#that may or may not turn into dubcon

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER | 2024.

hello my loves. here we have the masterlist for my first ever kinktober. a huge thank you to all my new followers and to anyone who’s been around since the beginning. october marks a year since this account blew up so this is my little treat to yall. let’s get kinky.

please note the following, some of these works may contain triggering content and kinks that might not be for you, do not click on something you aren't comfortable with, and as always, chars are 19+, minors please do not interact.

MASTERLIST UNDER CUT | ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🕷

kinktober masterlist. | full masterlist. | 19+ MDNI.

these will be completed in a mix of full fics & blurbs.

october 1st • size kink, big dick.

just the tip. theodore nott

october 4th • loss of virginity / corruption kink.

first time. mattheo riddle

• part one

• part two

october 8th • somno / free use.

thank you. tom riddle

october 11th • mirror sex / body worship.

i want you to watch yourself. blaise zabini

october 15th • brat taming / daddy kink.

yes, daddy. mattheo riddle

october 18th • hatefucking / dubcon / enemies

you’re lying. mattheo riddle

october 21st • gun play / dub con / masochism.

does this make me dangerous? tom riddle

october 25th • anal sex / sexual punishment.

turn around. tom riddle

october 28th • degradation / humiliation / 3sum

ghostface. theodore nott x lorenzo berkshire

october 31st • orgy / groupsome / drunk sex.

fuckfest. the slytherins

all works belong to © slytherinslut0 and are not permitted to be reproduced redistributed or republished in any way, shape or form.

banner credit: @violetbudd

[sukunasweetheart]

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna...

warnings!!! dark content, noncon breeding, dubcon, sukuna ties your hands together, baby trapping, toxic, possessive and jealous sukuna, manipulative tendencies and mentions of violence (not towards reader), oral (f!receiving)

divider by @/saradika-graphics

3.8k words

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who'd always coax you into fucking him bareback without a condom because he swears it feels better...

being so sweet, seducing you into letting him hit it raw, doing whatever it takes to put you in a good mood, get you hot and bothered so you can't deny him for long, swearing that he'd pull out, and that you'd have nothing to worry about...

but scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who never kept his word. he'd fuck you silly and cum deep into your womb, even though he promised he wouldn't. you wanted to stop him, but you were feeling too good in the moment to fight him off. when you confront him about it afterwards, he simply tells you "my bad, sweetheart. i didn't mean to, but you just felt too good..."

he gets high off the feeling of cumming inside you.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who secretly wished he could fuck you pregnant with his seed. but you told him you didn't want a baby, which he disappoints him, though he may not show it. he wants to see your belly swell up with his child, and to suck on your sweet milk when your tits start leaking. fuck, just the thought of it had made him get hard.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't take you seriously when you broke it off with him. you could see it in his eyes sometimes, the way he seemed eerily quiet when your pregnancy tests turned out with only one line. you felt glad you'd taken those birth control pills behind his back. but you decided enough was enough. you loved him, but you just didn't want to have a child with him.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't even seem phased by the break up. he believed he could coax you back to him again, given with some time. you are his, and nothing will change that. when he sees you around, he shamelessly flirts with you and tries to convince you to come back to him, telling you that he misses you dearly. there are times when he almost succeeds, only because you do miss him sometimes too.

a few weeks into the break up, you truthfully, begin to feel a little sexually frustrated. you don't recall having such a high sex drive before getting with sukuna, but he seems to have permanently altered your body, the way he used to pleasure you so good...

you gather some friends and head into a club, and try to forget about him.

at the club, you re-familiarise yourself with the smell of alcohol in the air, the music that hurts your eardrums, and the crowd of people all around you, wherever you went. it's been a while since you've been here, because you had been with sukuna for over two years now.

an hour or two passes, and you've gotten yourself fairly tipsy at the bar now.

you sync yourself up with the music, but a familiar figure catches your attention from the second floor of the club, afar. it's sukuna. but he's not looking at you.

he's standing with his ex-girlfriend - the one that had gotten hysterical with you after she'd found out about your relationship with him. your mood plummets, for some reason.

you're the one that broke up with him. it shouldn't matter what he's up to after that. liar. you told me you missed me. you try to ignore him, and continue drinking yourself drunk, the edges of your vision already swimming.

sukuna's at the club, only because a friend of his snitched on you and told him that you were out here somewhere. he didn't think he'd meet yorozu, out of everyone it could've been.

"hi, ryo. i heard you'd finally broken up with that girl?" she asks sweetly, standing as close to him as possible.

sukuna gives her a deadpan stare.

"broken up? says who?"

"well, everyone. don't tell me you're pathetically clinging onto her now? that's not like you."

"i'm not you. now get lost, i'm busy."

yorozu grabs his hand, stopping him from walking away.

"wait! i just wanna tell you..."

she continues talking, but his attention has already drifted elsewhere, as his eyes pan toward the crowd downstairs. now...where are you? when he does manage to find you in the crowd downstairs, he doesn't like what he sees. that's an understatement. he hates it.

you're swaying your hips with some other bastard, making out with him on the dance floor.

"damn- you're so fuckin' hot," the stranger chuckles against the shell of your ear, your arms around his neck.

"am i really?" you respond giggling, clearly intoxicated.

"yeah, you are... why don't you come home with me?"

"hmmm? sure, why not? 'm single now, anyway," you mumble, your feet now beginning to stumble. you're starting to miss him again.

"broke up with your boyfriend, did you? poor thing."

"i'll help you feel better." the man grins and helps you walk outside of the club.

on his way out however, he bumps into someone of a large frame. he's all tatted up, and his gaze is holding a mean glare as he stares down at him. he holds out his hand to him, like he's asking for something.

"hand her over, and i won't beat you to death."

oh. he must be the ex. that was enough for the man to quietly place your body into sukuna's arms and exit the club.

tch, he's as spineless as he looks.

sukuna handles your limp body with care, your breath pungent with the smell of alcohol. he's irritated to no end right now, and a vein is bulging from his forehead, but he safely carries you to his car.

outside, the man thinks he's clear of danger, and decides he's had enough for the night. but, someone's heavy arm comes down around his shoulders suddenly.

"hey. you're the one that played it too close with sukuna's girl? how unlucky of you," a man with a scar on his lip talks nonchalantly.

he gets dragged into a nearby alleyway.

"don't take it personally. i got paid to do this."

the man shrieks as he gets beaten to a pulp, just enough so it hurts like hell, but not enough to kill him. sukuna likes to keep his word.

meanwhile... you're taken to your own home. he found the keys to your house in your purse. sukuna tucks you into your own bed, and even dresses you into your own pajamas. and then...

he just leaves.

-

the next morning - you don't remember a thing. you're left feeling confused, wondering how you managed to get home and how you were even sober enough to get yourself dressed. the only thing you can recall is seeing sukuna with his ex, and then making out with some random guy on the dance floor. everything else is blacked out.

you ask your friends, but they were also too busy getting wasted to know what happened to you. but you feel fine physically, so you brush the incident off.

now the only thing bothering you... sukuna hasn't contacted you again ever since you witnessed him and yorozu talking. so he must've gone back to her. that makes you feel... irritated. upset. sad, even. even though you wanted to break things off first.

you slowly start getting back to your normal daily life again, although with a heavy heart. only change is, that you can't seem to find your birth control pills, wherever you last put them. you contemplate for a moment, wondering whether you should buy a new pack, but you end up shrugging it off, knowing that you won't really need them in the meantime anyway...

you're trying to get back into what life was like before you met sukuna. falling back into bad diet habits, staring at your phone, going back and forth between unblocking and blocking sukuna's number - wondering if he's texted you again in the meantime - but of course, there is nothing new.

he may have had his toxic traits, but you knew he loved you a lot... he cooked you wonderful meals and spoiled you with gifts and knew how to make you orgasm until you couldn't speak. and he was tender with you, even though he teased you a lot.

and now, you're back to using toys to satisfy yourself... it's always like this! you start thinking about him and your hand begins to wander down - you can only hope that you'll eventually lose these feelings soon.

you decide to head out and go on a shopping spree alone, to distract yourself from your thoughts and maybe lift your spirits up.

spending a lot of money for yourself always feels nice. you're buying a lot of cute clothes, accessories and food, jumping between shop to shop. the sun sets rather quickly, and by now, you're at your final stop, mulling over whether this expensive, but beautiful bracelet and necklace set is worth buying. your impulse gets the better of you and you ask for it to be packaged for you.

you reach for your wallet to pay with your card, but someone's familiar voice rings out beside you as he approaches.

"i'll pay for the set." sukuna already has his credit card out, and is handing it to the store clerk, using a tone that makes him difficult to question.

"...sukuna?" you say quizzically, his name slipping from your lips without thinking.

the clerk scans his card, and your items are already paid for.

"what are you doing here..." you ask him, with mixed feelings running around in the pit of your stomach.

"missed me?" he asks with a smirk, very naturally taking your multiple shopping bags from your hand. "i just happened to be in the area."

you're not sure if you believe him. just when you're about to ask him something again, he guides you out of the store with his hand on your shoulder.

"i thought you got back with your ex," you say, taking your bags back from his hand. "i'm sure she'll be upset if she sees you here with me."

"what? where did you get that nonsense from?" he seems genuinely confused.

"i saw you at the club, by coincidence. you were talking with her."

oh... he didn't realise you'd noticed him back there.

"oh, sweetheart... that was a coincidence. i wasn't planning on meeting her. did you really believe that i'd get back with that woman?"

you shouldn't be feeling relieved to such an extent... but your shoulders loosen up after hearing that.

"well... you stopped contacting me after i last saw you with her. of course i'd start believing it."

"oh? i thought you had my number blocked. were you anticipating my texts? you missed me, after all." sukuna leans in closer to you, smiling cockily.

you should have just kept your mouth shut...

"i'll take you home. you have a lot of luggage, no?" sukuna offers, taking your bags back from your hand.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you know you're supposed to decline here. but you let your feelings get the best of you... and end up letting him lead you to his car.

he was supposed to just quickly drop you off home.

"you have a lot of stuff. i'll help you carry it home," sukuna gave his excuse, with something more sly hiding in his eyes. you know exactly what he wants. but when he insists so strongly, you can't deny him. like the fool you are.

you unlock your door and he comes inside to put your bags down on the floor at the entrance. and as you had expected, he doesn't leave right away. instead, he looks down at you with a coy smile, while you return the gaze with a more standoffish one. the tension feels thick and heavy as neither of you speak for a moment.

"well? i'm sure you didn't let me in without knowing my intentions..." sukuna moves forward and closer to you, hands very naturally finding their way to your waist.

he leans down slowly and offers you a brief kiss, a very light and short one, like he's testing the waters. he scans your face for your response. your lips feel all tingly. and all he sees is that you're not pushing him away.

"we shouldn't..." you whisper, but your resolve is too weak. you can't tell him to go away, much less kick him out of your home.

"i know."

in truth, he doesn't really. why should he be separate from you? you belong to him. he pulls you in for a deeper kiss. and you just let it happen.

and, lord, he smells and tastes divine. there's a reason why you always forgave him despite his scummy behaviour when it came to using protection. though you ended up breaking him off, you wonder if it'll be different if you give him another chance.

he wastes no time in lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing, and heads off to your bedroom, before you can change your mind. you comply, holding onto his strong embrace weakly, having missed this kind of treatment.

when you're laid onto your own bed, sukuna smirks again as he cages you between his arms.

"you're being so obedient. must've regretted breaking up with me-?"

pulling him in with a hand to the back of his neck, you shut him up with another demanding kiss, not letting him speak for long. sukuna groans as you slip your tongue into him, initiating something messier than what the both of you were doing before.

he's quick to unzip your skirt and side it off, along with your panties. in desperation, he doesn't take the time to fully get you naked and instead, pushes your shirt and bra up to fondle your jutting breasts. sukuna then peels his own jacket and shirt off.

"spread your legs for me, sweetheart. i'll spoil you tonight."

you part your legs slowly - and he sees that you're already glistening with slick. bringing his face down, he aims straight for your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it entirely. your back arches as you gasp, the warm and wet feeling being so arousing like nothing else in this world.

you feel the tip of his tongue flicker up and down your clitoris in a mesmerising rhythm - knowing exactly what you want, and need to reach your orgasm. and the way he sucks on you with the correct amount of pressure, while making the lewdest noises, forcing your hips to stutter uncontrollably against his mouth, with the way it feels so mind numbing, is just too much in its own way.

you let your erotic moans ring out, because you know he loves it when you show him how good you're feeling - and your hands can't help but hold onto his hair from the intense pleasure, which he never seem to flinch from.

the first orgasm hits you like a truck, with the way you're left breathless and gasping for air as your legs reflexively try to close up - sukuna has to hold them apart with his strong grip as he continues tonguing you even as you're cumming, your cunt thrumming against his lips.

"o-ooh- fuck-! sukuna!" you plead, your blank gaze meeting the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, hips jolting without restraint.

when he does eventually show mercy and remove his mouth from your poor aching clit, you're already on the brink of sobbing, your legs down to your toes feeling all prickly from the overstimulation. your mind is in a haze.

so much so, that you didn't realise that he had bound your wrists to the bed frame until he was already done with it.

"wha- sukuna...? why're you tying me up-?" you question, still a little out of it from your last orgasm.

"shh, love. it's not like this is the first time...relax," sukuna comforts you, caressing your face. you can't help the small uneasiness from growing in your stomach. he suddenly gives your clit a light slap. it startles you a bit, and you gasp.

"you're so pretty. do you know that?"

you see your own reflection in his ringed eyes. your heart races, and you don't know if it's because you're flustered or terrified.

"i just wanna..."

his cock aches in his pants.

he never finishes his sentence. instead, he just offers you a soft, yet sloppy kiss.

sukuna frees his erection, and sighs in relief. it's all messy and leaky with precum. he lines it up against your wet and puckering cunt. you won't deny that you want it...

"sukuna... condom..." you remind him gently, getting slightly nervous from the way he's rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

"... 'm sorry sweetheart. i don't think i can do that."

he pushes his hips in one go, and you're left gasping from the sudden intrusion. you're immediately pushed into a mating press.

sukuna groans from how he immediately feels your wet walls sucking him in, your slick making his cock glisten as he thrusts in and out. he's missed this so, so much.

"fuck- sukuna! you can't- oh my g-god..." your hands tug at your bindings as you try and resist your moans from coming out of your throat, but the way his dick satisfies your cunt is otherworldly, his tip kissing your cervix, over and over again.

"that's it, baby... just enjoy yourself," he urges you on, getting breathless from his own fast pace, cock pulsating inside of you in excitement. god, you always drive him crazy.

still, in the back of your mind you still have a sliver of trust in this man. foolishly so. surely he'll pull out at the last second. surely he won't cum inside you in this situation. it's been a while since you stopped being on the pill.

your bed creaks from how roughly sukuna pounds your pussy, all while groaning with such shamelessness, only caring about the pleasure that is found from the warmth and wetness of your puckering hole.

"fuuck... fuck! to think you were gonna let some other bastard do this to you..." he growls under his breath, brows furrowing. you don't hear him. he remembers his original motive for all of this. to remind you who you truly belonged to.

"ooh-! sukuna! you're being too rough..." you whine, feeling the pressure of an incoming orgasm already building in your abdomen.

he only grips your hips harder, looking down at you with a toothy smile. his dick aches so badly. he's endured through so much patience just for this moment.

your mind goes blank as you forget about the fact that he's not wearing a condom, drool spilling out the side of your mouth from the pleasure you feel as his girthy dick drills in and out of you, a squelching noise happening everytime he sinks himself in. there's the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your ass. and also the friction from his pants, that he hasn't bothered to fully take off. the juices from your cunt has dampened them, but sukuna couldn't care less right now.

"sweetheart... my love... take- taking me s-so well..." sukuna groans, panting and words slurred. despite the deeply affectionate words, his hips move like an animal. you can't do anything but moan and cry.

sukuna feels himself getting high again. there's just something about you... god, he's so pussydrunk he can't even think properly. only the thought of breeding you is on his mind. make you his, completely. to see your belly get bigger from his seed... a powerful thrum goes to his cock and he shudders again.

he has to make it take, this time.

"i'm gonna cum," he tells you breathlessly, knowing you won't be able to stop him, this time around.

"sukuna!... wait," you protest, weakly tugging at your binds again, but you can't say anything more than that, as his lips come down onto yours, silencing you effectively. he tongue kisses you roughly, desperate and messy as you can feel his laboured breaths on you.

and the final thrust that he gives, where he pushes his dick in so deeply, tip meeting your cervix, sends you into another trembling orgasm. sukuna groans deeply against your mouth as he cums, hips stuttering against yours, eyes shut tightly as he savours you completely. you take your lips off of his, and try to say, "stop...! no- pull out," but he stops you with another kiss.

you sob, because it's over. but you're also sobbing because it feels so good.

sukuna's deep kiss trails down to the crook of your neck.

"you can't tell me to pull out... when your cunt is... seducing my cock like this..." he shivers between phrases, mumbling against your neck, mind all hazy from the way you pulse around him from your orgasm, milking his dick as spurt after spurt of his seed shoots straight into your womb.

you can't even say anything back to him - you're coming off your high as he empties his balls into you, letting out more than usual. you're done for.

"i hate you," you sob.

"i know you don't really mean that. you can't live without me," sukuna tells you, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead afterwards.

"and the same applies to me. i'll never let anyone else have you."

he begins to litter kisses down again, until he reaches your chest, while his cock is still inside you. his soft lips caress your tits, and then he begins to lather his tongue around your stiffened nipples, making you feel good again, even through the tears.

the night is far from over.

sukuna becomes much more gentle and soft after the first time, opting for slower but deeper thrusts this time around, adding plenty of little kisses in between as well, "loving" you with everything he has. you have no choice but to accept all of him, as he cums inside of you over and over again.

his cock is in its own haven, being trapped in your gummy walls without rest. and at some point, sukuna's even released your wrists, and now you're willingly making love to him with your arms around his neck, coping with the thought that resisting doesn't even matter anymore - it's already too late, and you're tired of trying to fight back.

you can't count how many times he's dumped his load into you, how many times he's said "i can't get enough of you," how many times you've kissed him back when he kisses you.

and when he finally does eventually pull out, his semen oozes out of you in a disgusting amount. you're spent, and completely exhausted. you can't help your heavy eyelids from closing up, and the last thing you hear is his soft voice.

"goodnight, sweetheart. i'll take care of everything, from now on. i promise."

he holds you so closely and lovingly that you believe him.

Masterlist

[rafeandonlyrafe]

normal procedure

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!, dubcon, gynecologist!rafe, patient!reader, virgin!reader, gyno exam, fingering, p in v sex, protected sex

a/n: we can pretend that this is a roleplay scenario because obviously no real doctor would do this, lets all take a breath and remember this is fanFICTION aka not real or an endorsement by me (or my readers) of anything in this story

“oh, um-” you gulp, blinking as the fluorescent lights shine down on you.

“your feet ma’am.” he repeats, tapping the stirrups. you lift your legs, well aware that you're lacking any sort of underwear underneath your hospital gown.

your doctor secures your legs in the straps before his eyes drift to your center, now on display with your parted thighs.

you gasp and pull your gown down to somewhat cover yourself.

“ma’am, i assure you this is all part of the normal exam.”

“i-i-” you swallow thickly, blinking again, swearing the lights are only getting brighter, hotter, as a bead of sweat forms and falls on your forehead. “what's your name?”

“im doctor rafe cameron. certified gynecologist. you can just call me rafe though.” he explains softly. “and there is no need to be nervous.”

“okay… how long have you been a gynecologist?”

“asking all these questions is just going to delay what we need to get done.” rafe says. “shall we begin?”

“i suppose.” you nod. you know usually girls wait until after they have sex for the first time to visit, but with your twenty first birthday coming up as still a virgin, you decided you might as well stop delaying the inevitable.

“im just going to lift your gown.” rafes hands are slow and gentle as he brings the hem up, revealing your bare cunt to him.

“does it all… look okay?” you question. 

“you look perfect.” rafe says, his voice lowering in tone as he reaches for his gloves, pulling the latex over his long, slender fingers.

“okay.” you nod. surely a doctor would know. it lessens your anxiety the tiniest bit.

“im going to touch you now, okay?” rafe looks up at you, and his eye contact holds you still, blue eyes gleaming with intensity as they look into your brown ones.

“y/f/n?” 

“oh, yes.” you nod quickly. “yes, that's fine.”

rafe hums, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. “so if i read your chart correctly, you haven't had sex yet?”

“no, s-sir.” you shake your head, eyes moving to the ceiling to avoid that captivating gaze, even if the fluorescents make your eyes hurt.

rafe mutters something under his breath, but you're sure your ears are just playing tricks on you. no way he would whisper “perfect” to himself. surely he's a professional.

rafe lays two fingers on your inner thigh and your entire body jolts, the gloves cold against your bare skin.

“it's okay.” rafes other hand rests on your thigh, rubbing gently with his thumb. “im going to begin the exam, if you feel any discomfort at any point just tell me.”

“okay.” you nod, and you swear despite the chilly gloves, his touch leaves a trail of fire as he brings his two fingers closer to your pussy, before suddenly swiping through your folds.

“oh!” you squeal out, hips lifting slightly before pushing back down.

“it's a normal bodily reaction.” rafe assures you before you can even feel embarrassment.

rafes fingers swipe through again, but at least you're expecting it this time. you blink quickly, trying to keep yourself calm as his other hand moves to join in examining your cunt.

“just going to use my thumbs to look around. let me know if it gets to be too much.”

just as rafe said, his thumbs begin to pull and poke at your skin. you move your gaze from the ceiling back down to rafe, seeing the same intensity in his eyes but now focused on your pussy.

“im going to touch you some place that may make you feel… fervent. please know that any reaction your body may have is normal and all part of the exam.” rafe places his thumb directly over your bud, and your body lights up like a firework.

you don't even realize you're moaning until the side of rafes mouth quirks up again into that signature smirk.

“oh!” you squeal again. “oh my god, im so sorry.”

“it's all normal.” rafe assures you. he gives you a moment to get used to the pressure on your clit, simply touching it with the pad of his thumb before he begins to swipe over it, stimulating your clit while his eyes move back and forth between your pussy and your face contorted in pleasure.

“is this supposed to feel so good?” you question. you didn't do much research on what actually happens when you get in the gynecologists chair, but you swear what you've heard from friends is that the exam isn't comfortable.

“yes.” rafe says simply, and you have no reason to not take his word as truth. “my thumb is going to stay there as i insert a finger.”

you nod, glad to have the distraction of his thumb moving around your clit, even if your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you grow wetter.

“hm, looks like i won't need any external lubricant.” rafe looks up at you. “sometimes i have to with virgins. but your pussy is perfect.”

“thank you?” your thought process is quickly shut off as rafes finger prods at your entrance, getting his gloves significantly wet.

“sorry if this is cold, but i have a feeling you'll warm me up quickly.” rafe pushes his finger inside slowly, and you have to tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes closed to keep more sounds from coming out of your mouth.

“does it all feel normal?” you're well aware at your voice must sound strained as rafes finger rubs against your inner walls.

“yes.” rafe says, this time his voice having an air of shakiness to it. “you're tight, but it's to be expected from a virgin.”

“s-sorry about that.” you can't tell if rafes emphasis on the word is negative or positive. “i didn't see myself losing it anytime soon so i scheduled my appointment.”

“and why is that darling?” rafe questions, his voice a purr as he begins to move his finger in and out in slow strokes.

“why am i a virgin? uhh…” you trail off. “i guess just haven't found the right guy yet.”

in truth, the whole idea of sex gets you nervous. hopefully after getting assurances that everything works okay down there, it'll be one less thing to be anxious about.

“we can take care of that today if you'd like.”

the thumb stroking over your clit flicks upward suddenly, making your hips jump up, legs straining in their spread position.

“what do you mean?” you ask, feeling and hearing rafes finger speed up, your slickness making it easier and easier for him to move.

“i can take your virginity. it's part of my duties as your doctor. only if you'd like, it's an optional part of the exam.”

“you mean like… insert something in me?”

“yes, my cock.” rafe smirks as he pulls his finger out, tapping against your wetness and letting the sound spread through the exam room.

“oh!” you look at rafe to make sure he's serious, but his expression doesn't convey any sort of joking around. “gynecologists do that?”

“for our virgin patients if they'd like. id wear a condom of course and take your virginity so it's less of an ordeal for you. and i can assure everything is working fine.”

“and by everything you mean…”

“making you cum.” rafes thumb applies a bit more pressure to your clit. “although you're already not far off, are you?”

“wouldn't know.” you can feel something growing in the pit of your stomach, an unfamiliar feeling you can't quite place.

“what do you say y/f/n?”

“s-sure.” you nod. “if this is all normal, i guess it's fine.”

“great.” rafe smiles, before looking down at your cunt. “ill have to work two fingers into you before fu- helping you lose your virginity.” he explains.

thankfully, his thumb keeps tapping and pressing down on your sensitive bud as a second finger lathers itself in your wetness, sliding through your folds before dipping into your cunt.

his finger are barely an inch inside before they're back out. “you'll have to excuse me for going one handed for a second.”

rafes thumb moves away from your clit, and you're about to cry out for more, immediately missing the feeling, when rafes mouth drops and his tongue takes its place.

“doctor!” you shout.

“all normal.” rafe assures you, his lips already shining with your juices. “taste is an important part of the exam too. and you're very sweet.”

you watch as rafes head dips again, his mouth working on your cunt as his two fingers that you hadn't even realized have been pushed inside of you begin to move.

rafes free hand reaches for his pants, pushing them down to get his already hard cock out. he begins to stroke as his tongue licks at your clit, fingers opening you up.

you feel another jolt of pressure when his fingers spread to scissor and close, scissor and close, working your gummy walls open for him.

rafe presses a series of wet, sloppy kisses over your cunt before restraining himself and pulling back, licking greedily over his lips to not waste your taste.

“are you ready?” rafe asks, reaching into a drawer to get a condom.

“yes.” you nod quickly. you're more than desperate now for his cock, especially as his fingers slide out and leave you empty to squeeze around nothing.

rafe stands up, bringing his cock up into your sight line. your eyes widen when you see he's much longer and thicker than his two fingers that were already a tight fit inside you.

