told me I was too pretty to waste. Told me Iâd be doing my country a service. Told me if I didnât smile through it, everyone I loved would pay for it.â
A silence followed. It rang in your ears.
âI did what he asked,â he said, jaw tight. âAnd Iâve been doing it ever since.â
He looked around at the roomâat the satin sheets, the soft red lighting, the carefully curated illusion of desire.
âFunny, isnât it?â he added, voice hollow. âThey name us victors, then sell us like things. Like bodies they can press their names into and forget.â
âI didnât know,â you said softly. Your voice felt small in the vast, red silence. âI didnât know it was like this.â
Finnick let out a low chuckle, leaning one shoulder against the chair he was once propped on like he was posing for a portrait.
âYouâre not supposed to. Thatâs the trick. They keep the lights low, dress us in silk, feed the Capitol lies about love and lust and loyalty. Makes it easier to sell.â
He smiledâtoo wide. Too rehearsed. âYouâre late to the party, sweetheart. Everyone else already knows how the game works. Some even ask for me by name.â
The way he said it was too smooth. Too detached. He said it like it didnât matter. Like he didnât matter. But his eyes didnât match the smirk. There was something hollow behind them.
A practiced vacancy.
You took a breath. Watched him. Really watched him.
He moved like heâd done this a thousand times. Like his body was no longer his own, just something he offered up because it was easier than fighting.
âDoes it ever stop?â you asked, not expecting an answer.
Finnickâs smile twitched. âWhy would it?â He pushed off the chaise and walked past you, slow and casual, like a cat too tired to pounce.
âAs long as Iâm still pretty, still useful, theyâll keep parading me around. Red room, gold room, doesnât matter. I know the lines. I know how to make them feel like I want it.â
He turned to face you again, his back now to the door. âThatâs what they like best, you know. The pretending. Makes them feel special.â
You didnât speak.
âWhat? You thought victors got mansions and parties and a lifetime of peace?â He gestured around the room. âSurprise. This is the prize.â
But his voice faltered at the end. Just barely. A fracture in the performance.
âYouâre good at acting,â you muttered in a hushed tone. âThe others in the Capitol would definitely think you enjoy whateverâŚthisâisâŚbut anyone whoâs even slightly informed when it comes to emotion, would see what you actually thought, or felt.â
Finnick blinked. Just once.
âI think you do care,â you continued. âYouâve just had to pretend for so long, you donât know how to stop.â
For a secondâjust oneâsomething shifted in his expression. The smile dropped. His mouth opened slightly, like he was about to say something real.
Then it was gone.
He looked away, walking back to the chaise.
âWell,â he said, voice cooler now, âpretending pays better.â
You watched him sink onto the velvet seat once again, limbs folding with the ease of routine. A body trained to be beautiful. A man performing for ghosts.
And stillâthere was something beneath it all. A flicker of the real him, like a candle behind thick glass.
Your eyes drifted to the door.
If he was waiting for someone previouslyâif someone paid for thisâthen they wouldnât be far. You could already feel the Capitolâs eyes on your back, even if they werenât there yet. They never liked to be kept waiting.
Quietly, you reached up and pulled a pin from your hair. One of the sleek Capitol onesâlong, sharp, decorative, designed more for show than function. It caught the light as you stepped to the door.
Finnick looked up. âWhat are you doing?â
You didnât answer. Instead, you pushed the pin into the antique lock, twisting gently until you heard a soft, satisfying click.
The door was locked.
A pause stretched between you.
Finnick stared at you like he couldnât decide whether to laugh or warn you. âYou really shouldnât have done that.â
âTheyâll be here soon,â you said. âI could feel it.â
He studied you. âAnd?â
You shrugged, feigning calm you didnât entirely feel. âAnd I didnât want anyone else coming in.â
Something unreadable passed across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or something gentler, far more dangerousâhope, cracking through the armor before he could patch it back up.
âYou think youâre protecting me?â he asked, voice dry.
âNo,â you replied. âI think Iâm giving you five minutes. Without them. Without pretending.â
Finnick leaned back again, folding his hands behind his head, eyes never leaving you.
The performance was still thereâbut thinner now, as if he was waiting to see what you'd do next before deciding how much of himself he could afford to show.
Five minutes. Just enough time to become something the Capitol didnât own.
Finnick was quiet for a moment, just watching you. Then, slowly, that smirk curled back onto his lipsâthe one that looked good in Capitol ads and sponsor reels. The one that meant trouble.
âYou know,â he said, voice smooth again, âwhen they do get the door openâand they will, eventuallyâtheyâre going to see a junior stylist and a shirtless victor alone in the Red Room.â
You didnât move.
âTheyâll think you couldnât afford me,â he continued, tilting his head, âso you slept with me for free.â
Your stomach tightened, but you didnât let it show. You met his gaze, steady and calm.
He laughed softly. âCapitol scandal. What a way to start your career.â
âYou think thatâs what I want from you?â you asked, careful not to sound offendedâjust tired of the performance.
Finnick shrugged, resting an arm along the back of the chaise. âDoesnât matter what you want. Only matters what they think.â
A beat passed. You stepped closer.
âAnd what do you think?â
His smile faltered. Just slightly. Not enough that anyone else might notice. But you were watching for it now.
He didnât answer right away. He looked at you for a long moment, as if calculating what he could risk giving you. Then he leaned forward, elbows on knees, voice dropping low.
âI think you shouldâve walked away when you had the chance.â
âBut I didnât,â you said.
âNo,â he murmured. âYou didnât.â
Finnick didnât say anything at first. He just watched youâeyes low-lidded, unreadable, like he was trying to place you in a room that had never held anyone real before.
You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.
He tilted his head. âYou going to tell me why youâre still standing there? Doorâs locked. Roomâs red. You sure youâre not here for something else?â
That smirk againâlazy, tired, too practiced to mean nothing. But you caught the flicker behind it. The part of him that wanted to believe you might say something different.
You shook your head, mouth dry. âyou literally saw me come in here confused when I realised it wasnât a tailoring suite. I never had any intention ofââ you slowed down.
He raised a brow, unconvinced but silent.
âWhen I saw you⌠I justââ Your throat tightened. âIt wasnât what I expected. But I wasnât going to leave you here. Not like that.â
His expression had faltered, chest rising slow under the soft red lights. âWhat did you think would happen? Youâd play savior? Crack the door and set the broken thing free?â
âNo,â you said, almost whispering. âI just didnât want to be another person who looked at you and saw a price tag.â
Something in his face twitchedâalmost a flinch.
You took a slow step forward. âYes, I think youâreâGod, of course I think youâre hot. Anyone with eyes would. But that doesnât mean Iâd ever try to⌠buy you. Or make you do something you didnât want to. Thatâs not why I stayed.â
His eyes were on you nowâfully. No smirk. No line. Just watching. Breathing.
âI stayed because you looked like you needed someone to see you. And not the Capitolâs version of you. Just you.â
Silence pressed between you again, warmer this time. Closer.
Finnick looked down for a second, as if something in your words had knocked the air out of him. When he spoke, his voice was softer.
âYou shouldnât say things like that.â
âWhy?â
âBecause I almost believed you.â
You stepped a little closer. âThen maybe try believing me.â
He looked up at youâthis time not as a performer, not as a body, not as a prize. Just a boy caught in something too deep. And for once, he didnât run behind the smile.
He just sat there, breathing in the stillness you gave him.
He sat still for a long moment, fingers laced loosely in his lap, eyes fixed on the wall across from him like he couldnât bear to meet yours again.
Then, finally, his voice cameâbarely more than a breath.
âSit with me?â
Not flirtatious. Not commanding. Just⌠a request. Soft. Human.
You moved without speaking, the silk of your outfit whispering as you crossed the room and lowered yourself onto the chaise beside him. Not too close. Just near enough that if he leaned, he might feel your shoulder there.
The two of you sat in silence.
The red lights glowed warm around you, the kind of warmth that didnât comfortâit pressed.
You didnât look at him at first. You gave him that much. The space to pretend he was still alone, if thatâs what he needed.
But after a moment, you caught the shift.
His shoulders, once so loose and lazy, had begun to tightenâjust slightly. Like a rope pulled taut beneath the skin. His breathing changed too, slower, more deliberate.
And when you finally looked over at him, you saw it.
His eyes were wet.
He was staring ahead, jaw clenched, trying so hard not to blink. Not to let it spill over. But you could see itâthe shine along his lower lashes, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
You didnât speak. Didnât touch him.
Just stayed there. Still. Present.
He blinked once. And that was all it took.
One tear slipped free, trailing down his cheek like it had nowhere else to go.
Still, he didnât look at you. Still, he tried to play it off like it hadnât happened.
But you saw him.
And this time, he didnât stop you from seeing.
The room was thick with unspoken words. The silence between you and Finnick felt fragile, like if you spoke too loudly, it might shatter.
His breath came in uneven patterns, and his gaze was downcast, avoiding yours. His shoulders trembled slightly, though he kept his back straight, trying so hard to hold it together. But the more you watched him, the more you saw the cracks.
And then, when his breath hitched again and another tear slipped from his eye, you couldnât stay quiet any longer.
You reached out tentatively, placing a hand on his armâjust enough to offer comfort, to let him know you werenât leaving, even if he didnât want to speak.
âItâs okay,â you said softly. âYou donât have to hide.â
At your touch, Finnick flinchedâlike he wasnât used to that kind of contact. But then, he let out a ragged sigh, shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. He wasnât holding back anymore, and for the first time, he didnât seem to care who saw the truth.
But the moment of vulnerability was fleeting, because Finnickâs body seemed to stiffen, then shift. His gaze lifted toward you, but it wasnât the same look from beforeâthe teasing, the smirking, the sharp edge that always kept people at a distance.
This time, there was something raw in his eyes, a hunger. Not for attention. Not for power. But for something else. Something more human.
Without warning, his hand moved toward you, his fingers brushing against your waist.
His touch was almost desperate, the movement too quick, too automatic. It was like the only way he knew how to cope with feeling this exposed was to turn it into something elseâto take control in the way heâd been taught to, through touch, through doing.
Your heart raced as you felt his fingers tighten around the fabric of your shirt. His chest was so close to yours now, his breath hot against your neck.
You could feel the tension in him, the need to escape whatever this was, whatever was breaking inside of him. It was clear in the way his body movedâlike he was trying to fix something, to fill the empty space with something that wasnât just silence.
âFinnick,â you said, your voice steady but firm. âNo.â
He froze at the word, eyes flickering with surprise, then confusion.
You moved further back on the sofa, creating a little distance between you, but your voice didnât waver. âIâm not here for that. You donât have to⌠do anything.â
His lips parted, but no words came. He looked at you as if trying to understand. Trying to figure out what you meant.
As if he was used to this moment turning into something physicalâsomething that would make the tension go away. Something that would make him feel like he wasnât broken.
âIâm not asking for anything,â you said, your voice softer now, but still clear. âI donât expect anything from you.â
His hand slowly dropped from your waist, his eyes dropping to the floor, shame flickering across his face. He didnât know how to process your rejectionâhe wasnât used to it.
You gently placed your hand on his arm again, this time with more certainty. âIâm not here to use you, Finnick. I just want you to be hereâto let yourself breathe.â
He looked up at you then, really looked at you for the first time in a while, and for a second, you saw the vulnerability, the fear of being too much, of breaking in front of someone.
And you realizedâmaybe for the first timeâthat this was how he coped. This was how he survived the chaos of the Capitol, the image theyâd built around him. By turning everything into something physical, something he could control.
âI donât need you to fix anything,â you whispered. âJust⌠be real with me. Thatâs enough.â
He let out a shaky breath, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. He wasnât smiling, not yetâbut he wasnât retreating, either. And that was something.
Finnickâs hand was still resting near yours, his fingers trembling slightly as his gaze fixed on the floor. He was quiet for a long moment, as if the weight of his own words was a bit too much to bear.
âIâve never known what it feels like,â he started, his voice low, âto be with someone and not feel... trapped. Not feel like Iâm being used or bought or made to perform.â He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself.
âIâve spent so long pretending that it doesnât matter. That itâs just another thing I have to do. But deep down, I know itâs not the same anymore. I canât keep doing this if itâs just that.â
He shifted uncomfortably, looking at you as if expecting you to judge him, but you didnât. You stayed quiet, letting him talk, giving him the space to say what he needed to.
âIâm not asking for a relationship,â he continued, his words slow but deliberate. âIâm not asking for anything more than... just to feel something real, you know? To touch someone without it being part of the game, part of the contract. I donât even remember what itâs like anymore. To be wanted for me. Not for what I can do, not for the way I look, but just because... well, just because Iâm me.â
His voice broke slightly, but only for a second. He steadied himself, leaning back a little and rubbing his hand against his neck. His eyes flickered to yours then, searching, almost vulnerable.
âI want to feel that. To not have to force myself to be someone Iâm not. To not have someone take something from me that Iâm not giving willingly. I donât know if that makes sense. I donât want to perform. I want to experience it like itâs mine for once.â
He swallowed, the tension in his shoulders still present but softened by the honesty in his words. âBut I donât even know how to do that anymore. Iâve been so caught up in giving people what they want, what they expect, that I donât even know what real intimacy is anymore. Itâs like my bodyâs been used to give everything to everyone, and I never really got to... choose. You know?â
You didnât speak immediately, but his words sank in, and your heart clenched with understanding.
Finnick wasnât just asking for a moment of physical closeness. He was asking for the space to experience something that wasnât tied to the Capitol or forced on him by others. He was asking for the freedom to want something on his own terms.
âIâm not saying I need you to fix me,â he added, his voice almost rough now, as though admitting this was its own kind of release.
âBut I think youâre the only person Iâve ever been around whoâI donât know. It feels different with you. I think I could finally experience something again. Something that doesnât come with strings. No contracts. No expectations.
âJust...â He faltered, but his gaze locked onto yours, hopeful, even in its uncertainty. âJust being with someone who doesnât make me feel like Iâm being trapped. No pressure. No demands. Just... us.â
You couldnât help but feel a wave of empathy crash over you. He was finally saying it aloud: his longing for intimacy that wasnât controlled or forced, something where he could give and take freely without worrying about losing control or being manipulated.
âIâm not going to pressure you to do anything,â he said softly, his thumb brushing over your hand again.
âYou donât have to do anything you donât want to do. I want to be here for youâjust for you. If that means letting you figure out what real intimacy feels like, without the baggage, then Iâm here. And Iâm not going anywhere.â you responded almost immediately.
Finnickâs breath hitched, and for a moment, his expression softened, a subtle relief crossing his features. His shoulders relaxed a little, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it was still a bit strained.
âYou donât know how much that means to me,â he whispered, almost to himself. âTo feel like... Iâm not just another thing to be used. Youâre the first person whoâs made me feel like I could do this... on my terms. And thatâs more than Iâve ever had.â
There was a quiet moment, and though the words were simple, the weight of what they meant hung in the air. Neither of you needed to say much more.
There was an understanding that settled between youâunspoken, but clear. You werenât offering him a solution or asking for more than he could give.
You were simply giving him the space to experience intimacy without pressure, without fear, and without the weight of expectations.
For Finnick, that was enough.
The air between you seemed to thicken, and the weight of everything heâd said settled over you. It was fragile, this moment.
Delicate.
Finnick had opened up to you in a way that he never had before, revealing the vulnerability he had buried deep inside for so long. You could see it in his eyes, the quiet trust he was offering, and for the first time, you realized just how deeply he was longing for connection without the pressure of expectations.
You reached out slowly, your hand hovering near his cheek, then gently cupping his face. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, but steady. You could feel his breath hitch slightly at the contact, his eyes flickering between your face and your hand, unsure but wanting, waiting for what would come next.
You didnât rush it. You let the silence hang between you, thick with unspoken things, things that didnât need to be said. You had come here, to this moment, not to force anything on him, but to give him something real, something he could hold onto without fear. His gaze softened, and for a moment, it seemed like the rest of the world had faded away.
There was just the two of you, and the connection that had slowly built over the last few moments.
Slowly, you leaned in, moving closer, your breath mingling with his. His lips parted slightly as if he was holding his breath, unsure but trusting you to lead. And that was all you needed to knowâhe felt safe.
You closed the space between you, your lips brushing his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle, unhurried, as though both of you were still testing the waters, still unsure but wanting to feel what it might be like to kiss without the weight of performance or expectation.
The kiss deepened slowly, a quiet exploration of the connection that had been building between you bothâsoft and searching.
Finnickâs hand moved, a hesitant gesture at first, but as you kissed him, he let his fingers brush against the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, as if he wanted to feel the warmth of your touch against his skin. His body responded, but it wasnât with the urgency you might have expected. It was slow, tender, a careful unraveling of years of being forced into something that didnât feel real.
He didnât feel trapped anymore. Not by you.
The kiss lingered, soft and languid, and when you pulled back slightly, his eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with something like wonder, as if he couldnât quite believe what had just happened.
He looked at you with something more than just physical attractionâsomething deeper, something raw.
You smiled softly, your thumb gently brushing over his cheek. âWe donât have to do anything youâre not ready for. But I want you to know that you donât have to fake it with me. Not now. Not ever.â
Finnick let out a soft breath, his body relaxing, but there was still a certain tension in his shoulders, as if he was still processing everything that had just shifted between you. But this time, it wasnât fearâit was anticipation. The kind of anticipation you feel when you finally realize that what youâre experiencing is real, and that itâs okay to want it.
He leaned in again, his hand resting gently at your waist as he kissed you, this time with a little more confidence, a little more desire. It was different nowâthere were no more walls between you. No more expectations. Just the two of you, connecting in a way that felt right, that felt real.
And for Finnick, that was the first time in a long while that he felt like he wasnât just a body. He was a person. A person with desires, with emotions, with the right to feel safe and wanted.
His hand slid down your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine, sending a shiver of warmth across your skin. The kiss wasnât rushed, but it was unmistakably filled with a yearning, a desperate need to feel something real, something that wasnât forced or performed.
You responded to him, not just with your lips but with your body, leaning into him, letting him feel your warmth and the pulse of your own.
His hand moved from your back to your side, his touch firm but careful, like he was afraid to break the delicate tension that had built up. You could feel him pause, hesitating for a moment as if unsure whether to go further, waiting for you to give the signal, the reassurance that this wasnât just another transaction.
You didnât pull away. Instead, you let your hand drift to his chest, your fingers grazing his bare collarbones and shoulders, ones covered in scars and pain from his past. He inhaled sharply at the contact, his muscles tensing under your touch, but he didnât pull away. He let you lead, the trust between you palpable.
âAre you sure?â Finnick whispered, his lips brushing against your neck as he leaned in closer. His voice was a low murmur, filled with uncertainty but laced with the same yearning that had been in his eyes all along.
âI donât want you to think you owe me anything.â
You pulled back slightly to look at him, your thumb caressing the side of his jaw, your eyes locking with his in a quiet but assured gaze. âI donât owe you anything, Finnick. But I want this. I want you. Not because I have to, but because Iâm choosing to.â
That seemed to be the moment he let go of the last of his hesitation. His lips found yours again, firmer this time, more urgent. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as though he couldnât get enough of the warmth of your body pressed against his.
The kiss was filled with an intensity that spoke of years of pent-up longing, of moments he had spent longing for something real.
Slowly, one hand slid under your silk dress, his fingers grazing your skin, sending a ripple of heat through your body. His touch wasnât demanding; it was searching, like he was learning the feel of your body, discovering what it was like to touch someone and not feel like they were just using him.
You felt the heat of his touch, his fingertips tracing over your ribs, his chest pressing closer to yours as the kiss deepened again. His breathing grew more shallow, his hand moving down your back, pulling you into him, as though he wanted to feel all of you.
There was no rush, no frantic energyâjust the slow, steady rhythm of two people connecting in the only way they knew how.
His lips moved down your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and you let your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him back up to meet your lips again. The kiss wasnât just about the physical touch. It was an unspoken promise, a way for both of you to feel something real for the first time in a long while.
He moved his hand to the hem of your dress, hesitating for a moment before lifting it gently. You could feel his eyes on you, asking permission, giving you the space to say no if you wanted to. But you didnât. Instead, you let your own hands slide up and unbuckle his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips.
When your garments were off, his gaze lingered on you for a moment, not with the usual hunger you might have expected, but with awe, with reverence.
He ran his fingers lightly over your shoulder, brushing against the curve of your collarbone, as though memorizing the feel of you, the feel of someone who wasnât going to demand anything from him, someone who wasnât going to take.
âI donât know if I can do this,â he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as his hands remained at your sides, not pushing but holding you gently, almost as though he was afraid you might disappear.
âYou donât have to do anything you donât want to do,â you said softly, your breath hitching slightly as his lips pressed to your neck. âBut youâre not alone, Finnick. Youâre not trapped here. Youâre with me. And you donât have to perform anymore.â
He paused for a moment, letting your words sink in, then kissed you again, as if giving in to what you both needed. His hands moved to your back, fingers splaying over your skin as he pulled your legs apart ever so gently, his body flush against yours.
The kiss grew more heated, more urgent, but still controlled, still cautiousâtwo people learning what it felt like to let go without fear. His touch was softer than you expected, his hands gentle but insistent as they explored the contours of your body.
You responded in kind, your hands slipping under his boxers, your fingers tracing over his ever growing bulge, still making sure to not cross any boundaries.
For Finnick, this was more than just physical pleasure. It was about being wanted in a way that didnât make him feel unsafe, bare, abused.
It was about feeling like he was allowed to be, not just to give. And with every touch, every kiss, every quiet sigh shared between you, he was beginning to believe that he could, at long last, feel something realâsomething that wasnât dictated by the Capitol or by expectations.
And for you, it was about showing him that he didnât have to do anything forced.
You wanted himâas he was. And nothing more.
The connection between you deepened, and you both slowly began to move, to feel, to explore without fear or hesitation. It wasnât rushed or uncomfortable. It was about letting the moment unfold naturallyâtwo people seeking something real, something free from the weight of the world.
The room was quiet except for the sound of soft breathing, the only light now the dim glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the floor. It felt like time had slowed down, as if the world outside no longer existed. There was just the two of you, connected in a way that felt completely free from the rest of the worldâthe Capitol, the expectations, the past.
In this moment, there was no performing. No pretending. Just the rawness of Finnick finally feeling content and happy with who he was with, not just a toy used for desire.
For the first time in a long time, Finnick didnât feel trapped. He didnât feel like a commodity. He just felt... human. And for you, that was the most intimate thing you could give him: the space to just be himself.
You smiled softly, threading your fingers through his, your touch as gentle as the night had been. âYou are real, Finnick. And you deserve to feel this. Without anything else attached.â
And in that moment, with the weight of the world left outside that locked door, you knew that the Capitol would continue to use and abuse this man unless you did something for him, and you no longer cared about the career you once were so passionate about, you only had one goal.
save. him.
please remember, requests are always open, and please feel free to reblog as they are greately appreciated ! <3
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Disobedient- Lady Lesso X Ever!FemReader (NSFW)
Synopsis: Youâre a fun little ever, and Lesso canât wait to play with you.
Word Count: 7.1k 𫣠(yes you read that right)
Warnings: SMUT, possible trigger warning as there will be blood mentioned, knife play, edging, edge play (cause, ya know, knives), kinda blood play, bratty reader, brat tamer Lesso, marking of many types, denial, coercion of admission of feelings đ¤ read it to see if thereâs moređ. Also yes part of it is similar to my one shot âCelebrationâ but since Ive been writing this for damn near a year I donât care enough to change it. At least you know I wrote both đĽ˛
A/n: Everyone thank @pebbleswritessometimes for this oneshot cause literally a week ago I didnât know when or if this would be finished soon, but they wanted and hyped me so they got it đĽ°đŤśđť. Also, If you canât tell, my motivation has been shot lately especially with smut, so this drags but I hope itâs good for you guys! I was trying to get this out a lot sooner than I actually did, my bad. I ended up getting a second job and been busy with both jobs as well as not having much motivation but then I quit said second job and continued to struggle with motivation, sorry it took so long lol hopefully the smut makes up for it. Also, yes, thereâs a difference between edging and edge play!! Enjoy!
