#what if you were replacable and so obedient so so good and yet still not loved

[koszmarnybudyn]

Sayerhale wip.

[lunamochii]

xavier's version, zayne's version

"You wanna lick my what now?"

Rafayel cock his eyebrows up, lips curve into a amuse smile. To think that you would say it loud, you can die in humiliation now.

"It's nothing!"

"Saying that you wanna lick my sweat ain't nothing, dearest."

He got off on the treadmill and walk towards where you are doing your own exercise, he stands infront of you and eyed your gym wear. His eyes following the sweat that trickled down from your chin to your neck.

Without saying a word he put his sweaty hands on your hips and dips his head forward, licking your sweat then move away. He smirk at you and pulled your body towards him

"Salty. Although I prefer tasting something other than your own sweat."

He whispered and lick your ears, his hands slowly massaging your ass then move one hand to slid inside your shorts. You let out a soft moan when his fingers glide over your slit.

"Rafayel.."

"Shhh.. you're fine, baby."

Rafayel gave your lips a quick kiss before kneeling down, your shorts pulled down along with your undergarment. He groans seeing how puffy your pussy is, you grab on the nearest pole as your legs wobbled when he lick your thighs.

Pressing open mouth kisses on your thighs, you whine on the way how he teases your begging cunt making his lips hover over it before moving to kiss the other side of your thighs

"Goddamnit babe, wet for me?"

"Yes, wet for you Yel'"

He smiles and lick a strip on your clit and it made you jolt away but he held your legs firmly, slinging one leg over his shoulder

"Be a good girl and stand still for me."

He says before closing the gap between his mouth and your glistening cunt, your hands flew to your mouth but he slap your thighs and you immediately move your hand away

"Fuck- such a obedient doll."

He presses his face more to your cunt, as if trying to get drunk on your juices. It's salty and sweet at the same time. Your sweet juice mix with your sweat, he had you begging for more as he lap and suck on your pussy.

Rafayel open his eyes and look directly at you, the way your jaw slacks and how you try so hard to grab for support, legs wobbling is making him want to fuck you dumb.

Dumb for his cock.

"M'cumming!"

You shout but when you were this close on reaching your high, he move away and stood up, letting your leg drop down the floor. Before you could protest he grab your jaw and kisses you fervently.

His three fingers replacing his mouth and you thrash around his arms as he fuck your needy cunt with his fingers.

He will fuck you later with his cock. For now, he wants you to cum on to his fingers.

"C'mon~ didn't you say you were cumming?"

He teases and kiss the tears away from your eyes, your legs clenching around his arm as he curl his fingers inside. You let out a loud moan of his name when he finally found the sweet spot inside you. And Rafayel is no gentleman, he abuse it, until you were a babbling mess before him

"Ah! I-I love you hmm- Rafayel~"

You lean in and lick the sweat off of his neck then move your head on to his arm and did the same thing. His glad that you're too high right now to notice how his ears are red as fuck.

"Naughty girl."

He bit your ear and fasten the pace with his fingers and you're back moaning his name, he felt you clench and he did it more harder and faster

"Rafa- ahh hnngg!"

Your nails dig right on to his biceps as you came undone on his fingers, he didn't stop pumping it letting you ride your high down. Once you're done, you slump into his chest as you catch your breath

"Are you okay, pretty?"

"Yeah, I am..."

"Good, cause I ain't done yet."

He kiss your cheeks and rubs his bulge to you and you just know that there will be no workout anymore for today.

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite

Chapter 1

It's here! This is the first chapter of my first real fic here on tumblr! I am not the best writer so please be kind :')

Series masterlist

Alternate Universe SKZ!

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

Previous - Next

Summary: There's no turning back now, not when you know what you left behind. A dangerous situation now replaced with another. After the omegas disappeared you have to extra careful, especially now that you have left your pack and family.  What happens when your car breaks down on another pack's land?

Series Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, verryyyy nsfw, chan x reader, OT8 x reader, A/B/O, m/m/f smut, possessive! SKZ, possessive! Reader, anxiety and depression, fluff, angst, virgin!reader, cursing, violence, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, Sub reader x mostly dom SKZ, misogyny and sexism, Ateez are depicted as terrible people (sorry Atiny!) 

Chapter warnings: Angst, anxiety, reader is VERY sad, minor violence, cursing, A/B/O (pls let me know if I missed any!)