“don't worry.” rafe says as he tears the foil of the condom before getting the rubber out and rolling it down his length. “im gonna take good care of you.”

your hips already sit at perfect height as rafe steps between your legs. you would close them out of shyness if it was at all possible.

rafe taps his tip over your clit, making you moan out, but you don't bother to hold back, not when rafe lets out a moan as well.

“the room is completely noise proof, and sounds are nothing to be embarrassed by.” rafe assures you as he rubs his cock against your pussy, thoroughly wetting himself before pushing against your entrance.

it's a slow push to break the ring of muscle, and then an easy slide once he's in.

“h-holy shit.” you whine out, hands gripping the side of the bed as rafes hips immediately begin to swing in and out.

“any pain?”

“none.” you answer quickly. there's no hiding the intense pleasure being brought to your body, especially when rafes thumb retakes its place on your clit.

“there ya go.” rafe smiles as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock. “i can tell you're getting close.”

rafe glances at the clock, wishing he could fuck you for longer, but if he extends the time for the exam too long the nurses will surely get suspicious.

“how does it f-ffffffff-” your ability to speak briefly lapses when rafes thrust speed up. “feel for you?” you manage to complete your sentence.

“your pussy feels amazing. you're so tight and warm. any guy would be lucky to be inside of you.” rafe says, his hips moving faster, desperate to cum. “perfect.”

you are practically glowing underneath the praise and impending orgasm, rafes thumb moving faster with real purpose now.

your head tips back and before you know it, a wash of light and pleasure has taken over your body, and you're moaning and twitching as what you're certain is your high breaks.

“that's it.” rafe smiles, feeling your pussy flutter around him, clit pulsing with the strength of your orgasm as he thrusts harder into your pussy, putting all his might into helping you ride out your orgasm and spur on his own.

rafe lodges his cock as deep inside of you as he can as he cums, briefly cursing the barrier of the condom from preventing himself from flooding your womb.

“very- good.” rafe pants, pulling out extra slow despite the clock ticking down, watching as your hole squeezes back tight as he pulls out.

rafe discards the condom and then his soaked gloves, sticky with your wetness before tucking himself back into his pants.

“take all the time you need.” rafe undoes the stirrups and let's your legs flop down. “ill come check on you in five minutes, i need to see if my other patient is here.”

and just as quickly as he entered, rafe leaves the room, leaving you with your pussy a sloppy mess and heart beating fast.

[leonsdolly]

Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor. 

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion. 

The door swings open, and your body dissolves. 

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully. 

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier. 

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat. 

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit. 

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness. 

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

[alltheirdamn]

Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Summary: Sharing land with Joel Miller has always been infuriating, but when your bad attitude finally gets his attention...things get messy. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.2k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, explicit language, brat taming, semi dark!joel, dubcon elements, degrading, choking, rough spanking, hair pulling, face slapping, throat fucking, touch of dacryphilia, rope/bondage, rough unprotected piv sex, hint of a subspace moment, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, no aftercare because joel is an old, grumpy asshole A/N: Y'all probably wouldn't believe me if I told you Apple by Charlie XCX inspired this random fic...but anyway, this one goes out to my sweet bb angel @lotusbxtch <3 thank you for always being my partner in crime in the late hours of the evening ilysm

Part II

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The Texas sun beat down on your skin as you rode through the acres of land—your land— stretching out before you. Passed down from generation to generation, this entire pasture of fields and wild barley was yours. After both of your parents died during a freak accident, you inherited the land and dealt with upkeep and farm animals as if it were your life. And it was your life. Every inch of this farmland was yours, no matter what anyone said. 

You pressed your heels into the side of your horse, Mac, and urged him further down through the tall grass. The summer hadn’t been kind to the fields, the grass yellowing in most places, but what would you do about it? Tell the sun to stop shining? All you could do was take care of the land and ensure nothing went wrong. The animals were taken care of, the wild wheat still grew strong in the outskirts past your tiny farm home, and you had enough money to put dinner on the table for yourself at the end of your night. 

No trouble at all. 

What was trouble, though, was Joel Miller riding his ass right down the edge of your land. The sun cast him in a dark silhouette as he rode closer, his broad body sitting tall on the back of his horse. You held back the reigns, shushing Mac gently as you slowed him to a trot, keeping a healthy distance from the insufferable man trespassing onto your fields. 

“Think y’got yourself a bit lost out here, Miller,” you hollered. 

Joel removed the black cowboy hat from his head; the grey hairs streaking through his curls shimmered in the sunlight as he swiped an arm over his sweaty forehead. Every inch of his skin was sunkissed and tan from hours under the sun, his greying beard patchy and well-kept despite his rugged exterior. If he weren’t such an asshole, maybe you’d even consider him attractive, but your irritation with him ran deeper than any other emotion. 

Staring up at you under thick brows, Joel quirked an amused grin and shrugged. 

“Ain’t lost at all, darlin’. S’my land out here.”

You steered Mac forward, keeping yourself parallel with Joel’s body. You weren’t intimidated by any man, let alone Joel Miller. He may have a few decades on you, but that didn’t matter. The Miller family had always been a problem. For generations, they feuded with your family over acres of land that stretched across the horizon, never agreeing on who owned what. Before Joel, his father had caused an uproar in your family, and now he just had to continue causing problems. Would you ever rid yourself of this man and his family?

“I suggest y’take your ass home ‘fore I make you leave,” you warned. 

The wind kicked around you, fanning your hair down around your shoulders. Joel caught how your hair flared under your cowboy hat, and a hint of mischief sparkled inside his dark brown eyes. He was a fucking nuisance and still on your fucking land. 

“Careful now, darlin’. Those are some mighty big fightin’ words.”

You straightened your spine, holding firm on the reigns to keep yourself anchored. Mac huffed impatiently as if he knew how sour your mood was turning. The longer you kept yourself around Joel, the quicker your anger grew. The sun would set soon, and you still had miles to cover before you made it home; you wouldn’t entertain an old cowboy all night, even if he were staring at you like you were a wild horse to be tamed. 

“This is the last time I’m tellin’ you to stay off my land, Joel. I mean it.”

Joel chuckled lightly as if your words meant nothing. He placed his hat back over the matted curls on his head and began riding past you. You glared over your shoulder, watching his body travel further into the horizon and away from the rolling fields of your land. 

**

The summer wasn’t getting any easier. The sun grew brighter each day, and the air thickened with humidity, making it nearly impossible to continue wearing anything restrictive. With no one else around to pester you, you paraded around the stables in a tight top, a pair of daisy dukes, and your usual worn leather boots. The fewer clothes, the better—even if that meant getting bit up by a few mosquitoes here and there. 

You were deep into cleaning Mac’s stall when you heard the sound of hoofs pounding against the dirt ground outside the stables. Your body went rigid; you knew who it was without looking. Who else would it be out here? The horse in the distance bristled as its rider dropped to the ground, his heavy footfall nearing you as you exited the stall with a towel slung over your shoulder. 

Joel stood tall in the entrance, his broad frame sucking in all of the light as he walked closer. He wore an old denim button-up, and the sleeves pushed up his tan forearms, exposing the thickly corded muscles that ran down to his hands. Without a cowboy hat resting over his eyes, you could see how rich and dark they were as they stared you down. Despite hating him, your body reacted on its own accord. You clenched your thighs, trying to quell the ache growing inside your core. Leaning against the stall, you narrowed your eyes, watching Joel stalking closer. His steps were confident—casually, even—as if he owned the damn place. 

“Not sure why y’think it’s okay to come waltzin’ in here,” you scowled, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Ain’t you just a ray of sunshine,” Joel smirked. 

“Fuck off, old man,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. 

“What was that, darlin?” 

Joel stepped forward, and you mimicked his movements, drawing yourself closer to him. Even with his height towering over you, you were unphased. This man wouldn’t get the best of you. 

“Oh, sorry. Should I be speakin’ louder? Ain’t sure if y’got your hearing aids in.”

“No, I heard y’just fine. Just wanna hear you say it again.”

The toe of your boot tapped against his as you glared up at him. With a smug grin stretching across your face, you repeated your retort. 

“Fuck off. Old man.”

Joel’s body tensed, his eyes narrowed as he considered your words. You weren’t backing down; he was on your property and, quite frankly, pissing you off. He could bitch and moan all he wanted about how this land was his birthright, but he was wrong. Your parents settled the matter generations ago and never once faltered against the Millers. That wouldn’t change now. You’d uphold their wishes and continue fighting for what was yours. 

“Y’gotta damn nasty mouth on such a tiny body. Ain’t your parents teach you some manners?” Joel questioned. 

“They taught me enough, but it ain’t gonna stop me from tellin’ you off. So, get the hell off my property,” you demanded. 

You glanced down, noticing Joel’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. It was amusing seeing him all riled up. Who knew he had that kind of spark in him? You wondered just how far you could push him until he snapped. 

“Ain’t you just spoiled rotten. Is that what it is? Y’think everythin’ is yours ‘cause your mommy and daddy said so?”

His voice was taunting, a litany of rhetorical questions to which he didn’t care to know the answer. Whatever you said, it wouldn’t matter because his mind was made up. Stubborn old man.

“I don’t think everythin’ is mine. I know it is,” you objected. “So, move your old ass back to your side of the pasture and get out of my face.”

Joel crowded your body, walking you back towards the stall door until your body pressed into the wood. You lifted your chin defiantly, watching his eyes clouded with rage. 

“Spoiled lil’ brat. Should teach you a lesson for the way you’re speakin’ to me,” Joel growled. 

Let’s see how far we can take this, you thought. 

“Whatcha gonna do? Spank me?” You laughed, gracing him with a rueful smile. 

Placing his hands above you on the door, Joel caged you between his body. You had nowhere to run; truthfully, you didn’t want to run. The incessant ache between your legs was swelling, your underwear practically soaked with the burning anticipation coursing through your veins. 

“Keep runnin’ your mouth, darlin’. S’only gonna make things worse for you.”

“I ain’t scared of you, Joel.”

“You damn well should be,” he warned. 

Joel’s hand shot out to grab the base of your neck, yanking you a breath away from his lips. The rich scent of whiskey wafted off his lips as he held you close, his fingers tightening around your throat. You rolled your tongue across your bottom lip, an invitation for whatever threat he had. You could take it. 

“Y’think it’s cute actin’ this way? Think you’re just tough shit, and no one will put you in your place, hmm?” Joel whispered. 

“You gonna be the one to do it, Joel?” You challenged. 

Joel used his grip on your throat to spin you toward the door, your cheek smashing into the wood as he pinned you against it. The instant sting of his palm radiated through the denim of your shorts, the heat of his hand melting into your skin. You yelped in pain, dragging your nails over the wood that strained against the press of your body. His hand smoothed over the curve of your ass before delivering another jarring smack. 

“Fuck!” You cried, biting back tears. 

“Spoiled.” Smack. “Fuckin’.” Smack. “Brat.” Smack. Smack. 

“Joel, please!” You begged. 

You weren’t sure if you were begging for more or begging for him to stop. Either way, he was unrelenting, his handprint leaving welts on your skin. Joel’s grip on your throat tightened, restricting your breathing as he dug his fingers into the supple skin of your ass. Prodding…smoothing…spanking. A continuous, viscous cycle you were weak against. Every bite of his hand on your body intensified the throbbing between your legs, your clit swelling with need. Repeating slaps against your other cheek forced tears down your face, their path leading down your neck and onto Joel’s warm hand. 

“You cryin’, darlin’?” Joel taunted. “Gonna beg me to stop?”

“Please—” You choked out, your words garbled and strained. 

Joel’s lips touched your ear, his breath fanning over your skin in waves. 

“M��fraid I can’t. Not til’ y’learn your lesson.”

You twisted your head around, your tired eyes connecting with his. There wasn’t a hint of brown in his irises as his pupils swallowed them whole, an unsatisfied look washing over his features. He wasn’t done, and neither were you. 

“Fuck you,” you snarled. 

Joel tilted his head, his graying mustache twitching as his lips curved into a smile. An unmistakable hint of desire masked his expression, keeping you reeled in and wanting more. If he could keep going, then so could you. 

“You just ain’t backin’ down, huh?” Joel questioned. 

You wagged your head back and forth, his fingers squeezing against your windpipes. Joel’s hand coasted up your waist, tugging at the belt loop on your shorts until your body spun to face his. Even with tears streaming down your cheeks, you grinned at him, clearly unbothered by the onslaught of pain he had inflicted. 

“That all y’got, old man?” You lipped off. 

“Call me old man one more time, darlin’,” Joel warned his face inches from yours. 

“Old. Man.” You punctuated each word through gritted teeth.

Joel cupped your sex through your jeans, no doubt feeling the arousal seeping through the denim fabric. A rouge whimper fell off your lips, and you bit back any more sounds to give away the desperation rolling through your veins.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he exhaled, but there was a lightness in his voice.

You were both giving into some carnal need, electrifying the humid air around you. You chased his mouth, wanting to lap up every threat on his whiskey-drenched tongue. Joel pulled back, your lips connecting with nothing as you arched forward. With a slight pout, you huffed in annoyance. 

“Look who’s actin’ all desperate now. Just beggin’ for this old man to fuck you.”

“Betcha can’t even get it up in the first place,” you grumbled. 

Joel’s hand connected with your cheek, a rough slap sending your face to the side. Dammit, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d done. The sting of his palm sent a wave of pleasure rolling through your stomach, a burning need just aching to come undone. Thick fingers gripped your jaw, wagging your face side to side. 

“I’ve heard enough of that bratty mouth,” Joel said decisively. 

His hands brushed over your collarbone, grasping your shoulders and shoving you to your knees. Your legs hit the straw-covered ground with a soft thud, your skin scraping against the dry hay. He wasted no time undoing his large belt buckle, working his cock out of the confines of his jeans, and your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Joel was hung like a fucking horse, his length thick and no short of any girth. Precum dribbled down off the tip, the sticky mess enticing you to move closer. Staring up at him through your lashes, you waited for his next move. He might have you on your knees, but you’d have his cock, and that was power in itself. 

“Make use of that mouth and suck,” he commanded. 

You lapped at the precum, his cock twitching against every flick of your tongue. You explored his length, dragging your tongue along the veins running down the underside of his cock. Joel gripped the hair at the crown of your head, guiding your mouth over the tip and down his length. Your nose brushed against the bushy hair at the base, his musky scent flooding your senses—it was intoxicating. 

“There we go,” Joel hummed, his voice gravely and strained. “So fuckin’ full of me y’can’t talk back.”

His name came out muffled as you tried to speak, your tongue flatted against the base of his cock. He pushed his cock a centimeter further, the tip knocking against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, your hands slapping against his thick thighs. 

“I don’t wanna hear y’say a damn word,” Joel growled. “You’re gonna take my fuckin’ cock down your throat and choke on it.”

You clawed at his thighs as tears sprung along your waterline, threatening to spill over the longer he kept himself inside your mouth. His fingers tightened around tiny strands of your hair, anchoring you to his cock as he thrusted himself deeper. You tried to protest and pull away, but his grip on you was unforgiving. 

“Please,” you garbled, spit rolling down your chin. 

“Still actin’ like a spoiled fuckin’ brat, ain’t you? Think y’can get whatever you want?”

He granted you an inch to breathe, pulling you halfway off his cock. You inhaled sharply through your nose, trying to latch onto any control. Joel used his grip on your hair to slide your mouth up and down his length, the sound of your lips around his the only noise aside from his labored breathing. You tapped on his thigh twice, hoping he’d relent and give you a reprieve. 

“Real fuckin’ cute,” he laughed. “Struggle all y’want, darlin’. I ain’t stoppin’.”

The tears flowed freely now, mixing with the saliva pooling down your jaw as you worked him deeper down your throat. Every strained attempt to beg him to stop fell on deaf ears; his cock only pushed further down until you had no choice but to sit there completely disarmed and helpless. The scratches left on his thighs didn’t phase him at all, nor did your whimpers as you tried to swallow a breath around him. 

“Keep cryin’, darlin’. Just makes you look prettier when I’m ruinin’ you,” Joel muttered. 

As your nose pressed against the hair at his navel, Joel’s hand brushed over your cheek, collecting a rogue tear on his thumb. Through blurred eyes and running mascara, you blinked up at him right as he tasted the tear pooling on the pad of his fingertip. 

“Delicious,” he hummed.

A dangerous grin split across his face, his hips jerking forward one last time before he wrenched you free from his cock. You coughed violently, the air wooshing back into your lungs with each heaving breath. You swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, wiping off the saliva coating your chin and jaw. 

“You fuckin’ asshole,” you choked out. 

Crouching down, Joel met you at eye level, his eyes soulless and dark. You shivered under his heavy gaze and flinched away from his face as he crowded you. 

“How’s that attitude of yours now?” He questioned. 

You reeled back, sending a glob of spit across the bridge of his nose. Joel scrunched his eyes together, jaw clenched as he wiped away your spit. You bared your teeth at him, still refusing to back down. Joel straightened to his full height, working at shoving his cock back in his jeans. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed; you hated him but wanted more. 

“Guess I ain’t been rough enough,” Joel grumbled, walking down the stable. 

You watched as he picked a bundle of lead rope off the hook near Mac’s stall, weighing it between his hands. A jolt of panic ran through your veins as you saw his eyes light up in mischief. You were so fucked. You half-considered running, but where was the fun in that? Joel would only chase you down, and even that sounded delicious. There was no use in fighting it now; you were in it for the long haul. 

“Now,” he started, his steps slow as he walked back toward your kneeling body. “I’m gonna give you two options. Y’either walk your ass outside like a good girl, or I drag you out by your hair. What’s it gonna be, darlin’?”

“I’ll walk,” you snapped, rising to your feet. 

Your knees ached with each step as you walked into the blinding daylight outside the stables. Gnats swarmed around your face as you stood idle by the entrance, glancing over your shoulder at Joel stalking behind you. The rope swung beside his body as he carried it in his hand, the lingering threat lying within the coarse fibers that wound together. His head jerked over to the tie rack beside the barn, his eyes trained on the vacant stall before the expanse of your land. 

“C’mon, brat.”

He waltzed in front of you, guiding you to the empty platform with a stern look gracing his features. Without a single word, Joel yanked your wrists together, his deft fingers working at knotting the rope around your skin. The fraying pieces bit into your skin, rubbing and burning the longer he twisted it in loops around your hands. He gave the rope a good tug, humming in satisfaction once the binding was tight enough. Guiding your arms upwards, he clipped the lead to the metal loop on one side of the tie rack, keeping your body suspended awkwardly as your wrists ached from the restraint. You refused to say a word, too frustrated even to protest his actions. If you thought you were helpless before, you were utterly powerless now. It was just you, Joel, and the empty stretch of land that went on for miles. 

Joel pressed his body against your back, the warmth of his touch ignited heat within your core all over again. You squirmed as his hands roamed over your curves, his fingers tracing the outline of your breasts under your sweat-covered shirt. He pinched at your nipples, finding their pebbled indentation hidden within your bra. A desperate whine left your lips as you swayed against the pull of the rope, your feet slipping against the ground. 

“See all that land out there,” Joel whispered, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “That’s all mine, darlin’, and I’m gonna make sure you remember that by the time I’m through with you.”

“Tyin’ me up and fuckin’ me ain’t gonna change my mind,” you scoffed. 

“Guess I’m just gonna have to fuck some sense into you.”

Joel’s hands worked down your body, making quick work of undoing your shorts and shoving them down to your boots. The hot, sticky summer air breezed over your bare skin, hardly helping to soothe the painful ache between your thighs. Thick, calloused fingers massaged the skin of your hips, kneading your supple curves as you writhed against his touch. You could beg him for more, and oh god, did you want to. You wanted to cave and relinquish everything just to quell the burning pleasure inside your body, but you wouldn’t beg. Not for Joel Miller or any other man. 

Joel swiped a finger through your drenched folds, tutting at your pliancy. The brief touch alone was enough to spark stars behind your eyes, your breath growing shallow.

“Well, would ya’ look at that,” Joel tutted. “You’re soakin’ my fingers, darlin’.”

You refused to say a word, too afraid you’d succumb to your own devices. You wouldn’t ask him to fuck you, but Jesus Christ, you fucking needed it. Every fiber of your being cried for release, and if it meant you had to be tied up and fucked in front of the yellow fields in front of you, then that’s what you’d do. 

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Joel offered. “Say this land is mine and I’ll let you go.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, no doubt a mess after being on your knees before him. There was a cruelty in his eyes that alarmed you, but you were too focused on what you needed, even to feel afraid. 

“This is my land,” you stated, your chin held high. “S’my family’s land and it’s gonna stay that way ‘til I’m in my grave.”

“Wrong fuckin’ answer.”

Joel knocked your legs apart, the denim of his jeans dragging against your slick arousal. There was a moment where there was absolutely nothing, a vacancy of sound or touch that deprived your senses. Maybe you were teetering on the edge of delirium, too far gone to know what he was doing behind you, but then you felt everything. The thick head of his cock brushed against your entrance, rubbing between your silken folds in tantalizing strokes. That was the only warning he gave before pushing himself deeper, splitting you open inch by inch. You cried out as your body worked to stretch around his length, and your vision blackened as the sharp pain of the sensation jolted through your veins. 

“Fuck!” You screamed. 

The adjustment to his size was agonizing despite how wet you were. Nothing could have prepared you for the way Joel broke you open, nor was there anything that could have prepared you for how brutal he would become. Thrust after thrust, he assaulted you, completely breaking you and molding you to his cock. The pull of the rope burnt the skin of your wrists as he took you harder, your body lurching against the restraints with each snap of his hips. Joel tugged your body backward, shifting your legs until you were forced to bend at the waist. Words wouldn’t form on your lips, and you dissolved into a heap of wailing cries as he plunged deeper into you. 

“Where’s all that loudmouthin’ now?” Joel grunted, his fingers bruising your hips. “So fuckin’ cock drunk y’can’t even speak?”

Your silence only drove him crazier, his speed quickening mercilessly. The ache inside your core was all-consuming, a burning wildfire inside your stomach. You dropped your head between your shoulders and dug your nails into your palms, keeping yourself grounded. 

“Joel,” you gasped. “Please.”

You failed in your attempts not to beg this man, throwing everything to the wayside as you succumbed to the pulsing ache between your legs. 

“Shut up, brat,” he snapped. 

“Joel!” You sobbed. “I’m gonna—fuck—please. I need to—to…”

The words turned to ash on your tongue as he snaked a hand around your body, his fingers drawing circles over your swollen clit. You yelped at the roughness of his fingers, the sensation alone nearly causing your legs to buckle beneath you. If it weren’t for the ropes holding you firmly in place, you would have fallen to the ground. 

“Poor thing,” he crooned in your ear. “Y’wanna cum? Is that what you want?”

Another drive of his hips. Another draw of his fingers. Tormenting movements that kept you on the edge of ecstasy and suffering. Your arousal pooled down your inner thighs, mixing with the sticky sweat that clung to every inch of your skin. 

“I need it, Joel,” you gasped. “Christ, please!”

“Y’gonna change your mind?”

“N—.”

Joel pinched your clit between his fingers, and your words drowned out under a helpless wail falling from your lips. He pulled you back by your hair, winding it around his fist as he drew his lips down your neck. The sweltering touch of his mouth on your skin and his rough fingers on your sensitive bud were enough to topple you closer to the edge. The furnace igniting inside your stomach wouldn’t stop any time soon, but you still wouldn’t give up. He was always going to be wrong, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction. 

“Say it, darlin’. Say the words, and y’can cum all over my cock.”

“Never,” you panted. “Never gonna—.”

He pistoned into you, his cock spearing deeper and deeper, completely paralyzing you. Sobs wracked through your body as you took every thrust, and your mind began to float off into a blissed-out haze that drowned out the noise behind you. 

“Gonna own all this fuckin’ land,” Joel gritted out. “Own it just like I own this fuckin’ pussy.”

Please. Please. You weren’t sure if you repeated the words inside your mind or aloud; either way, Joel only huffed a laugh and continued with his repetitive assaults on your body. Your orgasm began barreling toward you, your core fluttering around him as it sparked beneath your skin. Everything inside you tensed up, and your jaw went slack with an outward cry as you slipped under the rapid release coursing inside your body. 

“Oh fuck!” You sobbed. “Fuck… fuck… fuck!”

Your sex clenched around Joel so hard he choked on a breath, his body rigid against yours as you spasmed beneath his hold. Hot, wet streams of your orgasm drenched his cock as he tore through your orgasm with shallow thrusts. Jole rammed into you over and over again until another wave of pleasure slammed into your body. 

“Fuckin’ brat,” he hissed. “Never said y’could cum, did I?”

His hand vanished from your waist and returned to the welted skin of your ass with a resounding smack. There wasn’t enough air in your lungs to cry out, nor any more tears to shed. You hung against the ropes, limp and pliant, as he took you with abandon. 

With another snap of his hips against yours, Joel spilled into you, his release filling you to the brim as he released a carnal groan. You could barely lift your head to look back at him as he untangled his fingers from your hair and pulled away. 

Every atom inside your body was pulsing with overstimulation, your ass welted and bruised, and your throat raw from screaming. The constant thrum of your heartbeat in your ears smothered the sound of Joel’s belt buckle clanging together, the warmth of his body far removed from yours as you stood on tired legs. Moments passed without a single touch, and you wondered if Joel would leave you there tied to the rack and dripping with cum. 

“Think y’learned your lesson now?” He asked, his voice sounding far away. 

All you could do was wag your head in protest, your eyes pinned down to the floor, fixated on the pool of saliva that had fallen from your lips. Joel appeared beside you, his grey hair dissolved and face red from exertion. He worked at unclasping the rope from the hook, unbinding your wrists until your arms fell limp to your sides. Your body was weightless without the stability of the rope, and you fell forward, anticipating the impact against the cement. Joel was quicker, though, winding a strong arm around your front and holding you up. 

“Easy now, darlin’,” he whispered softly. “Easy.”

Your fingers wrapped around his arm, clinging to anything to escape the impending collapse of your entire body. Your boots scruffed against the cement of the stall, kicking dust into the air around you. With his arm still braced around your chest, he used the other to guide your shorts back up your legs and onto your hips. You hissed as the denim rubbed against your ass, the swell of your skin still prickling with pain no matter how brief the touch was. 