Š This is my work, you have no right to repost my work for any reason without my explicit permission, all rights reserved. Likes, comments, reblogs are always welcomed!
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You were stuck at the white cloth-covered table, sitting basically by yourself. The table next to yours had a couple of Never girls, Dot and Anadil, but they seemed to be sitting by choice. At least, that's what you guessed after they shoved off two boys that walked up to them.
Sitting at a table by yourself at the first ever, Never-Ever dance was certainly not one of the things you had planned for tonight. You just wanted to dance.
You were looking around the ballroom, finding the drastic change in aesthetics amusing. The school was unified but that didn't mean the students didn't stick to what they know. The dance floor was separated into light colors and dark.
Only a few mixed at the tables, but the students kept quiet. Creating a strange feeling in the air.
Your eyes scanned the room. At first, you were looking for your partner, at least, that's what you told yourself.
But then your eyes landed at the front of the ballroom. The two heads of the once-separated halves standing side-by-side, the Deans. The Dean of Good was dressed in a light, poofy ballgown that made her look like a cupcake. While the Dean of Evil remained in her signature dark suit.
This time, it was accented with a deep royal purple ascot, taking you by pleasant surprise. But you could tell this was one of her nicer suits, it fits her a little better than the others. Not that you would know, of course. This is definitely the first time you've taken more than a second to look over the red-haired Dean.
But gods, the way she holds herself. The way she looks at everyone. The way you can practically see her thoughts as she glared at the Never-Ever PDA. The way she would throw her head back laughing at something you desperately wished came from you.
But that's the thing. You kept wishing for things. But as an Ever, you get your wishes, right?
But now, you wished you could watch her shrug off the blazer. To watch her roll the cuffs of her sleeves up to reveal those toned arms. How you wish her hand would wrap around your-
You cleared your throat as if you've been caught red-handed, and you might've. You caught her eyes on you. They lingered longer than a simple look should've. But you're imagining things, now. Maybe a Never spiked the punch you were currently nursing.
'I think I'm mentally cheating. How could I be so disobedient.?'
She smirked at you, it couldn't be at you, right? Right? There's no way she knows what you're thinking. Her eyes landed on you once again, and she did a once-over on you.
And in that moment, you suddenly wished your outfit choice was good enough. You steered away from the baby pinks and champagne colored dresses that all the other Evers wore. Deciding on a royal blue floor length gown that fit to you perfectly but also complimented your skin tone. You thought you were being risquĂŠ with the slit that went straight to your hip, but as Lesso's eyes seemed to linger there for a moment, you knew it was a good choice.
You knew you shouldn't, you have a boyfriend.
Boyfriend! That's right, yeah. What was his name again?... Of course, you didn't forget your own boyfriend's name. Your mind certainly isn't occupied with the Dean, of course not. You definitely weren't dating him only to maintain the 'perfect Ever' appearance, nope.
You couldn't help it, her eyes are oh so enticing.
'I think I shouldn't be lookin' in those eyes. Why do they give mĐľ butterflies?'
You took a second to try to find your boyfriend -unaware your thoughts were heard and the dean was barely biting back a smirk- your eyes rolling as you see him entertaining a group of Ever girls. Unconsciously, your eyes went straight back to the fiery-haired Dean. Who, to your surprise, was walking straight to you.
You wouldn't admit that your stomach dropped a little and you got nervous.
She stopped just a few feet from you, "You can't seem to keep your eyes off me, can you little one?"
You decided to hop onto some suddenly present charismatic boldness, you chuckled a little bit and stood to come face-to-face with her, though she was a couple of inches taller than you.
"It's hard not to when you're the best looking person in this room." It was wrong, you both knew that. She's the Dean and you are technically a student. But if it was so wrong, why does it feel so right?
You were well over age, being late to the start of your own story. It was late enough that you thought you'd not get the chance to go to the school and get your own fairytale.
Your heart skipped a beat as she took another step towards you, you never thought she'd be this close to you, especially in front of everyone else.
"I guess I could say same about you, Dove." Her head tilted slightly as she took the opportunity to examine you closer. Something igniting within her once she saw just how revealing your dress was, never mind the low-cut neckline.
You smirked, "Like what you see, do you?"
A humor-filled chuckle escaped her, and you yearned to hear it again, "My, my, what a bold little Ever. How cute." She wouldn't admit that she was honestly a bit surprised by the dress you chose, or that she secretly loved it.
"What? Haven't met anyone that isn't afraid of you?" You had no idea where this confidence of yours came from, but you didn't mind.
She fully chuckled this time, not expecting these remarks to come from you. But again, she did love it.
She started walking towards you, and you started walking backwards. You weren't afraid, that much was clear, but you did want to be away from the near-center of the room. You had no idea if anyone was watching, but you couldn't care less if someone was.
Luckily, your spot in the ballroom wasn't too far from the edges.
She licked her lips, a move that you wanted to watch on repeat, "Perhaps not, but this is going to be fun."
You only stopped moving backwards once you were sure you were at the back of the ballroom, your back hitting the wall being the dead give away, "Oh? I do hope you're not expecting me to just give in and fall to my knees for you." You spoke softly as her body continued to infiltrate your space.
"Oh, you'll be on your knees, pet."
You pulled her by the lapel of her suit, "You're going to have to make me, if you want anything from me." You smirked, tilting your head this time.
"You, my little one, are trenching in great waters."
"Well, luckily, I can swim."
She smirked again at your antics. Oh, she was gonna have fun.
"You really have no idea what you're getting yourself into, do you?" Though Lesso kept her tone, she was being genuine.
"I'm sure you'll enlighten me." You plastered on the most sickly-sweet smile, one that Lesso couldn't wait to taste.
She remained silent, whether is was to think about what she was about to do or to think about what to say, she leaned forward and placed her hand on the wall next to your head.
You took this little moment as a chance to show her what you've got, that you're not one to be underestimated, "Tell me where you want us to go. Tell me, and I'll take you there." She raised her eyebrow at this, enthralled by the possibilities.
"Oh? So, if I say, take me to the gardens, you could do that?" She wanted to believe you, but teleportation is unheard of in the fairytale world, and especially from a student.
You stayed silent, looking into her eyes as you swiftly took hold of her other hand that was placed atop her blazer buttons. Lesso hardly had enough time to react, let alone speak, until she realized that you had taken you both to the gardens.
A big part of you was relieved at finally being alone with her. But you watched as she processed that you could teleport.
Before she had the chance to say anything, you spoke first, "It's not all I can do," You were proud of yourself, and you didn't try to hide it either.
She looked back at you, a new look swirling within her eyes and she hummed, "Really, care to share?" She tried to keep her teasing, uninterested tone but she was curious and it showed.
You fake pondered for a second, "Only if you earn it." You finished off with a smirk, knowing that you weren't necessarily hiding anything.
She chuckled again, filling your stomach with butterflies, "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
She could see something unknown within your eyes, "You've got no idea."
She took another step closer to you, your fronts almost completely connected by this move of hers, and she used her pointer finger to push your chin up a bit more, "Well, I'm sure I can figure it out."
You grabbed the top of her shirt that was just under the ascot and used the material to pull her down and closer to you, close enough to smell the scent of whiskey that she probably thought she could hide, "And if I'd rather show you?"
Something overcame Lesso at that move, she wasn't sure what it was but her self control seemed to have dwindled to nothing. Excitement continued to do nothing but fill her, and couldn't wait to see just how much innocence you lacked.
Her eyes went to your lips for a moment before they flicked back to your waiting eyes, "Then show me, Dove."
That was all you needed to pull her even closer and connect your lips with hers, it was something that you both had clearly been waiting for. Gods, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't pictured this moment, and it was even better than imagined.
You moved your arms to wrap around Lesso's neck, pulling her nearly impossibly closer to you. In that moment was when her hands went to your hips as well, slightly squeezing once her hands settled in their spot.
You took this opportunity to take her somewhere else, you certainly wouldn't be complaining if she took you bare in the gardens but you'd prefer to not have the whole school witness such a thing. You took the both of you back to your room.
You lucked out, being such a late comer to the school got you your own room. And you were more than thankful you had just cleaned it.
Lesso pulled back from your lips, not only to catch her breath but to see where you've taken the both of you. She hid her impressed features once she looked from your quaint room back to you. She was unsurprised when she saw the proud look on your face being combined with your very obvious lust.
As your tongue peeked out to wet your lips -to taste Lesso once more- you noticed how her eyes instantly followed the action. So, you played into it, slightly pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
Once you saw Lesso swallow the lump in her throat, you knew what effect you had on her. You thrived on the reactions she had to you. The subtle way her eyes narrowed at your smart mouth remarks, the way her pupils dilated every time you did, well, anything.
"You know you can look and touch right?"
Lesso sucked her teeth, "I am touching you, pet." She raised her eyebrow in challenge, seeing as her hands were still on your waist from the kiss.
The corner of your mouth twitched in attempts to hide your smirk, knowing that if you challenged her just enough she'd come to her limit and take you right then and there.
"But not in the way we both want you to," You started. "You're not, holding back are you?" This time you didn't hold back your smirk.
Her grip on you noticeably tightened, "I'll tell you this once, pet. Strip for me. Now." Her face remained stoic but you saw the amusement in her eyes.
You wouldn't admit just how her tone had affected you, causing your wetness to increase tenfold, "And if I don't?" It was redundant to say, you would've done anything she asked, but still not without a little bit of a fight.
Lesso summoned a blade, moving the very tip to the top hem of your dress, right in between your breasts. You knew it was sharp with the way the edge caught the light.
In a flash of movement, she pulled the blade down causing the dress to be cut in half once it connected with the pre-existing slit on your hip and fall right off your body.
"I liked that dress." You spoke near breathless.
"I gave you a chance."
Her other hand slowly snaked from its place on your waist, up across your abdomen. Her hand continued between your breasts, but it didn't linger there.
Her hand went on past your cleavage and up to your neck, her hand moving to wrap around your throat. You managed to hide the whimper that threatened to escape you as she applied pressure.
She leaned towards your ear to whisper her words, "I'm going to fuck that attitude out of you."
"Are you going to do that any time soon, or should I get myself started? I mean, you're making a lot of promises for someone that's yet to prove anything." You very well knew what you just started, and you couldn't wait.
Lesso's jaw clenched at your words.
"Oh, my little Dove, I'm going to break you." She spoke with a wicked simper.
"Then break me." You had the faintest of smirks on your face, eyes half-lidded as you spoke.
She started pushing you back by the hand that was still on your throat. Though it was quiet, it was clear that your chest started heaving from excitement. She moved her hand only long enough to push you down on your bed. A soft 'umph' coming from you at the contact.
The only light in the room was from the moonlight streaming in through your open window, but it was enough light to see her eyes darken as they roamed over your nearly naked form.
You couldn't help but take your bottom lip between your teeth as you could practically see her ideas raging through her mind as her head tilts the slightest bit. You were overwhelmingly ready for her to take you, in any way she saw fit, if the now-ruined panties you still adorned were anything to go by.
You watched with a bated breath as she slowly stalked her way onto the bed with you. You tried to resist the fidgeting of your hands as she took her time straddling you.
Her knees came up to rest by your ribcage, your breathing not resting at all as she practically ignored you as she begun twirling the blade once again. She watched as the edge caught the limited light, only watching you through her peripheral.Â
Her signature head tilt returned, "You're so pretty. But, I'd bet anything that you'd be prettier with tears streaming down your face as you beg me to let you come."
"You're more than welcome to find out."
She let her wicked smirk come back to her face, she loved to play the game of cat and mouse, especially with you being her delectable prize.
Your whole body reacted as she leaned over you, lightly tapping the tip of the knife against the bulging artery of your throat. Your head instinctively tilted back to give her all the room she may want.
She slowly began dragging the blade down your sensitive skin, only enough pressure to leave a slightly itchy feeling but not enough to draw blood, yet. Your excitement continued to grow with each inch she dragged the blade.
"My beautiful pet," She started.
"Yours, huh? News to me." Lesso looked to your face just in time to watch you wet your lips.
"Don't think that you won't be mine, not after I'm done with you." She was beginning to get a little irritated with your insubordination, it was obvious in her tone.
You readjusted the strap of the bra that had managed to dislodge itself from its spot on your shoulder while being shoved to the bed, "Is that another promise?"
The blade moved from your collarbone, swiftly moving to the center panel of your bra, and in the time it took for you to blink, Lesso had sliced through it. The fabric was in half and it caused the cups to fall to the side, rendering the garment useless.
"Hey! That was my favorite one... It was expensive."
"Oh, was it? How evil of me. Maybe you can earn yourself a new one."
A displeased huff came from you but Lesso wasn't paying attention, now fixated on your body. The very same body that you couldn't bring yourself to look at in the mirror for too long without finding a list of things you wanted to change.
Her silence while observing you brought forth all the insecurities you had, and you instinctively moved to cover yourself.
"What do you think you're doing?" Lesso gripped your wrists and moved you away from your chest, only once she had your hands pinned above your head did she see the uncertainty in your features, "You don't get to hide yourself from me, this is all mine."
"I am my own, I belong to no one but me."
"Oh, my pet, we shall see how long you believe that."
Lesso bent further over you, her lips connecting to the slight cuts that were only just starting to become visibly irritated on your skin. Her tongue peeked out, causing a delicious sensation once she swiped over the superficial slice.
A breathy moan type noise left you and Lesso just couldn't wait to hear more, to make more come from you.
Her tongue continued down your chest and she latched onto a spot on top of your breast, beginning to leave a mark.
You may fight with her about being hers (for now) but she'll make it clear you're not available. The idea of seeing you covered in all the marks she could possibly leave on you, just had her itching to leave more.
And so she did.
She left another love bite on your sternum beside the now puffy cut on your chest.
Lesso was moving almost painfully slow, but that wasn't without effort. It was originally in efforts to make you writhe and beg. But now? The slow movement of her marks and tongue, it was in efforts to savor you. To get the chance to memorize the taste that's distinctly you.
It felt like minutes before she moved her lips again, only now connecting them to your nipple. Though it was hushed, a proper moan finally escaped you.
Her fingers grazed across your bare torso as her tongue swirled around your nipple, the sensation causing an eruption of chills across your skin which didn't go unnoticed by the redhead.
She finally moved onto your neglected nipple, instantly hardening the moment the tip of her tongue came into contact with it. You fought the urge to tangle your finger into her fiery locks.
You couldn't let her win that easily.
Only once you released a breath did Lesso manage to pull herself from you, before she lost herself.
"Gods, if I had known you look and tasted this good, I would've made you mine sooner." Her nails scraped up your ribcage.
You ignored the butterfly eruption in your stomach, a scoff would've came from you if you weren't so focused on the feeling of her, "I am not yours."
She looked from the marks forming on your skin to your face, "Really? It seems you're convinced."
Just as you opened your mouth to agree that you were, in fact, convinced, you felt the blade drag across your stomach. Instead, a stuttering breath came from you.
"What was that, Pet? I didn't quite hear you." Her words were empty, you both knew what she was doing.
You wouldn't let her off that easy.
But what you didn't know is she knew your refutal would come, so as your mouth opened once more to argue her tongue swiped up the blood that began to bead from the fresh cut above your navel.
Finally, finally, she got to hear a true moan of yours.
Your head pressed back into the mattress and your body instinctively arched towards her and the sensation she was providing.
She peaked up to see your eyes closed with bliss, "You taste addicting on the inside and out."
You looked up to see one of the best sites there is. Lesso's hair was slightly disheveled, her pupils blown wide, a little bit of your blood still present on her bottom lip.
The urge to pull her into a kiss, to know what you taste like on her lips was overwhelming. Almost too compelling...
"I'm still waiting for you to fulfill your promise." Your comment was breathless but you hoped it still held the snap you wanted it to.
Her eyes never left yours as you saw her lift the blade again, slicing off the excuse of an undergarment in a quick move.
You'd be a damned liar if you said you're not entirely enthralled by what's to come.
Her lips continued from your navel, grazing over your hip bones. Of course she would continue to tease the living hell out of you, her lips never quite going where you wanted them to.
Another mark was left on the very top of your thigh, her fingers just slightly brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of your other thigh.
She was so close, so close to where you were almost quite literally aching for her.
It was almost to the point of begging, almost. Your hips involuntarily thrusted to get her where you wanted.
You knew very well that if anything slightly resembling a beg left your lips, she would win whatever little rendezvous was going on and you couldn't have that.
But to your absolute pleasure, it wouldn't come to begging. Yet.
Just as you felt the slight of her breath on your throbbing clit, your head lulled back entirely too ready for what this woman would do to you.
The moment her tongue met your clit, your bottom lip went between your teeth as not to reveal how desperate you were. Your hand instantly moved to the sheets below you, knuckles turning white as her pace went from torturously slow to almost enough.
Your thighs parted even further to allow more of her to be closer to you.
"Oh, fuck," One of your hands left the bed and almost entangled itself in Lesso's hair, but that was before you caught yourself.
Part of you wanted to believe that this was so you'd win the game. But the part of you that you were ignoring was thinking it was so you wouldn't actually get lost in the redheads presence.
But what you didn't know was that the redhead had felt the way your fingers just grazed along her shoulder, and she wanted to feel more.
You could tell that her repetitive movements were bringing you closer to the peak of pleasure, the tightness in your stomach was starting to become distracting.
Lesso could've sworn she could taste how close you were, if the way your thighs twitched was anything to go by. She gave it just a moment more, another moment for you to think that you were actually about to get what you wanted.
But that moment would soon come and go.
Just as you were about to voice your closeness to the edge, all movements and sensations stopped.
Part of you knew to expect this, but that didn't mean you wouldn't be annoyed.
Lesso was no longer biting back her smirks, especially when your groan of annoyance escaped your lips.
"What was that, pet?" She gave a slight nip to your inner thigh. "I didn't hear you."
"Fuck, Leo," If you weren't so focused readjusting your head on the pillow you would've seen Lesso swallow at the moment her name left your mouth.
She wasn't expecting how breathless and perfect it sounded, leaving her a little bit shocked if she was being honest. But while she was honest, she wasn't even aware you knew her first name.
In her state, she didn't hear what else you said. With the slightest shake of her head, she knew she couldn't dwell any longer.
To your dismay, she moved away from your dripping pussy. Her lips slowly trailing back up your torso.
She left more love bites where there was room, slowly easing herself to hover above you.
She licked her lips as she felt your body erupt with chills as she was finally level with you, choosing to not say anything about it this time.
Another mark left on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder before she moved to speak directly in your ear, "If you want to cum, you know what I want." She said too cool and composed for your liking.
You fisted the fabric of her blazer, trying to pull her closer, "And I've told you, if you want it from me then you make me."
A deep chuckle came from her, as if she knew something you didn't, and she sat up once again.
Her eyes never left yours as she slowly pulled the blazer off, making a show out of it.
The only way you'd be able to describe her movements was entrancing. The way she swiftly undid the buttons of the blazer and tossing it somewhere you weren't paying attention to. You weren't even sure if you blinked as you saw her take off the waistcoat next.
The only thing you were sure of is how badly you wanted her to keep taking things off. To see what she's been hiding from you this whole time. To see if she's as toned as you imagined...
Her smirk returned, "Pet, if you want the shirt off you only have to ask."
Your eyes rolled back once you processed what she said, "Telepath..."
Gods if you could've seen the cocky smirk on her face, you would've been much more turned on. If that was even possible.
You didn't even want to dwell on the amount of times and things she's must've seen in your mind. And none of them were innocent. Luckily you looked up, flushed cheeks and all, in time to see her unbutton her top.
You had involuntarily laid your hands on her thighs, watching her as she's straddled above you. Slowly, more of her was revealed to you, feeling your mouth go dry and the throbbing in your ignored cunt strengthening.
You simply couldn't look away. Her pale skin was toned, each muscle having its own definition. She may not be the most chiseled sculpture but you'd still swear she was one of Michelangelo's works.
"You staring, pet."
"That, is no one's fault but yours." You spoke, still breathless, as you looked back in her viridian eyes.
The game was temporarily forgotten, desire had overtaken all actions from you both.
Her lips rejoined at the base of your neck, adding more fuel to your inextinguishable flame.
You simply couldn't help it anymore, one of your hands finally tangled itself in her fiery locks like you desperately wanted to do ages ago while the other went to her now bare side.
And gods was it diminishing the last of Lesso's control, the sensation of your touch was almost overwhelming. The feel of your breath on her neck was nearly making her head spin.
She once again moved downwards, going slowly as a way to regain her thoughts, but to you it was a way to get you to squirm.
And, it worked.
Your need had built up enough before she took away your bliss.
You may have given into your need to feel her, but you still wouldn't beg.
Your hips lifted from the bed, but not for long before her hand had pinned them still once again. You couldn't help but groan.
Yes, you were antsy. Yes, you desperately wanted to be taken and completely destroyed but you were not about to say that out loud.
You'd fight to win this forsaken game if it killed you.
And, it just might.
Her lips lingered on your hip bone, so close yet so far from where you needed her.
Lesso's eyes peered up your tense body, loving to discover new things about you. She loved how your brow furrowed as you focused, how your fingers fidgeted in place until you could decide where you wanted them.
Lesso simply loved to play with you, to get you to writhe and moan. She had discovered a new favorite thing.
And speaking of moans, a soft one rippled from your lips as her fingertips slightly grazed your clit. A whispered curse involuntarily left you as she finally provided some sensation to your needy and abandoned clit, pausing just as her pace speeds past excruciating to run just along your folds.
A stuttering breath left you this time, knowing that this tease was the ultimate move for her. That this is her play.
"Something you want to say, pet?"
You bit your bottom lip, merely an attempt at withholding your whimper, and shook your head. You were desperate, desperately hoping she'd continue but quicken her pace.
Again, Lesso wouldn't say it out loud but as much as she loved seeing you twist and turn with desperation, she wanted to see what you looked like when you come. To hear the symphony that is your moans. She wanted to know if you'd grip her tight as you came undone or push her and the stimulation away because she knows once she gets a taste she'd never be satisfied by anything else again.
Lesso's thoughts were interrupted as a louder moan coming from you.
Your back arched and mind went empty as her fingers suddenly and easily slid into you, your arousal causing no resistance.
"Oh, fuck-" Your head began to lull back once she finally began moving her fingers.
The pace was just as steady as her previous ones, not trying to work you too quickly, but the new sensations were welcomed.
"More, I need more." Your hand flew to the red locks, trying to get more of something, anything.
Lesso was tempted to have you beg like the desperate little whore you were, but she'll take that, for now.
Her pace increased ever so slightly, only enough for her to see the way your face contorted with desire and need.
Just as you were about to repeat your previous statement, she added a third finger. Stretching you just enough to have a mind fuzzing pleasure start to build.
Lesso decided now was the time she'd like to commit to memory, the way your hips thrusted to keep pace with her fingers, how your back arched off the bed in search of more. How you sound, all. Because. Of her.
Lesso was sure to stay consistent, knowing your desperate self was beyond ready for release.
She merely needed to wait for it.
"Fuck-" Your words came out rushed and desperate.
"Awe, does my pet want to cum?"
"I'm not your pet." You quickly realized and spoke on your autonomy.
Then, it all stopped.
The slow incline to the edge, the glorious way she filled you, the way your body urned for more. All of it. Gone.
Your breaths came out rapid and broken, "Oh, fuck me."
"Well, I'm trying, but you're making this awfully difficult for yourself."
"Me?!" Your head collapsed against the pillow at the audacity.