MDNI 18+

Wc: 2400 ish

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please. 

You should have known better. All those hushed conversations your parents have been having, all the phone calls your father excused himself to take, even the trip to your packs doctor for a very extensive physical. None of it set off your mental alarm bells and that made you feel so stupid. But how could you have known that your own parents, the people who raised you and were supposed to have your best interest at heart, were planning on selling you off to the highest bidder once you became mature enough. 

That's life for omegas these days, though. After a worldwide virus a few decades ago, omegas just stopped being born. The virus wiped the gene out almost completely, leaving a very small percentage of omegas left. Unluckily for you, you happened to be the only omega born in your area in the last 40 years. That made you highly sought after by alphas, especially dangerous ones. 

Your hands were still shaking. It had been hours since you escaped your parents house in your car, yet you couldn't get your hands to stop shaking with the immense adrenaline you’re feeling. You had no plan, no money, nowhere to go and no one to help you. Your only friend, Ash, was a beta girl in your pack and as much as you liked her you knew she could do nothing to save you now. At least your car had a full tank of gas, the only good thing your father had done for you was allow you to drive to Ash's house on occasion.

All the adrenaline was starting to wear off as you drove, the realization of what this would mean for you and your life now starting to sink in. The constant looking over your shoulder, the uneasiness you will always feel, it was almost too much to handle. No. What would have been too much to handle is letting that filthy man get his hands on you. Kim Hongjoong.You had heard about the things that alpha had done to claim power over his pack. From sabotage to murder, none of it was good. From what you could gather he was on the search for an omega to complete his pack and somehow had heard whispers about you. The only known omega within a few hundred miles. He wanted an omega to raise his children and help him lead his pack and would do anything to get his hands on one; whatever necessary. 

You imagine the sum of money he offered your parents was just too good for them to pass up on. Your alpha father was too proud to accept anything less than a hefty amount. Your mother was an omega through and through. Obedient and submissive to her alpha. Just as she raised you to be. She herself was a rare omega. Though back in her day the omega population wasn't as low as it is now. Now the numbers have fallen to less than 0.2%. Your mother molded you into the perfect little doll. Almost. Never in your wildest dreams did she or your father imagine you, their doll, would be disobeying and running from all you had ever known, yet here you are. That's what real fear does to a person. Fight or flight. All your life you had been all bark and no bite. Now this is your way of biting back.

All you had to your name was this old car (technically your fathers), an old backpack with a few changes of clothes, and couple cans of spaghetti o’s. Luckily this car had an old map in the glovebox. Better than nothing especially since you had no gps and no phone. You knew better than to take the main roads. Your pack would undoubtedly be looking for you and the car. Back roads it was then.

You couldn't tell exactly how many hours you had been driving at this point, too caught up in your mind to really pay attention to the time but by now it had gotten very dark and you found yourself on this old road going through a small town in the woods. You vaguely remember passing through the small community about half an hour ago. Of course you hadn't stopped in the town in fear of being noticed or recognised somehow. But now you’re wishing you had stopped at that little gas station and at least tried to get an ounce of gas with the spare change left in the middle console. The car was officially running out of gas. In the middle of nowhere. Just your luck. 

 “Are you serious?” You asked no one with tears starting to fill your eyes.

Feeling the difference in the vehicle causes you to pull off to the side of the road with a groan. You know it won't be going any further with the way it just gives up there on the side. Turning off the car and leaning your head against the wheel you let out a light sob. This wasn't the life you had envisioned for yourself. Once upon a time you thought one day you would meet your true mate, a caring alpha who would love you for you and want to make you happy. Seems as though that was just a fairytale after all. Even your parents weren’t true mates. They just settled for each other. You knew you couldn’t let that be you. You wouldn’t settle, especially not for a vile man you didn't love. 

It was too late now to leave the car. This is where you will be staying for the night. Good thing it was late spring and not winter or you would freeze out here. Once your tears have slowed and the sobs have ceased you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“You will be ok.” You repeat to yourself a few times. “You will be ok. You will be ok.” 