“Can y’stand on your own?” He asked. 

“Mhmm,” you mumbled.

“Attagirl.”

Yet as he released your body, you staggered forward, grasping onto the tie rack for support. Joel waited until you found your balance and offered a hand. You were hesitant but relented silently. He took your wrists in one large hand and began massaging at the reddened skin, working out any tension left from the rope. You stared blankly at him, watching a crease burrow between his eyebrows. You still hated him, right? Right? Something so minimal shouldn’t make your heart pound against your chest, but there you were, speechless as you watched this rough man touch your skin with a tenderness he had yet shown. 

“Suns goin’ down soon,” he muttered, nodding to the sky. 

You peered over your shoulder, surprised to see the sun dipping over the horizon. You hadn’t noticed the pinky hue of the sunset while he fucked you, but now you stared at it in wonderment. 

“Guess it is,” you sighed. “Y’should get your ass off my property ‘fore it gets too late.”

Joel snorted, glancing up at you through thick lashes. In the dwindling sunlight, his eyes had dissolved from onyx back into a glistening amber color, the flecks of rich brown dancing as he looked at you. 

“Stubborn lil’ thing,” he huffed. 

He dropped your hands and straightened to his full height. Perspiration coated his button-up, staining it in dark spots as excess beats of sweat still rolled down his muscular neck. You tamed the flyaways of your hair, trying to minimize the obscenity of your look the longer he stood before you. It was no use after what he had done. 

“Y’ain’t changin’ your mind, huh?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. 

Joel rolled his eyes and shoved a hand into his front pocket. Leaning close, he brought his other hand to your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers brush over your cheek before pulling away. 

“Guess I’ll just come back tomorrow and try again.”

“Y’come back here tomorrow, and I’ll shoot you dead, Miller.”

He cracked a grin and began to retreat toward his horse beside the stable. You stood motionless as he mounted the brown mare, slipping the reigns between his hands. Joel gave you a farewell wave before taking off across the flowing fields, his broad figure dissolving into the sunset. You slumped against the wall of the stables, letting your body fall to the ground. A smile slid across your face, taking in the open land before you. 

You didn’t give up. It was all still yours.

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[bunnis-monsters]

See you again

Male!Yandere!Vampire x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 8th

Oct 7th

Oct 9th

summary: when a rich vampire suspects you are a reincarnation of his lover, you have no choice but to return with him to his manor and become his wife.

warnings: yandere behavior, breeding, dubcon, aphrodisiac venom

a/n: sorry this is so late I’ve had horrible writers block lately ><

Moonlight flickered through the stained glass window, casting a multicolored light across your plump frame.

You almost glowed, looking like an angel sent from above.

He had spotted you across the ballroom an hour ago.

The vampire usually never came to such things, but it was a particularly lonely night for him. About 20 years ago, his human lover died in his arms. A plague had swept across the town she lived, and he hadn’t been there quick enough to turn her before the illness took her life.

He had spent all that time in agony, drifting between thoughts of suicide and loathing, to moments of bliss when he’d remember how much he loved her… and she loved him.

Tonight was the anniversary of her death, and he figured he’d drown his sorrows in the blood of the rich and expensive alcohol.

Instead, he found you.

You were sitting at a table, your elegant gown ill fired on your plump frame. Your breasts were absolutely squished by the tight fabric, and his eyes were drab to your fat belly.

If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought you were her, his love, his everything. You had the same plump frame, eye color, hair the same texture and style…

God you were gorgeous… his pants tightened as he caught a whiff of your perfume.

The same scent she used to use.

He took in a deep breath before approaching you. Maybe a night of fun could… make him feel just a little bit better.

“Hello, beautiful…”

You didn’t look up, assuming he was talking to someone else. This made him pause for a moment before he walked closer and cleared his throat. “My lady, may I have a word with you?”

When your eyes met his, he nearly teared up. He felt an instant spark, his undead heart soaring. You had to be her, no one else had ever made him feel this way before!

“What is it you’d like to speak about?”

He sat down across from you, smiling. “How about you tell me your name?”

The two of you spent the next hour making idle small talk, with him leading most of it. You were shy and soft spoken, much like you had been in your previous life.

You had borrowed a dress from your cousin to attend this party in hopes of finding a decently wealthy husband, an order given to you by your father. That explained why your gown was ill fitting. The man frowned deeply, his fangs threatening to peek out from his lip.

He would be making sure you wore only the finest of fabrics from now on, each dress and outfit custom made to suit your figure. Gods, he wanted to undress you right now more than anything…

But things like this were a process. He didn’t want to hurt or scare you so badly that you tried to flee, and he would rather you home with him willingly. Scaring you would have to wait until you were reliant on him…

So instead he listened to your woes and leaned forward. As long as he could get close enough to your neck to deliver a bite, he could bring you home with him…

“So your father’s business isn’t doing well, I assume?”

You nodded shyly, playing with a bit of lace on your dress. “That’s why he wants me to marry quickly while he still has his status… he hopes that my future husband will support him financially enough to keep the business afloat.”

“How troublesome, being stuck in the middle of this…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, shivering when he made contact with your soft skin. “Mmm… wouldn’t it be nice to get away from it all?”

You were about to say something, but he spoke over you. “Come with me, my love… perhaps I can do something to help.”

Your eyes lit up. He was dressed well, and people seemed to respect him enough to make way for him while you walked through the crowded ballroom to somewhere private! Maybe he could help your father…

But as he closed the door, something shifted. His eyes that had previously been a rich brown in color suddenly changed to be a startling ruby red.

“Oh, how I have yearned for you…”

He was on you in seconds, pinning you to the wall. You couldn’t even scream before his teeth were sinking into your neck, something thick and warm coursing through your veins.

“My venom will help this be a pleasant experience for you, my princess… gods…”

He shivered in pleasure, his bulge pressing into your thigh as he lapped up your blood. “Fuck, I missed you, I missed you so damn much…”

Tears fell down his face, his lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss. His fangs nipped at your tongue, but he didn’t seem to care. The man needed you more than anything.

He held onto you so tightly that your skin began to bruise. It had been decades since he had seen his lover, and going so long without you had been agony. Every night he lay awake, unable to sleep or even exist in peace without you by his side.

And now that he had you back… he wasn’t going to let you go.

It took only a moment for the aphrodisiac in his venom to kick in. Your body grew hot and weak, your pussy drenched within seconds. When he pulled down the zipper of your stress, you wiggled out of it and willingly clung to him.

“S-so warm… p-please… make it better…”

Your soaked panties against his bulge made him hiss. In his twisted, lovesick mind this proved to him that you were her. You wanted him, you loved him!

“Of course…” he purred, stroking your clit through the wet fabric. “Anything for you, I’d gather the stars and lay them at your feet if it meant you’d be happy, my love…”

Seeing your fat pussy for the first time in years was enough to have him rock hard.

Back before you died, you had always wished for children, but he was too stubborn, not wanting it. When he was ready, it was too late and you were gone.

He had regretted it ever since. How he yearned to see your belly swell with his baby, to fill you up with cum and make you a happy mother…

“My pretty girl…”

He rubbed his tip against your entrance. It was flushed an angry red, desperate to feel your gummy insides. “I love you… I love you so much…”

He pushed in, capturing your lips in a kiss as he fucked into your warm cunt. All he wanted now was to cherish and protect you, to lock you away and make sure no one but him got to even look at his beautiful girl.

They didn’t deserve you, didn’t have the honor of laying their eyes on you. Only he did.

He lost count of how many times he came inside of you. The aphrodisiac in his venom had you crying out and blubbering for more, desperate for his touch. It ands his chest will with bride to watch your belly bulge with his cum.

As he road home in his carriage with your exhausted body in his lap, he couldn’t help but rub your fat belly, a fond look in his eyes.

He was getting a redo, and this time he’d give you everything you wanted, treasure you even more than he had before.

And there was nothing you could do to convince him otherwise. You were his, bound to him by fate. Even if you had no memory of this man… it was no use.

You would be with him until the day you died… if he let you.

want more? I thought about expanding on this and making it more of a thought out story… I’ll do it if you send me a kofi! ><

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @sunset-214 @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @swasti8854 @an-ever-angry-bi

[navybrat817]

Give Me One More

Pairing: Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You don't need Bucky. He's going to prove you wrong. Over and over and over...

Word Count: Over 3.7k

Warnings: DUBCON to be safe, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, masturbation, established and slightly toxic relationship, pet names, possessive behavior, family drama, betrayal, threats (not against reader), loose backstory, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit mean, okay?).

A/N: I spoke about prisoner!Bucky ages back and I couldn't let this go. Especially not when I'm looking at that beautiful edit by the more beautiful @nixakimbo! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own (but thanks to @whisperlullaby for discussing this man with me!). Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You pushed the curtain aside to look out the bedroom window, the clouds dark and thick in the sky. Your home used to be your safe haven, a place of comfort, and all you wanted to do now was escape from your prison of sorts. Not the kind of place your boyfriend, Bucky, spent time in. The bars that kept you in couldn't be seen by the naked eye.

“Can't stay in there all day,” Bucky said from the hall, his deep voice reminding you that you weren't alone.

You’d never be alone again.

“Yes, I can,” you called back. You had been in your bedroom for well over an hour since you snapped at him and left him alone in the living room. If staying in there meant avoiding him, you were fine with that.

You half expected him to stomp down the hall, but he only said, “You’re being a fucking brat.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as anger flowed through you. “Leave me alone, asshole!” You shouted, feeling every bit like the brat he said you were.

You weren’t sure what set you off today. It could've been because you were still angry that Bucky used you. How long did it take for an empire to fall? In your case, six months.

Half a year ago, Bucky Barnes bumped into you at your favorite coffee shop. Literally. He was large, built like a powerhouse, but his grip that kept you from falling was so gentle. One look in his cerulean eyes and you were a goner. He easily charmed his way into your life and bed. He treated you like a princess, better than any boyfriend before, and you naively believed it was fate that brought you together.

You should’ve known it wasn't the beginning of a happy new chapter in your story. It was a clock winding down to your doom. More specifically, your father’s doom. Because Bucky wanted to destroy the man who helped land him in jail.

The White Wolf, a nickname for Bucky you recently learned about, wasn't a good man. Far from it and far from being a reformed criminal. He took it personally that your dad got him put behind bars for a short time. So he tore his life apart. Took his job away. Urged his friends to abandon or turn on him. Got him put in jail. Bucky even rubbed it in his face that he fucked his daughter. All in six months.

It would almost be impressive if you weren't the one living with the aftermath.

Had your dad known exactly who you were seeing, he may have tried to stop you.

“Asshole,” you muttered.

What Bucky didn't plan on was falling for you or so he said. You were, apparently, his chance at happiness. Because of that, he wouldn't let you go. And he expected you to just forgive him and move forward.

How could you forgive him?

He promised he’d hunt you down if you tried to leave him. You naturally tried and didn't get very far. The sick part was how much you enjoyed him chasing after you and bringing you back. After he fucked you where he found you.

As if he read your mind, he called out, “I know you're frustrated. Bet if you sit on my cock you'll feel better.”

Your cheeks flamed, your panties damp. Damn him for still arousing you with so little words. “Go fuck yourself.”

That actually wasn't a bad idea. He was right. You were frustrated and itching to get out of your own skin. Maybe if you got yourself off, you’d feel a little better. Not happy, but better.

“I don't need him,” you said.

That was what you told yourself as you stripped down and got on the bed. But as you ran your hands along your breasts, gasping as you moved one hand lower, it didn't feel right. The normal fire within you didn't burn. Didn't even a flicker. A raw ache instead outweighed the pleasure you tried to give yourself.

“Damn it,” you muttered.

You heard Bucky’s dark chuckle from the doorway and made the mistake of looking his way. You weren't sure how long he'd been standing there, but his cock was free from the confines of his pants and he lost his shirt at some point, too. He didn't attempt to hide the array of scars and tattoos that littered his torso. Ones you traced with your fingers and tongue more times than you could count. Back when you weren't a pawn in his game.

But if you really were a pawn, why did he have your name tattooed over his chest?

“Looks like you need a hand,” he said, brushing back his long hair as his eyes moved along your body from head to toe.

You ignored your racing heart as you said through your teeth, “Go away.”

He tore your life apart like a tornado, leaving destruction where there was once calm and beauty. Instead of letting you pick up the pieces, he continued to wreck everything around you. He broke you, too, but you were also the only thing he put back together.

The smirk he gave you was one you used to adore. “What’s wrong, princess? Still mad at me?”

You scoffed. Was he serious? “Yes, I’m fucking mad at you.”

“Still mad about the past? Or is it because you can't get out of your own head long enough to make yourself come?” He taunted, slowly stroking his thick cock. “Did you ever actually get yourself off before me? Or did you not know what an orgasm was until I gave you one?”

You watched with a lustful gaze as his hand moved up and down, your eyes not leaving the sight as you desperately tried to get some sort of relief. “I had plenty before you showed up,” you hissed, sliding a finger into your tight hole.

“You know, all you have to do is admit that I'm right: That I've ruined you and all you can think about is how good it feels when I'm fucking you. Admit it and I’ll get you off.”

Pushing another finger inside yourself, you refused to admit that he was telling the truth. Nothing felt as good as he did. And that was the problem, wasn't it? You shouldn't want or need him. Not after everything he had done to your family.

He groaned as he watched your fingers sink in. “You're so pathetic laying there. My pretty little slut wants to prove the impossible. Just wants to prove that she doesn't need me when we both know that's a fucking lie,” he grunted as his cock twitched, making you clench in want despite your anger at his words. “Better hurry up and say it. Otherwise I'm going to come all over you and you're going to be left begging to come and not get off at all.”

You whined as a tear fell from your eye. “You're an asshole. The lowest of the low.”

He chuckled as he brushed his thumb along the tip, watching as your eyes followed the motion. “Now you're just trying to hurt my feelings and that's mean, princess. That isn't you. I'm the mean one in this relationship.”

Your fingers froze as you narrowed your eyes. “Relationship? Don't you mean your prisoner?”

Your breath caught in your throat when he smirked, something darker than before. “You think you're a prisoner? You have no fucking idea. I’ve been to prison. This is a fucking walk in the park,” he said, pouring more salt in the open wound when he added, “And your dad knows all about prison now, doesn't he?”

You choked on your next breath. “How dare-”

“Relationship, prisoner, my girl. You're still fucking mine,” he snarled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “And I'm still right. So just say it. Tell me you need my cock and I'll get you off. Fuck that pretty pussy so good you cry for me. Won't even make you apologize for repeatedly calling me an asshole.”

“I wish I never met you,” you blurted out.

Guilt churned in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. Why did you still care after what he did? Why did he matter to you? “You don't mean that,” he whispered before he blinked, ice in his gaze. “You’re just being a fucking brat.”

You let out a small scream of frustration when you removed your fingers and reached for your side drawer where you kept your vibrator. If Bucky was going to keep being an asshole who wouldn't get you off, your toy would. But he didn't let you get very far. Not when he was on you in a flash, throwing the toy far behind him and pinning your wrists above your head.

His breathing was almost as heavy as yours.

“Oh no, princess. You're so confident you can come without me then that must mean you don't need any help at all coming,” he smirked, gripping your wrists tighter as you squirmed beneath him. You didn't dare look down when his cock brushed against your skin. “It's cute that you think you're stronger than I am. That sexual frustration must really be fucking with your head. I can fix that.”

“You're fucking sick. I don't… I… I don't need you,” you said, not having to see your eyes to know your pupils were blown with lust. Your tongue darted out to lick bottom lip before your gaze settled on his, challenging. “You need me more than I need you. What was it you said? That I was the best pussy you ever had? And you’d be happy to keep your cock in me all day every day?”

“Just like my cock is the best you ever had.”

You opened your legs a bit more when he clenched his jaw. “And you don't want to finish on me. You want to be in me. If it were any other guy, he'd-”

He growled when he grabbed your chin. It was a reminder of just how strong he was and how he could hurt you if he wanted to. “There are no other guys. Do you fucking hear me?”

It was your turn to smirk. Bucky was a lot of things, but he never strayed. Not once. He would forever be faithful. “You sure about that? Maybe I can't relax right now, but if you won't fuck me I’m sure I can find someone who-”

He flipped you on your stomach and gripped the back of your neck before you could finish that statement. “If you think I wouldn’t kill any guy who touches you, you’re out of your fucking mind. Keep pushing me, sweetheart. See what happens.”

You bit back a moan at the gravel in his voice as you turned your head to the side, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. It was dangerous to poke the bear, but you were past the point of caring. Especially when fury looked beautiful on him. “What's wrong, Bucky? Don't like the taste of your own medicine?”

He leaned down, his breath harsh against your ear. “I prefer the taste of your pussy. Always so good for me. You wanna hear that I need you? Fine. I fucking need you,” he rasped, biting at your earlobe. “Happy?”

“And that you’re sorry?”

“For hurting you? Yes,” he whispered, nosing along your neck. “Never meant to hurt you.”

You shuddered, almost delirious from needing to come. And the fact that he admitted that he needed you. That he was sorry for hurting you. But you weren't ready to play nice. “I'll be happier when you finally decide to fuck me, but you're just a fucking asshole, aren't you?”

He let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I'm a fucking asshole.” He nipped your earlobe roughly again in retaliation before settling between your legs and teasingly brushing the tip of his cock along your folds. “And I'll fuck you when you say you need me, too.”

You tried to push back to take him in, but he kept a firm hold on your hips. You tried to wiggle out of it, but it only brought you frustration as you groaned. “If you're really going to make me say it, don't hold your breath. You can't threaten me, Bucky. You're all talk. And guess what?” You said, smiling sweetly. “I can find another guy to fuck me better than you can.”

You couldn’t see the thunderous look in his eyes, but you heard the low and menacing chuckle in his throat. It sent chills down your spine. Maybe you pushed too far this time, but you didn’t care. He deserved it and worse.

“You're trying to piss me off and I want you to remember that you pushed me to this,” he said more to himself than you before sheathing you in one hard thrust, your mouth falling open in a cry at his sudden intrusion. “Hope you enjoy the bed since you won't even be able to walk out of this room.”

You stared at the wall, your eyes unseeing as Bucky tore you apart. Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. The sound of his grunts from behind you filled your ears, along with the brutal slap of skin-on-skin. Your body burned, the overwhelming stretch from his cock making you lose sense of yourself. You told yourself he’d finish fucking you soon, but that felt like ages ago.

You also told yourself there was no way you’d have another orgasm, but he proved you wrong. Climax after climax, your release practically flooded around him. At this rate, you really wouldn't be able to get out of bed.

“Bucky,” you gasped, trying to grip the sheets for purchase as he pulled out and slammed back into you. “Please…”

You were boneless, exhausted, and he just kept going. “Oh, no, princess. You wanted to get off.”

Tears of ecstasy streamed down your cheeks, whimpering when you felt yourself on the cusp of another orgasm. How was that possible? How many had he given you? “Bucky, I…” you moaned as you clenched around his cock again.

He cooed, a taunting sound when you choked on a sob. “So good, but I want another.”

“I don't… ” Your eyes rolled back, your head spinning. “I can't.”

You’d seriously lost count at that point how many times you’d come. And your whimper didn't stop Bucky from mockingly cooing again. “Aww, you don't think you can? My poor little fuck doll can still talk which means she hasn't had enough yet. This pussy is so fucking wet for me, so swollen,” he taunted, reaching underneath you and flicking your overstimulated clit as a choked moan escaped you, your walls tightening around him once again. “See? Your greedy little cunt can't get enough of me.”

Why did your body need him so badly? “I can't…” you whined as he licked one of your tears away, seemingly unbothered by the sheen of sweat on your face.

“You think anyone else can do this? Work your body up like this over and over again?” He grunted against your cheek. Your eyes squeezed shut at his harsh panting, his pace not slowing. “All you had to do was say that you need me. But no. You just had to be a fucking brat.”

You practically wailed as you teetered on the edge of another orgasm. “I-I need you. Just you, Bucky,” you said. At least, you thought you said it. You had a tough time stringing any thoughts together with his cock splitting you open.

But his thrusts don’t slow. They were just as relentless as before. “Oh, no. You had your chance to say it,” he snarled, leaning up to pull your hips back against his. “And my pussy is telling me all I need to know. So just lay there and give me another.”

The pleasure bordered on the edge of pain as a sob escaped. There was no possible way you could come again. As much as you thought you couldn’t take it, your body tensed. You still craved him and wanted to give him one more. So you did. You shattered. It was almost too easy that he managed to pull another orgasm from your pliable body.

Or maybe you were just easy for him.

Bucky smacked your ass hard enough to make you cry out, his hand kneading the flesh with a delighted groan. “Fuck, each one is better than the last, princess. You want me to fill you up huh? You wanna feel me dripping from you?” He chuckled darkly, finally slowing down as you let out another sob. He shushed you before he put a hand on the back of your neck and kept you down. “I’m gonna fill you up and you’re gonna take it. Then, I'm gonna lick you clean until I'm satisfied.”

“No…”

He gave you one more smack for good measure when you made a sound of protest. “C'mon, princess. Beg for me to fill you up. If you can talk.”

You didn’t know if you could. You were practically a drooling mess as he drove in as deep as he can go. “Pl… Pl… Bu…” you tried to moan, another tear falling as he shushed you again.

“Got you cockdrunk, didn't I? Need to be pumped full? Then let me give you every. Fucking. Drop.”

A tired moan came out when he filled you up, giving a few slow thrusts as he finished. Your body trembled beneath him, a whiplash of chills and heat. You barely registered him pulling out before he flipped you onto your back. Glassy and unfocused eyes. Makeup smeared all your face. Tears stains on your cheeks. You must’ve looked quite the sight.

He relished in ruining you.

And the beautiful bastard didn’t even look like he broke a sweat.

“Should I call you a dog? You’re drooling, princess,” he smirked. You didn’t have it in you to argue as his eyes drifted down to your pussy. It was still twitching and leaking with your mixed release. He licked his lips as he slid down your body more to fully take in the sight. “And you look good enough to eat, so I think that's just what I'll do.”

“What…” you gasped. He couldn't. Not after all that.

You whimpered as you tried to push him away with a tired hand, but he grabbed your wrists with a tsk. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You keep your hands to yourself. I told you I wasn't done with you and it's rude to keep a man from his meal.”

You were still floating from the multiple orgasms he gave you when he took his first lick. Your shivers picked up again and he groaned at your taste before diving in. Any strength you had to try to push him away depleted immediately, even with how sensitive your walls felt. You couldn't stop him.

You’d never be able to stop him.

After a minute, your eyes widened when you felt him build you up again. “No,” you moaned, but the sight of him between your legs, eating you like he was starving, was too much.

He just hummed against you. "Give. Me. One. More.”

Your back arched when his lips latched onto your clit, forcing the orgasm from your worn out body. You weren’t sure if you made a sound, but you trembled as your release went on for what seemed like forever. Bucky’s tongue lapped it all up, humming before he sat back and looked at your wrecked form again. He made a show of licking the shine from his lips and looked just as proud as ruining you with his tongue the way he did with his cock.

“If you ever try to threaten me with another man or refuse to admit you want me again, I'll make sure to tie you to this bed for a week and refuse to let you come even if you beg for it. And I shouldn’t have to mention what else I can do. Do you understand?”

You trembled, knowing exactly what Bucky was capable of. While he never laid a hand on you to inflict pain, you knew the damage he did to others. Like the bodies buried and cold in the ground because of him. Not to mention the connections he still had at the prison. All he had to do was say the word and that would be the true end of your dad.

With unfocused and teary eyes, you gave him a nod. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered.

“Now tell me you love me and that you’re sorry,” he ordered.

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. “…Love you. I’m sorry.”

His smile was tender and for a second you forgot about everything else. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, your heart betraying you like your body did when he kissed your lips. “And I love you, too.”

You whined as he left your line of sight, but he came back almost right away to sit beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. “Drink it, princess,” he urged, his voice gentler than before he helped you take a sip of water. He even smiled again when he wiped another tear of yours away. “We can go back to the way it was before, you know. When you were blissfully unaware and we just quickly fell in love.”

The pain in your heart came and went as your breathing evened. You wished you could go back to innocent movie nights and meals. To waking up beside him with a smile on your face. To making love so passionate that you believed you were made for each other. There was no changing anything or going back. You could only move forward with him by your side.

Bucky sighed when you didn't say anything. “I know I’m a piece of shit, but I won't stop loving you. And I think you learned your lesson.”

You blinked a little as you took another sip, on the verge of passing out.

“You’re mine and I’m never letting you go,” he whispered, brushing the gentlest of kisses against the top of your head. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”

So... I know he isn't all good, but I had fun writing this and I hope you lovelies enjoyed it! Would love to hear your thoughts and maybe I'll expand on this? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[aces-to-apples]

I go with Justified Asshole, personally. I also think it's pretentious (and, frankly, dickish) to think that your work needs shock value to be a worthwhile story, but they slapped a Not Telling, Read At Your Own Risk sign on it as is the literal bare minimum requirement and their right, so anyone who gets upset about unwarned upsetting stuff has no leg to stand on.

AITA For Not Tagging a Work?

I, 32F, write primarily for my own enjoyment, my main platform being AO3. I currently have a multi-chaoter series that includes several major plot twists, including one that includes non-con. To avoid spoiling it, because I believe my stories deserve to be read with as little background info as possible, I only tag it as "Creator CHOSE not to Include Archive Warnings". Which is, as I hope is obvious, is not synonymous with "There Are No Warnings". The point is, I don't use the Rape/Non-con tag. Recently, I got a very upset reader in my comments complaining about how triggering that chapter of my work is, and that's where I have a problem. I believe the corporate obsession content warnings pervading even fanworks to be a major problem. I don't want to sanitize my work, but I do get that they contain pretty heavy themes. But I feel like I seriously do give my stories a disservice by adding labels on them, and maybe I am the asshole for this, but I value my pride and joy (my work) over strangers online. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[honeyhotteoks]

under his eye (lnds; sylus)

summary: sylus puts you under his thrall and takes exactly what he wants from you and your body.

note: this is my first love and deepspace fic, and definitely one of my more intense fics thematically for my regular readers who may dip into this one too. i have a few lnds ideas knocking around, so i may post more at some point. ♡

warnings: actual vampire!sylus, fem!reader, mc!reader, this is entirely smut but please mind the warnings here: heavy dubcon (there is enthusiastic consent explicit in the fic just not at first), cnc, use of thrall/mind-control, dollification, fingering, oral (f receiving), actual somno, rough sex, allusions to primal play, blood play, actual vampire behavior, orgasm denial/orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected sex (he's a vampire tho get real), creampie, praise and shame in equal measure, a LOT of dirty talk from sylus, heavy use of pet names like good girl, sweet girl, kitten, sweetheart, darling, etc., some implied size kink with the use of 'little' but it's meant more mean teasing from him than anything, tenderness, consent talks, check-ins, aftercare, sylus literally loves her in this dw

pairings: vampire!sylus x hunter!reader

genre: smut, porn with very little plot

word count: 5.6k

for my fellow sylus fans, you can probably tell this was fully inspired by his secret times audio 'midnight warmth' - i basically hit level 35 and then went fully insane when i first heard it..... so a few lines of dialogue are borrowed from that.