She moved herself away from you, "You already know what I want from you, pet."
A scoff came from you, knowing you won't give in that easy, "What? Think I can't take it? You think I'll just give in, just like that? Cute." You looked back in her eyes, a glimmer of frustration beginning to gather.
You smirked inwardly, knowing that the game is working in your favor.
Her head tilted a little, "Oh, you can take it, can you? You can handle all I can give you?"
"Oh, do tell me that wasn't your all, now..." Your delicious simper filled Lesso with the need to make you eat your words.
More than joy filled you as her fingers slid back into your pussy, only now she was moving at the fastest pace she's done all night.
A near guttural moan came from you at the sudden move of hers, no building or waiting necessary.
Lesso still hadn't spoken, but as her free hand slowly snaked up your body, only pausing for a moment to leave a quick pinch to your right nipple.
Just as your brain processed the sudden sharp sensation, her hand wrapped around your throat. Your head tilted back as automated response to her touch.
Just as she squeezed, a small mewl came from you as her pace didnât ease. Her fingers continued to pound into you harshly, causing you to get closer and closer to the edge of pure bliss.
âDo you really think itâs a good idea to play with me?â Her voice lowered, no pleasure lied behind it then, it was almost dark. And as you saw her sharpened glare you wanted to be afraid, but something about Lesso makes it impossible for you to be afraid.
She chuckled lowly as your arousal increased at her words, âPathetic.â
The pure pleasure she was giving you, the delicious look she had, the tone of her husky voice, it was just enough for you to come close.
And Lesso knew it. She could feel it.
But you wouldnât.
Again, everything stopped suddenly.
Her hand left your pussy, as the grip on your throat loosened enough to hear a pathetic cry escape.
Okay, you thought you can handle it. But when she overloads your senses with nothing but the feeling of her, it becomes difficult to not give in.
Your eyes closed and your bottom lip went between your teeth as an attempt to keep yourself together.
Your hand reached up to hold onto her wrist that was homed around your throat. Maybe as a way of grounding, definitely as a way to keep some feeling of her on you.
Barely a moment passed before Lesso spoke up, "You're mine, say it." Her tone left no room for discussion.
"I belong to no one." Your voice however, was weak and low.
"Then you'll continue to be denied, entirely on you." A beat, two beats. You knew that you couldn't keep denying it, and not just because you wanted to come.
A stuttering breath, then a sigh, âIâm, yours. I belong to you.â It was no question, you both were aware of this fact before this rendezvous started. Something was so delectable about playing the game first.
She had the most aggravating smug smile on her face, and it looked so good on her. Damn you, damn it, damn her. You wouldn't take it back even if you wanted to. You were hers. Irrefutably, irrevocably, undeniably, completely hers.
She didn't have to say anything about how pleased she was with your admission, she knew it all along, her smile said it all.
Your chest was still heaving, trying to catch some of the breath Lesso stole from you, when she crawled on top of you once again. She straddled you like she had many times in the night, lightly tracing her nails over the marks she's made. She admired the discolored hues her love bites started to take on, loved seeing how your sensitive skin reacted to the slight edge of the blade, how your skin is adorned with marks from her nails all over.
She just couldn't get enough of the sight of you. All marked up by her, marked up where everyone can see, marked to show that you've been claimed.
But then, it hit her. You weren't technically marked by her. Oh, that just won't do.
She reached back over for the previously abandoned blade. Unconsciously twirling it once again between her fingers, an unknown habit of hers.
Where to put it? Where-to-put-it? She thought to herself, still silently looking over your tired and marked up form.
You simply laid there, you knew she was thinking of something, but you knew you'd find out soon enough.
And soon it was.
Not more than a moment after your thought, a hum came from the redhead and she leaned over you.
"This may hurt, but I'll make it quick." She spoke just as the tip of the knife cut into your skin.
'Fuck...' You thought as your mouth opened with silence.
The pained pleasure was the most mind spinning feeling youâd had felt to date.
The tip of the blade slicing through your delicate flesh.
And soon enough, a perfect âL. Lâ was carved right above your left breast.
A perfect marking that left no room for interpretation, you were now and forevermore, hers.
You, belonged to Leonora Lesso.
Both of your hands fisted her hair as her tongue swiped over the wound to clean you of the mess you were making.
Your eyes wouldâve rolled to the back of your head at her move had they been opened.
âPleaseâŚâ The slight tug in her hair was enough to tell Lesso everything she needed to know.
âWhat, begging already?â
âYouâve already won tonight, thereâs nothing else for me to lose but one more thing for me to gain.â Your hips thrusted up enough for her to get the message.
And in that moment, Lesson realized it was time to keep her part of the bargain.
Her lips and tongue slowly moved south once more, exploring every part of you she could on the way.
She skipped past your navel, knowing that this would be the time you get what you wanted.
Gods the moment her lips came back into contact with your clit, you couldâve sworn you could come right then and there.
âOh, fuck Leo, just like that.â Your hands never left her hair, nor eased on the grip.
Lesso would be a damned liar if she said she wasnât entranced with the way your voice was breathless, or with the way her name simply rolled off your tongue.
Her pace increased on your clit while she brought her fingers back to your desperate pussy.
âOh, fuck!â Your back arched off the bed and your grip in Lessos hair was a welcomed pained pleasure for her as it got even tighter.
You both knew you wouldnât last long with the speed and expertise Lesso was using on you.
You were rapidly approaching the peak of bliss, feeling light headed as it was already and you havenât even crossed the threshold yet.
âLeo, fuck, Iâm gonna cum.â
The swirling of her tongue on your clit pausing only long enough to speak, âYeah? Does my pet wanna cum?â
âYes! Yes, I wanna cum!â
No other words came from Lesso but her lips once again wrapped around your clit. Along with the swift swirling of her tongue, she pared it with new suction.
The newfound pleasure caused white to appear in your vision, your overwhelming sensitivity becoming known.
Just as Lesso slightly curled her fingers, you were there. A near scream-like moan and the cinching around Lessos fingers told her you were there.
You came, and you came hard.
Lessoâs name fell from your lips like a mantra, being spoken over and over and over again.
Lesso got her answer as you started to use your grip in her hair to pull her from you.
The sensitivity was nearly unbearable and Lesso wasnât easing up.
She knew youâd have to pry her away from you.
The pure taste of nothing but you was a craving she didnât know had to be satiated.
Your hands finally relaxed enough to moved from Lessoâs hair to her jaw, now pulling her up to face you.
You still hadnât caught your breath but you didnât let that stop you from pulling the redhead in for a kiss.
Her hands moved to be resting on your waist, choosing to deepen the kiss.
Your body was weak but you needed a taste of Lesso too, even if it was a sample.
She was pliant in your hands, moving in any way your slight touch nudged her too. Your lips slowly moved down her jaw, the bliss causing her to briefly close her eyes.
You continued further down, reaching her neck and beginning to leave a mark right on her pulse point, "Only fair if I get to leave my mark too. Wouldn't want anyone else to think they've got a chance, now do we?"
You could feel the way her chuckle left her throat as your lips moved along her skin.
You were sure to make it worth while, leaving a bright large mark where it couldnât be obviously hidden.
Sure, it was meek in comparison to the marks and cuts sheâs left on you, but you like to think itâs the thought that counts.
Lesso pulled back a bit, and just as you were admiring your work, she was admiring you.
Neither would speak of it but this mutual liking, no infatuation, no no love, would be the center of a new universe.
Her eyes glanced down and a proud smirk rejoined her features.
âIâll get a rag to clean you up, stay here.â She reluctantly climbed off you to grab a rag, finding it surprisingly easy to maneuver in your space.
Your voice was still soft, partly hoarse from the previous activities, âNot like I can go far right now.â
You yearned at her genuine laughter at your comment, knowing youâd gladly get to hear it again.
She came back with a water bottle and a rag, âIâll be sure to ease up on you next time.â
And with one simple sentence, one small act of kindness, you and your heart smiled.
Next time.
Again, you were hers. Irrefutably, irrevocably, undeniably, completely hers.
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#charlize theron#lady lesso#lady lesso x reader#leonora lesso#leonora lesso x reader#lady leonora lesso#lesso x reader#lesso x reader smut#bottom reader#lesso smut#lesbian#smut#lesbian smut#sge fanfiction#sge netflix#sge movie#sfgae#school for good and evil#sapphic#bratty reader#bloodplay#knifeplay
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Very interesting + concise article, pertinent with how much I've seen the joke about that "sadness in his eyes you only see in east european gay porn". Warning for pretty much everything you can expect.
Describing the wave of Eastern European gay pornography that flooded the US market following the dissolution of the USSR, Jones said: âThey were products of a crude imperialist enterprise: cheap and nasty looking, with an atmosphere of coercion and cultural misunderstanding pervading them. Customers adored these videos, and expressed their breathless admiration whenever given the chanceâ
It gets pretty rough from here onward.
The FallâŚÂ opens with a short clip of a young man in profile, undressing. He looks uncomfortable, alternating between staring forward and glancing in the direction of the camera, his eyes showing a mix of discomfort and contempt. Jonesâ voiceover states: âeven in an unlikely place, it is possible to find traces of recent historyâ followed by b-roll taken from the aforementioned porn films including maps of the former USSR, market scenes, beggars and street footage. Their purpose in the aforementioned films appears to be part exoticism and part poverty fetishism, attempting to show the former glory of the Eastern nations as an emphasis on their subsequent fall. Theyâre an essential part of the set-up, speaking directly to what made this genre of pornography appealing to a western, primarily American, market. Itâs easy to comprehend the mixture of exploitation and exoticism that made these videos popular in the US, but Jones goes further, aiming to establish a firm link between the booming Western economy and a more global, less visible form of exploitation.
The latter half of the film compounds the atmosphere of coercion, focusing specifically on the casting and screen tests of performers. The voice from behind the camera probes the subject on their sexual preferences, their motivations for being filmed: âIâm doing it for the moneyâ âThatâs a very good reasonâ Western audiences were turned on by the idea that the performers were under some form of duressâthe ostensibly straight man either consuming their sexuality through the guise of pornography, or in the case of several scenes, the performer showing visible discomfort at either the sex or the presence of the camera. The films are low budget, low production value and low browâby intention, rather than necessity. Jones speculates that the developing Eastern European sex industry, with the influx of Western producers and a Western market in mind, could be seen as an indicator of fertile ground for fascist ideologiesâan aspersion confirmed by the global rise of far-right ideologies in tandem with the economic pressure of late-stage capitalism, a point at which more contemporary comparisons can be made.
The brief conclusion on the contemporary form of this exploitation aesthetic is also noteworthy:
In the same way that the fall of communism was exploited by the West, the financial and social insecurity of a generation living in recession, under permanent austerity, is exploited now. The aesthetics utilised in Jonesâ film are still broadly present, albeit perhaps in a slightly altered form, now accompanied by a new visual language born from a culture numb to being told to âlike, comment, share and subscribeâ.
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Notes on the planets
Sun: Outward energy, what fulfills us, ego assertion, general personality traits, lifeâs focus, where we find joy, the relationship w the inner child, relationship w the father
Moon: Inward energy, what comforts us, emotional assertion, what makes us feel secure, emotional security,how we communicate our needs, relationship w the mother
Mercury: Mental energy, what we think about, how we process new information, how we relay information, intellectual abilities, transportation/ cars, relationship w siblings/ peers
Venus: Aesthetic energy, what we find beautiful, our artistic expression, what we require in love, our personal style, love languages, relationship w women/ femininity
Mars: Physical energy, personal desires, inner selfishness, how we assert our desires, domination, anger/ aggression, physical activity, relationship w men/ masculinity
Jupiter: Philosophical energy, worldly desires, personal pleasure, spiritual assertion, what we study, religious beliefs, dogma, spiritual practices, relationship w the grandmother
Saturn: Restrictive energy, responsibility, long term investments, inhibitions, how we handle criticism, karmic debts, time/ age/ maturity, relationship w the grandfather
Uranus: Unexpected energy, upheaval of structure, rebellion, where we feel instability, eccentricity, technology, relationship w marginalized communities
Neptune: Spiritual energy, what we dream about, subconscious assertion, our dream state, how we sleep, what confuses us, things we delude ourselves to, relationship to the collective
Pluto: Destructive energy, what we want to control, power struggles, cycles ending/ death, unstoppable forces, self destruction, relationship w coercion/ abuse
#astrology#astro notes#astro posts#astrology placements#astrology observations#astro community#zodiac#astro observations#natal chart#astrology chart#astro placements#natal placements
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Hi Hello
I was wondering if you could do the Idol!au version of "best friends!"? I LOVED this I would like to see from the perspective where Jungkook(or any of the other boys) is an idol and has a friend wanting to lose his virginity to an idol close to him, you know?
hello! yes I can! i like the concept, thank you for sending a request and being patient đsome things have been changed, but overall it's similar
seonbaenim!

your group decides they want to shed the âgood girlâ image for your next comeback & you confide in your seonbae, Jungkook, in helping you do so. @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @minshookie29
word count: 10.347
warning: alcohol intake, kissing, coercion, slight intoxication, smut, dub-con, manipulation, jealous/possessive behavior, naive reader, praising, dirty talking, unsolicited touching/groping, masturbating, oral sex, loss of virginity, fingering, licking, nipple sucking, unprotected sex, squirting,
non-idol version
âThank you, seonbaenim. For offering to help me.â you bow your head to Jungkook, hands clenching with nervousness. âItâs an honor having someone like you helping me with my comeback.â
Jungkook offers a soft grin, the piercing on his lip glistening underneath the studio lights. âNo need to thank me, Y/N. You donât have to be formal, either. Weâre friends, arenât we?â
You swallow and nod your head. You donât want to be rude - Jungkook has been an idol for years, far before your debut, and you held great respect and admiration for him.Â
âYes, we are friends.â you assure Jungkook - it was one of the reasons he insisted on helping you.Â
You met Jungkook two years prior, him complimenting you once your group was done performing. He was someone youâd go to for advice when needed. He would show you songs he was working on, even if they were unreleased and youâd do the same.
Now, Jungkook had offered to help you with your comeback - he had listened to you vent to him about your struggles countless times.Â
âSo, letâs go talk about this comeback.â Jungkook claps his hands together. âYou told me you were having a hard time?â
You nod.Â
âWhatâs the aesthetic your group is looking for?â
Youâre growing hot underneath Jungkookâs gaze.
âA moreâŚmature approach.â you murmur, twiddling your fingers. âBreak away from the innocent good girl look weâve had.â
Jungkook nods and hums. âSo, sexy.â he snorts when your eyes grow wide. âYour group is having a sexy type comeback. Thatâs good.â he nods his head. âGood girls gone bad? Girls gone wild?â
Jungkook laughs at the horrified look on your face.
âRelax, Y/N. Iâm just teasing.â Jungkook assures. âWhat are you having a hard time with exactly?â
You inhale deeply then exhale. You didnât want to embarrass yourself more than you already were, but Jungkook was here now willing to help you and this isnât something you can ruin.
âIâm not sexy.â you respond. âMy sisters are. They can channel it and I just canât.â
Jungkookâs taken aback by your words. So you were feeling insecure about your lack of sex appeal. Itâs then that Jungkook takes over your figure, not caring if you noticed or not.Â
âYou want my help with your sex appeal?â
Hearing it said like that makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. You hide your face with your hands, completely mortified.Â
Jungkook chuckles. âItâs okay, Y/N. Iâm sure you have amazing sex appeal-â
âPlease stop.â you quip - youâd rather die than for him to continue to pity you. âJust forget I said anything.â
âY/N. Look at me.â
The seriousness in Jungkookâs tone has you complying.Â
âAnyone can be sexy.â You want to say that it was easy for him to say. For Jungkook, it was like a switch. Youâve watched the man on stage become an entirely different person than the sweet man who youâve become close with. âYou just need to bring it out.â
You nod your head, unsure of how to bring another side of you out.
âYour sisterâs seem to be naturals.â Jungkook notes. âWhy do you think itâs difficult for you?â
You want to scoff. You shared the group with your sisters, both older than you. Sexy did appear to come natural for them. You were often left in their shadow and was nothing but their younger, shy sister. In interviews, youâd allow them to speak for you often, not wanting to make a fool of yourself if or when you said the wrong thing.
Jungkook waits for a response. Heâs sure he understands. He was an observant man, after all. Heâs watched the way youâve grown in the last couple years, watching you on stage he was sure you were often in your own head and afraid of messing up. Your mistakes were light and easy to fix, but that didnât mean you werenât often criticized for it. Heâs watched the group's music videos and it was then did you shine - but it was a music video, meaning you were also edited that way.
âY/N?â
You blink. You swallow the lump in your throat and before you can apologize, Jungkook speaks once more.Â
âAre you a virgin?â
Jungkook is positive he knows the answer already, but he wants to hear you say it. There had to be a deeper reason as to why you were struggling with this when your sisters werenât. It could be because they were older, yes, and had more experience - but you were an adult, too.Â
Jungkook gets his answer when you visibly stiffen. He licks his lips and offers you a smile.Â
âMaybe thatâs why youâre having a difficult time in appearing sexy. Weâre friends, right?â Jungkook scoots his chair closer to you. âWhat have you ever done with a man?â
You feel a shudder run up your spine at his words. Youâre unsure how to respond, far too humiliated to be speaking with your seonbae about your sex life - or lack of.
âNot much.â you murmur, a slight squeak in your voice.Â
âHave you ever touched a man?â Jungkook doesnât want to push you over the edge, he has eyes. He notices the way your foot is slightly shaking with nerves. However, thereâs something inside of him - a new interest, maybe? - that wants to know. âHas a man ever touched you?â
You shake your head, eyes glancing away from Jungkookâs intense one. He was going to think you were pathetic, probably laugh in your face about your lack of experience.Â
âThatâs good.â Jungkook says, even surprised with the tone in his own voice. Your eyes snap to him, wide and shocked. He lightly chuckles at your reaction. âYou can learn, Y/N. But no one can ever make you feel sexy until you feel it within yourself.â
Jungkook leans back into the chair. His eyes roam around your figure. Youâre dressed comfortably, but he knows the figure you have beneath it. Again, heâs watched you on stage in the outfits the stylist put you in. You had whatever it took to be sexy - it was your own self holding you back.Â
âHow about we discuss this over dinner. Iâm starving and weâve been at this for hours now. You have to be hungry, too.â Jungkook gives you an assuring smile - a smile that tells you that this is safe. To trust him - and you did.
Youâve never been to Jungkookâs home before, and when he suggested dinner you thought it would be some form of takeout at the studio. âI have food that we can heat up at my house.â Jungkook had told you, and now here you sat, legs crossed as the both of you enjoyed the ramen he had prepared.
âSo, what do you think you need to do to feel sexy?â Jungkook asks. He pours the wine into both glasses, lightly pushing yours towards you.Â
You smell the wine before tasting it. Itâs a bit strong, but you donât want to appear rude and decline it. âMaybe, look the part?â you respond after a few moments.Â
Jungkook nods. He changes the subject, asking then about how you were adjusting to being an idol - even if it has been over two years. With each passing conversation, heâs assured to refill each of your wine glasses until he notices the slight glossy look in your eyes.
âLook.â Jungkook speaks, facing you towards the tall mirror on his wall. Heâs directly behind you, hands on your shoulders. âYour group has potential, Y/N. I know this comeback would be like no other.â Jungkook is sure of himself, as well, because this time you had him helping you. âThis time, youâll be the star. Not your sisters.â
You laugh with a shake of your head. You felt more comfortable and maybe that was the wineâs doing. Your jacket had been left somewhere in Jungkookâs living room, and now youâre left in a short sleeved shirt.Â
âWhy are you laughing? You donât believe me?â Jungkook squeezes your shoulders gently. âFollow me.â
Jungkook turns away from you face and you stumble just to follow him. He takes you down a long hallway until he stops in front of a door. âThis is my room.â he says as he opens the door to it. Itâs simple, nothing too extravagant or over the top like you assume it would be for an idol with money like him. âHave you taken your concept photos yet?â
You shake your head. âItâll be tomorrow, actually.â you respond.
âGood.â Jungkook murmurs. âSit down on my bed.â
You do as youâre told. It feels weird being in his bedroom, but you donât allow yourself to overthink. Jungkook goes to his closet for a moment and returns with a camera in hand. He hands you the camera after turning it on.Â
âIâll have you take pictures of me first.â Jungkook says. âJust so you can see what I do and replicate it, okay?â
You nod your head. Your palms are sweaty and youâre frightened more than you were going to somehow drop and break such an expensive camera into pieces.
Nonetheless, you do as Jungkook tells you. You snap the pictures, all of which he nails. With each picture, he explains what youâre expected to do; âYou have to look directly into the camera, donât shy away.â , âDonât be afraid to show some skin, either. You arenât a child.âÂ
âReady?â Jungkook asks once the both of you had gone over the pictures youâve taken.
Your mind swirls but you can't back down now. âReady.â you nod.
Jungkook snaps a few pictures. Youâre stiff, posing as if youâve never been photographed before, but that was your nerves talking to you.
âDo you want this, Y/N?â Jungkook asks after around 10 minutes. Somehow he managed to pour even more wine, this time youâre gulping it down without a care. You need your nerves to be calmed. âYou have to show me youâre serious. You donât want to live in your sister's shadows forever, right?â
You take a deep breath and shake your head. You didnât want to be known as the shy one - the one that no one bothered to look at. You couldnât waste any of Jungkookâs time - he didnât have to help you, but he was.Â
Jungkook watches through the lens of the camera the way it happened - the switch that turns on and had you changed from the shy girl you were, to the girl he knew you could be. It started with your eyes - the way you looked right at him through the lens, not faltering once. Your eyes - sharp, seductive and fierce.
Jungkook licks his lips, lowering his camera to look directly at you. He takes a few steps closer to your position onto his bed, dropping his camera not far from you. On the ground sat the half empty wine bottle and your glass. He proceeds to pour some more in and take a few sips.
âMore wine?â Jungkook asks cooly with a raised brow.Â
You nod your head without thinking, reaching your hand out to grab the glass. Jungkook dodges your attempts and instead, raises the glass above your head. âCome here, Y/N.â
You do as youâre told. Your mind is attempting to focus on everything right now, but you were already tipsy. You rarely drink - especially wine.You always assumed that it was an exaggeration when people said they can get drunk from wine - but with the way you are now, you know it's anything but an exaggeration.Â
Youâre at the edge of Jungkookâs bed now, meeting him where he wants you at. Your knees are pressed firmly into the mattress, hands placed neatly in your lap. Jungkook thinks you appear cute; obedient.
Jungkook places a hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing your lips. You feel hot at his actions, your mind hazy. âPut your head back.â Jungkook murmurs his command and again, you comply. Your neck is exposed to him. Itâs bare from any blemishes and Jungkook thinks how youâd look with marks on you - purplish bruises and teeth marks, maybe even prints from his own hands around your neck.
âOpen your mouth.â Jungkook says breathily.Â
You gulp, but comply. You grunt when Jungkook's thumb dips inside of your mouth and presses it onto your tongue, slightly bringing it out. Then, he removes his tongue when he has you where he wants to. Your eyes watch as Jungkook pours the wine into your mouth slowly, the wine sliding onto your tongue and down your throat ever so slowly. Jungkook watches intently when a bit of the wine falls from the corner of your mouth and trails your neck just as slowly.Â
You swallow the wine once Jungkook is done, your tongue licking the corner of your mouth and exhaling.
Jungkook drops the wine glass onto the floor by the bed where it was prior. He leans down close to your face, his breath tickling your skin. âHave you ever kissed a man?â
You nod slowly. It was only a peck - a kiss from a classmate - and that was the last kiss youâve had. You were an idol now and couldnât focus on dating.
âI see.â Jungkook hums, his lips pouting slightly. âSo I suppose you donât want to kiss me then.â
You released a low gasp. You blink a few times, unsure of whatâs going on. You couldnât have been this drunk, surely.