Will you though? It didn't matter. You had to be. With one last sigh you locked the doors and climbed into the backseat of the old car. Its seats were worn and uncomfortable but it somehow felt comforting. It felt like the last remaining bit you had from childhood. When things were simple for you. Were things ever that simple as you remembered it being though? Before presenting as an omega when you were 16 things were definitely simple. You had assumed along with everyone else that you would be a beta and go on to have a normal life. Sure sometimes you were a little agreeable and always had a gentle nature, but you had just thought you took after your mom in that aspect. Little did you know you would take after her in a different way. It wasn’t until you presented that it made sense to the pack why you were that way. It was then that the looks began from other pack members. The way their eyes would linger on you a little too hard. The way their nostrils would flare when you entered a room. It made your skin crawl thinking back.

From that point on there was no more public school for you. You were homeschooled the last few years of high school for your protection. “We're doing this to protect you not punish you, Y/N.” your father had said when he forbade you from going back to school. “You can't trust anyone these days. Not around an omega.” He was right. The thought never crossed your mind that you couldn't even trust your own parents. You wished you had been born a beta like your sister, or even an alpha like your brother. Being the youngest out of three you figured you would be like them. 

The worst part was you didn't have the suppressants you had been taking since you were a teen. They were almost impossible to come by normally, but your father had somehow gotten his hands on a steady supply and had been forcing you to take them. Another thing that was for your protection. To keep alphas from detecting you by scent. You hadn't taken any this morning before you left so you imagine your scent was going to start leaking out for any one nearby to smell. Great. Another problem for tomorrow.

Adjusting yourself on the seat to lay down as much as you could, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. It wouldn't be long before sleep overcame you. The exhaustion of the whole ordeal catching up with you. 

__________________________________________________________

The sun peaking through the trees awoke you from your surprisingly restful slumber. It seemed to be early morning if the dew on the windows was any indication. Peeking out the window you saw nothing around. Not even any animals. Perfect. You slowly unlocked the door and crept out quietly shutting the door behind you. Taking careful steps a few yards into the thickets ahead of you and relieving yourself helped you feel a little better. You made your way back to the car and took a second to breathe. In and out. In and out. The air was crisp and refreshing and helped you clear your head. 

Now feeling a little better you noticed how bad your stomach was growling at you. Reaching into the trunk of the car you pulled out a small can of spaghetti o’s. Not your first choice of a meal but when you panic you grab what you figure will be easiest to take with you. Plus you could use a can as a weapon if needed! 

Eating was the last thing on your mind yesterday, but now you knew you could no longer put it off. Popping a can open and taking a seat on the hood of the car with a spoon you dug into the food. It was….. food . Cold and disappointing but at the same time satisfying as you had an empty stomach. 

There you were, sitting there on the old car contemplating your next move from here with now a half full can of disappointment, when you catch a scent in the air getting stronger with each passing second. It was another person, no it was people. More than one. 

Fuck

You have been found. Whether by the packs that were after you or by a stranger it didn’t matter all you felt was terror. 

There was no time to flee. Before you could even move from the hood you could feel a pair of eyes on you to the right of you. You twist your head to face the eyes that are peaking out at you from the trees ahead. 

The stranger takes a tentative step towards you and comes out from hiding and you immediately go into fight or flight. 

     With an alarmed shout “NO”, you launched the half full can of spaghetti o’s at the intruder, hitting him square in the chest and sending the cold contents all across his shirt. 

“What the fuck?!” the possible assailant yelled. 

Spotting another figure approaching the first one you threw yourself back off the hood and onto the ground, then as quickly as possible you yanked the door open to the car and jammed yourself in locking it immediately. You made yourself as small as possible as to not be seen by them but you knew the damage had been done. There was no way out of this. No gas in the tank and even if there was you had no idea where your keys had gone.  

You could hear them talking but you were too frightened to pick up any of the words except girl, mess and Alpha. Now you really felt terror. Without realizing how close they had been to you, you let out a shriek when there was a sudden knock on the window next to you. 

Not daring to look at them for even a second you yelled through the glass “Please go away! Please please I don’t deserve this!” tears filled your eyes. 

__________________________________________________________

The smell of your distress was making Seungmins and Jeongins eyes water. They had never experienced such a powerful scent before. Not even the odor from the Spaghetti Os covering Seungmins shirt would distract from the one coming from within the vehicle. The beta wanted to be mad that she had pretty much assaulted him, but at the same time couldn’t find it within himself to care much given how much pure terror he smelled coming from the young woman. The omega.  