It’s hard to imagine what it feels like to be in a vampire’s thrall unless you’ve experienced it before. You don’t think you’d ever be able to find the words, not properly. You’ve heard it described, in training, in books, in your own personal research, but it all pales in comparison to what it’s actually like. The slow, hypnotic build up into the haze and the sudden descent into a deeper, darker place where your mind resonates at a lower frequency, fixed on one singular sound. One voice.

Sylus. 

His rich, honeyed tone had pushed you under before you could even process it. 

You try to remember where you were before this moment, who you were, but there are only flickers. The hotel room around you is large and unfamiliar, outfitted decadently in the dark jewel tones he favors so much. The black silk sheets under your back is the only sensation you have other than the slow pulse of your own heartbeat in your ears. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember a joke, something you quipped over your shoulder about how there must be laws in place in the N109 zone, how ‘vampire’s lair’ must be the only legal style of decor in this sector of space. 

He had laughed, a real, genuine laugh from deep in his chest before he wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your hair. 

You don’t like being in a vampire’s lair, kitten? 

You can still hear his words, swimming around your foggy brain, his voice so low and warm in his chest. 

I thought you liked being my pretty paramour. 

Sylus’s hands had wandered, playing with the buckles of your hunter’s leathers and letting his fingertips ghost over your collarbones, up your throat, and pass gently over your lips before stepping back and away from you entirely. You felt strange from that moment on, disquieted. 

You made excuses in your own mind for how you were feeling, weeks of investigations and sleepless nights, that’s why your body felt like it was dragging itself through butter just trying to eat dinner. 

You apologized, you wouldn’t have called him if you had realized just how tired you were.

But he just smiled at you, appraising you with his sharp red eyes in that way he often does, nodding along to your staggered attempts at conversation. 

You realized what he was doing in the last split second before your mind became his. 

His gaze turned darker, searing into you, and with one word you felt the world drop out from underneath you. 

Sleep. 

You don’t remember how you ended up on the bed. 

Now your head is swimming as you try harder and harder to focus your mind and recall the little details.

“Stop resisting, darling,” Sylus murmurs, and you feel the mattress dip. 

You can’t respond, you can’t even really move, and a nervous panic starts to work its way up your spine.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to you now that you can see him in your vacant line of vision, and he nods, “Just relax,” 

Your muscles soften. 

“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” Sylus leans closer, his fingers tugging at the buckles and straps of your clothes. 

You watch as he meticulously undresses you, peeling away layers of your uniform, a satisfied groan whispered from his lips as he parts open your blouse, another when he does away with your tight leather pants. All the while, you’re boneless, trapped by his last command and fully at his mercy. The Hunter’s Academy never prepared you for this. 

“You really are a pretty thing,” Sylus hums, his cool hand drifting up and down your body from the base of your bra to the top of your underwear, “so soft,” 

Nerves pulse through you again, your body twitching under his hands. 

“Shh,” He soothes, “it’s only me, relax,” 

Your muscles melt further, any lingering tension bleeding out of your body at his words, your head rocking softly to one side, your cheek against the silk pillowcase. 

“That’s a good girl,” 

You sigh, a sudden needy tug deep in your belly at his words. 

“Mm,” His hand drifts higher, dancing over your chest and passing over your breasts, the rough drag of your cloth bra against your nipple pulling a tiny whine from your lips. 

He chuckles softly, repeating his motions and you whine again. 

“How lovely and responsive you are,” Sylus says, pulling the fabric of your bra down until it catches under the swell of your breasts, “what other little noises can I pull out of you, kitten?” 

He rolls a thumb over your nipple, drawing it up to a tight, almost painful peak, and you whimper at the flood of sensation through your chest and down your abdomen. 

“And this?” He pinches, a tug that leaves you involuntarily jerking. 

“And here?” You can’t see him with the way your head is turned, but you feel his fingers ghost over the hem of your panties and you suck in a sharp breath. 

He adjusts one of your legs, opening it up at the knee to widen his access, and then he presses two fingers a little more firmly at the top of your cunt, expertly locating your clit through your panties and applying steady pressure. 

You moan softly and you hear him release a tight exhale. 

“My,” He lets his fingers slip down, pushing lightly against your slit, “are you wet already?” 

You know you are, your body responding naturally to his voice, to his tender touch. 

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” Sylus leans over you, his breath against your cheek, “when I ask you a question, I’d like a response.” 

Your heart is fluttering, a thunderously fast pounding in your chest. 

His fingers hook under your chin and draw your gaze up, and gently he pushes the hair away from your face as he regards you, his dark eyes full of mirth and a little half smile on his lips. He nods at you, pleased as if you had turned your own head, “Now,” he says, “I asked if you’re wet already?” 

Your knotted up tongue loosens instantly at the question, “Yes,” 

“Good girl,” He coos, leaning over you to press his cool lips to yours. 

You can’t kiss him back, he hasn't told you if you’re allowed to move, but he peppers you with kisses until you feel his fingers slide under the hem of your panties. 

You gasp under him, heat pooling in your belly. 

Sylus dips his fingers into the dripping slickness of your cunt and groans into your ear, “You like this,” he nips at your earlobe, “you’re a mess between your thighs for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” The word slips out, your voice breathy and taut.

  “My pretty little hunter,” He slides his fingers up to your swelling clit and circles his fingers, “does that feel good?” 

You moan a little, his fingers pressing more firmly as he circles, “Yes, Sylus,” 

“Spread out for me,” He presses his head against your temple and turns so he can watch your body twitching as he works his fingers over you, “Wet for me,” 

A hot rush spreads up through your body.

You shouldn’t like this. You shouldn’t want this. But you asked for this, a confession of your fantasies whispered between the sheets at his apartment, and he peeled them apart one by one, teasing you with questions and collecting his information, strumming you to orgasm after orgasm all the while.

You just didn’t know it would be today, weeks and weeks went by without so much as an innuendo. The sudden onset of his thrall and his control over your body shouldn’t be this alluring, but it is. You can’t move, you can’t speak unless he allows you, but every touch of his skin on yours has you ready to throw every instinct out the window because you’re pretty sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been. 

His fingers speed up and your hips buck just a little into the sensation.

  “Dirty girl,” He hums, “you like the way this feels, you like that you can’t move,” 

He twists your dark desires back around on you, a flutter of shame in your chest at the truth of it. 

He explores your cunt with his fingers, toying with you and gathering more wetness to torture your clit with, “You like being helpless, completely in my hands,” he goads you as he works your body up to release, “unable to stop me, or tell me no,” 

Your core throbs, every inch of your body a live wire, shame twisting into a tight knot of need in your belly. 

  “Don’t you?” 

You gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, “Yes, yes!”

”Are you close, kitten?” He purrs in your ear, thrusting his fingers hard and fast, his knuckles rhythmically connecting with your clit. 

  “Yes,” You whine, your body trembling.

  “That’s too bad,” He pulls his hand free and lets your underwear snap back into place. 

If you could move you’d be a whining mess, throwing yourself at him and begging for him to finish the job, but you can’t. He’s stolen your orgasm right out from under you and you can’t even ask him to finish the job. 

“Hmm,” He stands, and you hear the sound of his shirt dropping to the floor, “does it hurt?” 

“Yes,” You manage. 

“Poor baby,” He teases, mocking your little sob, and his thumbs hook under the sides of your panties to yank them roughly off your body, “should I kiss it and make it better?” 

“Please,” 

He drops back down to the bed, this time sliding in between your thighs, and when he speaks again you feel his cool breath whisper across your throbbing center, “Ask nicely,” 

Your voice is shaky when you finally find the words, “Please, Sylus will you touch me?” 

“Touch you where?” 

You whimper, the slightest involuntary jerk of your hips pulling a chuckle from his lips. 

“I said,” He reminds you, “touch you where?” 

“M-my clit,” You beg, “my pussy, please,” 

“Was that so hard?” You can practically see him smiling. 

You open your mouth, ready to respond, but his mouth closes over your clit and all thought and reason you had left disappear. He’s going to ruin you for any other man, you know it. 

Sylus hums, pushing your limp legs painfully wide and laps at your center. There’s no teasing left in him, no gentle licks and featherlight brushes of fingertips, there’s just him, needing to feel you come just as badly as you do. 

The knot in your gut is back with a vengeance, and every impulse in your body is to squirm away from his mouth and let him drag you back down, but you can’t. Sylus takes and takes and you have no choice but to let him. 

When he lifts his mouth to take a quick breath he gives you another command, “Watch me,” 

The tether between you draws your gaze down, and you gasp at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, his broad hands holding open your trembling thighs, and he eats at you like you’re a meal. Your breath comes quicker, blush lighting up your chest. 

“You taste so sweet here,” He groans, barely lifting his mouth, his tongue carving a line up from your entrance to your sensitive bud and you choke out a breathy moan. 

He knows you’re about to come before you do, and you see him smile into your wet heat before he shifts focus, lips closing over your clit and sucking hard, his hand sliding to push two fingers back inside and crook them just right. Within a few sharp pumps of his wrist and a steady flick of his tongue you’re moaning sharply, your release snapping in your belly so hard you see stars. 

You can’t move on your own, but your body crackles apart in rhapsodic shakes and he carries you through the crest of your orgasm with lazy licks. 

“Beautiful,” He murmurs, and you feel the sharp pin prick of pain at your inner thigh. He licks you there too, taking just a little taste from the vein, and then sighs pleasantly and squeezes your thigh. 

He kisses you here once, and then pulls himself up, arranging your legs back down before sliding next to you in the sheets and tugging you close to his chest. 

You rock into him, your body spent and boneless, unable to move to wrap your arms around him or press kisses to his chest. Instead you just are, and he pulls your body up until you’re in the perfect spot in his arms. He tucks his cheek against yours and palms your backside. 

“When you wake,” Sylus whispers low, “it will be on my cock.” 

You shiver, your core pulsing again. 

“And you’ll stay nice and soft and wet for me,” He kisses the hollow of your ear, “my sweet doll,” 

Your eyes start to grow heavy, your head lolling into his shoulder. 

“You’ll let me have my wicked way with your sweet cunt,” His hands flex tightly on your skin, like he’s restraining himself from taking you now, “and when you’re close, right on the edge of coming, you’ll tell me, do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Your words sound lazy, malformed in your cotton mouth but you answer him nonetheless.

“Good,” He murmurs, “and when you come, your hot pussy squeezing my cock, my thrall will end.” 

A hazy question forms in your mind, but you’re so foggy now. 

“But until then,” he sighs, his hands relaxing and his voice softening, “you’ll rest,” 

Your eyes drift shut, a relaxed sigh on your lips, your body indistinguishable in your mind from the sheets wrapped around you. 

Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your hair and strokes your back, “Sleep, little crow,” he says softly, “you’re safe with me,” 

Just like before, the world falls away. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, not when Sylus wakes you the way he does. You come into consciousness incredibly slowly, as if you were out of your body and watching the scene in slow motion. The first thing you register through the muffled world of dreamless sleep is his voice. It doesn’t matter how deeply under you are, still encased in darkness, you hear his voice reach out to you and tug on the invisible tether tying your consciousness to his. 

Needy girl. 

Hands on your thighs, cool air on your cunt. 

Rutting yourself on my thigh. 

Were you? 

Don’t you know I’m the only one allowed to make you come?

A soft moan. Yours, you think distantly. 

Sylus chuckles and hums, no doubt appraising you once again with his hungry eyes. You still feel under the deep water of sleep, your body disconnected and pliant in his hands, his influence so impacting that you remain his plaything even now. 

Fingers dance across your skin, skating lines of ice over your flesh. Sylus studies your body with his touch, a brush against your collarbones, the curve of your shoulders, down your arms into the ditch of your elbows. A brush of lips against your palm, a reverent kiss to your chest, his mouth nuzzling against your belly as he searches more of you with his precious touch. 

Your skin turns sensitive, prickling goose flesh, and he sighs pleasantly into your skin, “So beautiful,” 

His voice feels clearer now, and somewhere in your brain through the membrane of your closed eyelids you register the cool blue of early morning light. 

“My darling,” He hums, another kiss, the shifting of the sheets as he moves, “my sweet girl,” 

You feel the weight of him above you, his legs between yours and his torso radiating a chill as he holds himself above you. Sylus slips one hand into your hair, cradling your head for a moment before he tightens his hold and uses his grip on your scalp to draw your head back, neck stretched long and exposed. 

He drops lower, body ghosting yours, and he buries his face in your throat, pushing his nose into your pulse point. A panicked thrill lances through you, your heartbeat fluttering faster. 

“Shh, shh,” He whispers against your throat, “don’t be frightened,” 

A sharp exhale leaves your lips. 

Sylus kisses your throat, letting his lips linger, “You wanted to play with a vampire, sweetheart, this is what you get,” 

Even in this false sleep, you feel your core flutter, heat pooling again. 

His tongue darts out, tracing a line from your thumping pulse up your vein to your ear and he groans pleasantly, a flutter of breath across your skin, “Next time,” he shudders, “maybe I’ll make you play my favorite game,” 

Your breath quickens. 

“Vampire,” He nips at your throat, his fangs still sheathed, “and vampire hunter,” 

The ache between your thighs melts into a throb, a pulse in time with your heart.

Sylus moves lower, lavishing open mouthed, messy kisses on your skin as he talks. His voice still a whisper, his fantasies muttered out from himself more than for you as he loses himself in your touch.

”You’ll come to me,” He teases, “ready to kill the big, bad, vampire,” he punctuates every word with a sharp lick to your breasts.  

A whimper passes through your slack lips. 

“Only I’ve played this game before,” His hand slides out of your hair and he settles his body weight over you, “and I never lose,” 

You shiver, his words, his cold touch, it hardly matters. 

“And you’ll run from me,” His hands drag over your skin, cupping your breasts, “and I’ll chase the frightened kitten into the woods,” 

Your breath hitches. 

He smiles against your skin, lips closing over a stiff nipple and flicking until you shudder beneath him. He hums, kissing across your chest, “Red and ripe as strawberries,” he observes, latching onto your other nipple and sucking, “I can feel how much you’re aching for me even in your sleep,” 

You’re dripping, you can feel it, making a mess of the silk sheets underneath you. 

He shifts, maneuvering your body to tilt your hips up and open, legs spread wide, and then you feel him. Sylus slides his impossibly hard length over your slit, rocking himself back and forth against your wetness, his velvet head nudging at your swollen bud. 

Your body is trembling, fluttering under his hands. 

“When I catch you,” He returns to his garish fantasy, “I’ll strip you bare,” 

You feel your stomach clench at the thought. 

“I’ll pin you right down to the ground,” He says it like a promise, rolling his hips harder, “and fuck your hot little cunt until you’re so cockdrunk you beg for more,” 

A pained whine bubbles from your mouth, hips arching involuntarily at his words. 

“Mm,” His hand drags down your chest, skimming over your body, “have I denied you too long, love?” 

You want to beg, to plead, to shift your hips into the exact right position so that his next thrust pushes his cock inside. 

“You’ve been so good,” He adjusts, finally nudging at your wet entrance, his hands finding yours in the sheets and drawing them above your head, fingers twined together, “just a little more,”

He inhales sharply and then with a forceful thrust he sheaths himself inside you, his hips connecting hard with yours. 

You moan sharply, your pussy clenching around the thick intrusion of him. 

He chokes a groan, “O-open your eyes, sweetheart,” 

Your eyes snap open, and the sight of him naked above you, inside you, is enough to send your mind spiraling out of control. 

“Your body was made for me,” He snaps his hips, setting a brutal pace as he ruts into you, “divined by gods for my cock,” 

Pleasure rolls up through your belly and your body tightens.

  “You’re mine,” His hands tightens on yours, his eyes boring into you.

  Tears gather in your eyes, a hot sensation through every inch of your body at the way his thick length spears you open with every draw of his hips. The knot inside you pulls again, a taut cord threatening at any moment to snap. 

“Say you’re mine,” He commands, his voice faltering into a moan.

  Your mouth opens, straining against the sure drop of your orgasm but you nod, “I’m yours, S-Sylus, I’m all yours,” 

“Good girl,” He pants, “there she is,” 

The praise on his lips sends you higher, and you suck in a sharp breath, “I’m… Sylus, I’m close!”

He descends, moving in a flash of nearly inhuman speed, and suddenly your head is pulled to the side  again and you’re cradled tight as he rolls his hips into you. 

“Come,” He directs, one more command on his lips before you fall to pieces beneath him, and his sharp fangs descend into your throat. 

“Sylus!” You jerk, true consciousness and feeling rushing back as the thread between his mind and yours severs, but you don’t have a moment to parse how it feels to be out of thrall when your orgasm rushes into you full force and the hot pain of his teeth melts into delicious pleasure. 

He groans, shuddering above you and stopping his thrusts as he feels your walls spasm and flutter around him, the taste of your blood on his tongue grinding the world to a halt at his feet. Nothing exists but you and him and your blood on his teeth and his cock buried to the hilt inside you. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand threading into his hair, “Sylus,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his silver locks, “all yours,” 

Euphoria doesn’t begin to describe it, your orgasm feels never ending. Every suck at your tender throat spurns another wave through you, and you rock yourself against him, grinding up against his pelvic bone to draw out every ounce of your pleasure. 

When he pulls away, he does so with care, gentle with the skin of your neck to ensure he doesn’t hurt you anymore that he has to. Pushing up on the mattress he finds your face and you roll right into another aftershock. His eyes are brighter, wide in desperate awe of you and somehow an even darker shade of red, and that with the smear of your blood across his lips has you keening, arching and gripping against him as you babble out his name between moans. 

“That’s it,” He softens, gathering you close to press his forehead to yours, “come for me again, that’s my girl,” 

“Sylus,” You’re a whimpering mess, your body a pool of ecstatic pleasure, and all you can do is repeat his name and hold onto him through the wave of endorphins and emotions. 

“Shh, shh,” He hushes you softly as you ride through the last flush of pleasure, “I’ve got you,” 

Your skin is slick with sweat, and your legs are shaking, breath coming in shallow pants as you finally come back down. 

Sylus holds you, bracing you to his chest and he makes short work of rolling you both without disconnecting your bodies. When he settles he’s on his back with you perched on his hips, his fingers carving a line up and down your spine to settle you. 

Flush and trembling, you find his eyes again. 

His brows draw together, a knit line of tender concern, and he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Don’t bite your lip,” 

Your mouth relaxes, you hadn’t even known you were doing it, and your eyes flick away. He says something, words you can hardly hear through the dizzy rush of your brain trying to catch up with the past few hours.

“Sweetheart,” he smooths his thumb over your cheek, “look me in the eyes, answer me,” 

Your head snaps back up. 

“Was I too rough?” He asks softly.

You don’t have words yet, you can’t reach them and string them together, but you shake your head.

”Are you sure?” His hands draw up and down your body slowly like he’s checking you for something, his broad hands finally coming to rest over yours where you brace yourself on his chest. 

You nod to his answer his question, “I’m sure,” 

He relaxes under you, pressing your hands into his chest over his heart, and it would turn you to romantic putty if he wasn’t still seated fully inside you and if your blood wasn’t staining his mouth. Your eyes keep flicking down to his mouth, crimson across his plush bottom lip, smears on his chin, a drip that made it to the edge and slipped down his neck. 

”Hmm,” His lips turn up into a smile and you sheepishly look back up, “are you still hungry, love?” 

Your stomach clenches, his voice turning husky again the moment he spies your renewed arousal. 

This time though, you’re awake. The heavy fog of his control and your barrage of orgasms has started to lift, and you need something more. 

You let your body melt, relaxing against him and letting his cock shift inside you, “Are you?” 

He almost laughs at your expression, one brow raised to challenge him as you push up to straddle him. His eyes rake over you and you feel his cock twitch, “You’d think I would have had my fill of you,” he says, hands moving to your hips, “but I find you make me insatiable, the more I taste you, the more I fuck you, the more I want,” 

“A vampire who’s never satisfied?” You tease him, “how original,” 

He exhales softly through his nose, smiling, “You’re the one still grinding on my cock, kitten,” 

You blush, but make no effort to stop unconsciously rocking your hips against him. 

“I was wrong, you’re the insatiable one,” He says appreciatively, and he smoothly slides his hands up your back to brace you so that when he sits up you stay with him. 

“If I was I’d never admit it,” 

He smacks your ass lightly with his palm and you wrap your legs around him, the position change sinking you back down onto his length and you sigh. 

”After what you just let me do to you?” Sylus shakes his head, his voice dropping the teasing tone when he presses his lips to your chest, “That’s admission enough,” 

He takes both hands to grip your backside, pressing into your soft flesh, and drags you forwards to coax you into motion. 

Holding onto his shoulders you follow his lead, working your hips back and forth, letting the press of his hands guide your speed. The feeling is dizzying, his cock feeling thicker and more filling in this position, and you can’t help the stammered moans and pants that bubble out of you with every downstroke connecting your hips to his. 

Sylus mutters a curse into your skin, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises, and then you feel his tongue. 

“Fuck,” You whine, “Sylus,” 

He pulls at your hips harder and you pick up the pace, grinding your heels into the mattress for the right leverage, losing yourself to the steady wet sound of him inside you and the heat building back up in your belly. 

You shiver at the sensation of his tongue traveling, dragging a line up your chest from the swell of your breast to your collarbone, and when he groans and huffs a needy breath at your throat, you realize what has him so flustered. 

“T-take more,” Your hand in his hair again to direct his head, pushing him towards your throat. 

“Mm-mm,” He shakes his head and drops the flat of his tongue over the bleeding teeth marks at your throat. 

You hiss sharply, a familiar roll of pleasure through you and you grip his hair, “Please, baby, please,” 

“Not tonight,” He laps at you again, “just cleaning you up,” 

“God,” You moan, your pace faltering for a moment until the pressure of his hands pushes you back into action. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, pulling away from your throat and using one hand to tug you close by the back of the neck, “you feel…” 

You have to hold on, you need him to come after all the work he’s put into pleasuring you, and you can’t let yourself fall apart until he does. You lock eyes with him and his expression, almost pained, his mouth open in silent pleasure and still painted red, pushes you through the ache in your hips and the burning in your thighs. He’s so close. Nearly, nearly there.

”Sylus,” Your voice breathy, “kiss me,” 

There’s a flicker of a smile across his mouth but he surges up, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. His tongue catches against yours, and you taste the iron of your own blood, you feel the sharpness of his fangs, but all it does is drive you closer and closer to delicious release. 

“My sinful little thing,” He pants against your mouth, “you never stop surprising me,” 

Your eyes flutter shut, your nails tight against his shoulders, “Please, I need it,” 

“What do you need?” He croons, hungrily at your lips once more. 

You moan against his mouth, tugging his hair sharply, “Come,” you pant, nearly out of breath, “I need your cum,” 

He shudders, groaning.  

“Sylus!” You whine again, “Inside, please, please,” 

His hand slips from your hair, and the equilibrium changes things back to Sylus in total control. With both hands secured on your ass he takes over, dragging you fast and hard on his cock and meeting every thrust with a hard jut of his hips. He’s fucking into you with reckless need, the head of his cock connecting over and over again with your cervix, and you arch and cry out in his arms. 

“No,” He pants, pulling you back to him, “eyes on me,” 

“Please,” You beg again, your cunt spasming and fluttering, “I-I’ll come if you just,” 

He loses himself immediately, pulling you down hard and choking out a moan, spilling his release deep and grinding you down to prolong his own pleasure, but you’re falling apart right behind him in a breath. A final, dizzying orgasm taking your body like a soft wave, languid and warm, and Sylus nods as you ride it out, coaxing you through every last moment. 

When you settle, you feel how much your body is trembling, and he releases his tight grip on your hips to gently massage your skin, soothing touches as he softens inside you. 

“Oh my god,” You laugh softly, your forehead pressed to his, “that was,” 

“Good?” He asks, a soft, quick kiss to your lips. 

“Perfect,” You sigh, “you were perfect.” 

He nods, drinking you in for a moment more before he exhales and relaxes, leaning back and meeting your eyes.  

“I must look a mess,” You press your cool knuckles to the warmth of your flushed cheeks. 

“A beautiful mess,” He counters gently. 

You smile lazily at him, feeling boneless and sated and delicious. 

Sylus takes the pad of his thumb to the very tip of his razor sharp fangs and pierces his skin, a bead of his own dark blood rising up from the puncture on his pale skin. 

His fangs retract and he reaches for you, smoothing his bleeding thumb over the bite mark at your throat. You hiss sharply at the sensation and grip his shoulder, the burn of your skin knitting itself back together something you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. 

“I was too rough with you,” He comments, like he’s filing away that information for himself for next time. 

You shake your head though, resting your hand on his wrist, “You weren’t, I wanted every bit of it,” 

His thumb sweeps a final line over your skin and he kisses you again, “I’ll keep that in mind,” 

You smile against his lips, and then Sylus gives you one final, quick peck. 

“I think a shower,” He says, sliding you both smoothly off the bed and keeping you tucked in his arms, “and a nap,” 

“I think that’s a perfect idea,” 

“And I’m hardly hungry anymore,” He teases as he carries you into the bathroom, “but we’ll order something up for you,” 

You nod, relaxing into his care. 

“Perhaps a movie,” He suggests, sliding you onto the counter so he can start the shower, “or I could always read to you?” 

“Or you could tell me more about next time,” You say slyly, “what was it? Chasing me down in the woods?” 