âSeonbaenimâŚâ you murmur.
âI donât think you want it enough, Y/N.â Jungkook tells you. Heâs so close and your eyes have a difficult time focusing on him. âIâm trying to make you the true star I know you can be.â
âI do.â you exclaim, your hands clenching into your lap. You donât want to upset him - to make Jungkook feel as if you were taking his assistance for granted.
Jungkook leans away from you and takes back his camera. He nods at you. âProve it to me.â is all he says.
You glance at the camera in his hands and then up at him. He raises the camera once more, ready to begin snapping pictures.Â
Maybe it was the wine getting to you. You didnât have a lot of thoughts screaming at you to stop you from removing your shirt. You throw it aside, your eyes staring at the lens to reclaim the prior sex appeal.Â
Jungkook doesnât notice his breathing increase - not until you go to remove your leggings. It wasnât as if you wore lingerie - Jungkook understood that this isnât what you were expecting to do. But your appearance is captivating enough, a lacy bra with matching panties, both black.Â
You do countless poses and Jungkook allows you, not once speaking. Your first pose was pushing your knees far apart and pushing your chest out. Your hands move slowly up your chest, a slight tilt to your head.
Jungkook doesnât realize how close heâs gotten to you until his knees hit the mattress. Now, youâre on your back, slightly arching. Your eyes are on the camera and your breast is pushed towards the ceiling. You appear to be teasing him, Jungkook thinks, the way your fingers hook beneath your bra strap teasingly, as if you were daring to push them down.
âSeonbaenimâŚ?â you murmur. You havenât heard the camera shutter for the last few minutes. âDid I do good?â
Jungkook slowly smiles and nods his head. He presses a knee against the mattress, allowing himself to come closer to you. âYouâre a good girl, Y/N.â he tells you, and your heart swells at the compliment. âCome here.â
You lift from the mattress as if in a trance. Jungkook lifts your chin with his index finger, his dark eyes staring into your own.Â
âTomorrow, weâre going to try the song again, okay?â
âYes.â you nod.
âFor nowâŚâ Jungkook leans a little closer, a few inches away. â...kiss me.â
You gulp. Opening your mouth to respond.
âIt wasnât up for debate, Y/N.â Jungkook interrupts before you can speak. âI need to know youâre serious about this. I wonât have you wasting my time.â
Your eyes widen and without thinking, you kiss Jungkook. Jungkook deepens the kiss, wanting nothing more than to hold you close to him. The thought of flipping you over runs through his mind, to grind into you until youâre begging him for more, but Jungkook refrains from doing son.
âIâm going to make you a star, Y/N.â Jungkook speaks once the kiss ends. âThis comeback will be your moment. Iâll be sure of it.â

Thereâs something sinister about the way you allow Jaehyun to touch your head, Jungkook thinks. He pats it playfully, gently rubbing it. Thereâs a smile on his own lips as he greets you with a warm welcome.
What made it even more sinister to Jungkook was the way you appeared. You were smitten by his older friend. If this was a show, your eyes wouldâve turned to the shape of hearts and a pink glow wouldnât shine throughout you.
Jungkook leans back into his seat, tongue in cheek. With a tilt of his head, Jungkook has had enough - especially when you giggle at something Jaehyun has said.
âI donât have all day.â
Your head snaps to Jungkook and quickly you bow and apologize. As you were arriving, Jaehyun was leaving, having visited Jungkook at the studio for a bit. He and you spoke, him giving you a greeting as you arrived.
Jaehyung hums as you sit besides Jungkook, the man's stare hard as you do so. Judging by your appearance, you were cowering besides the man.
âIâll see you later, hyung.â Jungkook says to Jaehyun, dismissing his friend. âWe have work to do.â
Jaehyun nods, his eyes flickering to you for a moment. He leaves without another word, the door shutting behind him quietly.Â
âDo you take me for a joke, Y/N?â
Jungkookâs tone is vicious. It causes you to flinch at the sudden change in atmosphere.Â
âSeonbae-â
âDo you want to fuck him?â questions Jungkook, his voice changing to a softer tone. You swallow, eyes wide. âYou want to lose your virginity to him? After Iâm putting in the work to make you shine?â
âSeonbaenim, I donât understand-â
âNo, you donât.â Jungkook snickers. âDonât waste my time, Y/N. Iâm the one thatâs helping your comeback. Not anyone else.â
You nod your head, eyes glancing away from Jungkook. He looks visibly upset, as if he was scolding a disobedient child.Â
Jungkook sighs. âLook at me.â he tells you mellowly. His hand places itself on your own and gently squeezes. âIâm sorry for being so harsh on you, Y/N. You know I believe in you and your talent, right?â
You nod, not really sure if he did or not - but you didnât want to disagree with him.
âIâd hate anyone to take advantage of you, Y/N. I know how men are. Especially in this industry. Youâre a sweet girl.â his thumb rubs against your knuckles. âYou have a certain look on you, you know?â
âWhat do you mean?â you question. Your eyes finally meet him once more. âIs that a bad thing?â you were beginning to feel self-conscious.
âNo, of course not. Youâre my good girl.â Jungkook squeezes your hand, lips forming into a warm smile. Thereâs something bubbling inside you at Jungkook words. âYou have an innocent aura surrounding you. People would want to take advantage of that. I donât want you to get hurt.â
âI see.â you murmur, slowing nodding. âThank you, seonbaenim.â
âJungkook.â Jungkook corrects. âYou donât have to be formal with me. Weâre friends.â
You smile and Jungkook then releases your hand. âOkay. Iâve listened to your sister's part of the song and theyâre good.â
You bite your lip.Â
âThat doesnât mean yours isnât good. It is. ButâŚâ Jungkook trails off. âI think you should give me more passion. Be moreâŚsensual.â
âI-I can do that.â you shake your head to agree with him.Â
âOkay.â says Jungkook. He points his head to the side. âYou wanna record it?â
âYes.â you inhale and exhale a few times as you enter the small room, the microphone placed in the middle of the room. You grasp the headphones and place it over your head.Â
Jungkookâs eyes connected with yours as he played the instrumental. Your voice is good - youâre a great singer. But you needed to be more than a great singer to outshine your sisters. Initially, he wasnât here to help you outshine them - but he promised you that youâd be a star - and Jungkook never went back on his promises.Â
Jungkook turns the music off with a click. âMore passion.â he says. âAgain.â
Your voice hits his ears once more as he plays the instrumental. Itâs melodic and heâs positive he can hear it again and again and again.
âY/N.â Jungkook turns off the music once more. You visibly stiffen. Jungkook was a perfectionist naturally and he didnât care how long it took for you to get it right - he would assure you did. âSing to me. Sing as if Iâm in there with you and be my good girl, okay?â Jungkook advised with a sigh. âI need to hear the sensuous tone in your voice.â
âYes.â you murmur.
Once more, Jungkook starts the music. You close your eyes this time. Jungkookâs eyes made you nervous - they were piercing right through you.Â
You began to sing, your mind traveling to the night in Jungkookâs bedroom - a night you never brought up to anyone, not even him. It was a night you wish to forget - the way youâve acted towards him could be seen as disrespectful, even if he didnât appear distraught by your action.
Your eyes snap open when you feel hands on your shoulders. The instrumental doesnât stop, and neither do you. Jungkook is directly in front of you, hands on your shoulders. Those same piercing eyes are watching you, as if waiting for you to mess up.
You continue to sing just as Jungkook wants you to. He travels behind you, so close that thereâs almost a pause in your singing - but you donât stop. The hands on your shoulders begin to roll down until theyâre cupping your waist.Â
Thereâs a slight moan in the words you sing, and itâs exactly what Jungkook wants. He doesnât stop there. His lips place themselves on your neck, his hands pressing you against him firmly. You continue to sing and Jungkook can see you through the mirror on the far right of the wall. Your eyes are closed and gently your body relaxes in his embrace.
The song is ending, Jungkook notes, and itâs the ending that he needs you to be the most sensual. Your skin is smooth beneath his palm. It works its way up your shirt and onto your covered breast. He grips it in the palm of his hands, the melodic moan music to his ears.
âPerfect.â Jungkook kisses the nape of your neck as you finish, your breathing heavy. He releases your breast and takes a step away from you. âYou did amazing, my good girl.â

âAre you fucking him?â
You nearly choke on your water when the words hit your ears. You manage to swallow it somehow and your eyes turn to your manager. Sheâs leaning against the nearest wall from you, her glasses tilted down on her nose.
The room is silent, the conversation your sisters held with one another falls flat as their eyes cast between you and the manager.
âWhy do you assume that?â your eldest sister says once you donât respond, a horrified look upon your face.
âJeon Jungkook has promoted this song countless times on all platforms.â your manager steps forward as she speaks. âHe made a dance challenge to the song that now has thousands of people following suit. He speaks fondly of you and just you, Y/N. So please answer the question.â
Your group's comeback has officially begun, the song you had once struggled with has been released along with a music video. Itâs only been a month since Jungkook and you recorded the song in the studio, and a week since the release of the song - but it was an instant hit. You recall watching the views go higher and higher alongside your sisters as did the following count on the social media platforms you two shared.Â
Jungkook kept his promise on promoting not only the song, but you, as well. In interviews he spoke of how hardworking you were and how the song was one of his favorites, he participated in dancing to the song to promote it even further - you were becoming the star he said you would be. Now, your group became someone people wanted to follow and interview - you at the front of it all.
âTheyâre just friends.â your elder sister scoffs. âItâs nothing to look deeper into.â
Your eldest sister nods her head in agreement.
Your manager wasnât convinced in the slightest. âWhatever youâre doing with Jeon JungkookâŚâ your manager eyes you for a moment, almost as if she didnât believe a word your sisters said. â...Keep doing it. The song is doing amazing and we have people lining up for interviews.â
Your eldest sister is taken aback by the sudden change in tone. âYou make it seem like Y/N is being friends with Jeon-ssi for fame.â
You swallow the lump in your throat. You were becoming humid with the topic being about you.
âJeon Jungkook is a big name in the industry, hell, globally.â your manager flips her glasses onto the bride of her nose. âHaving a co-sign from him is a big deal. Donât mess it up, Y/N.â
Your manager doesnât wait for whatever response you or your sisters would give. She strolls out of the room. Youâre left with your sisters, and now they fully turn to you.Â
âWhat was that about?â your eldest sister asks. âYouâre just friends with him right?â
âOf course.â you murmur, unable to look her in the eye. âHeâs helped me so much.â
You know when your sisters want to say something - anything - but hold back. Itâs in their eyes. They want to question you more about Jungkook and what your manager knows, but they donât.Â
âOkay.â your eldest sister nods.Â
âWe should probably get some rest. We have a hectic day tomorrow with-â
You lift from your seat and bow. âIâll be going to my room.â you murmur.
You feel their eyes upon you, but you donât bother to wait. Tomorrow was a big day and a hectic schedule neither of you were accustomed to. You didnât take Jungkookâs promise that seriously - but it was as though he opened doors you never knew were possible.
You were meaning to meet with Jungkook tonight. His own schedule had gotten busier within the last month, and he had invited you over tonight of all nights for a celebration of sorts. âSoon, youâll be on top.â Jungkook told you over the phone. âAnd maybe you can even make your solo debut.â
You were outside his home within a half an hour, pressing in the passcode he gave you. His home is quiet as you enter and you wonder what he was wanting to do tonight. You remove your shoes at the door and step deeper into his home, removing your jacket and placing it on a chair where you saw one of his own.
You hear light music coming from down the hall - his bedroom. You venture closer to the room, noticing the door slightly ajar. You peek your head through to greet Jungkook, after all he was expecting you.
You freeze in your tracks, your eyes slowly growing wider.
Jungkook sits at the edge of his bed. It wouldnât have surprised you if you didnât catch him masturbating - your eyes focusing on the way his right hand engulfs his cock entirely, jacking himself with such need. You can now hear that heâs moaning through the music, being closer than you were from down the hall. His eyes are closed and his head slightly tilted to the side.
âY/NâŚâ
Your breathing stilled at the sound of your name. Did he know you were there, watching like some type of creep?
âSeonbaenimâŚ?â you say from behind the cracked door, and at the sound of your meek voice, Jungkookâs eyes snap open. Youâre taken aback by the look in his dark eyes, and in that moment you realize that he didnât know you were there, but instead had moaned your name.
Your feet react before your mind does. You take a few steps back until you hit the wall, startled to be caught watching him. You begin to sprint down the hall and towards the living area, falling to the nearest seat.
You hear the music stop and footsteps sounding, coming closer to you with each passing step.
âY/N-â
âIâm so sorry, seonbaenim!â you cry, your eyes not looking his way. Youâre humiliated and even more disrespectful for walking freely through his home.Â
âY/N-â
âI should have told you I was coming before I did-
âY/N!â Jungkook hisses, his voice echoing off the walls of his home. Youâre immediately silent, heart racing. âI didnât mean to yell at you.â he suddenly murmurs, lowering his tone to not further startle you. You feel his presence in front of you, but youâre far too humiliated to look at him. âLook at me.â
You have to remind yourself to breathe when you do. Jungkookâs lips turn to a small smile. âThatâs my good girl.â he tells you. âIâm sorry you had to see that.â
You donât respond, far too consumed with your thoughts to do so.
âHey,â Jungkook squats down to face you fully. âcongratulations on the success of your song. Itâs charting higher than songs from veteran groups.â
âThank you, seon-â you stop yourself. âJungkook.â you correct, understanding that he prefers you to call him by his name.Â
âMy good girlâŚmy name always sounds sweet when you say it.â Jungkook offers a hand, waiting for you to take it. When you do hesitantly, he gets from his squatting position and lightly tugs you. âCome, I want to show you something.â
Thereâs an anxious feeling running through you when youâre led down the hall once more and back to Jungkookâs room. The lights are dimmer this time as you and he enter. He closes the door behind him and releases your hand.Â
âI want to show you these.â Jungkook steps away from you and towards a bedside table. Itâs a black folder that he opens and shows you.
Your hands take the folder, your eyes scanning over the pictures displayed inside of it.
Itâs you.
Itâs the same pictures Jungkook had taken a month prior, each picture becoming more vulgar as you skim through. Your hands are trembling, unsure of how you truly feel about seeing the pictures physically in the palm of your hands.
âJungkookâŚâ
Jungkook eyes your reaction. âYes?â
You arenât sure what you want to ask him. Thousands of questions run through your mind - why did he print the pictures out? Why does he want to show you? Has he shown anyone these pictures?
âY/N.â
Your eyes snap up at him, your trembling hands coming to a halt.Â
âYouâve done good.â says Jungkook. âYour concept photos came out amazing and itâs because of these.â he points to the folder in your hands. âYour group is doing amazing because of you.â
âYouâŚthink so?â you question in awe. Of course, the photos youâve taken werenât the same as these. The eyes you were giving the camera - or Jungkook - were those youâd see women give to men in the bedroom, not a photographer. You were nearly naked and these photos were similar to something from a porn magazine.
âOf course.â Jungkookâs hands are swift. He touches both sides of your face. âLook how beautiful you look in these. The song is charting now because of how beautiful you sounded.â
Jungkookâs compliment has your heart swelling. You close the folder and nod your head, a small smile forming onto your lips.
âMy good girl.â murmurs Jungkook, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. âYou want this, right?â
Jungkookâs words have a deeper meaning - one you werenât sure about fully. Did you want this as in the fame that was quickly sneaking up on you and your group - the stardom he promised you? Or did you want something more that had to do with him personally?
âI want to help you, Y/N. I want to make you bigger than what you are now.â
âBigger?â
âBigger.â Jungkook nods. âI want you to be like us. Weâve sold out tours and traveled all over the world.â
You laugh at his words. Itâs kind for Jungkook to want more for you, but even you know thatâs not realistic. âI donât think we can be as big asâŚBTS. Or you alone.â
Jungkook hums. âWith you talking down about yourself, of course not.â Jungkook says. âI promised you that youâd be a star, right?â
âYes.â
âYou believe in me, right?â Jungkook drops his left hand from your face so that he can grasp the folder. He places it on his bed before turning back to you.Â
âOf course I do.â
âYou trust me?â Jungkook questions. âYou have to trust that I know what Iâm doing.â
âI do trust you.â
Jungkook simpers. He lifts your chin, his eyes on your lips.
âHow much do you trust me?â
You swallow.
 Your managerâs words come to your mind - whatever you were doing with Jungkook, to continue it. You trusted Jungkook a lot - heâs helped you so much without asking for anything in return. It was because of him that your song was charting and the sudden interest of people streaming, buying and participating in challenges.
âWith everything.â you respond to Jungkook truthfully.
âEverything?â Jungkook furrows his brows. âEven with your body?â
âKeep doing it.â your manager's words replay over and over in your head.Â
âYouâre shying away.â Jungkook notes. Maybe he was too forward with you, but he couldnât allow himself to care. Heâs already been caught by you masturbating to just the thought of you. âI canât help you if you donât allow me to.â
You inhale deep, your eyes not leaving his.Â
âYou arenât comfortable with me.â
âI am-â
âYou arenât.â Jungkook intercepts. âAre you comfortable giving yourself to Jaehyun?â
Your eyebrows knit together at Jungkook's words.
Jaehyun?
You shake your head.
âI saw the way you were looking at him.â Jungkook removes his hand from your chin and takes a step back. âYou had heart eyes for him. While I sat there and helped you achieve successâŚyou still havenât given me those eyes.â
Jungkook turns away from you just as he says those words. You shake your head, reaching out for the man.
âI-I donât want Jaehyun-ssi!â you exclaim. Your anxiety was peaking, fear running through you. You didnât want to upset Jungkook or make him think you didnât appreciate all the help heâs given you. âIâm sorry, seonbaenim.â your hand touches his bicep.
Jungkook turns back to you. Your eyes are low, but he can see the seriousness in them - you were apologetic.Â
âI neverâŚdone anything with a man before.â you murmur, hot feeling all over. âI want toâŚâ your heart is racing with what to say. âKeep doing itâŚkeep doing itâŚâ your managerâs words replay in your mind. â...I want to please you, seonbaenim. I want to be good for you, I just donât know how.â
Jungkook is stunned for a moment, his eyes watching you intently. Then, thereâs a smirk forming onto his lips.
Now, Jungkook had you where he wanted you - where you needed to be.
âYou know youâre my good girl, Y/N.â Jungkook takes both of your hands in his and steps backwards towards his bed. He sits down and tugs for you to do the same - on top of him. âMy good girl. Once I do this with you, you canât do it with someone else.â
Jungkookâs hands are upon you, holding you close.
âIâm a man and I know how men are.â Jungkook murmurs, his lips close to your jawline. âThey will use you until you have nothing left to give. They will take you to feed their own satisfaction and leave you.â
You release a gasp.
âI wonât do that to you, my good girl.â Jungkookâs hands dip beneath your shirt to feel your smooth skin. âYou can always trust me. Iâll treat you right. I want more from you, unlike any other man.â
Jungkook wants to say especially Jaehyun - but he doesnât want to come off as jealous. Jaehyun is his friend and understands that he holds no feelings or attraction towards you, he was just being friendly. However, he was also a man and in Jungkookâs eyes, any man can and will be competition.
Jungkookâ s lips are upon your skin, kissing your jawline.Â
âPromise me, Y/N. That youâll always be mine.â
Maybe it was selfish for Jungkook to ask from you, but he doesnât care. Heâs invested in you free of charge - heâs only asked for one thing. To have you fully for himself, all of you. He wants your love and devotion, your respect.
Your virginity.Â
Jungkook wanted all of you. He wanted to be the first person who made you cum. He wanted to show you how pleasurable sex could be with the right person - him - and show you what he liked.
Itâs what Jungkook deserves - he was going to make you a star. Your sisters could not compare to you and he would assure that you had it all. Soon, youâll have brand deals and be an ambassador of whatever brand you desire - as long as you remain his.
âI promise.â you murmur, and itâs then that Jungkook doesnât hold back. He kisses along your neck hungrily, as if he was a dog waiting to pounce at his favorite treat.Â
Youâre unsure what to do but allow Jungkook to take the lead. His hands roam your body, squeezing and grabbing everything he could with just two palms.
âYou said you want to be good for me, right?â Jungkook says against your collarbone, his teeth grazing your skin.
You nod, your body flushed with heat.
Jungkook leans back, his dark eyes on your face. âMy pretty good girl.â he murmurs, the back of his hand stroking your chin. âI want you to strip for me like you did before.â
Jungkookâs eyes upon you cause you to freeze up. The horrified look on your face has Jungkook chuckling. âDonât be shy, Y/N. Youâll have to learn to do this without any liquid courage.â
âYes.â you murmur with a nod.
âItâs just me.â Jungkook breaths.Â
Just Jungkook.
You take a deep breath, and before you can think too much into the fact that it was Jungkook, you begin to lift your shirt over your head. You discard it aside with a bite of your lip.
âI like black on your skin.â Jungkook compliments, touching up the fabric holding your breast together perfectly.Â
âThank you.â you respond cutely, voice low and meek. You remove yourself from Jungkookâs lap to remove your pants. They fall to the floor swiftly and you kick your feet to get out of it fully.Â
Jungkook licks his lip before biting it. Thereâs an obvious tent in his sweats just at the sight of you. He thinks about what youâd look like in countless lingerie - high stockings that highline your legs, lacy material that teases him just in the right way. His mouth salivates at the endless possibilities.
Itâs just Jungkook, you tell yourself. Itâs just Jungkook - the same man whoâs been so kind to you. Whoâs helped you with your comeback, given you advice and assisted in gaining confidence. You donât need to be self-conscious - even you can see how excited he was - but there was more than just self-confidence. You werenât as experienced as you (assumed?) he was.
But, with Jungkookâs words flowing through your mind mixed with your managers, you didnât have time to dwell on it. You had to engage with him, you think.
âSeonbaeâŚJungkookâŚ?â
Jungkookâs alert at the sound of his name. âYes, baby?â he says without thinking, the amount of pet names he can call you is as endless as the amount of lingerie he wants to see you in.Â
You swallow and turn away from him. âCan you help me take it off?â
Jungkook groaned and far too quickly did he stand on his feet to meet you. His hands are warm against your skin as he unclasps the bra. His hand slides down your bare spine, shuddering at how soft your skin is. Your bra falls next to your feet and slowly you turn around.
âItâs just me.â Jungkookâs words repeat in your mind.Â
âMy pretty girl.â Jungkook hums. âKiss me.â
You do, your hands falling onto Jungkookâs chest as your lips touch his.Â
Jungkook deepens the kiss with a moan. Having you nearly naked before him excites him like no other and he has to remember that this was your first time. He couldnât be too rough or possessive with you (yet) like he wants to.
You yelp, eyes wide when youâre suddenly thrusted on the soft mattress.Â
âYouâve never done anything with a man, right?â Jungkookâs fingers fall at your panties, touching the material between his fingertips.Â
You nod.
âWhat have you ever thought about doing withâŚâ Jungkook doesnât say âa manâ because he doesnât want to think of you having fantasies with someone that wasnât him. â...me?â
Jungkook begins to pull at your panties, goosebumps running through his skin.Â
You lift yourself from the bed so he can remove your panties. Youâve never thought about doing anything like this with Jungkook - not until the day in the studio. Having his hands on you, feeling his breath upon your skin - you felt ashamed of the perverted thoughts.
But now you don't need to feel ashamed. Jungkook wanted you - he wasnât just a superior to you now. Soon heâd be the man youâd have sex with - and by your promise, the only man.
âKissing you.â you respond, clenching your legs together.
âDone that.â Jungkook mumbles. âWhat did I say about being shy with me, Y/N?â
You loosen your grip on your thighs, allowing Jungkook to open your legs. Heâs staring right at you, eyes never blinking. Your mind is screaming at you all at once - 2 minutes of not blinking and you want to tear yourself away from his firm grip.