The young alpha Jeongin felt similarly now that he had eyes on her he felt this overwhelming urge to protect. He had never encountered one before and honestly thought he never would but now that he was laying eyes on her he felt his alpha side perk up. A part of him never wanted to stop looking at her.

Honestly the boys didn’t know what to expect when they came out here to investigate the scent that had appeared on their land late into the night. They truly didn’t expect the cause to be an omega girl that was holed up on the side of a path. 

Seungmin tried knocking again, a little more timid this time so as not to frighten her more. “Excuse me, we could smell your distress. Do you need any help?” He asked slowly. 

You spared him one quick glance then shrunk into yourself again. “No thank you, please go!” 

He sighed and stepped back a few feet to look at Jeongin in amazement at the situation.  Giving him one small nod he said “ We need to call Chan.” 

__________________________________________________________

What felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, passed and you stayed in your same position. The boys had remained there but not so close to the car anymore to which you were thankful. They were quietly mumbling amongst themselves, no doubt about an omega being caught out here alone. Every so often you would move your head just slightly to peer over at them. You hadn’t noticed before in your initial panic but they were pretty cute young men. A beta and an alpha from what you could tell. Even covered in your thrown breakfast (a shame about that really) they still managed to carry themselves proudly. Though your smell is causing their faces to scrunch up, you could tell it was taking it's toll on them.

Not even a moment later after taking another look at them you could feel the change in the air as another pair of people was approaching. Not just anybody was coming this way, it was an Alpha. A very strong one at that. The smell was starting to permeate all of your senses and was quickly becoming intoxicating. 

You could sense him before he even appeared. No matter how intrigued you may be though you can’t show weakness.

 ‘Keep your head down and wait it out’ you kept telling yourself like a mantra.  

You knew he was approaching your door. It took everything in you to remain still. Then as if struck by lightning you felt your body alight like it never has before. 

“Omega..” 

(A/N: Please do not steal my writing and content! Reblogs and comments are encouraged tho 😙once again i would LOVE to hear your thoughts and theories! This has not been beta read all mistakes are my own.)

©doitforbangchan 

TAGLIST

@ihrtlix @realrintaro @meowmeeps

[bradshawed]

“Happy New Year sweetheart”

summary — if you’d known the dress you’d chosen for the new year’s party had gotten him like this… you would’ve done worse

warnings — suggestive content, 18+, degrading terms e.g. “slut”, dark!rafe, gun play, bondage, female reader

masterlist! && christmas celly (open)

…

“5…”

His fingers curled inside of you causing your back to arch, drawing out your third orgasm of the night. “Rafe, please” you begged. He ignored you, speeding up his pace.

“4…”

Your legs shook as he replaced his fingers with his mouth, placing kisses everywhere except where you needed him most. “My needy needy slut.” He commented as you whined from the loss of his touch, clenching around the cool air drifting in from the open window. He hadn’t even been inside you yet.

“3…”

You watched curiously as he opened the second drawer of his bedside table, your pussy pulsing in anticipation as he placed the cool metal inside your wet cunt without warning, watching greedily as you swallowed him in. Your body squirmed as you moaned from the change in temperature from the gun inside your hot cunt.

Rafe’s free hand snaked up between the valley of your heaving beasts, closing around your throat in warning. “Such a dirty little slut aren’t you,” you moaned in reply “you move and you know what happens”.

Click.

Rafe’s veiny hand tightened around your throat as he pulled the trigger. The gun was empty but you didn’t know that, your hips jumping in fear and pleasure. “You liked that didn’t you?”

The band in your stomach snapped for the 5th time that night as he fucked you hard with his gun. There would be bruises tomorrow but you didn’t care, it was his way of marking you. You were his and he was yours.

“2…”

Rafe teased your tits with the gun dripping with your cum. You needed him, needed him to touch you, to use you. Rafe smirked, slowly dragging the gun higher. He knew what you wanted. He tapped your lips, causing your mouth to obediently open. You could feel Rafe’s dick growing harder as you tasted yourself, sucking the gun dry.

“1…”

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, taking your punishment like the slut you are for teasing me with that dress. Now look what you’ve done, making me miss the party, dirtying up my suit with your cum.”

You moaned, bucking your hips.

Rafe smirked, tying your hands behind your head with his belt. Slowly unbuttoning his trousers in response. “And still you want more,” he tutted, tugging on the “R” charm on the silver chain around your neck, a matching “R” tattoo on your pussy, “I want everyone to hear who owns this pussy so you’re gonna have to be louder than these fireworks..”