He shakes his head, testing the warmth of the water on his fingertips. 

“Having your way with me?” You stretch out your leg to reach him, dragging your foot down his thigh, “Should I struggle? Beg you to stop?” 

His hand snaps up, closing around your ankle and he turns towards you, “Be careful, sweetheart,” 

“I’m simply curious,” You tease. 

“Mhm,” He scoops you back up and walks you straight into the shower until your back is against the chilly tile wall, “Curious?” 

You feel him hardening again against your belly and you nod.

“Kitten,” He smirks, “you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?” 

“I think I need a little reminder,” You sigh, holding onto his shoulders again. 

He kisses you again, pressing you into the shower wall, a smile on his mouth as he nips at your lip, “I’ll bet you do,” 

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift - Latch

Neteyam photo by @cinetrix

Pairing: Dark Aged Up Neteyam x Human Fem Reader

Warnings: aged up characters, DUBCON/NONCON, kidnapping, MDNI EXPLICIT, yandered qualities, possessive behavior, slight degradation, interspecies intimacy, swearing, power imbalance, sub reader, dom Neteyam, manipulation, hair pulling, creampie, a lot more stuff but at this point you hopefully know whether or not you should read haha

Summary: Victory is finally his and Neteyam knows exactly how he wants to celebrate it.

A/N: A little unsure about my word choice but it's been fun writing from Neteyam perspective for the first time in this series. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist I Little Gift Masterlist

You belong here, perched on his lap with your head notched against his shoulder. So small and pretty that his legs barely register your body weight. He wraps a hand around your outer thigh to angel you further against him. This is perfect.

Everything is perfect. 

Pandora has rid of those Sky Demons and his prize, his little gift, is still here in his arms where you will always be. Those traitors are no longer here to tempt you with false promises of escape and a life outside of belonging to the Olo’eyktan. You may not realize it now but they would have broken you. It is only a miracle from Eywa that has allowed your beautiful spirit to stay in tack after all those years of inhabiting the same space as those treacherous creatures. 

The RDA may think that you are a gift given by them but in reality it is Eywa that has placed you on his lap.

You were created for him. Designed perfectly inside and out. 

His reward for all that he has had to endure. 

Now with you safely tucked in his arms and his People celebrating their freedom once more, he can rest. He is free to savor all that the Great Mother has offered him, although you prove to be difficult to rangle at times. That’s okay, he enjoys a good challenge. It makes your earned submission all that more satisfying. 

He’s not sure how long one human can cry for but it appears you are shooting for a record. Your tears have soaked the feathers of his Olo’eyktan attire but he doesn’t mind, not when you are snuggling into him for comfort. 

His plan of distraction worked wonders during take off but it was only a matter of time before your mind came back online and began worrying once more about the absence of people that never truly loved you. It’s to be expected however Neteyam is pleased to find that your response is not one of anger but sadness and seeking refuge. He couldn’t have asked for anything more ideal. 

He is your refuge, your one true home and the fact that you are learning that so quickly makes a sense of pride burst within him. 

The glittering gems of your new top compliment your own sparkling tears exquisitely. It had taken weeks for him to make but it was worth it. He would want nothing less for his pet on a night of such grand celebration. However, it becomes abundantly clear that he is not the only one who appreciates the outfit. 

It’s the fifth time Lo’ak has turned in the direction of the throne while dancing to check on you. Or at least, that is how his younger brother would be sure to phrase it but Neteyam is no fool. He can see the hunger in those eyes. Typical of his younger sibling to chase after what he can not have. What Neteyam himself possesses. 

Their eyes meet and it only takes a moment for Lo’ak to recover from being caught and roll his own back at his brother and turn to continue dancing. He’s not sure how much longer this game will go on where Lo’ak pretends to hold no interest. One way or another it will come out. Neteyam’s arm tightens around your waist, fingers running through your silky hair. 

It is then that he notices your little sobs have stopped and are now replaced with long deep breaths. It’s amazing that you are able to sleep through the banging drums and echoing calls but it seems that all of your crying has worn out your poor little body. Such a fragile thing you are. 

All the more reason to keep you close. And yet another reason he finds his mind swirling back to the idea of keeping you on a leash. Ideally he would carry you to and fro but there are times where he needs to have his hands available. With your habit to wander off he can’t risk having you fall and break your little neck. A leash would be the perfect solution.

Not to mention how good you would look trailing behind him, sweet little bow around your throat as a permanent reminder of his claim on you. 

His tewng [loincloth] is unbearably tight. It presses against your soft thighs but that’s not enough. For perhaps the hundredth time you shift in his lap, unable to sit comfortably on your red ass. You’ve given up on trying to convince him to let you stand but that doesn’t stop that supple little pout from gracing your lips every time you are reminded of the pain. Even in your sleep you try to wiggle and squirm from his lap. 

Of course there is another source of your constant squirming. A source that Neteyam finds his fingers dipping down to trace over as the base just barely peeks out of your tight pussy. 

This plug is much larger than the cute one you had stowed away in your old nightstand drawer. It had taken more than a fair amount of encouragement to slot that thick piece of plastic inside your cunt but the sight was magnificent. Complain all you want but the way your walls clench around it in desperation tells Neteyam more than he needs to know. 

It’s the largest size of his collection which means that tonight is the night. Tonight you will officially become his. Your pussy will soon forever have the imprint of his thick length inside of you, ruining you for any other man. Not that you would ever have the chance to be with another male outside of him again. Jared was the end of that line and the Olo’eyktan feels no hint of remorse for taking care of that pest.

Another flash of Lo’ak’s gaze.

Neteyam feels you stir when he lets out a deep sigh. However reluctant he is, it’s important to set his brother straight. Lo’ak has an overactive imagination after all and the last thing he would want is his little brother’s curiosity and desire becoming an interruption for the wondrous night the two of you are about to have. 

Those long lashes flutter open, throat caught on a sharp intake when he stands up and places you back onto the seat. Your dazed and confused look is one that Neteyam can’t help but coo at, the pad of his thumb running over your cheek. 

“Mawey, tiyawn [be calm, love]. I will be right back.” You’re already scrambling to your knees, finally keeping the weight off of your sore bum. “Be a good girl for me and stay put, yes?”

It’s a rhetorical question and one that he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before a kiss is placed on your hairline and the Olo’eyktan is parting the crowd. It’s obvious that there is a moment where you consider stopping him. You may be hell bent on never admitting it verbally but the other Na’vi put you on edge and being around him has become your one constant, a safety you can rely on. If not for his urgency Neteyam would take his time in teasing you on the matter. 

Your face always looks even more lovely with that deep shade of red, whether from anger or embarrassment or even both. 

Later, he reminds himself.  

The female rubbing up against Lo’ak looks more than put out by his lagged reciprocation. Her displeasure colors into slight shock when she spots her Olo’eyktan coming straight towards them. Lo’ak crosses his arms as his partner quickly signs the proper respect to their leader. Neteyam dismisses her easily. 

“Excuse me, sister. I require a moment with my brother.” Neteyam ushers Lo’ak away from the scene before giving her a chance to respond or offer to give them privacy. 

The fire’s light now just barely humming over their skin. The two brothers find a moment of solace on the outskirts of the celebration. Neteyam’s ears still buzz from the sensory overload it has taken for the past few hours. 

“If you’re going to ask me for another favor can it at least wait until tomorrow? There is a party, you know.” Lo’ak tall frame lazily leans against the nearest tree and he attempts to hide the way his eyes fly over Neteyam’s shoulder towards you by making a show of tying his hair back. 

“Funny considering how eager you were to grant me a favor earlier this morning.” Neteyam’s veiny arms cross over his chest, tail whipping back and forth in the cool wind. If Lo’ak is intimidated he doesn’t show it. 

“Aren’t I a wonderful brother?” Those sharp teeth shimmer as he makes a show of giving an over the top sarcastic grin.

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam growls. 

“Jesus, calm down.” Lo’ak groans, head thrown back against the bark. “She’s still your little toy.” 

“I am not stupid, baby brother. I see the way you look at her.” 

“Whatever.” Lo’ak bristles and makes his way to stomp off but he is caught by the upper bicep. 

“I don’t want there to be any…confusion.” Silence spreads between them, the only sound being that of Lo’ak’s harsh exhale. 

“I was only watching.” He finally says, voice dropping lower. 

“And you are free to.” Small steps bring him further into his brother’s space. “But let’s be clear about whose permission you need in order to touch.” 

“And I didn’t.” His arm is ripped from Neteyam’s grasp. “I’ve only ever babysat the little brat and done all that you’ve asked of me. If you are looking for problems to address I would start with her running off at every given opportunity. Take a look for yourself!” He flails an exasperated arm in your direction but Neteyam doesn’t even bother to turn. 

“I am aware.” There is no need to look in order to know that you have once again tried your hand at another escape. He can see it in his mind’s eye now, your small body carefully hoisting itself down from the high throne. Panicked eyes racing over the crowd in search of any Na’vi that could potentially halt your actions. All that before short legs race off into the darkness. “I’m giving her a head start.” 

It’s best not to let you go too far. Eywa knows you are very skilled at finding new ways to put yourself in danger, but a little chase is an exhilarating experience. 

“Oh yeah, you going to make me chase after her for you too?” Lo’ak spits out, urging Neteyam to roll his eyes at his brother’s antics. He resists however, that wouldn’t be very becoming of the Olo’eyktan. 

“I fear you would enjoy that far too much, brother.”

Instead of fiery words shot back the only line of defense Lo’ak puts up is a scoff and frowned expression, golden eyes simmering with words that he knows better than to voice. Neteyam can give his brother credit for that at least. He knows when he is stomping on dangerous territory. You, on the other hand, seem to be learning that lesson far too slow. It seems a cute tawtute like you are more of a hands on learner. 

“Can I be excused then, oh might Olo’eyktan?” He flourishes with a sarcastic bow. 

“Leave.” Neteyam bites out simply, forcing his eyes to remain trained on his younger brother as he joins the crowd again. It’s a safety precaution just in case Lo’ak gets a bad idea even after warnings. Much to the Na’vi girl’s dismay Lo’ak does not join her again on the dance floor and instead heads straight towards the fermented fruit. No doubt he will spoil himself into a drunken state. Unfortunately for him, Neteyam already has his hands full babysitting you tonight. 

He takes his time, however, greeting a few of the clan members and partaking in a small dose of alcohol himself. With your small legs it will take you forever to get a distance that makes this chase even remotely fun. However, once the drink is empty and he has done his dues as Olo’eyktan in the social event Neteyam can no longer keep himself at bay. There are other creatures of the night that could be waiting to catch a pretty prey like you.

Tracking you down is almost laughably easy with your sweet scent wafting through the air. A scent that only grows tenfold when he comes across a peculiar piece of plastic stashed in a bush. It’s the dildo that is meant to still be snuggled up in your little cunt. 

A sharp smirk cuts into his features. 

For such a smart little thing you really can be so negligent at times. With the dildo out your scent now goes from a dulled perfume to a thick fragrance that coats the air. He recognizes that aroma, he knows the way it tastes. Your arousal has only made you an easier target and now you have done nothing but take out the one piece keeping it plugged. Neteyam can envision so clearly that trail of slick that is sure to be marking your thighs. 

Such a messy little thing you are. Even after the way he cleaned you up so dutifully post launch, you have managed to turn into a wet temptation once more. 

The small footprints along the dirt are almost pointless in his pursuit now that he has your scent. They only serve as a confirmation that he is going the right way. It doesn’t take long before the sound of your sharp panting reaches his upturned ears. It’s then that the Olo’eyktan takes to the trees. He glides along the thick branches without a sound, gaining a bird’s eye view of your desperate running. 

The full on sprint you started off with has come down to a clumsy jog. Even with your small stride he’s sure you could make it a lot further if you would simply stop looking over your shoulder every other second. An action that has you stumbling and grabbing your foot to pick out a thorn from the underside. Little curses rise between your harsh breaths. 

And then your breathing is cut all together. 

The sounds of claws and wild yips echo through the greenery. By the sounds of it Neteyam knows it must be a small pack of aynantang [viperwolves]. They aren’t close, at least not yet. With your back turned and eyes blown out in silent terror he decides that now is as good a time as ever to interrupt. 

Neteyam lowers himself down slowly, muscular arms controlling his descent into a movement so smooth and silent that it is nothing more than a shadow. A shaky hand covers your lips, the little puff of your beating heart pushing your chest out even more. One long step forward and now he can watch your trembling from above, his toes almost touching your muddy heels. 

“Their bite is not as sharp as mine, pet.” 

You scream before the sound can be stopped, spinning so fast your heel that you land directly on your red bum instead. Even without glowing tanhi dotting your skin, those dilated eyes have a way of making you glow in the night. Even more so when they dazzle up at him with unleashed fear and vulnerability. 

You scramble backwards, clawing at the muddy ground until you are clumsily trying to crawl back onto your feet. Fine by him, it’s easier to close the height difference when you are back to standing. He grabs your right arms easily, pulling you back against him. The fight continues as you turn to bash your first against his abdomen, even clawing at his thighs but then another sound cuts you off again. 

They are closer this time.

“They hunt in packs.” Neteyam informs you. “Circle their prey until there is nowhere left to go.”

A rustle of bushes to the left has your squirming changing from running away to ducking behind Neteyam. He allows the action, sharp teeth peeking from his grin when he feels the way your soft fingers dig into his thighs. 

“My father was almost killed by a pack once. Even in his avatar form he depended on my mother’s mercy to fight the creatures off.” You shake like a leaf in the wind, your face pressed against his lower back when the sounds get louder. He almost feels bad for scaring you so much, tempted to bundle you in his arms and shush your worries away. However, that would ruin the lesson. You are the one that decided to run off carelessly into the woods without him and now you need to understand why you depend on Neteyam for everything. Why you owe him your submission and affection. 

“I wonder how you would fair.” A few more wolves prowl from the bushes, inching closer. They creep forward with a hesitance at the sight of Neteyam, driven only by curiosity as your scent continues to fill the air. 

“Teyam.” You whimper into his hip, now latching onto the strap of his loincloth to urge him backwards. 

“What’s wrong, pet? I thought you wanted to be set free?”

A vicious snarl rip from the right and you stumble to cling to his left side now. That startled little scream is just barely muffled by the way your face is pressed into his hip. 

He coos at your little pleas. “Has someone changed their mind, hm?” Any other time you would be barring your blunt teeth at him but he knows that in the height of your fear there is no resistance left for him. You’re too focused on the prowling beasts that flash their own teeth in eclipse’s glow. 

“Teyam please, let’s go!” Voice caught on sobs that threaten to rise, you can barely make the words out. 

Your fear is palpable, but not just to him.The aynantang [viperwolves] can sense it too. They circle and watch with more confidence as the seconds roll by. Periodically they flicker up to his looming form, as if checking to see whether or not he will be a threat against their newfound meal. It would be easy to scare them off, something Neteyam has done himself many times. He’s hunted these forests since he was a boy and his own scent is something that the creatures have learned to associate with danger. 

Standing here now, however, he keeps a neutral position and one that the pack hesitantly takes as an opportunity to cinch closer. A flash of his knife and that confidence would disintegrate until the pack would scurry off into another corner of the forest. 

Neteyam keeps it sheathed. 

“You’re the one that ran off, little gift.” He reminds you, voice calm and cool. 

“I know! I know! I’m sorry j-just please!” 

“Please what, tiyawn? You have to be more specific.” 

You struggle to respond properly, hands frantically switching from tugs at the straps to clawing up at his arms. Regardless, Neteyam remains unmoved, arms crossed over his chest as he observes the scene with indifference. “Please..please don’t let them-” You gasp rearing back when you spot another viperwolf emerging from the left. It’s been there for a while but it appears this is the first time your weak eyes have caught sight of it. “I’m sorry! I’ve changed my mind! Please, I’m sorry.” You cry out in a shrill voice, plastering yourself under his arm. 

“Changed your mind on what?” It’s tempting to look down and see the way you so desperately seek his comfort but Neteyam is wise enough to keep his golden gaze sharply pinned on the emerging creatures. 

“On wanting to leave! You can take me home just please-”

“Oh can I?” Your chin is snatched between two fingers, forcing you to crane your neck up towards him. That mask of indifference is gone, replaced only  by a fierce stirness you are terrified to be facing twice in one day. “And what makes you think that is up to you?”

It’s hard to look into your eyes directly when they are bouncing wildly in every which direction. Perhaps it is your pitiful way of tracking the oncoming predators, or maybe you simply can not handle facing his gaze filled with ire. Either way, it is adorable to watch your natural submissive nature emerge. And all from a few viperwolves. 

Poor thing, what would you do without him?

“I-I’m sorry.” You say, voice so small and timid that only a Na’vi would have hopes of hearing it. Neteyam’s chest rumbles with a deep purr, other hand finally coming up to run through your hair.

“I know you are, tiyawn. You just get confused sometimes, don’t you?” No response is given, instead just a gasp as another creature inches closer and you dash into his arms. This time he wraps one arm around your small frame while the other goes for his sheathed knife. The advance pauses, aynantang  [viperwolves] pacing from side to side instead. Your reaction is premature but Neteyam basks in it all the same.

From the heated breath and salty tears painting his lower stomach he begins to worry that your fragile body will soon give out and lose consciousness. Keeping you tucked under his arm is the best move, easily accessible for when he needs to scoop you up without retaliation. However at this point, it seems that you are willing to do whatever it takes to earn his protection.

What a short memory you truly have. Perhaps if you listened to him more diligently like a good pet should then you would already know that his protection has been yours since the first time he saw you. He would defend you to his very last breath. Whether or not you asked for it would be irrelevant. That being said, you’ve always had the sweetest way of begging so who is he to deny himself such a pretty chorus of promises. 

They flow now freely from your lips. Pleading, crying, and begging for him to get you out of harm's way. He simply shushes you, making no rush as a rigid arm tightens to pull you even closer. 

The creatures are scared off within the first few hisses that leave his lips. Knife dancing under the moonlight with a deadly promise, they yip away reluctantly. Still, there is an advantage to not letting you know how easy it truly is to scare them off so he tells you to look away, to keep snuggled against him where they can not so easily see your fear. 

You remain that way when you are lifted into his arms. Your thighs strain to wrap around his ribcage but you eventually manage to lock your ankles together. With your shaky limbs locked in terror you are barely in need of his supporting arm, but he wraps one under your rear anyways. You remind him of a small syaksyuk [Prolemuris] as you cling with fervor, lighting his amusement to new heights. 

The walk back is pleasant, even when your shaking doesn’t stop and your racing heart beat is louder than the stomp of his feet. There is still great peace to be found with you in his arms and the promise of a wonderful night in the air. After tonight you won’t dare to leave him, not now that you have developed a healthy sense of fear and even more so once your body has taken him fully the way it was meant to. 

He holds back a groan at the thought. Your smell is still just as potent as when you first ran and now it holds an extra tang of emotion that makes it all that much sweeter. He manages to pick up the tossed aside dildo on the way back, but that acts as fuel to the flames. 

He has sought after your true mating for months and now that he is on the cusp of finally making it a reality it is hard to keep a rational mind. The natural urge to pin you down and take what has always been his morphs into a feral urgency that infringes on his thoughts. Although, he is determined to take his time tonight because it is isn’t enough to simply fuck you into the ground or find pleasure in that first stretch. No, tonight is about claiming you in every way possible. 

About teaching not only your body but your mind that there is no one else it belongs to. No one else that can provide for you in the way he can. Utter and complete submission is his goal. But to get you there, that will take skillful maneuvering and coercion. Otherwise it would not be a quest worthy of his time or attention. 

However, there is still one more way he can lock you into his life. One permanent reminder that would forever keep you shackled to him. An action that would have your scent intertwined with his so much so that it wouldn’t matter if it took. Pregnant or not the message would be clear. The confines of his loincloth feel suffocating at the thought. Would your tiny pussy even be able to hold half of his seed? What a pretty treat it would be to see it spilling out from your perfectly pink and tight hole. 

Pace now quickened, nothing can take away his laser focus. Not even Lo’ak’s obvious staring as you are carried swiftly along the outer edges of the celebration. Nor Spider who tries to run across the crowd and apologize again. Neither make it to him because all that he can feel is the warmth of your softy body. The pulse of your heart. The essence that is entirely yours, filling his lungs. 

Once back in the safety of his kelku [home/house] you are smart enough to not flee from his lap. He manhandles one leg to be thrown to the other side so you are properly straddling him. A sense of shyness must fall over you because you are silent while nervously fiddling with the feathers of his traditional attire. Or maybe you are still too shaken up over the little viperwolf incident to do much else. 

Neteyam is unbothered by it, instead using it as an opportunity to let his hands explore. Not in a sexual way at first, just simple brushes that are sure to have you melting for him.

“Now you understand why you must stay by my side. Don’t you pet?” Voice as gentle as the hands that run up the back of your neck, he can feel goosebumps rise in its wake. Eyes still fixated on the feathers, you nod shakily. If it wasn’t so cute he would be tempted to reprimand you for such a half hearted response but it appears luck is in your favor. 

His knuckles paint a trail up the back of your neck before swiping over your left shoulder. His other hand softly gathers your hair to the other side so your skin is bared for him. He thumbs at the side of your throat, feeling your pulse flicker beneath his fingers. 

“Such a pretty thing like you is not safe out there.” His hands bracket either side of your face, large enough to span the entirety of your head and tilt it upwards. It gives him the perfect view of your expression when both hands smooth up towards your hairline before parting and dragging along your scalp. Lips parted and eyes fluttered closed, he knows he has pressed the right button. 

“Creatures eager to snatch you up.” Neteyam draws out, nails ever so gently scratching along your roots. The shiver that races through your body is powerful enough to be visual. Massaging at the area in long strokes proves to have you breaking into pieces. Body practically limp against him, the Olo’eyktan watches with glee. 

No wonder Sky People are too soft for this world, all it takes to disarm you is some well placed pets. 

“And they’d be successful too,” The tips of his fingers come together to circle your hair into a ponytail. A small sound exhales from your lips, leaning into his touch without resolve. “Have you between their teeth before you could even scream.” That dark tone washes over you in a way so contrary to the warning message, his lips mere centimeters away from your own. 

One little kiss, more of a peck really. That is all you get. Just enough to have you chasing after him, a motion that is hard to do when he has you anchored by the root of your hair. 

“And that,” Another soft peck to your cheek, “is why you are so lucky to have me.” Neteyam allows his lips to linger longer this time but it’s still just as soft, almost more of a whisper than anything else and with the way you are trapped, there is nothing for you to do but take it. The noise that catches in your throat proves it is far from the passionate affection you desire. 

“Isn’t that right?”

“Yes Teyam.” You puff, the softest whisper as you try to learn forward for more. He tutts in disapproval, a slow but firm yank to your hair following. “Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” You correct yourself with a squeak and much to his delight, the fragrance from between your thighs intensifies. He’s tempted to look now and see if it has left a spot on his loincloth. 

“There’s my good girl.” He grins and finally you are rewarded with his lips capturing yours. Although slow and tender in movement the heat of the kiss is all consuming, spreading a message that can only reflect his complete control over you. Several times you try to squirm or wiggle but the hand embedded in your hair shackles you into place. 

Unlike most times you become a fidgeting little thing, it’s clear that your efforts are to get closer, not further away. Neteyam is a nice man after all and so he indulges that desire. At least to a degree. He kisses you until you’re gasping for breath. He kisses you until slick is seeping through your mini loincloth. And he kisses you until those soft little lips are ruby red and chapped from the harsh treatment. 

It doesn’t matter to you, that much is clear by the way you whimper once he pulls away. 

“Don’t be greedy.” He smirks against your cheek.

Your greed only intensifies when he slips one hand down to untie your loincloth. His other hand remains embedded in your hair as a leash, one that proves necessary as you are eager to rut up against him. Perhaps he would feel guilty for the way you blush in shame after another tug to your hair. That is, if your reactions weren’t so delightfully endearing. 

For reasons mysterious to him, humans have a habit of going against their natural needs. You are not exempt from this issue as you are constantly trying to deny your desire for him, even deny yourself the pleasure you so clearly require. It’s fortunate that you have him to override those silly concerns. And override them he does, quite easily since your body reacts like a live wire every time he is near. The smallest of touches have you aching for more.

Eywa has blessed him with such a responsive little pet and he has every intention of exploiting that sensitivity until you are screeching for him to stop. 

Small hands come to dig into his feathered mantle as he idly explores the curves of your stomach. He traces up until reaching the sparkling gems of your top. With two little flicks your hardened nipples are bared for him. 

It’s a rare experience to have you so cooperative as he bites and sucks at those little peaks. The emotions of that day have softened your resolve, a pattern that Neteyam makes a mental note of. 

He tunes into every sensation of satin skin beneath his fingertips. Atop his thighs. Prickling beneath his lips. Like a flower you blossom for him so exquisitely. Revealing petals that are just for him. Melodic whimpers that only he has the pleasure of inducing. The irritation of Lo’ak’s infatuation fades to the background with you so pliant in his arms. 

You are quickly driven to madness, or at least is how you plead when he continues to trace, worship and tease your small body. Neteyam is anxious too. His hard member presses painfully against the fabric of his tewng. However, being the first born son has taught him something that you very rarely exhibit: patience. The fruits of your labors are tenfold more exhilarating once following a period of yearning. 

And you yearn for him, little gift. So much so that your dramatic begging has him holding back a deep chuckle. 

A river of nectar flowing down your thighs, you act as if you will pitter into dust if not satisfied. 

It will be fun training you. Making you learn to sit patiently like a good pet when that inferno of fire burns deep within you. He can devise a plethora of creative punishments for when you inevitably step out of line. Neteyam looks forward to the long process. He wouldn’t want to succeed too quickly and cut the fun short.

Luckily your spit fire attitude is sure to draw it out, keeping him entertained and challenged for a long time. 

The reasoning is only further confirmed when he catches you sneaking a tiny hand between your legs. The grip in your hair finally releases only for him to sharply smack away your attempt. 

“Did I say you could do that?” 

You’re exasperated, pleading eyes staring up at him as a drawn out groan comes from your lips. 

“Well are you planning to tease me all night or actually do something?” 

You’re pinned onto your back in a heartbeat, this time his right hand curled around your throat instead of your hair. It may not be firm enough to cut off your airway but the oxygen in your lungs freezes all the same. 