âJungkook.âÂ
Jungkook blinks, the moisture regaining back into his eyes.Â
âSorry.â Jungkook swallows. âI want you to sit on my face.â You cough, unsure if you heard Jungkook correctly. âWhat?â
âI want you to sit on my face.â Jungkook states matter-of-factly. âYour pussyâs very pretty-â
âPlease stop.â you look up at the ceiling with a horrified groan. âYou canât say things like that.â
âWhy not?â Jungkook lowers himself between your legs. He sends a kiss on your inner thigh. âYouâre going to be my girl, Y/N. You canât close yourself off every time I give you a little compliment.â Jungkook kisses your thigh again, inching closer to your clit.
âI knowâŚâ you murmur. âYou donât have to be soâŚdirty about it.â
Jungkook chuckles. âDirty?â he shakes his head. âDirty is telling you I want you to ride my face until you cum a good three times before I fuck you. But Iâm not saying that, arenât I?â Jungkook sends a quick peck against your clit, assuring to hold your thighs so you donât close them on his head - but then again, he wouldnât be opposed to that.Â
Youâre too stunned to speak, and Jungkook furrows a brow. âSo?â
You swallow. âIâŚIâm supposed to be learning how to pleasure you.â
Jungkook tilts his head. âYou think you can pleasure me without shying away?â
No, but you nod your head regardless. You were going to have to see Jungkook naked regardless - better now than later.
âHmm.â Jungkook hums. His cock was begging to be released now. He goes to take off his shirt, lifting to his feet to do the same to his sweats.
 Your eyes try not to stare, but itâs difficult not to. You were beginning to realize why Jungkook was so confident - and just why he was so loved outside of his talents.Â
Jungkook gets onto the bed, his back against the tall headboard. Your eyes glance at his cock then back up at him to find that heâs already looking at you. Quickly, you widen your eyes and turn away.
âCome here, pretty girl.â Jungkook laughs.Â
You do so hesitantly. Youâre having a hard time not looking at it - itâs erect and basically staring at you. It doesnât help that you find it pretty - could dicks be pretty? He was cleanly groomed, veins wrapping around the length of it and the tip reminded you of a lollipop - red and suckable.
You mentally gasp at your mind at the moment.
âIâll let you take the lead.â Jungkook says when youâre facing him, knees firmly against his bed. âI can talk you through it.â
You nod, swallowing a lump in your throat.Â
âWrap your hands around it.â
Your palms are sweaty, but you do as Jungkook insists.Â
âTighten your grip.â Jungkook widens his legs to get comfortable. âGood girlâŚnow just stroke it up and down.â
You appear fascinated at doing this - maybe because your ears hear Jungkookâs breathing, followed by a few low groans. Or maybe because you were actually doing this with him.
Jungkook wants to be more vulgar - he wants to tell you to spit on it for lubrication, but there was more than a 50% chance that youâd cower at his words, so he opts to just watch you with hooded eyes.Â
âC-Can IâŚ?â
Jungkook nods his head, unsure truly what you meant but he was hoping it was what he thought you did.Â
And it was.
You were awkward at first, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips, but the act alone has Jungkook pre-cumming, a salty substance touching your tongue. Your tongue reaches out to lick the tip, eyes glancing up to see a reaction.
Jungkookâs eyes are closed and he doesnât appear to be in pain.
You venture further, closing your own eyes to do anything, hoping the act would come natural to you. If you thought about his cock appearing like a lollipop, then the act would be the same then - as long as you remembered not to bite it in the end, youâd be good.
You begin to suck, continuing your stroking motion. Jungkook's head falls back against the headboard, biting his lip. He canât look at you, he thinks, because if he does, he knows he would cum and he doesnât want to cum yet - not in your mouth, at least. Another time, yes.Â
But youâre sucking him so good that he canât help but release a few moans of your name, a hand placing itself onto your head encouragingly. He knows now that youâre good for him - the perfect girl he needs to mold into the woman he knows you can be. He can make you a star that the world will love - and the whore behind the scenes just for him.
Jungkook forces you to go deeper until you feel the tip of his cock hit your uvula. It takes everything in you to not gag. You had to be good for him, you think. Your seonbae can be as good to you as you are to him.
âMy pretty girl.â Jungkook grips the back of your head. âSo good for meâŚallowing me to fuck your mouth.â
You donât realize your legs are clenching until there's friction. You can feel a string of drool coming from the corners of your lips, but you canât care - thereâs no time to. Jungkookâs thrusting into your mouth with such force and need, completely taking over whatever control he allowed you to have.
Jungkook continues to grunt. He wonât be lasting long and he truly does not want to come. He allows himself to look at you now - how filthy you looked with his cock shoved in your mouth. How thereâs tears in the corner of your eyes threatening to fall and drool dripping down your chin. But yet and still, you were so beautiful, innocent, the pure look still in your eyes.
A look Jungkook couldnât wait to ruin.
Jungkook yanks himself away from you the second he feels himself about to cum, his high slowly going down. He pants, clenching his teeth together.Â
âMy good girlâŚâ Jungkook trails off. âIâm going to make you cum.â
Jungkook doesnât wait for a response. Instead, he pushes you against his mattress and forces your legs apart.Â
âSo wet.â Jungkook tsks, no longer holding back. His fingers meet your clit and he begins to rub.
Your hand automatically grips Jungkook's wrist, but he makes no movement to stop. Instead, he watches your wide eyes with his own, as if daring you to try to stop him.
The feeling is weird, but good. No one but your own fingers has touched you, and the foreign feeling was causing a bubbling effect in your stomach. Jungkook was experienced in this - he knew exactly what to do to get you squirming beneath him.
âSo sweet.â Jungkook says after placing two fingers in his mouth. âNow I have to taste you.â
Jungkook doesnât allow you a moment, instead dipping his head down to capture your clit in his mouth. He lays his tongue flat on it and licks, flickering his tongue between your folds hungrily.Â
Jungkookâs quick, both hands grabbing your thighs just as they were about to close. He forces them back, your knees hitting the mattress.
The sounds that could be heard are nothing but filthy - Jungkookâs suckling and groans, your moans and whimpers. You yourself donât want to look between your legs, afraid that youâd catch eyes with Jungkook and lose yourself even more. But that didnât mean Jungkook wasnât going to. He enjoys watching you - every reaction is raw. Youâre new to this, so that means that he was going to be the one that made you feel amazing; make you cum.
The thought alone excites Jungkook to no end.
Your pretty moans were music to Jungkook ears and heâs satisfied you no longer hid them from him. His pretty girl, he thinks. Once so innocent and shy now laid on his bed, begging for more - and more heâd give you. To think that in the eyes of the public, he could never call you what you were (his, yetâŚ) but he knew just like you knew.Â
Jungkook pushes back from your clit to enter two fingers inside of you. You were tight and heâs certain youâd need to be stretched out before he could fuck you. âRelax, pretty girl.â he mumbles when you flinch. âItâll feel good. Just be good for me.â
Jungkookâs fingers begin to pump. Heâs slow at first, testing you, eyes on your reaction before he can truly fuck his fingers inside of you.
You bite your lips and quiver your legs. âI donât think I can-â
âYou can take it, Y/N.â
You wish you had the confidence in yourself that Jungkook held for you. You hold back your words in an attempt to just that - take it. But it was hard. You were feeling like Jungkook's fingers were stretching you out in a way youâve never been - and you were beginning to second guess if you wanted his cock inside of you.
âMy pretty girl, so tight for me.â Jungkook speaks more to himself than to you. His eyes zone in on his fingers pumping in and out of you, your juices coating his fingers. He groans - youâre clenching around him so perfectly that he cannot wait to feel you for himself.
âItâs starting to feel good, huh?â Jungkook snickers when he hears the faintest moan from your lips. âMy good girl.â
Jungkook curls his fingers inside of you, pumping even deeper. Jungkook leans down to capture your lips with him on, his pumping never stopping. His tongue coats your bottom lip, forcing it open so he can dominate your own.
âJungk-kook-â
Jungkookâs tongue licks the side of your cheek, wet and warm. It drags to your jaw to your neck and dips down between your breasts. Still pumping inside of you - understanding that youâll be cumming soon, he captures a nipple.Â
Jungkook loves the sweet noises youâre making - who knew something so shy could be so filthy when the time came. No one but him would know. His tongue flicks your nipples teasingly, the hardened bud enjoying being toyed with.Â
âPlease stop, Jungkook. I canât-â
Jungkook bites (only gently) your nipple to silence you. His thumb rubs your clit encouragingly. âItâs okay, baby. Youâre about to cum. Just let loose.â
This wasnât cumming - youâve never experienced this before. Youâve touched yourself many times and this wasnât what it felt like. Your toes are curling and slowly your back arches. You couldnât take it anymore - not with Jungkookâs suckling on your breast, as well.
Jungkook has to see it for himself. He lets your nipple pop from his lips and his eyes zone in on your clenching pussy, sopping wet for him. He allows a few more pumps before he removes his fingers, juices leaking out of you at a rapid pace. Your thighs are quivering, but you can feel relief wash over you now that itâs done.Â
âI told you to stop.â you whimper, the familiar hot sensation running through you. âI wouldnât have done that-â
âYou never told me to stop.â Jungkook interrupts. He wraps a hand around his erect cock, wishing he could fuck into you right now. âBesides, you loved it.â he slaps it against your clit, gently rubbing it between your folds.
You swallow. âI canât take it anymore.â
âBut you can.â Jungkook continues to rub against your clit. âI donât ask for a lot, do I?â
You clench around nothing, but you fear yourself becoming overstimulated. âNo.â you respond meekly.Â
âExactly.â Jungkook pants. âSuch a wet pussy my good girl has.â he says vulgarly. âDonât you think itâs selfish of you to deny me pleasure after all Iâve done for you?â
Jungkook slaps his cock against your clit, continuing. âIâve helped you with everything. You have shows lined up because of me, Y/N. Theyâre not interested in your group. Theyâre interested in you.â
Jungkook shakes his head. âI could be an asshole and sue and say I deserve writing credits to the song. I was in the studio, wasnât I?â Jungkook circles his tip at your wet entrance. âBut I havenât. Iâve done everything I could to assure youâve achieved greatness and itâs as if giving me the one thing I ask for is too much.â
âSeonbaenimâŚâ your voice trails off, heart beating rapidly at his words.Â
âYou donât respect me as your superior, Y/N.â Jungkook sighs. âIf I didnât care for you, I wouldâve taken you a long time ago. I wouldn't have given you any form of pleasure because I would only be thinking of my own.â
Youâre taken aback by his words, but Jungkook doesnât stop.
âNo other man in this industry is going to love or respect you the way that I do. Theyâll use you until you have nothing left to give. Then, youâll just be damaged goods.âÂ
Youâre so beautiful, Jungkook thinks, even when his cruel words show on your face. But he was an honest man, after all. Whoâd want you once you werenât a young, naive virgin willing to please? No one but him - which is why he needed to be the one to have you all to himself.Â
It was only right, Jungkook thinks.Â
âYou donât want that, right, pretty girl?â Jungkook offers a kind smile, his words not matching it. âYou already promised youâll be mine and mine alone. Right?â
Slowly, you nod your head.
âSay it, Y/N. Say youâll only be mine.â
Jungkook needed a confirmation - more for himself. He didnât want you to come back and regret anything because you gave him full consent.
âIâll only be yours.â
Jungkook hums with satisfaction. âThatâs right, baby. Only mine. Turn around.â Jungkook instructs, helping you do so. He arches your back, hand against your back so your chest is against the mattress.Â
âSeonbae?â you quip feeling Jungkookâs cock against your hole, reading to pounce any given moment. âI-I donât have any protection.â
Jungkook furrows a brow. âOkay?â
âDo you?â you swallow, throat feeling dry.
âFor you, no.â Jungkook laughs, a genuine laugh as if he couldnât believe your words. âWeâve already gone through this, Y/N. Youâre my girl.â
âBut-â
âWhy do I need to use protection if youâre my girl? What is the protection for?â Jungkook was growing impatient.
You bite your lip. You and he were a part of the same industry - both idols with jobs you had to do. âI canât get pregnant, seonbae.â you whisper, embarrassed that itâs something you had to say.Â
Jungkook scoffs. âGetting pregnant by me is an honor, Y/N.â he says, his tone a bit snappy. You didnât mean to offend him. âMaybe if I get you pregnant then youâll know just who you belong to.â he says the last part more harshly, hand gripping your waist with such force. âDonât worry, pretty girl. I know what to do. You wonât get pregnant.â Yet - he promised you stardom and he never went back on his promises.Â
Your fingers clench the bed sheets when you feel Jungkook enter you. The feeling is far more intense - more than his fingers. Itâs not as if Jungkook made it any easier. He had no intentions of going easy on you now - not after youâve attempted to deny him access to you. A condom was a slap in the face - after all the work heâs put in to assure he fulfilled his promise to you.
âJungâŚkookâŚâ your eyes are clenched shut, body jerking away from him.
âStop running away.â Jungkook snarls, jerking you back against him. Youâre so tight, clenching around him heavenly. âYouâll feel good soon, pretty girl. I promise.â
Soon came, but not fast enough. You were being stretched out so savagely that you contemplated if it would be like this everytime you and he had sex. Youâre positive that your hips would have bruises on them with how tight Jungkook grips them, keeping you in place.
Jungkook pants, his eyes watching the way your ass bounces against him in astonishment. For a virgin, you had a slutty body that only heâd be able to have.
âIt feels good now, doesnât it?â Jungkook snickers. âI can feel you clenching around me even tighter. I told you it would.â
Jungkookâs slamming into your sweet spot, pressing against it with each passing thrust. He canât wait to fuck you the entire night until he couldnât anymore. He wants you in every position possible, not caring if you had to be up the following morning early - because right now, you were his and his alone.Â
Jungkook hovers above you, both of his hands atop yours. He intertwined his fingers with yours, his lips against your ears. âMy pretty good girl. Arenât you happy I chose you?â his teeth nibble your ear playfully. âOut of all the women I can have. I chose you. Tell me youâre happy.â
âIâmâŚIâm happy.â you moan, eyes fluttering with how deep he is in this position.Â
You were happy.
Youâve accepted that this was your fate now - you were going to please Jungkook and in return, youâd have what you wanted. A career and someone you respected by your side as much as he was willing to be.Â
âSo good for me.â Jungkook murmurs. âKiss me.â
You strain your neck, but you do as Jungkook says. Your moans die down against his lips, but he has all night to hear your moans.
And Jungkook does. He fucks into you each and every time, not caring about the exhausted look in your face. He flips you onto your back, your knees against your shoulders and cums deep inside of you. He allows you on top, but only he has control, your cunt filled to the brim with even more cum, but he isnât finished until youâre begging him for a break - but how could he want to stop? Heâs waited so long for you that he has a few more rounds in before heâs satisfied.
âPretty girl.â Jungkook simpers at your condition - nearly unconscious and full of his cum. âHere.â
Jungkook wasnât an asshole. As much as he enjoys cumming inside of you, he had a promise to fulfill before he can allow you to carry his child. âCanât have you getting pregnant at the height of your career, canât we?â
Jungkook hands you a water bottle and a small pill. Your words are inaudible, but he has a clue of what the question is.Â
âContraceptive.â Jungkook assists in having you take it. âIâll get you some birth control pills tomorrow.â
You swallow the pill and nod, falling against the mattress. You were far too exhausted to speak, only wanting to sleep.
Jungkook brings you closer to him, your head against his chest while his hands rub along your back softly. Gently, he presses a kiss to your head. âArenât you happy you have me as happy as I am to have you, Y/N? he murmurs, knowing that youâve already fallen to slumber. âNo other man is going to treat you as good as I am.â
Jungkook closes his eyes, satisfied with the good deed he has done not only for him, but for you, as well.
#trivia-yandere#btswritingcafe#btswriterscollective#bangtan smut#bangtanwriters net#btswritersclub#bts smut#jungkook smut#bangtanwritershq#jungkook x reader#bts yandere#yandere jungkook#idol bts#idol jungkook#idol reader#best friends!#seonbaenim!
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TKATB: Reverse!AU Sol
Summary: some headcanons about a reverse!au, where Sol's entire aesthetic is blonde-dyed hair and angelic, innocent eyes.
Warnings: implied drugging, yandere tendencies (TKATB), stalking, breaking into your home, eventual imprisonment, coercion?? and minor spoilers for the game events. Gender neutral reader but he dresses you in a skirt around the end.
Creative liberties are taken for this AU: where you and Sol used to be childhood friends that lived close to each other, and he used to be a simple boy with ebony hair and ruby eyes, who'd follow you around like your eyes held the stars within them.
The elderly would simply coo and say it was a sweet sort of puppy love, not knowing how seriously Sol would have retaliated behind your back if any other kids were to pick on you or try to take his place. Small accidents aren't unusual in your area, where youngsters become careless and slip into rivers or fall off the monkey bars...
But, knowing how such incidents would upset you, Sol never lets you see that side of himself, and instead melts into the kind, sweet, gentle boy you know whenever you're around him. He puts you first and lets you win at your favourite games, at your side like it's the most natural thing in the world.
To a bystander, he was akin to a raven watching over its heart's treasure - ready to claw and tear at the nearest threat. But things change when you lose your memories in an accident. And from there, Sol is convinced that this is some type of retribution for his tainted love - and paints his wings white for the next time he meets you.
The angel bleaches its locks and ties his hair. Strict; contained. Fashioning himself into a dove.
It works; because you are the loveliest of doves, and there is nothing stronger in Sol's heart than his need to be next to you, even if it takes a few white lies to earn your trust.
"Y/N! Let's play a game!"
Hopscotch - where you'd suddenly lose your balance and fall into Sol's arms. Or hide and seek - where he'd always pretend not to find you, so that you could enjoy the thrill of almost winning, beforeâŚ
"Four, three, two⌠one."
When you 'first' meet Sol in college, it's when you wake up in the infirmary after a food fight in the cafeteria, having been hit in the head by a flying tray.
He was somewhat unrecognizable by then - with his hair dyed a sunflower yellow and exuding innocent-softness. He's helpful and doesn't pry too much into your life while he tends to your wounds - and the next thing you know, you're in art class and learn that he isn't actually the nurse, but an assistant. And that he has a habit of doodling cute things onto his skin beneath his sleeves.
Perhaps it's because you've been stressed about your home-situation lately, but you've been spending more time in the infirmary due to headaches, blurriness, and feelings of fatigue.
That, and you've been having the strangest dreams about a shadow wandering through your room at night. (Totally not because Sol has tampered with the food in your kitchen, so that he may come and go more leisurely and make sure you're alright.)
"How're you feeling today, Pumpkin?" Sol asks, clipboard in hand and a smile on his lips. But as he nudges the door to the infirmary closed and makes sure the windows aren't letting any wind in, you catch a glimpse of the papers he's holding and don't see any medical reports.
Drawings, maybe? And a few hearts encircling a name.
If it wasn't for the tracking device that's locked around your ankle, you might've been able to delude yourself into thinking that your stay at Sol's apartment was normal - that you'd chosen to come in here yourself, rather than waking up one day with no memory of how you got here - and that the Sol that's taking care of you now was the same, innocent nurse who comforted you on your first week. When you'd gotten overwhelmed by the new culture of your college and felt lost about your life.
Technically, you suppose Sol did make your life a little simplier, by giving you something much more pressing attend to.
A shiver runs down your spine as you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind you. Sol presses his smile against your neck, asking if there was something wrong.
"Is there something wrong with the pancakes?" He asks. And you try not to pay attention to the skirt that pools around your legs.
You'd woken up to a closet of clothes prepared in your size. And decorations around the bed that eerily match your childhood tastes.
You cover your mouth to stay silent in your hiding spot, feeling your heart race in your chest.
"âŚReady or not. Here I come."
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Binding Vow
This is purely self-indulgent because I was consumed with the idea of Chrollo and specifically, Yandere!Chrollo. So here it goes. This is filthy and Chrollo is unhinged. Nothing new.
Read on AO3
Part II
Part III
I do not condone this behaviour in real life. This is purely fictional. Please read warnings and avoid if any of them are triggering to you.
Warnings: Yandere Chrollo, dom Chrollo, coercion, dub con (I mean it), psychological manipulation, kidnapping, captivity, possessiveness, obsession, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, praise, slight humiliation kink
Summary: Abducted because Chrollo could not steal your Nen ability, you are ready to give in and trade your power for your freedom. But the choices Chrollo decides to lay in front of you are wholly different. One would say, the illusion of choice. You make him swear a vow to let you go as you make your choice. But one should pay close attention to the words used in a binding vow...
Word count: 7k
One would think so many candles would be a fire hazard, to be frank. They were everywhere, on every wooden surface, on every shelf that wasnât overcome with books of all sizes with leather spines, on the nightstands and even on the ground. It was as though the leader of the Phantom Troupe had an obsession with a certain type of aesthetic, and would not refrain from littering his surroundings with candles every time he found a new place where his gang could crash. Perhaps, he had a candle for every person he had ever killed.
Though you supposed one would lose count after a while.
If you were to ingratiate him, you knew what he would appreciate having as a gift; although who needed gifts when your profession was stealing whatever you wanted, whatever thing you had a passing whim for?
As far as you were aware, you were the last passing whim Chrollo Lucilfer had stolen. You had known of his power to steal abilities, and even though you had tried to escape when the Troupe had come to abduct you, it seemed he hadnât been successful in stealing your power. Yet.
Your Nen power wasnât meant to fight, really, so the possibility of forcing your way through the Troupe had been preposterous. Your ability was that of having regenerative power, to the point where you could heal fatal wounds to yourself and others. He obviously must have wanted it for himself, and you hadnât exactly had any way of escaping his wishes.
After a month of captivity, though, you werenât sure you could bear it for much longer. If all he wanted was your power, why not let him âborrowâ it, as he so nonchalantly put it? So you could go back to your own life, so you didnât have to be locked up in that house, so that he would let you go? Would he even let you go, if you gave him the ability? Or would he want to tie loose ends and get rid of you? You shuddered in the cold air of the bedroom you had been confined to in his absence.Â
He had left you to your own devices that day for the entirety of the morning, whilst he had spent all his time with you previously. Studying you, asking you questions, letting you know between the lines that he knew who you were, who your loved ones were, where they lived. He had called you a âtreasured guestâ in the same sentence, with such audacity that you had been left stunned at the complete lack of morals that man had.
But then again, he also seemed to have some twisted attraction to you. They did say the forbidden fruit was always the sweetest, and because you knew of his power, he couldnât get to your Nen ability if you did not reveal how it worked and fulfilled his conditions. In the last two weeks, he had taken to something you could only define as an attempt at seduction.
He would sit with you in the living room, inviting you to get closer to him, reassuring you he had no intentions of harming you. He would stare at you with those stormy eyes of his that seemed to burn through you like electricity, and his gaze would rake over your body like he was appraising some kind of rare, expensive object he planned to take for himself. Which he probably was.
Despite knowing who he was, despite knowing how sticky with blood his hands were, you were only a fallible human. And he was... a murderer, a manipulator, a thief; and he was also cunning, intuitive, soft-spoken, caring with you in a sick way, and the most handsome man you had ever met. Despite all of your efforts, it was not possible to deny the effect he had on you. And it was not possible to hide it from him. Observant as he was, obsessed as he was with watching your every reaction, every little twitch of your body, every time your breath faltered when he was too close, every time he commented casually how your pupils were dilating, every time his long, willowy fingers grazed your skin, he could see all of it. And all of it was a twisted game of cat and mouse to him.
Another heist, another plot to strategise and accomplish. He was always composed, always neutral, if not for his sly looks, wily smirks and piercing eyes. He always seemed to have the upper hand. It did not matter that he did not have your power, he seemed to be a patient man.