“Can you do that for me?” He gripped your thigh pulling them wider apart, teasing your entrance with his cock leaking with precum.

“Happy New Year sweetheart.”

note — happy belated birthday @sematarygirls, i hope you like it. apologies if it’s not great, it’s my first time writing smut. hope you had the best day and that all your birthday wishes come true. sorry that this is a little late, i’ve been planning on writing something for your birthday for a while. love u loads and take care sunshine xx

[badbtssmut]

Where you go to a host club for a distraction and meet hottie host Kim Taehyung who makes you forget all about your problems when he takes you to the VIP rooms to fuck.

Contains: fingering, hitting it from the back, missionary , drooling, rough sex, Tae is kinda an escort

Inspo x links NSFW: missionary, behind

-

“Mmm…” You couldn’t believe that you were actually doing this; naked from head to toe, your legs spread, getting fingered by a man you met at the host club. You had told yourself you needed a distraction— and it wouldn’t go further than a kiss, at most.

But there was something about Taehyung that made you eager to follow him to the VIPs rooms.

“Oh..!” You shuddered as he pushed another finger in.

The room was quiet, save for the lewd noises of your wet pussy sucking his fingers in.

“Such a pretty pussy you have here. Is this what you wanted to show me when you followed me back here? Hm, beautiful?”

His voice was soft and gentle, yet the words that came out of his mouth were dirty and sinful. You didn't mind it, though. In fact, it turned you on even more.

You found yourself nodding, not even sure if that was the truth, but you went along with it.

“That pretty pussy would look even prettier when it's filled to the brim with cock, wouldn't it? Would you like that, beautiful?” Taehyung asked, pulling his fingers out, only to push them back in a few moments later.

It was embarrassing, really, having someone watch you squirm underneath their fingers, but the feeling was so good, you couldn't complain.

“Yes… please.” You replied, eyes locked with his.

Taehyung didn't break eye contact, not even when he was leaning in closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips.

You closed your eyes, and the two of you just stayed there, his lips against yours, while his fingers were still moving inside of you. Then he pulled away, replacing his fingers with his cock.

"I can't wait any longer." Taehyung admitted, pushing his cock into your dripping pussy. “So wet, my cock just slides in, what a good girl…”

"Oh, oh..." He was bigger than you expected, filling you up nicely. Your walls accommodated him, and you couldn't help but sigh in relief, finally feeling the pleasure you craved.

"That's right, baby. Just lay there and take it." Taehyung hummed, resting his hands on either side of your head. "So tight, such a obedient pussy, knows how to take big cocks, hm?"

He started off with slow, shallow thrusts, pulling all the way out, until only the tip of his cock was inside, before he was back in again, going slow, just enough to drive you crazy.

"Taehyung… please." You stammered.

"Yes, beautiful?" He looked down at you.

"I can't.. Please, I can't take this anymore." You whined, hips bucking upwards to get more of his cock inside.

“Yeah? Want more?” And he did give it to you, his pace becoming faster, thrusts harder, until he was fucking you into the sheets, and all you could do was moan his name and beg him to keep going. You couldn’t think, couldn't focus, not with the way he was ramming into your pussy.

The man was burying your body into the bed with his thrusts, his cock pounding into you so deep that you started to drool. You were a mess, a complete and utter mess, but you didn’t care, not when the pleasure was so intense.

“You love that huh? That pussy is sucking me right in, taking me so well, so wet and needy for my cock. I bet you want more, don’t you, baby? Wanna cum on this cock, hm?” He whispered, his focus not faltering as he trusted you in the same rhythm.

“Yes, feels so good…” was about all you could say, your brain melting at how good he felt inside of you.

Taehyung trusted into you one last time, letting your pussy savor the taste of his cock, before he pulled out. Taehyung then directed you on all fours, spreading your legs open and pushing himself back into your warmth.

Your back arched in pleasure, your ass sticking out towards him. You didn't expect him to go harder than before, but he did. It was almost as if he had a sudden boost of energy. His thrusts were mind blowing, a steady pace causing your body to bounce back and forth, before he’d finish off the series of thrusts by firmly gripping onto your hips and snapping you back harshly against his cock, causing you to let out a pleasurable cry each time it happened.