“Oeyӓ tiyawn I have greater plans for my pussy than using your pathetic little fingers.” He growls into your ear, watching as you are too frozen in shock to bother struggling. “Because by the end of tonight it will be filled with my seed.” 

Your throat bobs with a thick gulp, stuttered words struggling to come forth but a tad more pressure against your pulse earns your silence. And to his fascination, your eyes roll back into your head. Fight it all you want, but it’s clear you have always thrived off of his domination. This power imbalance is one that you need. Satisfying that deeply locked away drive you have to be loved, pampered, controlled, and absolutely ruined.

Just in the way only he can deliver. 

Squeeze any tighter and his fingers might just lose circulation. Regardless, the dildos have done their job effectively and now you are more than ready to take him. It was always going to be a tight fit, but at least there is little risk of real injury due to his preparations. 

You appear less convinced on that matter when his unoccupied hand roughly tugs off his tewng. Wide eyes stare down to where his full length lays along your stomach. He has to admit that in a position like this the size difference does become ever more staggering but he has every faith in you. 

“Neteyam please,” You whimper, shiny eyes staring up at him for mercy.

“Please what?” He hums. His fingers curl to massage that special spot inside while his thumb playfully runs over your clit. It has the desired effect, watching as your begging turns towards a different goal.

“Please let me cum! Need it! Neteyam please!”

Neteyam shushes you tenderly, relieving some of the pressure from you little button when he feels your cunt clench around him on the verge of an orgasm. You’ve never looked more beautiful than now, naked and spread across the little nest of blankets and pillows he arranged just for you. Long hair splayed out in every which direction and eyes already coated in a haze, it appears as if you have already been fucked dumb beneath him. 

“Patience, little gift. You will cum on my cock soon enough.” 

Your alarm flares up once more. 

“No Neteyam I can’t! It’s too big, it’s impossible-”

A large thumb presses over your lips to silence you. At this rate you are going to work yourself into hysterics and that would unravel all of the hard work he has done to get you here. A few more intentional circles on your clit has those protests flying out the door. It’s clear you require his help to stay calm and compliant the way you are meant to. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t mind aiding.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically as you melt under the pleasure. And when his three fingers are replaced with the head of his cock lining up, you hardly even notice. As long as that little bundle of nerves is being stimulated, you are hyper focused on seeing out that ecstasy to a finish. 

A soft kiss dampens your screech when he slots in just the tip. Already his mind swirls from the sensation but Neteyam manages to reign in his focus. Little ‘no’ s and pleas fall from your lips to caress his. 

“Mawey, oeyӓ tiyawn [be calm, my love]. You are being so good for me.” Another inch and it feels as if his own knees are about to crumble from how tightly you cinch around him. Small hands fists into the fabric below as your eyes squeeze shut. Neteyam shakily grasps one with his right hand, placing it along his shoulder that is now exposed with the feathered attire out of the way. “You can touch, little pet. Good girls deserve rewards.” 

With your face just barely reaching chest level the Olo’eyktan is forced to bend into an awkward position every time he goes to kiss away your tears, but it’s worth it. Those blunt little nails dig into his lower back. It’s a shame they aren’t strong enough to leave marks that he can cherish.

The air from his lungs are pushed out in a rush as he plunges ever so slightly deeper inside your sweet little pussy. You tense and cry beneath him, scratching as his back in haste. Although mere seconds away from popping his load far too early he still manages to reach down and play with your poor little cunt until more of that sweet essence is trailing out. 

“You need to relax for me, pet.” Neteyam grits, tail curling erratically. “Going to suffocate my cock like this, little one.” And it’s true because in all of his years of sexual maturity not once has he ever felt a pussy so tight, so responsive, wrapped around him. It drives him to the point of insanity. It takes every last bit of resolve he has left to not shove the rest of himself inside and plow you into the floor. 

But Neteyam knows better than to break his toys. 

The next few minutes test his mental and physical stamina over and over as you slowly take him inch by inch. Every slow push of his hips causes a domino effect of tears and incoherent cries from your sweet lips. He kisses and soothes and pleasures your trembling body until you’ve learned to relax again. Only to then restart the cycle when you take one inch more. 

However, nothing prepares him for the end result. No amount of dreaming or training could ever have done the sight justice as he sees the  way your soft belly bulges when he reaches the hilt. The shape of him is clearly visible, twitching so deep inside of you that it threatens to drive both of you into sensation overload. 

The groan that rumbles from his throat is one that you have never heard before. So rough and unleashed that your glittering eyes dilate in response. It’s still painful, that much he can see from the look on your face. So despite every instinct in him screaming to ruin your little pussy until it can take no more, Neteyam remains in place. 

Your swollen nub is red from his sensual play, nipples not far behind as he laps and kisses them like they are the last meal he will ever have. That beautiful blush now heats down your neck and torso, as if tempting him to continual his oral fixation. It accentuates most importantly that bulge of your stomach until he can’t help himself anymore, large hand spanning over your tummy to press on that area lightly. 

“Can you feel me, tiyawn? Right here?” He presses again, your mouth opening in a silent scream. “Taking me so deep, pet. My good girl.” 

 And it’s then that it feels as if something has clicked. Your bodies becomes attuned to one another. Burning stretch morphs into something otherworldly, those soft features finally unscrewing into fluttering bliss. And he draws out ever so slightly to rut back in, your head falls back against the pillows. 

He’s waited long enough. Pinned long enough. Crawled after you long enough. Now all that his body can do is take what you so freely give him. His hips snap forward without restrain, spurred on by the little sounds that pulse in the back of your throat. Little fingers scatter between gripping his muscular back and tangling into his braids. 

The heat that travels from his ears to toes is so intense that it feels as if he may burst into an inferno. And he truly might, little gift. With the way you hug his cock so snuggly as if you never want to let it go, you may simply kill him. He would be happy to go that way. To leave this world drowning in the bliss of your destined union. 

And for once in his life, Neteyam lets himself fully go. He chases that peak with fervent desperation. He drinks in every reaction you have to give him. And when the pleasure becomes all too much for you to take. When you grapple to crawl away from him and the mind shattering climax that is around the corner, he pulls you back down with a hiss. 

“No more running, pet.” He commands, a growl emanating so deeply from his chest that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. He hoists your left leg around his waist, effectively changing the angle to thrust in deeper. 

“Neteyam!” A screech like sweet honey from your lips as you finally tip over the edge. Body trembling so hard it takes that firm grip on your leg to keep it there, you crumble beneath him. His stamina is far from being drained as he rides you through it. Every wave of pleasure is stronger than a drug, leading him to cloud nine until he no longer wants to be anywhere else. 

“T-too much.” You gasp for air but your body is already succumbing to the onslaught. He can feel the way you are ramping up again. This is far from being over. 

“Give in.” Neteyam coos but the ring of that command is clear. There is no other option. That is the way it has always been because from the very beginning you have always been his. And sooner or later Eywa knew that the two of you would be here together, trapped in his love where you belong. 

“Oh God!” You cry out, body sliding up the floor with every thrust. 

Whether you find his queue by accident or on purpose is unclear but that first tug is enough to have his balls drawing up against his body, bracing to fly into bliss. There is a sticky mess between the two of you, slick enough to have those wet sounds filling the night air. Neteyam runs the flat of his nose over your sweaty temple and curve of your cheek. 

“My little gift.” He purrs, body on the brink of rupturing. He says it more for himself than you but is more than pleased to watch the way your eyes flutter close as the sound. Trembling, squeezing, and shattering around him, those are the moments your reserve of denial dries up.

That’s how it has always been. From the first night that he brought you home, tucked under his arm, you’ve had this other side that can be taunted out. Even that night as you had pleaded to be released only to have the gag put back in, his tongue had driven you to stillness. Your screaming of kidnapping had sizzled into a series of moans and ecstatic exclamations. 

There’s another side to him too.

The part of him that can finally bask in the one thing he has wanted for months. The part of him that yearns for reprieve day in and day out. The part that demands for rest- for freedom. 

Now he can finally surrender himself to the magic that the two of you create. To the sparkle that runs down your cheeks. To the sensation of being embraced so tightly by your little pussy. To the way his name has never sounded better from anyone else’s lips. Eywa has finally given him this gift, his sanctuary from every other pressure bestowed upon him. 

And now nothing is going to take it away from him.

Nothing will ever take you away.

Those are the thoughts that coerce his primal nature forward. The same that ramp the fire of his tongue demanding more from you. Pushing you further, harder, deeper. 

“You won’t let any spill out, will you pet?” He spits between grunts. 

“I-I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” More of a chant on loop than anything else. One day you will beg properly. You will cry for his seed, for his babies. You won’t question whether or not pregnancy is possible as he fills your womb with his mark. 

You will wear that little bow on your neck with pride.

Neteyam forces his eyes open at the precipice. Even as his body convulses and cock pulses rampantly while painting your insides white, he won’t allow himself to miss a single moment. That imprint of your expression as he finally claims you past the point of return will stay with him. The drawn in gasp that is sucked in from your red lips when you feel that warmth will be what keeps him going on day after day. Major to minor details of tonight will be his soundtrack to perfection as he pushes himself to be the best Olo’eyktan possible. 

And when the day has worn him to the bone and those day dreams are not enough, there you will be. Waiting for him oh so sweetly. 

“I want to sleep.”

Your muffled whine coaxes a chuckle from the Olo’eyktan.

“Then sleep.” He responds, only looking up from your spread legs for a second. So peaceful and sweet you are now, almost drowned in the hammock’s blankets and pillows. The picture of innocence and beauty only to then trail his eyes lower and find the evidence of his primal claim. His bioluminescent seed paints your weeping folds and inner thighs. A new spurt erupts from your still clenching hole only for him to push it back inside with his thumb again. 

It won’t make much of a difference. There is no way your small body could ever truly hold all of it but that doesn’t stop him from teasing you all the same. 

“Looks like this little pussy will need training to savor my seed properly after all.” 

Eyes still closed you let out a groan, trying to rip your thighs from his fingers. You remain trapped as exhaustion finally overcomes you, only a small incoherent curse from your tongue before passing out. 

Neteyam grins, reaching up to straighten the little pink bow around your throat. 

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[laligraves]

sweet angel agency

dark!joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.3k summary: Joel mistakes you for the escort he ordered. masterlist | AO3

warnings: dark!Joel, TLOU AU, noncon/dubcon (im so serious don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), older!joel/no outbreak, not proofread, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, reader has hair joel can pull, reader can be picked up by joel, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: happy october! i have these three serial killer!joel WIPs i keep jumping between but idk which one to finish 😭 so i wrote this instead lol

“No, no, no. Shit!” 

Your car emits a loud creaking sound and begins to shake. Thinking quickly, you drive into a small cul-de-sac, away from the main road and fast cars. It rolls to a stop with one final groan, shutting off completely. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, “are you kidding me?” 

You grab your phone from the center console, noticing the 3% battery, and shoot a text to your friend that you’ll be late to the Halloween party. 

It dies as you press the send button and you throw it to the passenger seat in exasperation. You look around the rows of houses. There’s a Halloween event in the city, which probably explains the lack of cars in the driveways and the turned off porch lights. 

Well, all except one. 

A pickup truck with tools and materials in the bed, is parked in the driveway of a home. The porch light is on and you can see the flicker of the TV through the closed blinds. 

You hope the family is nice enough to let you use their phone or even if by some miracle, one of them knows how to fix your car. As you step out of the car and smooth down your dress, you pray they aren’t judgmental of your outfit choice. 

It’s a tiny, silk dress complete with angel wings and thigh high stockings. You pull the dress down in an effort to cover your thighs but it only brings it down from your chest, accentuating your tits. 

With no choices left, you ring the doorbell to the house. There’s no noise aside from the crickets and the TV, until you hear the heavy thuds of boots walking towards the door. 

It swings open, revealing a tall, older man. His hair and beard have streaks of gray and his brown eyes are lined with soft wrinkles. The button down he wears stretches over his broad chest and as he leans his arm on the door, the bottom of his shirt rises to show a slight belly and a happy trail. 

In other words, he's handsome. A quick scan of his left hand shows no wedding ring. 

You give him a pretty smile, not above using your looks to get what you want. 

“Hi,” you say as you give him your name, “sorry to bother you. My car broke down and I was wondering if I could use your phone to call a tow truck?” 

His eyes do a slow sweep of your body, lingering on the lacy band of your thigh highs, then back up to your eyes, 

“Didn’t realize you came with a story.” 

Your eyebrows pinch in confusion. “Uh–story? What?” 

“And the angel costume… I guess that’s expected.” 

“May I use your phone?” you ask again.  

He pushes the front door wider, motioning for you to walk in. “It’s in the kitchen.” 

You walk inside and accidentally brush against his body. Aside from his confusing comments, the deep rumble of his voice caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You walk into the hallway, stopping at the entrance of the living room, waiting for him to lead you to the kitchen. 

“Are you… home alone or–” 

You feel his hand snake through your hair and pull you back into his chest. His other hand slips under your dress and cups your pussy, rubbing over the thin material of your panties. 

“What the fuck–” 

You lift your hands to scratch and push him away but he only holds you tighter. 

“Stop playin’ games, little girl,” he growls, “we both know why you’re here.” 

His fingers, rough and calloused even through your panties, glide over your panty-covered slit in rough strokes. You’re frozen in his arms, unsure of what to do. 

Your heart pounds fast in your chest and you feel warmth spread through your body. 

“I don’t–please, sir–” you stutter. 

His fingers slip into your panties and you bite your lip to muffle your moan. He swirls his middle finger at your entrance, gathering the slick that’s dripped out of you, and drags it up to circle your clit. 

You gasp, the sudden jolt of pleasure taking you by surprise. 

“So fuckin’ sensitive,” he growls, “can’t wait to sink my cock in ya’, angel.” 

Your hands try to dislodge his arms from around you, but he slips his hand around your neck and squeezes, cutting off your air supply. Your wings bend in his hold and the plastic middle digs into your back. 

“I told them I wanted you to call me Joel,” he murmurs, loosening his hand to allow you to breathe, “but I like sir.” 

“What are you talking about—” 

Joel interrupts you again, ripping your panties in a stinging snap and spinning your around to face him. You teeter and almost trip on your heels, but he crouches and swings you over his shoulder. 

He brings his hand down on your ass, ordering you to stop squirming, girl, while you feel the cool air brush on your naked cunt. 

Joel walks you through the hallway and into a room, dropping you on his bed. You try to scoot away from him, but he grabs your foot and yanks you back down. 

“No, please,” you cry, “I don’t know what this is–” 

“We won’t be needing these,” he says as he slips off your heels. 

“Sir–” 

Joel grabs the top of your dress and rips it half, maneuvering your body so he can untie your wings, leaving you in nothing but your stockings. 

You don’t like the way your belly tightens with each stroke of his rough hands over your heated skin or the way your cunt drips with need every time he calls you a pretty angel. 

He laughs at your attempts to kick or shove him away, and easily overpowers you. Joel pushes your hands back and nuzzles your breasts, gliding his nose over one, sliding to the other, until he suckles a peaked nipple into his mouth. 

It gets you to stop fighting and instead you whimper in his hold, pushing your chest up so he can get more of your plump flesh into his mouth. 

He makes room for himself between your thighs, grinding down his bulge onto your bare pussy. The rough material of his jeans contrasts the softness of his mouth and your brain short circuits. 

“Always the same with you sluts,” he growls, “beggin’ me to stop but look at ya’, soakin’ my jeans.” 

Joel props himself up, giving a kiss to the tip of each breast, and holds your mouth open with rough fingers to shove your panties inside. With your now torn dress, he uses the silk to tie your hands together. 

“Can’t get away from me now, little girl. You’re all mine.” 

Your knees are bent and thighs spread open, giving him a perfect view of your cunt. He uses one hand to thumb your tiny hole while the other unbuckles his belt. 

“Prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen,” Joel says, “gonna make a mess in it.” 

Joel pushes his jeans down and fists his cock, squeezing the thick length in his hand. A pulse starts in your cunt at the sight and you unconsciously tighten your inner muscles.

You push the inappropriate thoughts out of your head, reminding yourself that this is a stranger, one that you wanted help from–but the dribble of pre-cum on his purple tip makes your mouth water. 

His cock is thick, angry-looking, and curved slightly. A patch of curly hair, silver streaked just like his head, covers his base. 

Joel slips a single finger inside of you and you both groan, him from the snug fit and you from the stretch. Your back arches and you cry out from behind the gag. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs, “how am I gonna fit in here, angel?” 

He slides his finger out and notches the tip of his cock to your slick entrance. You cry, no, no, please, through your gag, but your resolve slowly slips. 

Joel holds your thighs open and thrusts in with one firm push, lodging himself to the hilt. It takes you a few moments to react, but you scream behind the gag.

“Fuck, fuck,” he says, “that’s—fuck. You’re fuckin’ perfect.” 

You flutter around his length, trying to accommodate his size, feeling every veiny and bumpy ridge on his cock. 

He stills, clutching your thighs and sliding his fingers beneath the lace band of your stockings.

“Grippin’ me so well, angel,” Joel groans, grinding down. “Meant to be, yeah?” 

No, you scream in your head, but your body quivers in excitement and you breathe in the scent of his cologne and sweat, wanting him but, at the same time remembering how you ended up here.  

“Look at cha’,” he laughs, “impatient little thing. Already fuckin’ herself on my cock.” 

You try to deny it, that you’re currently not swiveling your hips, bouncing with the little room you have, trying to get him to move, but it’s no use. You’re chasing the warmth that simmers in your belly and you purposefully clench around his length.  

Joel moves slowly, sliding out, watching the flicker of emotions on your face. 

It barely fits, and it borders on pain. But the heat in your pussy only grows with each growl or moan that spills from his mouth. 

You’re embarrassingly wet, making it so much easier for him to pound into you. He watches your joined bodies, eyes half closed but focused on the way your inner lips grip him, on how your slick drowns him from tip to base. 

“Should I keep you, little girl?” Joel groans. “Chain you to my bed so you never leave?” 

The image flashes in your mind—you, naked and sweaty, covered in his cum and spit, completely at his mercy. 

He doesn’t need a verbal answer to know the idea excites you. Little slut, he says, as your inner muscles tighten around him. 

Joel pushes your hands above your head and presses his face into the exposed column of your neck. He stretches over you, trapping you under his heavy weight. 

Even if this isn’t the first time you’ve been fucked—it is the first time you’ve been fucked like this. The sounds you make, whines, screams, pretty whimpers that have him holding you tighter and fucking you harder—it’s all new. 

“Deep,” he whispers in your ear, “so goddamn deep.” 

There’s something strangely intimate about this. He stays fully clothed, only giving you his bare cock to feel, while you lay beneath him, completely nude except for the thigh highs.  

Joel, if that even is his name, is a complete stranger. Yet he pounds into you like he owns you. 

His lips trail from your neck, licking the droplets of sweat that gather on your skin, leaving kisses on the corner of your mouth, uncaring of the drool from your gag. 

Your thoughts jumble from the overstimulation and soon you’re sobbing, filled with his big cock, dominated by the sheer force of his entire being. 

“So fuckin’ tiny,” Joel grunts, “take me cock, little girl. Take it, take it.” 

His breathing becomes erratic and he thrusts harsher, hauling your thigh higher so he can move quicker. He’s close. It might be your mind playing tricks or, his cock could actually be swelling inside of you, ready to fill you with his cum. 

His thumb swipes over your clit in fast circles and you ripple around his length, coming in sticky, wet spurts. Your scream, caught by surprise by the pressure of your orgasm. You tremble and cry in his hold, squeeze him hard enough that he groans in pain. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters, “gonna make this pussy mine.” 

And he does. Joel fills your clenching, little hole with his cum, spilling his seed in your unprotected womb. You remember too late that you’re no longer on birth control, but it’s no use. You have no way to stop him from painting your cunt white, so you let him make a mess inside of you. 

His hips piston with enough force to sink you into the mattress. You’re not quite sure if your orgasm ever ended, but your cunt pulses with another wave as Joel fucks the rest of his spend inside of you. 

“All full of me, little girl,” he murmurs, dropping down to lay partially on top of you. 

You won’t be able to walk tomorrow, or maybe for the next few days. Your entire body feels sore and your mind is delirious. 

Joel gently slides out of you and places a kiss on your chin. He unties the silk from your hands and removes the wet panties from your mouth. You hear him walk out of the room, but fall asleep before you’re able to drink the glass of water he brings you. 

-

Joel’s POV.

He’s glad he followed Tommy’s advice and switched to a new escort agency. 

The others aren’t usually so responsive or reactive to his touch. They’ll play along to his fantasy, throw out a few no, please stop, but it never feels real. 

You’re different. 

You kicked, scratched him, drew blood from his skin. It felt real, bringing out the primal side of him that he’s so desperately tried to repress. 

Joel walks into the kitchen to grab you a glass of water and his phone, intending to order you food, when he sees an email from Sweet Angel Agency sent almost two hours ago. 

Dear Mr. Joel Miller, 

We apologize for the late notice but our Angel will not be able to make it to your residence tonight. We will be providing you with a full refund. Please wait 2-3 business days to see that reflected in your bank account. 

For any further questions or to schedule another appointment, please contact us. 

Thank you, 

Sweet Angel Agency

“Who the fuck is in my bedroom?” Joel says after reading the email. 

But as he walks back into the room and sees you spread out on his bed, your inner thighs soaked with your combined juices, marking your heated skin in white and clear streaks, Joel realizes he doesn’t really care. 

He strips out of his sweaty clothes and climbs onto the bed with you. Now that he knows you aren’t from the agency, there’s no reason to let you go just yet. 

- - -

a/n: i know there are probably a few fics out there with similar tropes however if anything in this one is similar in plot to another, it is purely by coincidence! i would never steal someone’s work and i appreciate each and every fic writer out there who does these for free and takes time out of their day to give us amazing fics 🤍

[reiderwriter]

🔐 Password Protected 🔐

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: "Hii Kacie, may I put in a request of a NSFW prompt? Any plotline or back story is fine I trust your talent :"> Reader's boobs/asscheeks recoill during sex turning Spencer on even more "I wish you could have my view right now" he grabs the phone to open the camera app."

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, DubCon Hidden camera, dry humping, free use, soft to hard Dom!Spencer, sub! Reader, creampie, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, implied oral sex, implied bondage, implied somno, pictures/ photos, degradation (slut, whore etc,) and pet names (Princess, sir, angel etc,), nipple play/torture, multiple orgasms.

A/N: Here's my second fic for the CM Kink Bingo 2024~♡ I'm definitely all over the board now, so who knows if I'I hit bingo this year, Imao? Anyways, I hope you enjoy~ And to my dear friend :"^ anon - thank you for your inspiring request.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

With a glorious lull in cases to close over the summer, the biggest mystery in the BAU was “What's in the locked folder on Spencer's phone?” 

The man had made the (technologically inept) mistake of leaving his new phone unlocked on his desk in a bullpen full of criminal profilers. To say you'd all descended like vultures to a fresh carcass was putting it extremely lightly.

“What apps does he have? Five dollars says there's a dictionary app,” Emily joked, leaning over Morgan's shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the screen. You were similarly perched at his other shoulder. 

“He can probably recite the dictionary himself, and I don't think he'd know how to download apps,” you scoffed, scrolling up in the phone yourself to the app page. 

“There's got to be something good in the camera roll, right?” Morgan said, clicking into it to find some dirt on the much too innocent Spencer Reid. Which is where you'd found quaint pictures of the sky, some pages from a book and the folder. 

The one with a little lock on it signalling the boundary. Spencer had figured out how to use a locked folder - you'd be impressed if you weren't so curious about what was inside. 

“Placing bets, people? My money is on work documents,” Morgan chuckled, losing interest swiftly in the phone and pressing it into your hands. “It's not like the kid has a lot going on romantically, right?”

You kept your mouth shut as the others nodded in agreement. While Spencer Reid may not have anything romantic going on officially, he definitely had something sexual going on. You'd been in his bed five of the last six days, losing count on the amount of times he'd fucked you into oblivion, using your body as freely as he wished, cumming inside of you to finish before washing off all traces of your coupling and cuddling upto you as you slept. 

It wasn't quite a relationship, but dear god, did you never want it to end. You hadn't been so satisfied, so fulfilled (emphasis on the filled) in a long time. 

“What are you doing with my phone?” You heard Spencer question from behind you, and you turned, trying to mask your embarrassment. You really didn't want him to think you were some obsessive not-girlfriend going through his messages, and almost dropped the phone like it was a bomb when your eyes met his. 

“We were just debating what you could possibly have to hide in your gallery’s locked folder,” Emily laughed, clapping the man on the back and smiling up at him. “Help me win $20 and tell Morgan here that you made it accidentally and don't know the password.” 

“Hey, I didn't agree to any bet yet,” Morgan laughed, kicking his feet up on his desk. 

“Only because you know you're wrong.” 

They bickered just long enough to let Spencer take a step closer to you, slipping the phone easily out of your hand and back into his pocket. His voice was low, his mouth close to his ear when he finally sated your curiosity. 

“I think you may want to distract them from this topic, Y/N. I don't think you'll like it if they demand to see what kind of pictures and…videos I have in that folder.” 

His tone wasn't suggestive, but it still lit a fire in your belly with the implication alone. You'd warmed his bed for long enough to know that you were the only one sharing it, but you didn't remember him taking any pictures or videos of you. Shit, had you been so desperate that you'd completely blanked him capturing a folders worth of images of you servicing his cock? 

You took the hunt and stepped away from him, picking up a file quickly and glancing over it before turning to Emily. Distracting them with work was the only way to keep them off the scent and distract you must.

Even if it did mean you were inconvenienced with curiosity and lust for the rest of the day. 

When you finally finished work, you practically hammered down Spencer's door, trying to get answers to questions he'd left hung in the air earlier. You were a visual learner, so you dearly hoped he'd answer by simply just showing you what you'd missed. 

“Y/N,” he said, opening the door with a sweet smile, drawing you into the apartment with a slow, honeyed kiss. You felt him smile into you, his touch chaste enough around your arms to still your beating heart. You languished in the kiss as he pulled you on closer, shutting the door behind you as he opened you up to him, pulling you further under his spell than usual. 