Until that day.
You had assumed he was waiting for you to break by keeping you captive, although treated with enough civility and never physically harmed, because he had not mentioned wanting your Nen power since the one time he had told you he wished to borrow it. In your mind, he was simply determined to stir the pot and then leave you to stew in it for a while, knowing at some point, your desire for freedom would overcome your attachment to your ability. Letting you run your mind wild with suppositions and conjectures that led nowhere as you tried to analyse his reasons and predict his behaviour. And it was working. You were almost done with it. If he asked you to choose between your power and your freedom, you knew what you would pick.
When he came back from whatever the hell heâd been doing that morning, his appearance was pristine. He was wearing his hair down, no headband in sight, a white shirt with the first two buttons undone and smart black trousers. All in all, he was the picture of what you could only define as sex appeal and sophistication mixed together in a heady blur of sharp eyes, chiselled, angular features and a mellow voice that still managed to sting.
He unlocked your door using a Nen ability heâd probably also stolen and closed it behind him, smiling softly at you as he appraised you.
âHello, darling. I hope you did not feel too lonely without my companyâ he said easily, conversationally. You disliked the pet names he had started to throw at you in the last two weeks. They made it seem like there was more to this relationship than a prisoner and their warden. More he wanted. But not your ability. No. You. And it made your stomach churn every time.Â
You decided to ignore him, because what else could you do? You were locked in a room with him, with no escape, and you had been held captive for a month now. What could possibly make it worse than it already was?
But you were so very naĂŻve. You should have paid heed to his shrewd grey eyes, to the way his lips twitched as though he delighted in knowing something you didnât, in watching you rack your brains in trying to figure him out.
You had been so naĂŻve in thinking that he had kidnapped you and held you captive to steal your ability. After all, he could torture it out of you.Â
Did he just enjoy the game? What did he want? Was there another condition that needed you to be willing to share it with him? That must have been it. He needed you to give it to him willingly, that was why he was going after your mental sanity instead of torturing it out of you.
âYou seem quite tense. Sit with me. I have a proposition for youâ he said, gracefully stepping to your side, brushing his fingers on your lower back, sending shivers down your spine just as your nose caught a whiff of his expensive cologne. His scent was just as intoxicating as he was, something masculine yet refined, a blend that made your lower stomach hot. You fought to keep eye contact as he sat on the plush loveseat by the fireplace, tapping the empty space right next to him, his eyes boring into you with curious amusement.Â
You grimaced, feeling weak and dizzy as you sat down on the armchair, the only other surface available to you aside from the bed and the loveseat, which was out of the question. Chrolloâs lips twitched in amusement, his eyes glinting with interest as he rested his cheek against his fist.Â
âI have a few choices for you. I assume you are quite unsatisfied with your current predicament, therefore, I am giving you the chance to escape all the doubt that must be swarming your mind by nowâ he said calmly, that little smirk still on his lips. You did not give way to hope. You did not lower your guard. Thieves did not return goods. If they got rid of them, it was after getting something else in return. So what was he playing at? What was his angle?
âYour distrust is quite strong, dearest. You should learn to hide your emotions more, if you plan to attempt to play me. Though I must admit the thought of it is quite thrilling. So feel free to try it. Your first choice is to give me your Nen ability in exchange for the end of this predicament. Your second choice is to give yourself to me now. I trust you understand the meaning behind my words. If that is your choice, you can start by getting up and walking over hereâ he said, smoothly, easily, seductively, his eyes mischievous.Â
You blinked, swallowing heavily, your lips parting. He⌠was making you choose between your Nen ability or having sex with him in exchange for your freedom? The choice was not really that. It was an illusion of it. Perhaps he merely sought to humiliate you, because of course, the reasonable choice would be to get it over and done with, have sex with him just that once and walk away with your life and your ability intact. Who in their right mind would pick the first choice?Â
He was hot, charming, attractive. So long as you could separate the part of you that knew what he was, what he did, and the shame that came with prostituting yourself to your captor, it would not be that bad. It would be over quickly, you only had to focus on his physical attributes, shut out his horrid persona.
âYou want me to prostitute myself to youâ you said, your cheeks burning with humiliation. He let out a wilful sigh.Â
âThat is an uncouth appraisal of it. It is quite clear from your reactions to me that you desire me, too. Is that prostitution? More of a mutual desire, Iâd wager. Rather a small price to pay to retain your power, is it not?â he asked, smiling sweetly, smugly. You ground your jaw, your whole face feeling hot, your eyes stinging with the embarrassment of your current predicament, as he loved to call your captivity.
âWhy would I want to... have sex with someone like you? A... murderer- a thief, a kidnapper?â you spat, repulsed, sitting rigidly in the armchair, quite the opposite picture to his nonchalant lounging. He let out a soft laugh.
âOh, darling. Are you pretending to have steadfast morals now?â he crooned, voice soft and mellow. Completely unbothered by your accusations.
âWhat are you trying to imply?â you chewed on the corner of your bottom lip, a movement he followed with a hint of ravenousness in his silvery eyes.
âYour morals seem somewhat flexible to me. You have been eating food paid with stolen money for a month, sleeping in a stolen mansion, wearing stolen clothes. I trust you were clever enough to know this from the beginning of your sojourn hereâ he said casually, seeming almost enthusiastic about debunking every argument you could bring to the table. It was as though he found pleasure in discrediting your beliefs and making you vacillate. Perhaps it stroked his ego.
 âI had no choice about sleeping here. Should I have starved? Should I have wandered around naked for a month?â you snapped, regretting your words immediately when you saw him look at you so intensely. As though he was undressing you himself with his eyes.
âWell, you certainly could have tried to starve yourself. I would have admired your efforts to cling to your pride and ethical dilemma, and you would not be in this moral conundrum now if you had. You would be able to blame me for it. As to your last point, that would have certainly been a sight. Again, the choice was there. I would not have stopped youâ he said slyly, his voice getting lower and more seductive, like a caress on your spine. You bristled.
âThose are not choices. Like these arenâtâ you pressed, and he sighed, still smiling like nothing could make him waver.
âAre they not? You have two paths before you. Every human being is offered choices. Now, be a darling and make one. What will you choose?â he mused. You closed your eyes, your fingers curling on the fabric of your skirt.
âYou will not steal my power if I- give my body to you now. Right?â you asked slowly, trying to find a loophole in his words.
âI will not. If you choose to indulge me now, I will not steal your powerâ he said. You gulped. You did not want him to lose his patience and take away your opportunity. You also wanted his word that you would be let out alive and unharmed.
âAnd this- this predicament will be done once I do that too. You will not kill me- nor harm me after that. I will be allowed to leave this place aliveâ you said cautiously, weighing your words. He smiled.
âOf course. In order to ease your worries, why donât I make a vow with you? A condition, if you will. And if I break it, I will die. If this is your choice, and you want reassurance before you continue with it, I will of course be willing to ease your worries. Stand up and come closerâ he said, and you tried not to show your relief. If he was promising, there was nothing to worry about. You could do this, keep your life and your well-being, leave with your power. It was not a bad deal. Not a bad deal at all. You should be happy that he seemed to be attracted to you. That he was even giving you a choice in the matter.
You slowly got up, and your legs felt weak as you stepped closer to him, feeling like his gaze was burning through you. You stopped in front of him, tense like a violin string as a grimoire appeared in his hand.
âSit on my lap, darlingâ he murmured, and you found yourself feeling all kinds of things in your body, from nerve-wracking anxiety to butterflies in your stomach to warmth in your gut and weakness in your legs. You inched closer to him, gingerly sitting sideways on his lap.
You were immediately engulfed by his enthralling cologne, and his arm wrapped around you, fingers curling on your waist to keep you in place. You squirmed, gulping when he dipped his head to breathe against your neck, making goosebumps appear on your exposed skin.
âYour scent is intoxicating, dearestâ he breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear to expose the side of your face to him. You could not deny how seductive he could be, how tantalising his touch felt. But you would not be swayed from the promise heâd made.
âThe vow firstâ you said somewhat nervously, and he smiled, nodding and keeping an arm around your torso as he picked up his book of stolen abilities and flicked through it, stopping in front of a binding vow.
âNow, I vow that I will not make your Nen ability mine and steal it from you. It will remain yours. I vow I will not kill you, nor will I ask anyone else to do so for me. Should you respect the terms I have presented to you, you will leave this place unscathed within a day, with your power still in your hands. Should I fail to respect these terms, I will die on the spot. Do you accept?â he said, and you tried to find any loophole that would allow him to kill you or steal your ability in his words, even though his fingers stroking your ribcage were distracting, but you could not find anything. You nodded.
âI acceptâ you said, and he picked up a small dagger from his pocket, shushing you when you gasped and tried to get away. He pricked his thumb, showing you the small droplet of blood that was forming on the surface of his skin.
âI wonât hurt you. I just need a drop of your blood. Your hand, if you will, darling. Or the vow wonât workâ he said, and you gingerly let him lift one of your hands and prick your thumb. He pressed yours against his, and you could see the aura surrounding your fingers working. You relaxed a little when he threw the dagger away, supposedly letting it pierce the wood of the highest bookshelf so you could not reach it in an attempt to attack him.
He wiped your thumb and his with a handkerchief, tossing it on the table and letting the grimoire disappear.
âI hope I was successful in easing your worries. Now, where were we?â he murmured, round, pretty eyes heavy-lidded, lust-laden as they scanned your face. You felt as though you were in the lionâs den for the first time, or more fittingly, a small butterfly trapped in a spider web. Just waiting to be devoured.
He cupped your jaw, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb, leisurely taking his time in savouring you. Part of you wished he would just get it over and done with, another part of you, a shameful one, burnt at every action he took, at his stifling seduction. You might as well enjoy it and hope he was good at the very least, right? No one could blame you for it. Your survival was at stake, after all.
You stopped thinking altogether when his lips grazed your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips. He was slow and sensual in all of his movements, but there was something that slipped through the façade, something possessive about the way his fingers curled around your throat, trapping you in place as his lips pressed against yours.
They were soft. Soft and smooth, warm and demanding. You could not deny the pull they had. You were coaxed into seeking them out whenever he pulled away slightly, pressing them against you again, more and more passionately each time, almost manipulating you into wanting him to get rougher.
And he did. His teeth sank into the pliant flesh of your bottom lip, pulling lightly, and his tongue was quick to soothe the sting, taking advantage of your little gasp to slip in your mouth and lay siege on your tongue. It was all akin to a game of pull and push with him. He wheedled you into letting go more and more with each time he gave you something only to take it away and revel in how you sought it again. Just as he had presented the illusion of you wanting this from him, he was now making you act on it as though you had always desired nothing more.
Until your fingers were tangled in his soft raven hair, pulling lightly at it, and you were seeking his soft lips and their taste reminiscent of rich red wine to suck on his bottom lip languidly. Until his teeth nipping at your bottom lip had you mewl in his mouth.
âEager, are we? How sweetâ he breathed, and you felt the trap snap, the mechanism trapping you like a helpless doe caught by pincers. All of his teasing had led to this, to making you see that you wanted him, wanted this to happen. And as much as you could deny it, your actions spoke loudly, and your bodyâs reaction did too. The knowledge that you were already turned on and that if he decided to reach between your thighs he would see just how responsive you were to him made the mortification burn in your chest.
You had wanted to keep your dignity and show your distaste for what was happening, but he had managed to reduce you to a docile doll just by kissing your lips. And his sardonic smile and eyes told you that you were right in that assumption.
And before you could hope to collect yourself, his mouth was on your throat, hungry but still slow, leaving you wanting more. He licked a long stripe along your pulse, making it shoot up as his fingers curled around the roots of your hair and pulled, exposing your vulnerable neck to him. You could not restrain the whimper that escaped you as he kissed and started sucking a sensitive spot between your neck and your shoulder, sure to leave a mark to remind you of what you had done, of your flexible morals, as heâd called them.
His fingers clutched your side, wandered down to your hip and the swell of your ass, grazed your thigh and snaked under your skirt to grope at the plump flesh of your backside. You were too lost in the pleasure of his mouth and tongue on your throat to truly consider your situation and who it was that was touching you so possessively, so greedily. If anything, it only stoked the fire within you.
âGood girlâ he crooned, sending a jolt to your clit with the dirty praise. You squirmed on his lap, eliciting a soft chuckle from him and a graze of his thumb over your stiff nipple. You were wearing a simple satin shirt with a flimsy bralette, and the friction of the material was torturous against your nipples.
Chrollo pulled the shirt out of your skirt, making quick work of the buttons with one hand whilst the other was still kneading your ass and his mouth was still on your throat. He slipped the garment off you, pulling away to observe you. You gulped, averting your eyes at the sight of his hungry stare, quivering as his fingers ghosted your sternum, your ribcage, the swell of your breasts.
âYou are so beautiful, darlingâ he murmured, his lips softly pressing against your collarbone, his fingers deftly lowering the straps of your bralette and unhooking it. He tossed it aside, groaning softly as his hand cupped your breast, kneading it in his fingers, pinching your nipple and rolling it between thumb and index finger.
You tried to stifle a moan, to which he seemed to take offense, because he stopped and bit down hard on your shoulder, making you whine in the process.
âI want to hear you. The more you stifle your voice, the longer I will tease you. Understood?â he said, and you meekly nodded, only to speak up when he gave you a meaningful glance.
âYesâ you hissed, and he seemed pleased, because he hummed and made you arch your back so that his tongue could lick your stiff nipple and flick it. You were careful not to stifle the small whine that left your lips, and he rewarded you by sucking your nipple in his mouth, scraping it with his teeth and making you cling onto his shoulders.
He bunched up your skirt up to your waist, leaving you exposed as he trailed his fingers to your inner thighs, in a silent request to spread your legs. You were not wholly aware of how swiftly you complied, you only knew that when he first cupped you through your panties, your eyelids fluttered and a soft moan poured out of you.
âYou are soaked for me, pet. Your morals do not seem to extend to your body. Try as you might, you want this, and you cannot lie to meâ he purred, dragging his fingers and pressing against your clit, holding you still when you squirmed away from his touch. You let out a loud moan, your hips jerking. He pulled your panties to the side, rubbing your clit and dipping two fingers inside you, curling them, making your head drop on his shoulder as you moaned against his neck, enveloped by the scent of his cologne.
âThatâs it. Thatâs my good girl. If I knew how much you liked being fingered on my lap, I would have done this much sooner. No matter. Iâll make it up to you, darlingâ he breathed, voice slightly strained as though he was holding back something much more primal from taking over, but you were too dazed to take much notice of all the filth he was spewing and how he sought to humiliate you further, because his touch admittedly felt like heaven. His willowy fingers inside you kept pressing against all the right places, and you could not help but clench around them, your hips twitching into his hand every time his palm rubbed against your sensitive clit.
You were lost in the motion of his fingers as you rutted against his hand, shamelessly chasing your own high as he continued to praise you and kiss you, rewarding every sound you made with a curl of his fingers that had you melting in his arms. Until you could not take it anymore.
âCanât- âm closeâ you huffed out, breathing erratic, chest heaving as his fingers pumped inside you, and he hummed, licking your neck and sucking on it again.
âCum for me, petâ he urged, and your eyes scrunched up, a lewd moan ripping through you as you tensed up on his thigh, sound fading away as you came undone.
You slumped on him, breathing heavily, your cunt throbbing around his fingers as he lazily fucked you through your aftershocks, your hair clinging to the back of your neck from the light sheen of sweat that had formed there.
âSuckâ you heard, and dazed as you were, you obediently opened your mouth when he presented his fingers, sucking and licking the pads of his fingers, tasting yourself. You had to cling to him as he stood up and walked over to the bed, lowering you on it and observing you as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off.
There was no denying it, he was attractive. Lean but toned, with graceful abs adorning his flat stomach, jutting collarbones and well-defined biceps; with the way the candlelight danced on his pale skin, making it glow with soft orange hues, he truly looked like he might be a fantasy of sorts.
You supposed he looked like a fallen angel, as his name suggested. Like the Alexandre Cabanel painting of the fallen angel, dangerous but so tempting. It was unfair that he should also be able to make you come undone so easily, when you had vowed to not give him the satisfaction.
He smirked at you, undoing his belt, slipping it through the hooks, catching you staring first at the clear dampness on his thigh, then at the evident bulge of his erection.
You supposed he would fuck you now. If you were being honest, you had thought he wouldnât have taken such interest in your pleasure, but now, it seemed only fitting: it was all to aid his game, to stroke his ego in humiliating you by showing you how you could not abide by your morals, how youâd moaned and whined to be touched by those blood-stained hands.
Instead, he kept his trousers on, only going so far as to unbutton them to give himself more space. He seemed... quite gifted in that area too, you thought with a grimace. Was there anything that did not favour him? It seemed that fortune graced the wicked in that nonsensical world, because he had it all.
He caged you underneath him, his hair tickling your face as he drew you into a heated kiss, his hands roving down your body, fingertips digging into your hips, tongue pressing against yours.
He was quick to unzip your skirt and slide it off you along with your panties, leaving you completely exposed whilst he still retained his power by not undressing completely.
âYou were so precious squirming on my lap, so good for me. You deserve a rewardâ he crooned against your ear in that soft, melodious voice of his, making you swallow heavily as you wondered what he might do to you now.
He did not leave you guessing for long. His mouth traced your collarbone, his head lowering as he licked your sternum and left a dark lovebite above your nipple, another reminder that would bring you back to this room, to what he was doing to you for the following week. He seemed intent on marking you whenever he could, and until he had littered your chest with purple brushstrokes, until you were but a moaning mess, he refused to move on, no matter how much you tried to squirm away and whimper at some of the harshest ones on your ribcage.
He continued to kiss down your stomach, massaging your thighs, cupping your ass and lowering his head to kiss your thighs. You were rendered breathless and unable to stop thrashing and moaning as he sucked another lovebite on your inner thigh, keeping you pinned down and at his mercy. You just wanted him to bury his head between your thighs, you were close, close to begging for it, were it not for your pride. Were it not for who he was.
Fortunately, you did not need to stoop that low. His tongue flattened and dragged up your cunt, tensing and flicking your clit from underneath as he got to the top, tearing a breathless moan from you.
âYou taste so sweetâ he huffed out against your skin, blowing cold air on your clit and making you whine and scoot away. He dragged you back, a wicked light in his stormy eyes as he glanced at you and licked your clit, rolling it on his tongue.
âF-fuckâ you breathed, your hands shooting to his hair, pulling lightly, trying to ground yourself as he continued to toy with your clit, sucking it and licking it fervently. You could not hold yourself. If he was amazing with his fingers, he was incredible with his tongue. Judging by how he seemed to have a way with words, you should not have been surprised that he was so maddeningly good at pleasuring with his tongue. It was making you lose your mind.
Even if you had tried, you would not have been able to restrain the need to keen, whine and moan every time he sucked your clit, dipped his tongue inside you or drew figures around your clit.
He was insatiable as he flung your thighs on his shoulders, seemingly unbothered with the way you trapped his head and rutted against his face. In fact, he seemed thrilled to follow the movement of your hips, giving you more and more until you were babbling and keening incoherently, unable to even speak.
âFuck- Ch- Chrollo...â you whined longingly, unable to realise your slip of moaning his name in the throes of pleasure. But he heard you loud and clear, because he groaned, and his name on your lips only seemed to spur him on. In a few seconds, he was sucking on your clit, giving you more pleasure than youâd ever thought was even possible, until the torturous knot in your stomach snapped and released and you came with a cry, tears prickling the corners of your eyes, your hair tousled and messy on the pillow, your muscles tensing, toes curling and fingers clawing at the sheets.
You kept your eyes closed for a while, easing into your breathing, feeling as though your body had completely melted, feeling as though you couldnât even move.
âYou can still take my cock, canât you, darling? After all, I have made you feel so good. Itâs only fair. Do not worry, you will not mind. You seem to love being fucked by the one you spoke of with such revulsion. Itâs quite endearing, watching you struggle with your moralsâ he crooned, and you opened your eyes, watching him stroke his cock a few times. It was quite long and fairly thick, slightly tilted upwards.
You were too fucked out to consider his taunting, but you knew he was right. Both mindsets could not peacefully coexist in your mind: how could you be so willing and find so much pleasure in someone like him? How could you hate him and love what he was doing to you? It might have been an involuntary physical reaction, but you should have had more resolve, more restraint. Otherwise, what did that say about you?
Chrollo lined himself between your legs, rubbing his cock along your labia, on your clit, instantly making those thoughts fade in the haze of pleasure as you let out a soft sigh and automatically tried to hook your legs around his slender hips.
He gripped your thigh, pushing the tip of his cock inside you, easily slipping inside inch by inch with how shamefully wet you were, and yet, you already felt so full, like he was stretching you to the limit. You clawed at his back, raking your nails across his shoulder blades, gasping and whimpering along with his soft moan.
âFuck. So tight... so wet. Such a perfect little cuntâ he huffed out, his lips parting in pleasure, dark eyebrows furrowing. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to relax your muscles to accommodate his size, clung to his shoulders for support.
He wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, continuing to push inside you, albeit slowly, until he was buried to the hilt. You clenched around him, and the soft groan he let out made your stomach drop with a surge of pleasure. He bottomed out and slammed back in, tearing a broken moan from you as he set a ruthless pace, his eyes darkening with lust and the slip of his mask, hunger palpable in his every movement and the way he sought to fully claim you.
He lifted your legs higher up around his waist, his fingers tightening around your throat, not pressing on the front, leaving you room to breathe but making you even more dizzy than you already were.
His pelvis kept slapping against your clit, drawing out whines and pants from you, and with every thrust, he seemed to grow more accustomed to where you liked to be touched, because as soon as his cock pressed against your g-spot, your back arched and your head thrashed from side to side, a lewd moan echoing in the room as you clamped around him.
âThere, huh? Let me do it again, darlingâ he breathed, one hand lifting both your legs and bending them at the knees, letting you rest them against his chest as he rammed into you, hitting the same spot again and again, relentlessly building the pressure inside you, making you see stars.
âMhh- too much... Chrolloâ you whined, trapped underneath him, feeling as though you might implode if he didnât stop- or if he stopped, for what it was worth.
âMoan my name again, pet. Let me hear how filthy it sounds on your lipsâ he grunted, the sound of skin slapping against skin both enticing and dirty as he continued to fuck you into the mattress.
When you didnât reply, suddenly aware of how you were moaning his name, reinforcing how you knew- wanted it to be him to fuck you at that moment, he let out a breathless laugh.
âLooks as though you might need some convincingâ he said, slowing down and eventually slipping out of you, letting your legs down. You whimpered, desire clawing at your gut, your cunt clenching around nothing as you opened your bleary eyes and set them on him. He gave you a smirk, flipping you on your stomach and lifting your hips, spreading your knees with his and pushing on your lower back to make you arch into him. You lifted yourself on your elbows and heard his tongue click against his teeth condescendingly before he pushed your head against the mattress and smacked your ass with a resounding slap.
You yelped, biting down on your lower lip, mortification once again mingling with pleasure as he pushed his cock back inside you, letting out a soft groan.
âUse your hands one more time and I will tie them up behind your back. It will feel better like this. For me- and for youâ he said, fisting your hair and gripping your hip, starting to pound into you from behind once again.
It did feel better like this. Deeper. Unbearable. He stimulated your clit with every thrust, the tip of his cock kept pressing against your cervix, and you did not know if you could bear it much longer.
You found the bridge of your nose damp with tears, and struggled to recognise your own voice in the filthy moans you were letting out. It was humiliating and it was impossibly pleasurable, and the mix was somewhat addicting, tainting. It was ruining every shred of sanity left in your brain.
Until he got what he wanted. Because it seemed as though he always did. He could steal anything, including his name from your lips said with such want and bliss that had you not been fucked stupid, you would have wanted to die.