Your arms collapsed under you, your face down and your ass up as he continued to fuck into you. His thrusts were hard and merciless, and he showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. Heck, you weren’t even sure how you were holding on considering how he was abusing your pussy like a maniac.

Your fingers dug into the sheets and your mouth gaped open, drooling into the sheets below. You could hear him cursing, his groans growing louder as he picked up the pace.

You could feel it coming, the build up. The tension in your lower belly, the feeling of your toes curling and your thighs quivering, you were so close, and he knew it.

“It’s okay, baby, if you got to cum, then cum, let me see that pussy come undone for me.” Taehyung cooed, running his fingers down your back.

That was the final straw. Your whole body trembled and you came on his cock, moaning his name into the pillow. He wasn’t far behind either. His thrusts grew sloppy, his breaths becoming uneven. He gave one last thrust, burying his cock deep inside of you before he spilled his seed, coating your insides with his cum.

You didn’t move, and neither did he, and the two of you stayed still for a few more seconds, before Taehyung grabbed your arms and pulled you up, your back resting against his chest. His fingers dug into your cheeks before he pulled your head to face him, pressing his lips against yours.

[chillian-murphy]

Don't Bully Me, I'll Cum

SUMMARY: You dominate your slutty submissive boyfriend, Neil Lewis

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS/ADDITIONAL INFO: Smut 🔞, face slapping, verbal humiliation, body writing, references to orgasm denial, facefucking (female-on-male), cunnilingus, rimming, anal fingering, cum eating, praise kink (if you squint), hand job

Beta read by @sasybanana

It was always a treat when you got to see Neil like this: naked and kneeling, with his neck adorned by a heavy leather collar that only seemed to emphasize his thin frame as it dangled loosely. His cock was at half-mast, already hardening at the mere thought of what was coming. 

“Does my little slut want attention?” you cooed as you sauntered forward, wearing nothing but a matching lace bra and panty set. His head shot up and his body tensed, his bright blue eyes desperately meeting your gaze.

“Yes, Mistress.” There was a breathy, needy quality to his voice that sent a tingle down your spine.

“Does my needy little slut deserve attention?”

He didn’t even form words this time, just whined and nodded. That wouldn’t do.

Smack

Neil’s cheek flushed and he reeled from the impact.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes, I deserve your attention.”

Smack

You saw the same flush to the other side of his face, the same scramble to regain balance.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been good all week. I haven’t come without your permission. I’ve been so, so good for you. I’m a good boy and I need my Mistress to touch me.”

He was so pleading and so sincere, and it was true, he had been obedient for you all week, but you couldn’t indulge him just yet.

Smack

“And what do you deserve?” 

His eyes were watering now.

“I deserve to have my c-c-cock ignored and to w-worship your p-pussy.” He was tumbling over his words now, overly eager for any sort of response.

Smack

“Because you’re a desperate slut who’ll cherish any sort of attention you’re given, aren’t you?” At this point, you were just gloating, basking in the power you had over him.

“Yes, Mistress. So desperate.”

You knelt down to level yourself with him and pulled a tube of lipstick out from your bra. You scrawled the word SLUT across his chest in bright red letters, feeling his heart race under your fingers as you steadied him to write. The dense pigments would stain his skin long after he showered and the lipstick was gone, at least for the next day or so. You secretly hoped that he and his coworkers would play a “shirts vs skins” pickup game in the alley while the writing was still visible, so everyone would know how willing he was to debase himself for you.

Neil let out a sharp, hissing whimper as you yanked on one of his tiny nipples. You couldn’t help but make a mental note of how pretty he is when he suffers. You had never imagined that you’d be the one taking such a dominant role in the bedroom, but what had begun as begrudgingly indulging Neil in one of his fantasies had quickly become a highlight of your sex life. You were made to be worshiped, and he was made to kneel.

You pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek as you stood. He gazed up at you as sweet and willing and as pathetically as ever, his pouty little mouth hanging open. As badly as you wanted to grab him by the hair and ride his face until your pussy exhausted itself, you were having too much fun tormenting him and didn’t want the scene to be over. However, it did give you an idea.