“I'm so happy to see you,” he said once he'd pulled away, feathering his touch across your waist, settling his hands in the crook just under your breasts, stroking the bottom of them with his thumbs. You were suddenly glad the man's hands were so large, sure that this one interaction was heaven on earth. 

He almost distracted you from your purpose for coming here. 

Pulling you to the sofa in his living room, Spencer pushed back a strand of hair, hooking it behind your ear as he let you straddle him  wrapping your arms around his neck, your head falling comfortably onto his shoulder as you inhaled his scent. 

“I'm not complaining that you're here, or anything, Y/N,” he said, hands roaming your body and stroking your ass as he spoke. “But did you have something to say? You didn't message before coming.” 

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes before looking away out of embarrassment. 

“Earlier, you…” you started, tongue going dry as he tightened his grip on your ass. He shifted slightly under you and you realized he was grinding his leg up into your clothed pussy as you spoke. 

“Yes?” 

“Your phone…the locked folder, I want to see what's inside.” 

You were sure that he knew already what you wanted before you'd even arrived, but he just smiled at you again, almost too kindly. 

“That's my private business, Y/N. Why should I let you see it?” He asked, looking good a finger under your jaw to make you look him in the eye once more. 

“I th-think… I think there are videos. Of me. I'd like to see them.” 

“Where are your manners?” 

“Please, sir,” you whispered, tipping your head forward, begging him for a kiss. “Please show me the videos.” 

He huffed out a quick laugh and gave you one last peck on the lips before he pushed you off. You sat on the floor between his legs, a position you were so used to being in by now that you wouldn't be surprised to find multiple shots of you sat like this, lips wrapped around his cock, pussy grinding on his shoes. Even the thought of such pictures had you wanting to recreate those memories, you weren't sure what a folder worth is going to do. 

Stretching over to his coffee table, Spencer picked up the discarded phone and unlocked it, flipping through some pages before looking down at you again. 

Stroking your hair, Spencer neatly arranged it before wrapping the same hand he'd been using g around your neck and pulling you gently upwards. You landed back in his lap, but he'd turned you around this time. Instead of straddling him, your back was pressed to his chest, your legs on either side of one of his. He released your neck, instead pushing his hands between your thighs so you couldn't push them together for relief - he already knew your body so well. 

“Is this what you're curious about, Y/N?” He said, finally flashing you the phone screen. The first picture was obviously taken post-sex, and you recognised his bed sheets quickly. Your face hung off the end of his bed, eyes shut as his cum painted your lips, cheeks and eyes, lips parted in a lusty moan. From the angle it was taken at, you could see your breasts swell and your hand disappear between your legs as well, stroking yourself to release.

“Shit,” you moaned, pussy clenching on nothing as it begged for relief. With a hand on your hip, Spencer started encouraging you to rock back and forward, humping his leg as he whispered in your ear. 

“You didn't know about that one because your eyes were covered in my cum. It turned me on more knowing you had no clue I was going to jack off to it later as well.” 

He scrolled to the next image, and in this one too, you seemed unaware of the camera. Your hands were tied to the headboard, and he was fucking you from behind, the shot capturing his creamy dick pulling out of you and the discarded condom on the bed beside you. 

“That was the day we learned how much more you enjoyed being filled with cum than you enjoyed condoms,” he said, scrolling to the next picture. 

“And here's your first creampie,” he said, his spare hand pushing under your shirt, fingers clamping down on one nipple as you shuddered. 

Your pace was faster now, desperately thrusting up and down his thigh. Even through your skirt and panties, you felt your wetness against his pants, knowing you'd be punished later for such unladylike behaviour. 

As if Spencer had ever wanted you to act like a lady. He knew you were a slut and he enjoyed it. 

“The next one is a video,” he said, moving his hand to your other breast and slapping it as you moaned above him. “Do you think you can handle it?” 

“Y-Yes, Sir. Please let me see it, sir.” 

“Okay, but not a fucking noise out of you. I want to hear your screams from the video.” 

You could only silently groan in reply, nodding quickly as he scrolled and pressed play. 

This one was recent, maybe one or two nights ago. You recognised the outfit you'd partially discarded, the shirt that had been ripped open. 

How had you possibly not seen the camera pointed straight at you? 

In the video, his cock was pressed into you, fucking you at a pace most would call violent  but you called heavenly. The focus wasn't on your pussy taking his cock, though, but on your boobs, recoiling and jumping with every thrust. His other hand pressed to your stomach, feeling himself sheathed there, as you moaned desperately. 

“Spen…Spen-sher,” you tripped over your tongue, slurring the words as if you'd been drugged. Your eyelids were heavy, eyes practically rolling back in your head as his hand on your stomach tightened. 

“I think I fucked your brain out, baby,” he laughed deeply, cock not relenting even one second. 

“Your tits looked so perfect,” the Spencer of the present said, pressing the phone into your hand as he grabbed each nipple and tugged them forward, leaving you gasping. 

“And you didn't even realize I was filming it all. I could've done anything to you, anything at all, and you wouldn't have cared. You'd have enjoyed it, and I'd have had the proof.” 

You were soaked now, humping deliriously against his thigh, like a puppy experiencing their first heat, desperate for this feeling to go away and for it to stay and intensify all the same. 

“You were acting so stupid. At one point, I even got you to say hello to the camera, and you didn't remember a thing an hour later.” 

Releasing one breast, he swiped one more time to the left, and you saw the beginning of another video. 

Hitting the play button, his hands returned to your chest, this time pushing up your top and bra and freely clamping down on the nipples as hard as he could. 

What intrigued you the most about this last video was the start. Unlike the pictures and the videos, you weren't in the middle of sex at the beginning of this video at all. 

You were instead laid with your back to the camera - to Spencer - a leg thrown over some unfamiliar sheets. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't yours either. 

Another minute of grinding against his leg, and you recognised the motel room from your last case. 

“Spencer, wh-” 

“Watch and see, princess.” 

The bed creaked under his weight as he climbed in behind you, removing the duvet covers from your body, replacing it with his hands. He made similarly swift work of your pajamas, only bothering to push them down to your knees before pulling out his cock and slowly pushing into you. 

If you weren't so close to another orgasm, you'd probably be shocked that Spencer had invaded your personal space and started fucking you as you slept. But that's what it meant to be his little free use slut. You allowed him access to you anywhere, anytime (including the motel room you'd given him the spare key for) and in return he dropped as many loads of his cum into your pussy as would fit there. 

Watching yourself get violated in your sleep was the last of what you needed to push over the edge. 

You grabbed Spencer's arm, gasping, and you felt him trail kisses along your neck and shoulders. 

“That's it, baby, just hold on a second while I…” he pulled the phone out of your grasp, opening yet another familiar looking app. 

You looked at the screen and found your own bare chest heaving staring back at you. He clicked the red button and forced it back into your hands as he began abusing your tits again. 

“Show the camera, Y/N. Show them how you get yourself off on my leg.” 

You complied, lifting the phone slightly to get the best view of your chest, heaving up and down as you humped his thigh into oblivion. 

Your cunt twitched and you felt fluids rushing out of you, even as your arms trembled. But you didn't let them falter  holding g up the phone to capture every second of your climax, knowing its exactly what he would want. 

“You're perfect, you know that Y/N,” he said, finally kissing the top of your head and pulling the phone out of your grasp as he saved the video into the file you'd been browsing. 

His gentleness was short-lived, though, as he pushed you off his lap and back to the floor. As you caught your breath, ass up on the floor, he took the opportunity to slip his dick out of his pants, and began stroking it up and down, inspecting your pussy with his free fingers. 

“I'll give you five seconds to get ready for the next round,” he said, and you panicked, lifting your legs off the floor. You weren't strong enough, though, or maybe you just didn't want to move. He kept counting down. 

“4….3….2…1,” you heard the predatory grin in his voice as he pushed his foot onto your head, holding your cheek to the floor with one leg. 

“As you wish then, my little slut.” He moved his foot away quickly and pushed inside of you, and your last coherent thought was of the folder again, and how long he'd make you wait to see the video you were about to shoot. 

[gladiiator]

like an act of god

warnings/tags: 18+, dark themes, DUBCON/NONCON, woc!reader, emperor!lucius, dark!lucius, possessive behavior, forced engagement, implied forced marriage, ignoring a lot of logistics for the sake of the plot so rip, these tags are not exhaustive

wc: 5.4k

summary: An emperor’s favor is no favor at all.

believe it or not this was a writing warm up 😗 next up is hopefully childhood friends to lovers but let’s see where the plot bunnies go 🙂‍↔️

please let me know your thoughts and happy reading!!!

This is the fourth time in a mere week the emperor has called you to his chambers.

The guard looks vaguely uncomfortable as he stands outside your room. The flickering flames cast shadows underneath his helmet, making the sympathetic curl of his lip all the more severe.

Ink smudges the paper as you place down your pen. The letter to your brother will have to wait it seems.

“My lady.” The guard dips his head as he motions for you to step ahead of him.

The strained smile on your face wavers as soon as his eyes are on the back of your head. It is tough to keep your back straight as you make the short trek to the emperor’s room. Too short one can say but you keep those words tucked under the roof of your mouth.

You are a favorite of his, garnering his favor through virtue of your family or so they say. Your status allows you many liberties but these constant calls have crossed the line of propriety and rumors you may not recover from have begun to spread.

It is a fool’s wish to hope his eyes may stray but you cling to it despite his doglike loyalty.

The man of the hour sits with his back turned and a glass of wine balanced on his lips. His head twists when he hears your quiet footsteps enter his domain, softening when he catches a glimpse of you.

Your stomach twists.

You do not miss how the servants scurry out of sight and out earshot when he turns his formidable gaze towards them. You wish you could grab onto the frail wrist of the girl nearest to you. Your fingers flex as she hurriedly walks past you.

“It is late,” you say when the room is cleared.

“It is,” he agrees, a small smile on his handsome face. “Sit.”

Movements stiff, you take the seat across from him. He’s stretched out on his seat, robes rucking upwards to expose the strength hidden beneath his royal garb. Scars pucker the meat of his legs and there are faint white lines crisscrossing the skin as if depicting a linear story.

You swallow.

You have heard the tales and have determined what is far-fetched and what is truth.

And Lucius is made up almost entirely of truths.

The moment you cross your legs, he is upright and leaned over the minuscule table separating the two of you. Rather than reach for the half-full bottle of wine, he aims for the water, sharing a secretive smirk with you.

Your attempt at mirroring his playfulness is weak. A vague nausea begins to brew in your gut and you fear even water may be too heavy for you.

“Whispers will begin to spread.”

Lucius pauses. His features harden before he forcibly relaxes his face. “I do not see why that matters,” he says. His smile dims and the jug of water in his hand is quickly abandoned.

Sweat dampens your palms. You smooth them over your dress, wincing as the fabric catches on your peeled skin. A few months in Rome and you still have not adjusted to the weather.

“Lucius.”

His name is unnatural and stiff on your tongue. You long to revert back to his formal title but he refuses the honorific.

“It matters because you must marry wisely,” you say gently. “You know this. Let us not waste our breaths on the obvious.”

“Is it obvious?” he parrots back.

His voice takes on a cool tone. He’s not quite combative but you sense you must tread carefully lest his ice be thinner than it looks. But your brother was not made General because your bloodline bowed at the first sign of danger.

You tip your chin up. “It will not do for your senators to suspect you are looking inwards rather than outwards for your alliances.”

It is quiet for a moment before Lucius huffs out a laugh. He shifts his weight, balancing an elbow on his thigh to better cup his chin. Amusement lightens the blues of his eyes. “And if I am?”

You are not nearly as oblivious as your reputation suggests nor are you as great an actress as you believe yourself to be. You know when it admit defeat. There is only one way this conversation will go after all.

But this understanding does not mean you have to go quietly.

“Then I recommend Decima,” you say dryly.

He nods slowly, hiding his mouth behind his palm for a heartbeat before fixing you with a blandly curious look. “The daughter of the richest man in Rome,” he drawls. “Clever.”

He pops a grape into his mouth and chews it thoughtfully. “But not as clever as marrying the sister of my most loyal general.”

No one refuses the emperor. Try as he may to be benevolent and fair and kind, his status means there are certain words he has not been accustomed to since his rise to power.

“I suppose not,” you say finally.

Tilting your head, you fix the way your dress hangs over your legs. His eyes follow the ripple of the fabric but you pretend not to notice how he searches beyond what he can see.

“Is that why you have called me to your chambers so often? To flaunt your cleverness?” you ask, a touch sharply.

Lucius can’t help his grin. He ducks his head and it’s such a genuine display of the boyishness your brother feared his emperor lost, your stomach rolls at the sight.

“Do I not seem to enjoy your company?" he asks with faux surprise.

To your surprise, he slides down onto the ground and shuffles forward until his hands rest upon your knees. The cloth is so thin it feels as if his bare hands are against you. You suck in a breath at the warmth pooling underneath his palms.

“What are you—get up!” you hiss, casting a furtive glance behind you.

He blinks up at you innocently. “I am apologizing for misleading my betrothed. I have done a disservice if you think I call for you for the sake of a ploy.”

“And you will be doing me further disservice if you think I will believe this to mean anything.”

He moves his hands upwards until they lay upon your thighs. His fingers dimple your skin as he squeezes you. “I do not do things I do not mean,” he says firmly.

You lean down, placing your hands over his. “You want a family,” you say.

The words are shards in your mouth. It is not a simple matter of children. Lucius wants a home. The losses that haunt him have made his longing a physical thing. And your stubborn devotion lead you across an ocean you had no business crossing. What is a greater showing of love than that?

“I want you,” he corrects softly.

You almost wish he’d tell you he loves you. That would take rationality out of this equation.

But he wants you.

How do you reason with someone who knows exactly what they’re doing?

-

It was not meant to go this way.

The new ruler of Rome should have been of no personal concern of yours. He existed as a potential threat to your homeland, a story to fear, but not as a real person in your mind.

This remained true until a letter found its way to your family’s home.

It was written in your brother’s familiar scrawl and voice. He regaled to your family how he found himself across the world, omitting the worst of his ordeal, while promising his present safety.

With palpable regret, Kahlil declared himself unable to leave Rome, not while she remained under such uncertainty. The new emperor, Lucius Verus, had earned his loyalty having freed him from the clutches of the tyrannical twins and pushing him towards a path of glory.

And you knew at once what you must do.

You had to leave.

You had to feel his heartbeat underneath your hands and see that his blood was the same shade as yours. You refused to move on with your life as it was only knowing your brother existed. You would never be at peace without confirming that mortality ran through his veins.

The journey was brutal. It veered into the territory of being something you could not handle but you had no other choice than to handle it. Days stretched into weeks and weeks stretched into months but soon, you were touching down onto Roman soil.

The months at sea had been beneficial however as the language, while unfriendly to your ears, was familiar enough for you to navigate your way to the city. Hope permeated the air of the reborn city and whispers echoed the streets about a new age of peace.

Frankly, you didn’t care.

You asked around for your brother, eyebrows grazing your hairline as you learned of his newfound fame amongst the people. It took less than a week for you to scrounge around for a way to informally meet the beloved general.

It was rather anticlimactic.

There were a handful of places the general frequented with his men and none were easily accessible. Luckily, the innkeeper’s daughter took a liking to you and directed you to whose pockets were light. And so, you found yourself ducking underneath a curtain and into a plume of opioid smoke.

Your nose wrinkled at the acidic scent but paid it no mind as you searched the back room. Feigning confusion as some soldiers called to you, you darted around as each man you ran into did not resemble the one you knew.

On the cusp of marching back to the inn and declaring Caelia a liar, you found him. He was leaning over the balcony, melancholy stretching across his side profile.

His name left you as a breath, carried away by the slight breeze. But somehow, he heard you.

Kahlil lifted his head, a painful sort of resignation weighing down his shoulders, until he made eye contact with you.

In a matter of seconds, he stood before you. And he was okay.

He hugged you. His arms, muscled beyond your imagination, crushed you against his chest but it was a welcome pain, cracking your chest open and burrowing straight into the fragile meat of your heart.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he muttered against your hair. The admonishment is nonexistent, more a reflex to say rather than something from the heart. “But I am glad to see you.”

You pushed against him. He allowed you to pull back just enough so you could look up at him, vision blurred from your tears.

He was nothing like you remembered and you mourned this. Scars decorated his skin and callouses roughened his hands. But it was him.

His smile was still slightly awkward and the shape of his brows framed his eyes as perfectly as they always did. The kindness you feared was taken from him in his years of fighting remained in the crinkles of his eyes and the softness of his features.

“I missed you,” you said, voice catching in your throat. A fresh set of tears burned at your waterline. “I am so sorry we could not find you.”

His expression crumpled and Kahlil shook his head. “There is no one to blame but those who took me,” he said firmly.

You shut your eyes, swallowing down the sob that threatened to break free at his forgiveness.

He wiped the stray tears dripping from your face, laughing as if he did not look as foolish as you did. “You are still a crybaby.”

You laughed, more a hiccup than anything.

Kahlil was kept from saying more when someone uttered his name from behind.

“Highness,” Kahlil said, standing tall.

He wiped your remaining tears and his own before turning the both of you towards the voice.

A handsome man stood in front of you. His hair was dark and his beard thick. His arms were corded with muscle, similar to your brother’s, but there was a predator type of strength lurking underneath the surface in which Kahlil lacked.

The title registered in your mind as you stared and with an embarrassed look towards Kahlil, you dropped your head in deference.

The man quickly dismissed the formality and motioned for you to lift your head.

“I am Lucius,” he introduced. His gaze flicked to your brother in question.

You gave him your name, voice raw from your tears. He asked you to repeat it and you did so, watching as he rounded his mouth over the syllables.

“My sister,” Kahlil interjected. “The one who thinks no consequence too severe to keep her from making reckless decisions.”

At this, he pinched your ear lobe.

“You talked about me?” you asked, blinking up at him. So many years had passed. It was a wonder he remembered any stories of you to tell.

“Yes,” Lucius said, drawing your attention back to him. He stared at you, an unreadable look in his too blue eyes. “Quite favorably too.”

He took in the circles staining your under eyes and how you clutched at your brother as if he were an apparition brought to life. Your hand ached with how tightly you held the fabric of Kahlil’s clothes between your fingers but you could not make yourself relax. You worried you would wake and find yourself back on the boat and under the throes of that fever once more if you let go.

“You traveled far.”

The observation managed to sound impressive off of Lucius’ tongue as if he found you admirable. It made you squirm.

Memories of the journey flashed through your mind, bringing forth echoes of the anxiety you suffered for months on end. But you shrugged as if it was easy. Because in a way, it was.

Kahlil was at the end of the journey. There was no easier path to take.

“And I would have gone further had it been necessary,” you said. “Luckily, it was not. I might have thrown up my stomach if I was stuck on that ship any longer.”

Kahlil made a face. “The waves are a punishment,” he said sympathetically.

“You must be tired,” Lucius said. He had not taken his eyes off of you. “Come.”

And that was how it began.

You had a few uninterrupted weeks with your brother before he departed in search of allies for Rome. Kahlil promised you a home wherever he was and Lucius was all too happy to uphold such a promise.

Your quarters were moved to be closer to Lucius’ in Kahlil’s absence. It did not take long before you replaced time spent with him with Lucius.

In the instances you were alone with him, you forgot he was the emperor. His smile was infectious and he had a clever wit about him that kept you on your toes. The stories sprung from his lips kept you enthralled and you found yourself prolonging these moments with him.

Charisma was a necessity for leaders and Lucius had it in abundance.

Slowly, he began encroaching into your space. A hand on your lower back, a brush his fingers against your waist, lingering hugs that involved him burying his face in the hollows of your throat.

He was too close too often.

People began to take notice and sly comments were whispered under breath.

Once the rumors circulated close enough for you to hear, you began to pull back. You ignored the informal requests to see him and found reasons to decline the formal requests to his chambers.

Lucius did not take well to your sudden reticence and the rumors worsened as his demand for you grew.

If you knew being friendly with Lucius would lead to this, you would have made your room a jail in Kahlil’s absence instead.

-

Lucius becomes bold in the days after your engagement is announced.

He pens a letter to your brother of the news. You sign it without reading it. Lucius purses his lips but sends the letter without much complaint.

You write your own letter, minimally mentioning the engagement, and praying Kahlil reads in between the lines and slows his journey back. As your father resided an ocean away, your brother will have to make do and you fear his loyalty for Lucius will override his love for you.

Congratulations are heartfelt and plentiful from the people and ring insincere from the upper echelon. But the pushback is minimal and so, Lucius gleefully goes forward with the wedding planning.

It will be a grand affair, one you know he does not care for in the slightest. If it not for the fact that it would be the greatest showing of ownership, you believe Lucius would have dragged you in front of seven witnesses to declare the union.

The first time he presses a kiss against your temple in front of the most gossipy of his senate, you nearly buck your head back into his nose. His hand rests against your side and he murmurs something against your skin, sealing whatever it is he has said with a gentle kiss.

The sound of your blood rushing is all that fills your ears so you do not know if Lucius requested something of you. It does not matter.

He has made his point.

His affection worsens after that.

The engagement permits him to seek you out as he wishes. His men roll their eyes lightheartedly when he stops what he’s saying to call you over during training. He is quick to leave meetings or lunches if he senses they have turned into leisure rather than productive discussion to make his way back to your quarters now that you rebuff his.

No matter where you are, he finds you.

In the rare moments you are left to your own devices, you find yourself with no friends nor hobbies to keep you occupied.

You notice men do not raise their heads when they see you. Any conversation you try to hold with one ends with excuses as to why they suddenly find themselves too busy to speak to you.

A guard follows you around the clock. You manage to wrangle his name out of him—Scipio—but it is for nothing as a fortnight later, you do not see him again. From then, you have a new guard every day.

The women, few and far between in the palace, are sweet. But it is clear whatever comes out of your mouth goes directly to Lucius’ ear. So you busy yourself with fictional hopes of your future and dabble in petty gossip when you find yourself in their presence.

It is suffocating.

“There you are.”

The corner of the garden you’ve taken a liking to darkens as Lucius blocks the sunlight seeping in through a window.

He’s angelic under the golden cast of the sun. A man more than worthy of his position.

“Ah, Highness,” you greet, offering him a nod.

There is a pinch between his brows.

“We are to be married,” he reminds you, crouching down. He runs a gentle hand through the flowers you are observing. “You are my equal.”

“But we are not husband and wife quite yet, Highness.”

His hand leaves the flowers to cup your cheek. He turns you to face him, thumb brushing against the softness of your lips. Unconsciously, you swipe your tongue over the trail of warmth left behind. A slightly salty taste permeates your mouth.

“You are my equal,” he repeats. “And I expect you to treat me as such.”

The skin around his eyes is dark. Exhaustion makes him look pallid. Your avoidance is the last thing he wishes to deal with, this you are sure, and it tugs at your heart to see him so tired.

“You should go to bed,” you say.

“Will you join me?” he asks.

You jerk back. His hands falls off your cheek.

Lucius laughs at the stunned look on your face. He moves closer into your space, looking down at you.

“You are annoying,” you say hotly. “And I am busy. Obviously.”

He hums. “With thinking of ways to delay our wedding, yes?”

“Please. I have better uses of my time.”

Besides, he has made it nigh impossible to find a loophole. An emperor’s word is law and he has used his to shackle you to him.

“So you do not conspire to find a way to break our engagement?” he surmises mildly.

A fissure of fear opens within you. Hadrian had promised you discretion but clearly, a bit of luck is needed to escape the ever watchful eye of Lucius. But you have not been informed of any ports closures and so, you choose to hold your cards tightly to your chest.

You twist a petal between your fingers. “How can I conspire when all I know are these walls,” you motion towards said walls, “And the people you install in my circle.”

He watches you for a too long moment, scrutinizing the unnatural stillness of your expression. “The sense you hope your brother will impart on me will not change anything,” he says eventually.

It takes considerable effort for you to not show any sort of relief at his warning. The more pleading your letters became, the more Lucius clung to your side so you had eased up in the past few weeks. It does not come as a surprise he is actively reading whatever it is you write.

“Is he a confidant in name only, then?” you retort.

“He loves me,” Lucius says instead. He’s softened, bearing the weight of a man who knows it takes only a word for blood to be spilled in his name and for it to be spilled gladly. “But he loves you more.”

Pursing his lips, he fingers a stem. He doesn’t flinch when a thorn splits his skin. A droplet of blood runs from his finger and drips into the soil.

“But he loves Rome more?” you guess, peeking at him from under your lashes.

He watches the blood continue to spill into the soil. Just when you think he won’t answer you, to give weight to the truth you fear more than anything, he says, “Kahlil thinks I am a good man.”

And that is a sentencing all on its own, you suppose.

-

The bath water practically scalds your skin as you sink into the tub.

It is refreshing in a way. The slight sting keeps your thoughts from straying.

Kahlil’s recent letter leaves you with no choice but to hasten your escape. Any ship will do for you need to leave before the week’s end if Kahlil’s timeline is to be trusted.

You allow yourself a few more minutes in the bath, a few more minutes to act as if you are as any other, before you drain the tub and dry off.

You exit the bathroom, towel tucked loosely around yourself. Smoothing the left over oil onto your lips, you pause when you notice a shape out of the corner of your eye.

Lucius lays atop your sheets.

A strangled scream leaves your throat and you’re throwing a candle at him before you recognize it is him in your bed and not some stranger come to make true of your worst nightmares. Though, this is not a much better sight.

He catches the candle with one hand and deposits it on the floor, eyes wide in bemusement.

You hitch the towel higher, fisted fabric at your throat as you take him in. He’s stretched out lazily, hair wet and skin shiny with cream. The sheet covers his lower half and you force your eyes to rip away from the dark trail of hair on his lower abdomen. For all intents and purposes, he looks ready for bed.

“I brought you a gift,” he says, sitting up. He gestures to the box on top of your vanity. “Come here. Let’s look at it together.”

While said lightly, this is clearly an order.

You stand, shifting your weight. You are hyper aware of how naked you are underneath this flimsy towel. “I need to change, Highness.”

Annoyance flickers across his face. “Come here.”

Shuffling to your vanity, you heft the box as best you can with one arm and make your way to Lucius. The second you are within arm’s reach, he shoots out his hand and wraps it around you. He drags you forward and forces you to sit nestled between his thighs.