âAhh- Chr-Â Chrollo! Fuck. Gonna cumâ you screamed, sobbing, clenching around him, getting even closer to a mind-shattering orgasm with every moan and groan he graced you with.
âGood girl. My girl. Mine. You love this, mh? Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how badly you want to cum all over my cockâ he urged, voice possessive and low, and you could not stop yourself, could not do anything but acquiesce, because you needed- needed to cum.
âYes! Please. Please let me cum. Please. Need it so badâ you whined, sobbed even, desperate for reprieve, hoping he would have mercy on you, hoping he would let you finish. His fingers reached under you to rub at your clit, and you could hardly contain a sob of wild pleasure and the jolt of your hips.
âSince you asked so nicely. Go on, pet, cum for meâ he huffed out, still thrusting inside you at that unrelenting pace, and as though he had power over your own body, you felt the release hit you like a wave of overwhelming pleasure that made your vision white and your ears fill with static.
He was quick to cum with a breathy moan as you squeezed his cock through your orgasm, holding you tightly as he spilled inside you. He continued to push in and out slowly, until you stopped throbbing and squeezing around him.
âFuckâ he breathed, letting you collapse on the bed and doing the same next to you. You both stayed silent for a minute or two, catching your breath, feeling the cool air on your feverish skin.
âLet me clean you up, darlingâ he said, and you didnât have the strength to object as he got up and walked away, the sound of his footsteps quiet as you kept your eyes closed until he came back with a glass of water and a wet towel, his trousers back on, but still shirtless. He wiped your inner thighs gently, with more care than you wanted to admit someone like him could be capable of, and carefully lifted you up so you could drink the water heâd brought you.
You took small gulps, finding it felt amazing trickling down your dry, raw throat after all that crying and screaming. He only put the glass on the nightstand when you had finished it all.
âThanksâ you said absent-mindedly, your mind slowly coming back to you in coherent thoughts as you attempted to cover yourself with the duvet. He gave you a languid smile, tucking your hair away from your face and lying next to you.
But it was finally over now. You could leave. Your deal had revealed itself to be better than you wanted to admit, but now, you were finally free. You could put this all behind you.
You tried to get up and gather your clothes, but your body felt like a ragdoll. He had really done a number on you.
âCareful, dearest. You should wait a littleâ he said, smiling at you, his eyes soft, his expression unreadable. You let out a shuddering breath.
âWant to get... my clothes, and leaveâ you said, getting up and hastily putting on your clothes, feeling a little dizzy. You walked back towards the bed, retrieving your underwear and your skirt, putting them on, almost falling were it not for his arms catching you and holding you still.
You felt weird. It had surely been intense, but so intense that your vision was slowly darkening around the edges and your arms and legs felt as heavy as lead?
He pulled you on his lap, and you protested weakly when he started to stroke your hair and kissed your forehead.
âNo- you said I would be free after this. Let me leaveâ you slurred, and he shushed you, tenderly stroking your back in soothing gestures.
âOh, darling, I never said you would be freeâ he said softly, still holding you. You blinked, confused, his face blurry as you stared at him.
âYou said- Iâd be leaving this place- with my power... un...scathed within... a day. What dâyou do to me?â your words were garbled together, slurred like you were drunk. And you felt so heavy and tired.
âI put a few sleeping pills in the water I gave you. Nothing that will harm you, so donât worry your pretty little head. I donât need to steal your power if I keep you. You will leave unscathed, but I never said you would leave alone. You should really pay more attention to the words of a vow, my loveâ he said, stroking your hair, his soft voice lulling you into sleep despite how horrified you were in your mind. He had tricked you. Had no plans of freeing you. You hadnât considered he might keep you. Hadnât considered the depth of his obsession with you. Hadnât considered there was more than one reason why he had kept you captive.
âI cannot be parted from you, my love. Your place is by my side. Now close your eyes. Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of usâ he said gently, soothingly. And you could not help but do as he said, your eyelids growing heavier and heavier, your thoughts muddying and fading away along with your consciousness.
Part II here
Part III here
#hunter x hunter#hxh#hxh x reader#chrollo lucilfer#chrollo smut#yandere chrollo#hxh chrollo#chrollo x reader#chrollo hunter x hunter#chrollo x you#chrollo x y/n#chrollo lucilfer x reader#yandere chrollo x reader#yandere chrollo lucilfer#yandere hxh#yandere x reader#chrollo lucilfer smut
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black magnolias III - rafe cameron x reader



i gave you all my light, and i got nothing to show for it
WARNINGS: mature content; domestic violence, coercion, classism, religious trauma, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, blackmail
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you let yourself fall into a routine of work and studying for your finals, ready for summer to come and take away at least some of your worries. your job would be full of tourons ready to blow their vacation money on whatever they could fit in their hands and youâd have more hours to be available.
the pogues had been blowing up your phone since you left that day, begging you to come back so you guys could work it out. all of their numbers were muted until further notice, and jj was blocked. it was for the best, you thought. if they wanted to work it out that bad, they knew where to come find you.
your job was amazing; a boutique on figure eight where both locals and tourists frequented. magnolias was owned by a sweet, older black woman, miss josephine, who grew up in the cut just like you, working as a tailor alongside her mother. her mother long dreamed of having a store of her own to sell her designs, though it never a possibility back then. however, when the opportunity presented itself, miss josephine bought the boutique just for her mother. it was the first black owned business on this side of the island, and the story always brought a smile to everyoneâs faces.
âyou remind me a lot of my younger self, yâknow.â she would always say. it made your heart swell for her to see herself in you, for her to talk about how much potential you had.Â
youâd known her since you were a girl, always walking by her store and staring into the window on the way home from school. the employees on the other side of the glass wearing handmade uniforms, the fifties aesthetic enchanting to your young mind. the blush pinks and whites caught your eye, the vintage look of the clothes inside tugging at your soul in a way that made you think it was your destiny to work at this store.
so, when the opportunity presented itself, you took it. it was going on your fourth year at the store and you had no plans on leaving anytime soon. magnoliaâs was the reason you decided to stay close by for school, choosing something only an hourâs drive away so that you could still work there.
miss josephine had been more of a mother to you than the woman that gave birth to you, at least in recent years. she was more understanding and less judgemental than your mom could ever be. instead of drugs or partying, the store was your escape.
as you tidied up a table that had been picked at by customers throughout the day, the sound of the bell at the door chiming caught your attention.
âhi, welcome to magnolias!â your customer service voice was chipper and sweet as you greeted whoever entered the shop behind you. rnb music played from the speakers above, the soft music filling what would be awkward silence throughout the store.Â
heavy footsteps approached, hard-bottomed shoes clicking against the wooden floor with each step. the smell hit you first; the expensive cologne giving away your guest before their mouth even opened to speak. you froze mid-fold, fingers stiff around the fabric in your hands.
âso,â rafe said. âyou do still work here.â
slowly you turned to meet his face, a million thoughts racing through the fog your brain produced anytime he got too close.Â
the khaki slacks he wore fit nicely, the material showing off the muscles of his toned thighs. his biceps strained against the sleeves of his shirt as his arms crossed in front of his chest. the man had a golden tan, the late spring sun serving his skin well the past few weeks. it was clear that heâd had a haircut not too long ago, the cropped hair shorter than it was the last time you saw him at the beach. you wanted to reach out and run your hands over it like you used to. you wantedâ
jesus, forgive me.
the thought was fleeting as you stopped yourself from letting your mind travel any further.
âwhat are you doing here?â you tried your best to keep a smile on your face, not wanting to raise an alarm to your coworkers.
rafe tilted his head at you, a lopsided, mischievous grin gracing his lips.
âam i not welcome here?â
no
âi didnât say that.â the words came out of your mouth faster than you could form them. you didnât want your boss to overhear you, the woman always lurking around where you couldnât see her.
His brows raised, waiting patiently to hear your explanation.
âitâs justâŚyouâve never been in here.â your voice was soft, only loud enough for him to hear. âand this is a womenâs clothing store.â
he shrugged. the tall manâs eyes fell from your face, the icy-hot feeling of them taking in your uniform-clad body giving you chills.
ânice dress.â
âit's my uniform.â the response came out harsher than you meant but you didnât feel the need to correct it. âis there something i can help you with? or are you just here to bother me?â
the music substituted his words for a response as you were met with silence from the blonde, his eyes still traveling the length of your figure. your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly, the sound of saliva traveling down your esophagus echoing in your head.
rafe took two steps forward and you took one step back, the second one blocked by the table behind you bumping into the back of your legs. his eyes landed back on yours, something hidden behind the familiar blues.
ârafeââ
âwhy donât you show me around?â his head swiveled around to glance at the front of the shop where you stood before focusing on the hall in the distance that led deeper into the store. âwhatâs back there?â he nodded in that direction.
âclothes.â you smiled curtly, trying your best to look like you were giving your best customer service.Â
some of your coworkers had now started sneaking glances towards you and rafe, a few of them lingering just within earshot to listen in on the conversation.
letting out a breathy chuckle and extending his arm, he directed you away from the table.
âwhy donât you show me?â
the two of you stood there in a silent standoff for a few moments, the muscle in your chest pumping blood at a pace you werenât sure it could handle for much longer. you finally gave in after a long thirty seconds, eyes rolling as you slid past him to walk down through the decorated hallway.
rafe asked you so many questions. every display you passed he would stop to stare at the mannequins like the two of you were at the smithsonian museum, the man treating you like a tour guide and making you explain everything to him.
people were giving you puzzled looks, the sight of rafe cameron sifting through frilly pink skirts leaving them just as confused as you were. you lost track of time at some point; so much so that when you finally glanced at your watch you gasped at what was displayed.
your shift was over.
âwell,â you cleared your throat to capture his attention. âitâs time for me to go, soâŚif you plan on buying anything just let one of my coworkers know.â
rafe didnât get the chance to protest before you left him on his own in the depths of the store. it was rude, sure, but you had to get away from him.Â
you felt like you were suffocating.
much to your surprise, and dismay, rafe had not departed after you announced the end of your shift. you nearly stumbled over your shoes when you stepped outside and found him leaning against the side of his truck. he smiled at you, arms uncrossing as he pushed off the vehicle and stepped towards your frozen frame.
âwhy are you here?â
âyou sure ask that a lot, yâknow?â his nimble fingers reached up to freshly shaven face. he wore a ghost of a smile as he looked down at you, still dressed in your uniform.
you gripped the sides of your dress, the skirt wrinkling under the force of your hands.Â
âneed a ride?â
that was the absolute last thing you were expecting to come out of his mouth. brows shooting up in surprise, you eyed him suspiciously. your tongue ran over the front of your teeth as you looked him up and down. it was his turn to go under inspection.
âwhy would i get in a car with you?â
he opened the passenger side door, presumably for you to take a seat inside. you didnât budge.
âcause you need a ride.â
âi can find a rideâŚactually,â you loosened the grip on your skirts, palms opening to smooth out the lines left behind. âi would rather walkââ
âget in the car, y/n.â the smile was gone now, his voice sharper as he urged you to take his offer. he was never truly asking if you wanted a ride, he was giving the illusion of a choice.
a scoff rose from your throat. the audacity of him was almost funny to you.
âiâm not getting in a car with-â
there was hardly time to react before he was on you, a stong hand wrapped around your forearm as he roughly guided you to his truck. your instinct to fight against him was smothered by the shock of his manhandling, the sound of a car door slamming snapping you out of your disoriented state.Â
your jaw dropped as you watched rafe come around the front of the vehicle and enter the drivers side. there was no time to open the door before rafe was speeding off from the front of magnoliaâs, the revving of his engine making the seat vibrate beneath you.Â
ârafe!â you said after you gathered the words from your jumbled up mind. âyou canât do that! thatâs likeâŚth-thatâs kidnapping!â
the older man laughed dryly, head thrown back dramatically before landing back on the road.Â
âiâm giving you a ride home-â
âyou manhandled me!â you interrupted. was he being serious? âand i said âno.â thatâs the definition of kidnapping.â
he cooly looked at you, the expression on his face completely different from the one he had just a few minutes ago when he forced you into his car.Â
âyouâre being dramatic.â
exasperation was all you felt, the emotion filling you the brim as you stared at him with wide eyes. you pulled out your phone and clicked on a green icon, fingers ready to type out three numbers that would likely do you no good, but it was worth the try.
âiâm calling the police.â
before you could press enter the device was snatched from your hands. you watched rafe shove it into his pocket furthest from you, head shaking side to side as he denied you any contact to the outside world for the remainder of your time with him.
âno youâre not.â he stopped at a red light and took the opportunity to look at you once again. his eyes were piercing and sparked a feeling of intimidation in the deepest pit of your stomach. âweâre gonna talk.â
you knew that you guys would have to have a conversation eventually, you just never thought it would be so soon.
honestly, you hoped that you could avoid it at all costs, but that wasnât realistic. kildare was a small island and you were bound to run into each other eventually. it was surprising that you were able to circumvent him for as long as you did, but you knew there was always a risk stepping into figure eight. seeing him at the beach was unexpected, and you never thought that he would show up at your job like that.
you folded your arms across your body snugly, still feeling unsure about being in such close proximity to him.
âyou, uh, y-you really did me wrong, y/n.â it was obvious that the thought of what transpired all those months ago still angered him deep down, but he held on to whatever was bubbling up inside of him.
you gulped, afraid of what he would say next.
âitâs hard for me toâto trust peopleâŚyou know that.â rafe continued, head turning briefly to confirm he had your ear. âi trusted you.â he sniffed instinctively, fingers coming up to wipe his nostrils. it had become a habit of his; even after giving up the blow.
you hummed in response, unsure of what to say.
âi trusted you and y-youâŚyou broke that. you broke my trust for those poguesââ
âthose pogues are my friends.â your eyes were sharp as razor blades as you stared him down from your place in the car. âiâm a pogue, rafe.â
âseeâiâm trying��i-iâm trying to talk to you and youâre just..youâre just snapping at me.â he said. your lip curled up in disgust but you went quiet once again, reluctantly allowing him to finish.Â
rafe took a long pause before he continued his speech, jaw ticking in annoyance from you reminding him of your social status.
you hated how he talked about pogues, especially since you were one yourself. he could pretend you were different as much as he wanted, but you both knew the truth.
âbut i can admit that iâve done you wrong, too.â the words sounded painful, but he got them all out without stopping or stuttering. âi can admit that i wasnât there for you when i shouldâve been, so itâs my fault that this happened in the first place. at leastâa little bit.â
you tore your eyes away from the window to face him, the flesh of your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you worried it. you couldnât believe what you were hearing.
this was the most accountability heâs ever taken in the time that youâve known himâit was the only time heâs ever taken accountability, actually.
âiâm trying to be betterâi want to be better.â rafe looked at you and you could see that he was being genuine. âsoâso you donât have to forgive me; not right now. but iâŚi forgive you.â
 still unsure of what to say to him, you blinked. you released your bottom lip from the wrath of your teeth, flesh swollen and pink from the abuse.
rafeâs eyes flicked down to your mouth, drawing in a deep breath before forcing himself to keep them on the road. your own gaze followed his and you were shocked to see your house at the end of the cul-de-sac, rafe slowing to a stop outside of it. your mother was home, her white sedan parked in the gravel driveway.
âi was serious when i said you can always come back.â he turned off the car, letting the engine die before turning his body to face you fully. he looked strangely soft, something he rarely let himself be around you in the later years of your crumbling relationship.
âwhat is there to come back to, rafe?â you finally spoke after letting him sit in silence for a few minutes. the sun was beginning to set behind your hours, the golden light dimmed by the tinted windows of rafeâs truck. still it reflected into the manâs eyes, the color enhanced by the starâs shine.
he blinked at you, long lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks. you sighed and reached a hand up to scratch at the nape of your neck.
âmy friends would hate me. i canât just ignore the stuff youâve done to them.â
âwhat have they ever done for you?â
âthey were there for me when you werenât rafe!â you snapped at him. âyou were never there when i needed you.â
he palmed over his buzzed hair frustratedly, head shaking side to side inâŚconfusion? denial? you werenât sure.
âand iâm sorry for that, really, i am. iâm here now, though. alright?â rafe extended an arm over the divider to place a hand on yours, his fingers squeezing in a way that was supposed to be reassuring.
you released a heavy breath from your nose, head leaning back against the window as you stared at your ex-boyfriend across from you. you didnât remove your hand from his; the warmth was comforting in a way that made you feel guilty.
âwhere are they anyway? your âfriendsâ?âÂ
âwe arenât talking right now,â your voice was barely audible. ânot that itâs any of your businessâŚâ
he tsked at you, disapproval clear from his demeanor.Â
you moved to open the car door, free hand pulling on the handle. rafe held you back with the hand still in his grip. his eyes were deep and serious as they swallowed you whole.
âyou still have my number?â you nodded hesitantly, not wishing to admit it. his head moved up in down in tandem with yours. âiâll always pick up the phone. you come to my house; iâll always open the door. okay?â
slowly he released your hand, taking your silence as understanding.
you watched from your porch as the dark truck pulled off from your home, the vehicle turning into a dot the further away it got. the phone in the pocket of your dress was heavy with the weight of a ten-digit number that had been collecting dust for almost a year. it weighed heavy with the unanswered messages of the friends that you hadnât spoken to in weeks.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#outer banks#rafe cameron x oc#cleoluvrr fics#dark!rafe cameron#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron smut#x black reader#rafe cameron x black!reader#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks season 4#obx4#obx netflix#rafe fanfiction#rafe obx#rafe cameron fanfiction
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The Night Court is an Authoritarian Oligarchy Draped in the Aesthetic of Freedom
At first glance, the Night Courtâespecially Velarisâappears to be a shining utopia. Itâs diverse, creative, safe, and egalitarian⌠if youâre one of the lucky few allowed to live there. But when you step back and look at the full structure of the courtânot just the Inner Circle, not just Velarisâyou see the truth:
The Night Court is a highly centralized, authoritarian oligarchy, built on selective control, fear, and aesthetic curation.
1. Oligarchic Rule by the Inner Circle
⢠All power rests in the hands of a small, unelected group: Rhysand and his Inner Circle. There is no representative council, no advisory body of commoners, Illyrians, or Hewn City nobility. All decisions are made by the Inner Circle or Rhys himself.
⢠These individuals are appointed by Rhysand based on loyalty or personal connection. They are competent, yes, but their authority comes from their relationships, not the will of the people.
⢠Rhysand rules with absolute authority. His friends may argue with him, but he always has the final say. This is not democracy. Itâs aristocratic consolidation masquerading as benevolence.
2. Authoritarian Control over Dissent
⢠The Court of Nightmares is ruled through violence and fear. Keir governs Hewn City with brutality, and Rhys allows it so long as it keeps the nobility contained and subservient.
⢠When Keir insults Feyre, Rhysandâs response isnât justiceâitâs public bone-breaking. Rhys doesnât create a better system; he simply asserts himself as the strongest monster in the room.
⢠This is not reformâitâs coercion. The people in Hewn City donât obey because they believe in the system. They obey because theyâre afraid.
3. Rigid Social Segregation
⢠Velaris is a gated sanctuary for Rhysandâs chosen few. The rest of his courtâIllyrians, Hewn City dwellersâare kept out. Not metaphorically. Literally.
⢠Itâs a city-state within a kingdom, isolated and elite. Citizens of the Night Court cannot just walk into Velaris. Their value to Rhys determines whether they are âworthyâ of access.
⢠This is segregation by merit and favoritism, not unlike an empire where the core is protected and the borders are left to rot.
Why the Night Court Will Never Grow Beyond This System
1. Rhysandâs Power is Personality-Centric
Rhysandâs entire rule is built around himselfâhis trauma, his judgment, his control. The Inner Circle functions because they love and trust him, not because of any legal structure or enduring institution.
If Rhysand disappeared, the Night Court would collapse into chaos. Thereâs no succession plan, no democratic structure, no independent judiciary or religious body that tempers his power. He is the court.
Thatâs not sustainable. And more importantly, itâs not just.
2. There is No Investment in Structural Reform
Rhysand is willing to make progressive gesturesâbanning Illyrian wing clipping, promoting women, embracing polyglot diplomacyâbut he refuses to build institutions to carry those reforms beyond himself.
⢠The war camps still practice clipping in secret.
⢠Mor has no real power over the court that nearly killed her.
⢠The Library priestesses have no political voice.
⢠Feyre was made High Lady in title only and rarely wields actual governing power.
Everything good in the Night Court hinges on Rhysandâs approval, not on a system that protects the vulnerable. That means when heâs gone, so is the progress.
3. The Narrative Reinforces the Myth of the âBenevolent Rulerâ
This is a courtâand a book seriesâthat constantly tells us Rhysand is the best leader in Prythian. That everything he does, no matter how cruel, is âfor the greater good.â This romanticizes authoritarianism as long as it wears a good suit and says nice things about women.
Itâs the same logic that justifies:
⢠Forgiving Rhys for drugging and branding Feyre because he âmeant well.â
⢠Ignoring how Velaris was protected at the expense of everyone else.
⢠Praising the Inner Circleâs âfreedomâ while allowing Keir to abuse his people.
The problem is systemic, but the narrative keeps blaming the individuals on the fringes (Tamlin, Nesta, Keir) while refusing to interrogate the rot at the center.
The Night Court Doesnât Need a Savior. It Needs a Revolution.
This court isnât broken because Rhysand is cruel. Itâs broken because the system allows one person to decide the fate of thousandsâand no one is allowed to question him.
⢠Illyrians are angry and beaten down.
⢠Hewn City is treated like a landfill of undesirable nobles.
⢠Velaris is a bubble of beauty built on exclusion.
⢠And even FeyreâHigh Ladyâhas to obey Rhysandâs will.
Thatâs not love. Thatâs not liberation. Thatâs control.
The Night Court will never truly evolve because itâs been designed not to. Power cannot decentralize unless the people who hold it choose to let it go. And Rhysand? He loves to say the word âfreedom,â but heâs never once risked his control to make it real.
#anti acosf#anti inner circle#anti acotar#anti rhysand#pro nesta#anti feysand#nesta archeron deserves better#anti cassian#anti azriel#anti amren#anti nessian#anti night court#anti morrigan
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Ayayui DL analysis pt. 2 hehe
I'm not even gonna bother to make this super aesthetic, I'm just gonna go all out and pray you can keep up with my yapping.
In my last post I mentioned how Ayato and Yui's character archetypes pair really well with each other but I didn't mention how.
I'll focus this post more on Yui as she literally compliments Ayato's character.
Yui is an inexperienced kind and loving girl raised by the church, it's her general description. I'm not sure how many of you notice, but this is often the description she gives herself, or rather what she tries to portray.
Yui is complex in a way that shows the player that she's more than just some god loving blob of pink and blonde by portraying her inner thoughts and reactions.
While yes, a lot of it is coercion and Stockholm Syndrome, we also forget that this is probably her first time experiencing such an inner conflict, she's completely stumped when her morals get challenged and it turns out, she likes it.
Ayato of course, loves this about her. He knows that by "breaking her" he's really just breaking her in to new experiences so to speak.
We all know Ayato, and we know he's a narcissistic shit bag that desires to be Yui's first everything.
Previously I would have mentioned that it isn't JUST Yui's morals and values being challenged when it comes to these two.
It's more than just soft uwu girl x annoying bad boy.
They're very similar to one another and this is where the creator would have taken the liberty to make two completely different characters eventually yearn for the same thing.
Yui is experiencing her first love being someone she'd never think about being with because of his crude personality, but of course there's something that draws her to him.
She can see herself in his troubled ways in a sense. She can see he's not everything he pretends to be and that warrants sympathy from her, which of course does not please ayato. (Little does he know, she's only pitying him because she knows damn well)
To him, Yui is weak and nothing but prey. But if she's just prey, why does she make him question his actions?