“Open up.” you stroked your hand down his face towards his mouth, and toyed with his plush bottom lip with your thumb. Once his mouth was sufficiently open, you pushed your thumb inside, pressing down on his warm, wet tongue. He groaned invitingly at the sensation, and massaged the pad of your thumb as best he could. Satisfied, you withdrew your thumb and replaced it with three of your fingers, gently thrusting them further and making him gag.

“Okay if I facefuck you?” You dropped the Big Bad Dom Voice for a while to genuinely check in. Facefucking wasn’t something you’d done with Neil before, at least not with him as the recipient, so you had no idea if it was off-limits or not. However, the way Neil very enthusiastically moaned, sucked your fingers, and attempted to nod let you know that it was very much on the menu tonight.

You pulled your fingers from his mouth and excitedly rushed to your toy cabinet in search of your dildo and harness. You found it quickly and took your time putting it all on, making sure everything fit as snuggly as it could for the most stability. It wasn’t the sexiest process, but it was necessary, as proven by past incidents where you put things on more haphazardly only for your fake cock to flop around in an unwieldy manner.

Neil looked absolutely giddy when you returned to him, grinning like an idiot and squirming in the spot where he was kneeling. His face was so happy and adorable you’d want it on a Christmas card, if it wasn’t for the whole “kneeling naked with a raging erection” aspect. Or who knows, certain friends of yours might actually put your card on the fridge this year if you chose this over gaudy matching sweaters.

“Open up, baby.” You pressed the tip of your fake cock to his lips and gave his cheek a light slap, as if he somehow didn’t get the message. His mouth fell open and he began bobbing his head over your length cautiously, looking up at you through his lush eyelashes. Fuck, as much as you knew it was just a piece of plastic and not a part of your body, you <i>swore</i> you could feel him sucking your dick. You snaked a hand into his hair and gripped as hard as you could, pulling him further towards the base as you fucked his wet, willing mouth.

“You’re such a fucking whore. All you want to do is sit there and be used, you don’t care how. Just a useless man who doesn’t even care if his cock gets touched so long as someone fucks and uses any part of him.” The harsher your words got, the more his eyes rolled back in pleasure. A deep, guttural groan formed in the back of his throat, struggling to get out around the toy being thrust in and out of him.

Neil began to gag as you pushed him further down, which only encouraged you to thrust into him harder. His throat was so wet and warm when you had your fingers in his mouth, you can’t imagine how good it would feel if you had an actual cock to fuck his face with. Still, he looked absolutely beautiful with his eyes full of tears and his lips stretched around the sizable toy that you had picked out together.

“It's a shame you don't suck real cock, you're such a good little cocksucker. Maybe we should put a glory hole in the adult section of Gumshoe. Start making the store some real money off of your slutty little mouth." 

After a few more thrusts, you yanked Neil off of your cock. He looked absolutely debauched, his face flushed a bright red with tears streaming down his cheeks and a thick strand of saliva hanging down his chin. He panted and sputtered, desperate for air after having his throat abused, trying to recover as quickly as possible so he could speak.

“Need your pussy. Now." Unsurprisingly, his voice was hoarse.

“Good boys don't make demands." You felt drunk with power.

“Please, Mistress, I need your pussy. I need to make you feel good." 

He was so cute, so pathetic, so desperate. You hooked a finger underneath his collar and pulled him towards the bed. Thankfully, the strap-on harness was easier to take off than it was to put on, you simply loosened the waist strap and stepped out of it along with your panties. The lace bralette was next to go, and once you were nude, you casually flopped onto the bed and spread your legs. Neil obediently followed, laying next to you and waiting for directions. As badly as he wanted to bury his cock inside you, he wanted to please you even more. 

“You know what to do, my good boy." Your voice now soft, you tenderly stroked his face and guided him between your legs. Dutifully, he dipped his head down and began licking, sucking, and kissing your cunt, just the way he knew you liked.

Neil had eating you out down to a science: gently kiss and nuzzle his way up your inner thighs, start with broad, slow licks all over, and then alternate between sucking and circling your clit with his tongue. Occasionally he couldn't help but dip his tongue deeper inside of you, he knew it didn't do much to get you off but he wanted to taste as much of you as possible. It was absolute heaven for him, it made him feel so wanted, so useful, so worthy of your attention. You were so wet for him, it was all the affirmation he needed to know that he was the good boy he needed to be for you.