His cock is a heavy weight at the base of your spine.

You immediately straighten up and try to scoot forward but he doesn’t allow for this. He settles the box on your legs and brackets you with his arms.

“Open it,” he murmurs against your ear, resting his chin atop your shoulder.

Your fingers shake as you pry open the lid. All you can focus on is how the room feels as if it ends and begins with Lucius.

When you get the box open, you don’t know what you are looking at. And then Lucius pushes a finger against the object until a set of familiar brown eyes stare back at you, unfeeling and condemning all at once.

You shove the box away from you, turning into Lucius before you can see Hadrian’s head roll onto the floor.

He allows the change in position, letting your weight guide him back down to the bed before he hooks an arm around you and reverses your position. The towel slips and he follows the line of your throat and downwards.

He brings his hand down to push away the towel pooling at your hips. Instinctively, you grab at his wrist, tears beginning to line your eyes.

Lucius stills.

“Did you think I would let you leave?” he wonders.

He sounds genuinely confused and somehow, that little slip of sincerity allows a frigid wave of fear to crash over you. Rationally, you know your skin to still be warm to the touch but you shiver, ice replacing the blood flowing in you.

“I thought you would find me more work than I am worth,” you say quietly. Your heart strains against your rib cage.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Did you now?”

He easily breaks free of your hold and you can do nothing as he makes quick work of your towel. Lucius slowly runs his thumb along the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth.

“Lucius.” His name is torn from your throat, a plea wrapped up in a warning. “Don’t. We are not married yet.”

He laughs, dropping his head down until his forehead lies flat against your collarbone. His breath is hot against you, sending the chill inwards.

"But we will be,” Lucius promises easily. “And I will wait no longer.”

He’s kissing you before you can make an attempt at delaying what is seemingly the inevitable.

His lips are hard against yours, impatiently slipping his tongue into your mouth and finding purchase against your teeth. Lucius is uncharacteristically sloppy, betraying the desperation he’s kept so carefully hidden.

You put your hands against his chest and curl them into fists when pushing only results in him tightening his hold on you.

Recalling what the other women said about their first time, you push down your fear until it settles underneath the acceptance you forcibly yank over yourself like a veneer.

His fingers caress your soft, bare skin as he trails his hands up your thigh. The coarseness of his chest hair against your overly sensitive skin sends static skittering across your nerves.

You stifle a whine when he pulls away from you just enough to let you pant against his mouth. Your stomach gives a sickening lurch when there’s pressure between your bodies, a dull ache at the apex of your thighs.

He slips his finger into you inch by inch and tears wet your cheeks when he adds a second one. Experimentally, he stretches you out until you’re left with no choice but to let your legs fall open, inviting him in.

The longer he presses into you, the more you feel yourself relax, noting your loosening muscles as if happening from an outsider’s perspective. Wetness drips down his wrist, pooling in the crease of his elbow and he grins, eyes pointedly going down. You refuse to follow him.

“Not as shy as you like to come off, hm?” he murmurs, circling his thumb over you and drawing out a high pitched moan.

You bite your lip immediately, a harsh breath ricocheting in your chest. You try to stamp down the pleasure beginning to curl into a coil in your belly. It tightens when he digs his teeth into your fluttering pulse.

It is when you are on the brink of something that he eases up, slipping his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth. You almost clamp down on his hand when he pulls out but resist the urge by the skin of your teeth.

You shift, drawing your legs closer in the hopes of chasing that mounting high he’s taken from you. A dizzying sort of heat has set your blood aflame, akin to a fever.

You must be sick, you decide. It must be a sickness that has not yet been discovered that plagues you and leaves you feeling empty where Lucius does not touch you.

He cants his hips up, lining himself up. Your eyes widen when you feel him prod your entrance. The sheer size of him terrifies you because it won’t matter if he doesn’t fit as you hysterically believe he won’t.

He’ll find a way.

“Lucius, wait,” you hiccup, swallowing down the anxiety thrumming alongside your arousal.

He grinds himself between your thighs, slicking himself with you. He doesn’t bother acknowledging your mindless babble and instead, licks away a wayward tear on your cheek.

Lucius sinks in an inch, your name a wrecked sound. He sounds different from what you’re used to, strained and roughened around the edges.

“Please kiss me,” you beg, curling a hand around the base of his neck. His curls are wet, the space between them almost humid from the heat emanating from him.

His hips stutter and he braces himself against the mattress.

“Kiss you?” Lucius repeats hoarsely, peering down at you with his pupils blown wide with a haunting desire.

You nod weakly, urging his face closer. The stretch of him burns and while not entirely unpleasant, it makes your heart quicken and your belly flutter.

He sinks in deeper and catches your gasp in his mouth. You part your lips instantly as he bears down on you, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s seated inside you. Numbly, you wonder if you’ll ever be whole again, if Lucius has carved out a space in you only he can fill.

Lucius lets you adjust to him, running a soothing hand underneath your chest. He traces circles around your nipple and it’s a searing heat that takes the edge off.

He kisses you gently. It’s almost too sweet to bear but you respond in earnest, angling your hips upwards to give the okay. The discomfort has loosened into something you handle and the knot noosed around your heart untangles to leave a bloodied heap in its wake.

He thrusts into you as if to test your resolve. You whimper as pleasure seeps into your core. You break away from his greedy mouth and soothe yourself with pressing kisses against his strong jaw. You nip at the bone as you catch your literal and metaphorical breath. It’s hard to tell if it’s the lack of air or Lucius himself making you lightheaded.

The thread of restraint he’s meticulously maintained snaps at the strung out noise. Lucius fucks you hard and deep, perhaps a little deeper than intended if the guttural noise that leaves him is any indication.

The pleasure in your belly ratchets up and a strangled moan is gutted from you when his cock brushes against some part of you that sends sparks right up your spine.

Immediately, he’s thrusting into that spot over and over again and doesn’t stop until he stiffens with a groan.

He spills into you, cock twitching as you milk him for what he’s worth.

Your name is on the tip of his tongue and branded across his heart.

Lucius chants it, peppering kisses all over your face as he collapses carefully on top of you. Fatigue wears at you and you close your eyes, hating yourself for finding comfort in how he immediately presses a kiss against your swollen eyelids.

“I love you,” Lucius whispers.

It is the worst thing you have ever heard.

this fic is finished. there will never be a part 2. thanks!

[madaqueue]

A HEAD HELD HIGH IS SURE TO FALL

every night, the king of curses repeats the same routine - waltzing through the halls, often covered in blood (of course not his own - never his own; after all, he was the king for a reason), choosing from one of his many concubines, and storming into his chambers. every night, the screams echoed through the empty temple; every morning, the girl he bedded was gone. you figured you'd take your chances when you ventured onto his estate, following the promise of comfort and lavishness. but when he chooses you, you can't help but dread the unknown fate waiting on the other side.

pairing: trueform!sukuna x f!reader

themes/content: dark content (dubcon). smut. blood, mention of death and murder, biting/bruising, degradation (slut, whore, cocksleeve), he slaps your ass, fingering, dumbification, double penetration, sukuna is real freaky nasty mean. 18+, MDNI (wk: 4.1k)

a/n: licking the blood off his face or whatever

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At first, you think the girls must have been happy. They were chosen by the King of Curses, after all. They wore their heads high, pride settling on their shoulders as they waltzed after him to his chambers.

At first, the others ignored the screams. Perhaps it was pleasure twisted into pain, they tried to reason. When the girls never came back the next day, the others wanted to assume the best. Perhaps he so cherished their time together that he decided to free them from the temple, relinquishing the bindings of their agreement to stay.

But you have grown to learn otherwise.

Because you know Ryomen Sukuna is not a kind man. He would never spare a victim for the sake of sympathy; it wouldn’t be particularly fitting for a king, after all. It took work to claw his way to the top, and despite how easy it may seem to overlook the mountain of corpses he stands upon, you’ve never quite gotten over the feeling that he’s glaring down at you.

Now, when heavy footsteps echo down the hall, the air runs cold. You line up next to the others, eyes trained downward, only catching glimpses of the dried blood staining the edges of his robes.

When he points at one of the girls next to you, her body seems to collapse: it’s giving up - her fate has been sealed. Now, the obligation hangs heavy, a collar tightened around her throat, chains clattering as she walks to her doom.

There’s silence for a moment before the rest of you uncomfortably rise and return to whatever tasks filled the time. You were all so numb to death by now it didn’t even linger in your thoughts for more than a moment, a brief flash of decay. You honestly don’t think you even remember the name of the girl who had just been chosen, not that it mattered anyways. Nobody would be speaking it again.

Painting is what you find yourself returning to. It’s what originally drew you to Sukuna’s temple on that wretched summer’s day, after all. You had been searching for materials in the woods, new flowers to use as dyes to craft with, when something flashed across your vision: a girl, in the brightest white dress you’d ever seen. She giggled, her skin glowing under the sun as she hummed to herself.

You found yourself following her. Nobody lived in these woods, at least not that you had ever seen. Anyone you happened to encounter was usually clad in leather or metal, weapons strapped to their sides, hunting for survival.

But not her.

She looked perfectly defenseless, beautifully vulnerable. She didn’t even turn around as you slowly approached her, not a single survival instinct left. What comforts made her so willing to forego protection?

“Excuse me,” you called, reaching an arm out as though to prove she was, in fact, real. When your hand made contact with her warm skin, she didn’t even flinch.

“Oh!” she laughed. “I didn’t see you there. Are you lost?” She was even more stunning up close.

“N-no,” your voice cracked in awe. “I just…do you live out here?”

Her gaze softened as she smiled. “Oh, yes. I live in the temple, I was just out for a walk.”

“Your temple…?”

“Well, it’s not my temple, I suppose,” and that gorgeous laugh returned. “It belongs to Lord Sukuna.”

The title felt familiar in your head, a name covered in cobwebs and dust, one you only remembered hearing in the dark. “And he allows you to stay there?”

“Yes! He allows all of us to stay there, and he takes such lovely care of us, too. We have the most delicious meals, the most comfortable beds, any whim we could possibly think up is catered to in an instant.”

Something in her words made your muscles ache - you had surely been walking for miles by now, a layer of dirt coating your skin. Your stomach churned in hunger, not having eaten in possibly days, unable to consistently afford even the bare minimum. Sometimes the shop owners in town took pity on you, but sometimes they cast you away with a cruel glare. There was a flash of jealousy inside you - what had she done to deserve these luxuries? Just as the thought found its way to your tongue, she continued.

“Would you like to come see it?”

Glancing down at your calloused and stained hands, you wondered how soft hers felt. You wondered if she smelled like flowers. You wondered if you could, too.

“Yes,” you mumbled.

It took so few words to convince you - looking back on it, you wonder if she was even trying to convince you at all. She hadn’t oversold the reality, per se. You wonder if you could go back to that moment, if there’s anything you could have said to prevent yourself from joining her.

You brush the thought aside with a sigh. It doesn’t matter now, after all - you willingly walked yourself to a promised paradise, and now have come to resent it. In spite of its comforts, in spite of its safety, you’ve never felt more vulnerable.

At least you can paint here.

Resting your elbows against the wooden window frame, you paint scenes of places far from this cage, places you can now only imagine. Perhaps if you can create them on paper, your mind could one day venture there, too.

Sukuna’s servant, Uraume, the one you always see quietly bustling about, does have a talent for finding the most beautiful pigments. You wonder where they collect them from, how expensive they are. You almost laugh at the thought of Sukuna paying for something like this, and you wonder if he knows where his wealth gets spent. The laugh dies in your throat as you realize that he likely has never had to actually purchase anything in his life. His currency is fear.

And yet, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Today, a beautiful fall landscape uncovers itself from your brushes. Deep browns and oranges cascade across the canvas. But there’s a sour taste lingering in your mouth as you work - it’s all dead. Every fallen leaf, every cracked branch is dead. That’s all things seem to be anymore.

With a huff, you let your momentary frustration get the better of you, splattering the carefully collected red paint across your masterpiece, a bloodied smear across your work. At least now it looks alive.

The next day is the same.

Sukuna enters.

You all line up.

Your knees hurt from kneeling on the stone floor.

He walks down the line (you wonder how many there are here, now - you’d think the numbers would be dwindling after the near daily executions, but they seem to remain steady, always replenished with some new bright-eyed girl who thinks she’s found her salvation, only to learn it’s her damnation).

But today, you can’t bring yourself to lower your head.

You know you ought to - the other girls taught you during your first week here. Apparently, in the past, he had simply killed those who refused to bow for him outright, not even bothering to torture them first.

But today, you just can’t. Perhaps being killed would be more merciful than this hellish purgatory you’ve found yourself in. At the very least, you’ll die with your head held high.

Footsteps stop in front of you.

“Oh? What’s this?”

A shiver runs up your spine. You’ve barely heard him speak in all your time here, you realize. When he chooses to, it’s exclusively been to bark orders at Uraume or scream at those who come to worship him. But this is different. He seems almost…excited.

“You know, it’s impolite not to bow.” And he has to be fucking with you, because you swear you hear him practically giggle out the words.

“I am aware, my Lord.” The words taste bitter as you spit them out, but you don’t make any action to move. Instead, your gaze rises to meet his, and your heart stutters. Ruby eyes stare back at you, masked by matching blood splattered across his skin. He looks nothing short of godly - perhaps that’s why so many willingly worship him.

And then, the god before you laughs.

“Come with me,” he beckons before turning away.

The girls around you can’t hold back their quiet gasps as you slowly rise to your feet.

He’s going to kill you.

As you follow behind him, the words sink into your stomach.

He’s going to kill you.

Each step down the path makes your heart beat in turn.

He’s going to kill you.

Rounding an unfamiliar corner, you nearly careen into him as he suddenly stops before two large wooden doors. They’re intricately carved, a level of detail you wouldn’t have expected for a place dedicated to killing. And yet, they’re utterly beautiful.

“In,” he growls when you fail to move.

You nervously shuffle past him before heavy footsteps follow you inside. Your gaze wanders over his chambers, the maroon bedding mirroring blood, the dark wood posts caging it in. Everything about it feels oppressive, sucking the air from your lungs like smoke; and yet, it doesn’t seem fitting for a place of sacrifice.

“Derobe and get on the bed.”

He’s shuffling around behind you, not even looking your way as he maneuvers through the space.

Hesitantly, you do as you're told, draping your robes over the headboard before laying down. The comforter is soft beneath your skin, cool to the touch. Perhaps silk? Some luxury you’ve never been afforded, surely.

The entire room seems to shift under the magnitude of his presence as he walks towards you. His own robes are now banished to some corner of the room, skin sparkling under the flickering candlelight from the chandelier above. Two pairs of arms cross as he glances at you, and he hides his smirk with a scoff. “What’s this? I didn’t tell you to lay down - we aren’t here to make love, I’m here to fuck you.”

Your cheeks flush as you grit your teeth. He didn’t give you clear instructions, how the hell were you supposed to know what to do? The movement of your body as you adjust onto your hands and knees hopefully hides the way your eyes roll.

But Sukuna did not grow to be this powerful by being inattentive.

“Oh?” And there’s that same chuckle again. “For someone who’s about to be killed, you’re awfully presumptive.”

“My sincerest apologies, Lord Sukuna,” you manage to spit (the sincerity is lost from the words).

Everything becomes warm as he looms over you, hot skin pressing against yours. He smells like blood and smoke and violence, something in it making your legs tremble. He’s almost terrifying up close; he’s almost beautiful.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

His face is right next to yours now. You shake your head.

“You’re here to entertain me.”

When you don’t respond further, a large palm digs into your scalp, grabbing you by your hair to force your attention to his. Unenthusiastic eyes meet flaming ones.

“Okay?” You shouldn’t be speaking to him like this, you know you shouldn’t be speaking to him like this. He’s going to kill you. But maybe that’s the problem - when you know you’re going to die, there’s nothing left to lose. You were always taught to never corner a wounded animal. “Get it over with, then. Go on, entertain yourself.”

He smirks. You don’t stop.

“Fuck me, hurt me, do whatever the hell you want to me, but don’t expect me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness. And certainly don’t expect me to plead for your mercy.”

If he was any closer, you’d flinch from the sheer volume of his laugh. Tears nearly prick at the corners of his eyes as his entire body shakes with utter glee. “Oh, my, I outdid myself with you, didn’t I?” he muses.

Finally, it’s your turn to be silent.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

A snarky remark sits on the tip of your tongue, but it’s held back by the cold grip of shock. For once, you’re speechless.

“I chose you,” he leans forward, close enough to catch the lingering flecks of blood across his skin, “because the stubborn ones are the most fun to break.”

The silk bedding is much less soft when your face is shoved into it. The firm hand on the back of your head pushes you forward, threatening to shred the remaining semblance of your dignity as you fall. It’s rough, the way he throws you down like nothing more than a doll, one he’s grown tired of playing with.

Scrambling to find him in your vision again, you feel him before you see him - four of those same giant palms resting on your hips.

He’s going to kill you.

When you expect pain, anything else is a pleasant surprise. Especially, it would seem, two fingers trailing between your legs.

“Are you always this pathetic?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re fucking wet.” He’s not wrong, unfortunately, you know he’s not wrong, you can feel it in the way he circles his calloused digits over your clit. “Is me being cruel truly that appealing?”

Just as your lips part to retort, to spit back the poison he’s feeding you, the sound twists into a smokey moan as he slides into you.

“Hah. Thought so, fucking whore.”

He’s killed before. You’ve never seen it, but you’ve heard the screams, of course. He’s probably choked and stabbed more people than you have even known in your limited lifespan. Of course the hands of a killer would be powerful, but you never imagined they’d stretch you out quite like this. Perhaps the damage brought by them is transferred to your body with each curl towards your core, each rough motion pulling your muscles towards an uninviting goal.

But that means you can use that violence. You can contain it, redirect it, control it.

“I’m not a whore.”

“Oh? So sure?”

And then he’s pressing harder. Muscles start contracting, your legs start shaking.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

With white knuckles, you veer yourself away from the edge at the last moment.

Sukuna, of course, feels it.

“Don’t want to cum, little one?” His mock affection is almost sickeningly sweet on his tongue as he giggles. “So be it. Only making things harder for yourself.”

Those same calloused fingers are ripped from your cunt. Finally, you can take in a full breath.

Your lungs stop halfway through expanding when something else suddenly fills you.

A scream threatens to tear from your throat as the tip of his cock enters into you. Teeth bite into the flesh of your arm to stifle the sound, your eyes screwed shut. Everything goes red, the burning flames inside your chest igniting.

Behind you, Sukuna laughs.

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle it, hm?”

There are marks on your skin from where your canines dug into it. You shake your head. “I-I can handle it.”

“Good.”

His hips pull back before slamming into you. Then it’s hands, everywhere - groping your chest, your ass, your hips, your stomach. Every part of you feels his palms, his flesh fighting with the air to contain your body.

Rough, unapologetic thrusts shake your frame. The muscles in your back strain to keep you upright, willing yourself to not collapse into the mattress beneath you, knowing that falling into the silk sheets holds the same fate as a grave.

One of his lower hands smacks your ass, the plump flesh rippling before long fingernails dig into it. “Perfect fuckin’ body,” Sukuna grumbles from behind you - if you were in any other setting, you would almost blush at the praise.

But now, all you can do is choke back a moan in response.

His movements are fast, but steady, you realize. The fog of your thoughts begins to clear, your clarity returning.

You can do this.

The ruby comforter folds in your grasp as you pull your palms into fists. Legs steady, arms ready.

The next time his cock bullies into you, you meet his thrusts. When he reaches deeper, it almost feels good.

So, you keep moving your hips in pace, pushing them flush against his pelvis each time. God, it feels fucking devine.

That breathy chuckle echoes behind you, one that never bodes well.

“Aw, does that feel good?” he coos, saccharine words dripping red from his lips.

You’re almost too gone to miss the sarcasm. “Y-yes.”

“Desperate little thing, you want more?”

Nails almost pierce the skin of your hips. You nod.

“Now, now, that’s no way to speak to me. Use your words.”

“Please,” you whine - you shouldn’t be doing this, you know you shouldn’t - “more, Lord S’kuna.”

You dug your grave, and the air of his laugh is enough to blow you forward into it.

One hand trails from your waist down to your ass, massaging it softly - the thunder before lightning. In an instant, sharp teeth bite into your skin. Hard.

You cry out, but he just giggles, the mouth that had formed on his palm gone in an instant.

Distracted by the sudden pain, your senses are too preoccupied to notice the way he continues his path down, until you feel something cold. Sukuna’s spit lands on your puckered hole, his thumb rubbing around the rim.

He’s going to fucking kill you.

Just as your lips part to protest, one thick finger pushes past the first ring of muscles inside you. Then two.

The moment you finally feel yourself beginning to relax, he pulls his hand away. It’s just as quickly replaced with something much, much bigger. The tip of his second cock is sticky with precum as it rests against your skin.

You knew Sukuna was not a patient man, but you had hoped he’d be gracious with you now.

The blood speckling his skin reminds you how foolish those hopes had been.

With one hand gripping his base, he slowly presses into you. On instinct, you attempt to squirm away, but his remaining arms wrap firmly around your torso, holding you in place.

“Wai-aah,” the sound garbles as you bite into your forearm, this time hard enough to pierce flesh. Your blood blends into the bedding.

Eyes screwed shut, you can’t see the sinister smirk painting his features, all four eyes fixed on where the two of you are connected.

“C’mon now,” he huffs, “a good little whore like you can take it, can’t you?”

A whine escapes your throat in denial, but it sounds more like an affirmation as it hits the air. Especially with the way your knees begin to buckle.

You feel every vein and ridge of his cocks as he slides out of you.

You feel nothing but ecstasy when he thrusts back in.

Everything is hot, your skin on fire. Shaky breaths rattle in your chest, shallow puffs of air through parted lips.

It’s too much, every muscle in your body held taught. The slick sound of his cocks pumping in and out of you fills the room, fills your mind.

And you can’t even think, can barely breathe, anymore. Your eyes roll back, tongue lolling from your mouth as you desperately pant.

“See, doesn’t it feel good to be my little cocksleeve?” he purrs from behind you - he’s not even out of breath despite the way his abs clench with each thrust. “Fuckin’ cunt was made for this.”

And something switches off in your brain, because there’s no other reasonable explanation for the words tumbling from your bruised and bitten lips. “F-feels good.”

He’s nothing short of shocked by your admission - but then again, he did set out with the goal of breaking you. A giddy smile blooms on his lips.

“Aw, what’s this? Already fucked dumb?” A rough palm gropes at your tits.

And a part of you knows you’re above this.

But that part went up in flames the moment Sukuna’s thick cocks ripped you apart, tearing you open and putting you back together in a shape of his liking.

“Mmhm,” you can barely nod, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth, but you’re in utterly no position to wipe it away, your hands preoccupied with gripping the bed sheets below, the fabric twisting between your fingers.

“So it’s true then - you’re just a fucking slut, hm?”

You’re better than this.

You’re smart. Determined. Strong.

“I’m - nnng - m’your slut.”

Pride tingles his nerves, fingers digging into your skin, sharpened nails leaving marks on your waist. With one deep thrust, you feel him in your throat and your vision is blurry and your muscles give out.

But Sukuna is always stronger.

Four arms hold your limp body as he continues fucking into you. Truly nothing more than a cocksleeve the way he’s using you, so small in his grasp, so powerless. And yet, your thighs are sticky and slick from just how wet you are.

Teeth prick at your back, your shoulders, your neck. Marked in bites and bruises, you’ve become his canvas, stained with his claim on you. Reds and pinks and purples bloom beneath your skin, painted in sharp canines and pointed nails. A signature left along your hips, up your spine - his.

Broken whines of his name get forced from your lungs with each thrust, the only sound besides his heavy balls slapping against your skin.

That fire begins to burn brighter in your core. You want to call it resentment, but you aren’t that naive, not anymore.

“Heh, is my little whore gonna cum from being used like this?”

At least his smirk is outside the realm of your perception, the only thing you feel being the ravenous push and pull of his cocks inside you, the tightness and burning pleasure they bring each time his tip pokes deeper and deeper.

You want to shake your head, you want to deny him, deny the effect he has on you.

But all you get out is a weak cry of “please,” before your skin erupts in flames. Your cunt spasms around him, everything going red.

He pumps into you six more times before both of his cocks twitch in unison, unloading sticky ropes impossibly deep into your aching holes. He growls as he does, muscles rippling under the strain of his conquest.

When he releases you, your body collapses onto the damp sheets below. Cheek squished into the maroon, it all bleeds into itself, until you can’t tell where the bed ends and Sukuna begins. It’s only when you feel it shift from the lack of his weight that you know he’s gone.

Everything hurts. Everything is too hot. Everything feels so fucking good.

You should feel shame, you think - you should hate yourself for the way he used you, broke you. He tore your strength away with bloodied teeth until you were weak and limp. Maybe it’s the slow pulsing that lingers between your legs, but you can’t bring yourself to resent it - it was a battle well fought (and victory takes many forms, after all).

But the thing is, you are strong.

With a muffled groan, you shift your weight closer to the edge, the remnants of Sukuna’s claim lingering on your body in scratches and bruises, burning desire.

“You may collect your things, someone will be in-”

When his gaze falls upon you, he freezes where he stands in the corner of his chambers, robe half-draped over his broad shoulders.

You’re wobbly as you stand, cum leaking down your thighs, ruffled hair and unfocused eyes, but he recognizes something in them, a fire he would call strength.

And Sukuna smiles. Not the condescending smirk of a man pitying his captive, but one of respect. He crosses two pairs of arms over his chest.

“What’s this?” he mutters to himself. “Well then, Uraume will be in to help you bathe.”

“Bathe?” You use all the remaining air in your chest to keep your voice from sounding weak. “Before you kill me?”

There’s that giggle again, but the sharpness to it has dulled slightly, in a way you would hesitantly call fondness. “Oh, I won’t be killing you.” Turning, he brushes the thought away with a wave of his hand. “You’ve proven yourself to be quite entertaining, and I’d be a fool to discard such a fun little whore.” But there’s no bite to the words as he says it.

Your legs feel steadier as you stand.

“I expect to see you in my chambers tomorrow, understood?”

Crimson irises catch the flickering candlelight.

You refuse to bow.

Sharpened teeth poke between a smirk.

“Of course, Lord Sukuna.”