That ignites an inherent power shift where he realizes she might be stronger than she looks if the great him can relate to her troubles.... Or rather he's weaker than he thinks.
They both clash with each other at first, but eventually fuse into each other's lives.
Yui is understanding and Ayato needs to be understood.
Ayato is reckless and carefree, while Yui is just now learning about the world around her.
Yui isn't reluctant to that side of him and often embraces it.
Like ying and yang, they balance each other out.
I would have mentioned before that Yui often tries to portray herself as someone she's not.... Hmmm who do we know that also does this?
They work well together because they are literally each other.
Do you guys remember that spiderman meme?

Ayato and Yui pointing to what they hate about each other.
Anyways Ayayui best ship, bite me
#diabolik lovers#ayato sakamaki#diabolik boys#dialovers#diabolik lovers fandom#yui komori#diabolik lovers yui#ayato x yui#diahell#ayayui#dialovers ayato
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Dark!BG3 | My Doll
âââ â
â â â˝ ŕź âž â â
â
âââ
For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll
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â â â˝ ŕź âž â â
â
âââ
CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion,
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â â â˝ ŕź âž â â
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Conqueror Minthara:
The grand chamber was bathed in the soft glow of opulent chandeliers, their light reflecting off the richly adorned walls and luxurious fabrics that draped the room. The scent of incense and exotic perfumes filled the air, mingling with the muted tones of classical music that played faintly in the background. Mintharaâs personal quarters had been transformed into a private salon for the evening, a space that had become a shrine to her taste and power.
You stood at the center of this lavish room, surrounded by a flurry of activity as servants and attendants bustled around you. Minthara herself was a striking figure, her presence commanding attention as she watched with an air of anticipation. Her eyes, dark and gleaming with a mix of authority and affection, never left you as you were transformed into her perfect vision of elegance.
The first outfit was a deep crimson gown, its fabric rich and heavy, adorned with intricate patterns of black embroidery. As you stepped into the dress, the weight of the fabric felt like a reminder of Minthara's control.
The gownâs skirt flared dramatically, brushing against the floor as you moved. The bodice was fitted tightly, emphasizing your form, while a high collar added an air of regal sophistication. The color scheme was unmistakably Mintharaâs: red and black, the hues of her dominion.
Minthara stepped forward, her gaze sharp as she inspected you from head to toe. She circled around you, her fingers trailing lightly over the fabric, adjusting and smoothing with practiced precision. Her touch was both intimate and commanding, a constant reminder of her ownership.
âNo, no,â Minthara said, her voice a smooth purr of discontent. âThis wonât do. Itâs missing that certain⌠finesse.â
With a flick of her wrist, she signaled to her attendants, who quickly began to assist you in changing. The crimson gown was removed, and you were draped in the next ensemble: a black dress with a daring slit that exposed more of your skin than the first. The neckline plunged dramatically, and delicate red beading formed intricate patterns across the fabric. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but Mintharaâs approving smile made the discomfort bearable.
Once again, Mintharaâs scrutiny was intense. She examined you with a critical eye, her expression a blend of approval and dissatisfaction. âBetter,â she murmured, âbut still not quite right.â
The process repeated itself, each new outfit showcasing a different aspect of Mintharaâs aesthetic. You wore a gown with a high-low hemline, the skirt cascading in layers of black tulle and red silk. Another time, you were adorned in a tailored suit that highlighted your form with its sharp, clean lines and dramatic red accents. Each outfit was more elaborate than the last, each adjustment made to ensure you embodied Mintharaâs vision perfectly.
Hours passed, the constant changing of clothes becoming a test of endurance. But you remained calm, accepting each new ensemble with grace, knowing that this was part of your role in her world. Mintharaâs delight and satisfaction with each iteration made the process easier to endure.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of fittings and adjustments, Minthara declared that she was satisfied. She clapped her hands, summoning the attendants to finalize your look.
They brought out a final accessory: a bejeweled collar, meticulously crafted with red and black stones that formed a delicate pattern around your neck. At the center of the collar was a pendant engraved with Mintharaâs initials, a mark of your complete subjugation to her.
As you looked in the mirror, you saw yourself fully transformed into Mintharaâs vision. The reflection was a striking image of her colors and styleâred and black. The collar around your neck was a permanent reminder of your place, a symbol of your devotion and submission. Your hair was styled to perfection, complementing the overall look and adding to the aura of elegance and obedience that you now embodied.
Minthara stepped behind you, her fingers gently brushing against your shoulders. She leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear.
âThere,â she whispered, her voice dripping with satisfaction. âNow you are truly mine, a perfect reflection of my desires and authority. You look magnificent, my little doll.â
You turned to face her, meeting her gaze in the mirror. Her eyes were alight with a mix of pride and possessiveness. With a final, approving nod, Minthara offered you her arm, guiding you gracefully towards the door.
âCome, my dear,â she said, her tone both commanding and affectionate. âWe have a gala to attend, and I want everyone to see just how perfectly you are mine.â
âââ â
â â â˝ ŕź âž â â
â
âââ
Mother Superior Shadowheart:
In the opulent, dimly lit chamber of the cloisterâs grand tailoring room, Shadowheart was immersed in the meticulous task of curating the perfect uniform for you. The room was adorned with luxurious fabrics and ornate furnishings, reflecting the wealth and power of her position.
You stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a sea of garments and accessories that Shadowheart had deemed essential for your transformation. The process was more elaborate than you had anticipated, and her patience seemed to stretch as thin as the fabric she was scrutinizing. With each new outfit, you felt like a doll being dressed and undressed for the amusement of its owner.
Shadowheartâs eyes were sharp and discerning as she examined each piece, her expression a mix of contemplation and exacting standards. She would approach you, draping fabrics over your shoulders and adjusting the fit with a practiced hand. The clothing ranged from dark, elegant robes embroidered with intricate patterns to high-collared tunics and flowing skirts, each adorned with symbols of Shar that spoke to her influence and control.
The first few outfits were a blur of material and adjustment. You tried to remain compliant, but the process was exhausting. The layers of heavy fabric and constant changes began to wear on you, and your patience grew thin. As the hours wore on, you found yourself growing restless and defiant, your attempts to express your discomfort evident in your body language and terse replies.
Shadowheart noticed the shift in your demeanor with a frown. Her patience was equally thin, and she was determined to have you fit the perfect vision she had in mind. With a swift, practiced motion, she summoned her magic, her hands glowing with a dark, malevolent light. The room seemed to shiver as she cast her spell, an incantation that infused the air with an aura of command and control.
You felt the magicâs effect almost immediately. A soothing, yet unyielding calm settled over you, dulling your restlessness and rebellious thoughts. It was as if a weight had been lifted, but it had been replaced by a compelling sense of submission and compliance.
Your previously defiant posture softened, and a serene, pliant expression took its place. The resistance that had marked your movements was replaced by an obedient, almost docile demeanor.
Shadowheart observed this transformation with a satisfied smirk. She approached you, her eyes scanning your now receptive form with a critical yet approving gaze. â
There we go,â she said, her voice laced with both authority and satisfaction. âMuch better. Now, letâs see how you fare in these last few garments.â
She continued her meticulous work, dressing you in a series of uniforms designed to reflect both your new role and her unyielding control. The garments were tailored to perfection, each piece accentuating your form and adhering to her strict standards. Shadowheart was a master of her craft, ensuring that every detail was flawless.
Each time you grew slightly restless or attempted to voice an opinion, she would subtly adjust her magic, reinforcing your compliance and soothing any rebellious thoughts. The process became smoother as your resistance faded completely, leaving you a willing participant in her vision.
After several hours of rigorous fittings and adjustments, Shadowheart finally declared herself satisfied. She stepped back, her eyes gleaming with a sense of accomplishment as she surveyed you in the final ensembleâa striking combination of dark, elegant fabrics and intricate embroidery that marked you as a perfect reflection of her influence and authority.
âYou look marvelous,â Shadowheart said, her tone carrying a blend of satisfaction and possessiveness. âYou are now the embodiment of my will and the symbol of our cause, my love."
You nodded, your movements smooth and compliant, a stark contrast to the defiant spirit you had shown earlier. The transformation was complete, and as you gazed at your reflection, you could see the results of Shadowheartâs meticulous effortsâan image that perfectly represented her authority and your newfound role. Shadowheart approached you, her fingers gently brushing against your cheek.
âYou have done well,â she said, her voice softening with an almost tender edge. "Come, let the cloister see us in all our glory."
As you followed her lead, the uniform you wore became a second skin, a symbol of your submission and her dominance. The process had been grueling, but the final result was a testament to Shadowheartâs unwavering control and your complete integration into her world.
âââ â
â â â˝ ŕź âž â â
â
âââ
God of Ambition Gale:
In the opulent chamber that served as Galeâs domain within his realm, the ambiance was a blend of divine grandeur and meticulous attention to detail. The walls were adorned with shimmering tapestries depicting scenes of grandeur and ambition, and the air was filled with a faint, otherworldly glow that highlighted the majesty of the space. The large, ornate mirror in the center of the room reflected the elaborate setting, its surface gleaming with enchantments.
You stood in the center of the room, dressed in a simple yet elegant attire chosen for this occasion. Gale was preoccupied with perfecting the emblem that would symbolize your role by his sideâa symbol that would embody your essence and his divine vision.
His attention to detail bordered on obsessive as he fussed over every aspect of the emblem, his eyes never leaving you as he examined the designs and elements that would represent you.
âHold still,â Gale instructed with a tone of authority that brooked no argument. âThe emblem must capture your essence perfectly. We cannot afford any mistakes.â
You did as instructed, feeling a mixture of apprehension and patience as Gale maneuvered you into various positions. He adjusted your posture, making minute corrections with an almost artistic precision. His fingers traced delicate patterns in the air, and his gaze was intense, as if he were trying to extract the very soul of your being.
Galeâs attention to detail was meticulous. He moved around you, occasionally stepping back to assess how you appeared from different angles. His eyes flickered with a blend of concentration and creative fervor as he compared the emblemâs design against your form. He muttered to himself, adjusting the insigniaâs elements and ensuring they harmonized perfectly with your presence.
At one point, he repositioned you with a gentle but firm touch, guiding you into a new stance.
âNo, no,â he murmured, his frustration evident. âYour posture needs to reflect the ambition weâre channeling. Stand taller, and hold your gaze with conviction. We need to capture the essence of your power and my divine influence.â
You complied, striving to embody the posture and poise he desired. The process felt almost like being sculpted, with Gale as both the artist and critic. His scrutiny was intense, and his corrections were precise. He adjusted the fabric of your attire, smoothed out imaginary wrinkles, and reoriented you to align with his vision.
Time seemed to stretch as Gale continued his work, his focus unwavering. He made several adjustments to the emblem, testing different designs and placements until he found the one that resonated with his divine sense of perfection. Each adjustment was accompanied by a thoughtful hum or a quiet exclamation of frustration when something didnât meet his exacting standards.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Gale stepped back with a satisfied smile. He took in the final result, his eyes gleaming with the pride of a creator who had achieved his vision.
âThere,â he said, his voice filled with a mix of triumph and relief. âThat is it. The emblem is perfect. It captures your essence and embodies the ambition we both strive for.â
You looked at yourself in the mirror, observing the emblemâs intricate designâa symbol of your role beside Gale, reflecting both his divine nature and your connection to him. The emblem glowed subtly, an ethereal representation of your union with the God of Ambition and your place as his muse.
Gale approached you, his demeanor softening as he gazed at you with an affectionate pride. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your face in a gesture of tender affection.
âThank you for enduring this process,â he said. âYour patience and poise have made this moment truly perfect.â
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Ascended Astarion:
The lavish chamber was a stark contrast to the anxiety that churned within you. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and a grand chandelier cast a warm, golden light over the room. Astarion had spared no expense, the luxury surrounding you only amplifying your unease. This was the fourth tailor he had summoned, the others having met a grim fate for their perceived failures.
You stood in the center of the room, feeling like a mannequin as the tailorâs assistants fussed over you, taking measurements, adjusting fabrics, and pinning samples of the latest creation.
Astarion, lounging nearby with a glass of fine wine in hand, watched with a critical eye. His presence was as commanding as ever, his pale skin glowing in the candlelight, his crimson eyes tracking every movement.
The tailor worked in nervous silence, his hands trembling slightly as he presented the latest outfit for Astarionâs approval. It was a finely crafted piece, the fabric shimmering with a subtle, ethereal glow that hinted at the magic woven into its threads. But as soon as the tailor held it up for inspection, Astarionâs expression darkened.
âWhat is this?â Astarionâs voice was cold, his displeasure evident. He set his wine glass down with a deliberate clink, rising from his seat with a fluid grace that belied the menace in his movements.
The tailor stammered, his fear palpable. âM-my lord, I thoughtââ
âYou thought?â Astarion interrupted, his tone laced with disdain. âYou thought you could present such a pedestrian creation and pass it off as worthy of my beloved?â
You flinched at the edge in his voice, knowing what was to come. Your nerves were already frayed from the endless fittings and the constant fussing. You had tried to remain patient, but the compulsion he had placed on you was wearing thin.
Astarion turned to you, his gaze softening for a moment as he noticed your discomfort.
âAh, my dear, I can see youâre growing restless,â he said, reaching out to gently caress your cheek. His touch was tender, yet he reimposed the compulsion with force. âBut we must ensure that everything is perfect. You deserve nothing less.â
You nodded slightly, feeling the magic of his compulsion tighten around you, forcing you to remain still. The anxiety gnawed at you, but there was nothing you could do but comply. Astarionâs attention snapped back to the tailor.
âThis will not do,â he declared, his voice cold once more. Before the tailor could react, Astarion moved with blinding speed, his hand flashing out to grasp the manâs throat.
The tailor gasped, his eyes wide with terror as Astarion lifted him off the ground with ease.
âI will not tolerate mediocrity,â Astarion hissed, his fangs gleaming in the dim light. With a swift, effortless motion, he snapped the tailorâs neck, letting the lifeless body drop to the floor.
You swallowed hard, the sight of yet another death turning your stomach. This was the fourth tailor he had killed, all in his relentless pursuit of perfection for you. You felt a mix of horror and resignation, knowing that this was the reality you lived in, a reality shaped by Astarionâs obsession with you.
Astarion turned to one of his servants, who had been standing silently by the door, awaiting orders.
âBring in the next one,â he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion. The servant bowed and hurried out of the room, leaving you alone with Astarion and the body of the tailor. You glanced at Astarion, who was already smoothing his hair back into place, his demeanor calm once more.
He noticed your gaze and smiled, though there was a hint of something darker in his eyes.
âDonât worry, darling,â he said, his tone almost soothing. âWeâll find the right one soon. I promise.â
You forced a small smile, knowing that there was no other choice. Astarionâs devotion to you was absolute, but it came at a costâa cost you were forced to bear as he sought to mold you into his vision of perfection.
As the door opened again, and the next tailor was ushered in, you braced yourself for another round of fittings, knowing that you would remain still and compliant, just as Astarion wished.
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Naturist Halsin:
The sun had barely risen when you found yourself in the grove, surrounded by the soft chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. The scent of fresh earth filled your senses as you knelt beside a wounded fawn, carefully tending to its injuries. The little creatureâs eyes reflected a trust that warmed your heart, even as the dull ache from your own wounds reminded you of the previous dayâs events.
Halsin had insisted you rest, but staying cooped up inside felt suffocating. You needed thisâneeded the quiet, the peace, the distraction of caring for the injured animals that had always been your solace.
As you gently applied a salve to the fawnâs leg, a shadow fell over you. You didnât need to look up to know who it was. The air grew heavier with Halsinâs presence, his towering form casting a long shadow over you and the garden.
âWhat are you doing out here?â His voice was low, a mixture of concern and frustration, and it sent a shiver down your spine.
You continued your work, trying to ignore the tension that had suddenly filled the space between you.
âIâm just helping,â you replied, keeping your voice steady. âThe animals need me.â
âThey can wait,â Halsin said, his tone firm. He stepped closer, and you could feel his gaze boring into you. âYouâre supposed to be resting. You were hurt.â
You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling up inside you. âIâm fine, Halsin. I donât need to be coddled like a child.â
His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a gentleness that belied the strength behind it. He pulled you to your feet, towering over you as he looked down with a mix of concern and stern authority.
âYouâre not invincible,â he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. âYou need to take care of yourself.â
âI am taking care of myself,â you argued, trying to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you from moving.
Halsinâs eyes flashed with an intensity, and you knew you were treading dangerous ground. He had always been protective, but since the incident, that protectiveness had grown into something elseâsomething more controlling, more suffocating. He was treating you like a porcelain doll, terrified that you would shatter at the slightest bump.
âYouâre acting like a child,â he said, his voice laced with frustration. âYouâre hurt, and youâre out here risking further injury because you refuse to listen.â
âIâm not a child, Halsin,â you shot back, your own temper flaring. âI can take care of myself, and I donât need you hovering over me every second.â
He sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation, and released your wrist. For a moment, you thought he might relent, but then he cupped your face in his large hands, forcing you to look up at him. His expression was stern, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.
âYou will rest,â he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. âAnd you will do as I say. I wonât lose you because youâre too stubborn to take care of yourself.â
The authority in his tone was undeniable, and you felt a surge of defiance rise within you. But just as quickly, it was smothered by the reality of your situation. Halsin wasnât someone you could easily defy. He was strong, powerful, and his protectivenessâhowever suffocatingâcame from a place of genuine care. You knew that resisting him would only lead to him tightening his control over you further. With a reluctant sigh, you nodded, your shoulders sagging in resignation.
âFine,â you muttered, the fight draining out of you. âIâll rest.â
Halsinâs expression softened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace.
âThank you,â he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with relief. âI just want to keep you safe.â
You stood there, trapped in his embrace, feeling a mixture of emotionsâfrustration, resignation, and a flicker of something you couldnât quite name. It was easier to give in, to let him protect you, even if it meant surrendering a little more of your freedom. The alternative was a struggle you werenât sure you could win.
As he held you close, you wondered how much of yourself you would lose in the process of keeping the peace.
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Grand Duke Wyll:
The grand chamber was bathed in soft, golden light as the sun filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the ornate furnishings and rich tapestries. The scent of oil paint and fresh flowers hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of the perfume you wore. In the center of the room, you sat perched on a velvet chaise, your posture rigid, as the painter worked diligently at his easel, his brush gliding across the canvas with practiced precision.
Wyll stood beside you, his gaze critical as he observed the progress of the portrait. His sharp eyes missed nothing, and you could feel his presence like a weight on your shoulders, even though he had yet to say a word. The painter, a nervous-looking man with a thin mustache and trembling hands, kept glancing at Wyll, clearly anxious under the scrutiny of the Grand Duke.
âHmm,â Wyll finally murmured, stepping closer to you. His fingers brushed your cheek lightly before he tilted your chin slightly upwards, adjusting the angle of your head. âYouâre looking a bit too stern, my dear. Try softening your expression.â
You obliged, relaxing the tension in your face and offering a faint smile, though it didnât quite reach your eyes. You knew that Wyll was enjoying thisâreveling in the control he had over every detail of the portrait, and by extension, over you. It wasnât the first time he had treated you like a doll, something to be posed and positioned just as he liked. But today, there was a particular gleam in his eye, a playful edge to his actions that made it clear he was having fun with it.
âNo, no, this wonât do,â he muttered, stopping to adjust the drape of the fabric around your shoulders.
The gown you wore was exquisite, made of the finest silk and embroidered with delicate patterns of gold thread. But it wasnât quite right for the image he wanted to create.
âPerhaps something more regal,â he mused aloud, turning to the servants who stood waiting in the corner. âBring out the crimson velvet. I want something that matches their hair, something that will make them stand out even more.â
The painter hesitated, his brush still in mid-air as he watched the scene unfold. You caught his eye, offering him a reassuring smile, even as you resigned yourself to another round of adjustments. You could see the unease in his expression, the way he bit his lip as he glanced between you and Wyll, but he remained silent. No one dared to contradict the Grand Duke, especially not when he was in one of these moods.
The servants quickly brought out a new gown, a rich crimson velvet with intricate gold embroidery. Wyll personally helped you out of the first gown, his touch lingering on your skin as he peeled away the fabric. He took his time, his movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring the moment. Once you were dressed in the new gown, he stepped back to admire his handiwork, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
âMuch better,â he declared, his tone laced with approval. âNow, letâs try this again.â
You returned to your position on the chaise, feeling the heavy weight of the velvet gown settle around you. The painter began anew, his brush moving quickly to capture the new look. Wyll, however, wasnât done. He continued to fuss over every detailâthe angle of your head, the position of your hands, the way the light caught your hair. Each time he made an adjustment, you complied, holding your pose as still as you could, though the strain was beginning to wear on you.
But you could see the joy in Wyllâs eyes, the way he seemed to relish in this exercise of power and control. There was a playfulness to it, a lightheartedness that you hadnât seen in him for some time. So, despite the growing discomfort, you decided to indulge him. Just this once, you would let him have his fun.
Finally, after what felt like hours of repositioning and adjustments, Wyll seemed satisfied. He stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as he studied the portrait taking shape on the canvas. The painterâs hand was steady now, the initial nervousness replaced by a focused determination to get everything just right.
âPerfect,â Wyll murmured, his voice soft with admiration. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âYouâre perfect, my love.â
You smiled up at him, though your muscles ached from holding the pose for so long.
âAs long as youâre happy,â you replied, your voice tinged with a forced mix of amusement and affection. He chuckled, a warm, rich sound that filled the room.
âMore than happy,â he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. âYouâve made this portrait something truly special.â
As the painter continued his work, Wyll remained by your side, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. You knew that this was more than just a portrait to himâit was a reflection of his power, his control, and the deep bond between you. And for today, you were content to let him have that.
âââ â
â â â˝ ŕź âž â â
â
âââ
So sorry to the nonnie that asked for this one, your ask got eaten by my inbox :((
But it is here now !!! Hope you guys enjoyed it - Seluney xox
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Itâs a real shame that goth has become nothing but mere aesthetic now when there is so much more than aesthetic. Which I am not judging anyone on how they fell in love with the subculture, if the aesthetic is what drew you in, thatâs absolutely ok, peopleâs experience is different and hey times have changed over the years and people probably didnât have any goth people in their corner to show them the ropes.
But itâs a fucking shame how corporate itâs become almost.
Goth is a music based subculture and this is coming from someone who claims to be a Mall Goth and Vampire Goth.
The goth subculture developed from the creation of gothic rock, an offshoot of the Post-Punk music genre.
What is Post-Punk?
Post-punk is very similar to Punk in regards to ideologies and mentality, but they differ in their musical influences.
Punk is mostly influences by elements of Rock, whereas Post-punk is all about breaking away from Rock cliches and experimenting with different musical styles.
Anarchism: The belief in the dismantling of all forms of authority, unnecessary coercion and hierarchy, i.e. capitalism.
⢠Non-Conformity: Not conforming or adhering to generally accepted standards or customs.
⢠Anti-Corporatism: A movement targeted against major international and global corporations, particularly those believed to be using unethical or unsustainable methods to create their products.
⢠Individual Freedom: The belief in the rights and autonomy of individuals to make decisions Without undue interference from external forces.
Goth is so much more than killstar hauls and thirst traps and makeup. Which donât get me wrong if you do those things, I ainât stopping you and itâs fine to do them every once in awhile, but please just keep that in mind.
But yeah.
Like I said there really isnât any rules to being goth.
Just be you.
Be authentic.
Thatâs all.
#goth#gothic#goth subculture#mall goth#2000s mall goth#90s mall goth#90s goth#goth isnât a trend#goth isnât corporate#goth is not your hashtag#vent#world goth day#chloe rambles#mallgothchloe97
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