It didn't take long for your orgasm to start building. As you hit your first climax, you hooked one of your legs over Neil's shoulder and reached down to pull on his hair again, pulling him as close to you as possible. Although you couldn't see him, you could feel Neil's lips curl into a smile. The change in position gave him the perfect angle for teasing your rim, something he rarely got to do. 

He pressed the pad of one of his fingers against the tight ring of muscle, not enough to stretch you open, but enough to let you know where he wanted to touch you without startling you. You moaned and lifted your hips, not only giving him permission but also easier access. His finger was soon replaced by his tongue, swirling and getting you as wet as possible.

Turning his attention back to your pussy, Neil slipped two of his fingers into you while massaging your clit with his tongue. It was such a delightfully wet and sloppy mess, Neil couldn't help but feel proud of himself. Once his fingers were sufficiently coated in your slick, he withdrew them from your cunt and once again pressed them to your rim, this time with enough pressure and lubrication to enter your tightest hole.

Having your ass penetrated was always a bit awkward but, while this was no exception, you were able to quickly relax and let him stretch you. It wasn’t painful, but the sensation did feel foreign and weird as you adjusted to the new fullness. Once you had time to adjust, Neil began slowly working his fingers in and out of you, working in tandem with his mouth, which was sucking and practically drinking your pussy, treating it like a source of fine nectar.

Once again, the familiar tightness started building in your core and your inner muscles clenched. You let yourself moan, welcoming your orgasm and the aftershocks that followed. As you returned to Earth from your dizzying sexual high, you pushed Neil off of you, albeit much gentler than how you had handled him earlier.

“You’re so goddamn good for me. How does my good boy want to come?” You panted out, thoroughly exhausted but well-fucked.

“I want you to jerk me off. If you don’t mind.” Neil averted his gaze as much as he could. Asking directly for what he wanted always made him a bit shy, much more than the begging or groveling he was used to during a scene. His face was bright red, although you had no way of knowing if it was from bashfulness or from eating you out like his life depended on it.

“Of course, you’re such a good boy. Come lay next to me and let me take care of you.” 

You scooted to the side of the bed and patted the empty space next to you, inviting him to join you as an equal for the first time today. As soon as he flopped next to you, you turned your attention to his poor, neglected cock.

He was leaking a generous amount of precum, enough that you were able to collect it on your fingers and use it as lube. You wrapped your hand around him and began pumping gently, knowing that a quicker pace would overstimulate him. It didn’t take long for him to shoot thick ropes of pearly white come onto his stomach. His loads were always huge after a week of not being allowed to touch himself.

“Are you okay? Was that what you wanted?” You swiped some of the come from Neil’s stomach onto your fingers and brought them to his mouth to lick clean.

“Yes. Perfect. Exactly.” He answered quickly before sucking your fingers clean with a soft groan. “You’re perfect. I love it when you’re mean to me. Maybe next time you could step on my cock and tell me how fucking pathetic and worthless it is or put it in a cage or spank me and send pictures to–”

“Hey.” You cut him off and shoved him playfully. “I thought I was the one who got to make the demands around here.”

“See? Just like that. So perfectly goddamn mean to me.”

[merakiui]

!! Goldfishie Riddle !!

Gosh the possibilities,, maybe you were originally a volunteer but were kidnapped as a test subject for Riddle and given to him as a breeding toy? The scientists haven’t quite figured out mer biology yet and you were closest to the standoffish goldfish… so you’re a sacrifice in the name of science.

Somehow they’ve altered you for life underwater so you can breathe and be with him, but you don’t have fins or a tail, only clumsy human feet and hands. Can’t have you swimming away from riddle after all. There’s a shallower part of the pool for you to be able to stand up in but overall Riddle has access to you anytime he wants.

The chase part,,, Riddle gently nonconning you bc he thinks chase = mate??? And you have to explain to him the eggs don’t come out of humans, they stay in your tummy. And when the time comes to give birth, you’re in the shallow area of the water with Riddle gently but firmly stroking your tummy to help the babies come out. He whispers encouragement into your ears <333 helping you through the birth until your little goldfish fry are born! They’re all mini copies of their father with a few human features from you.

As a side note I imagine he’s a lil bit chubby in the cheeks for some reason, I just wanna squish <3

AAAAA YES YES!!!!

(cw: yandere, nsfw, female reader, non-con, pregnancy, aphrodisiac use, oviposition, breeding, delusion, implied stockholm syndrome)

Just imagine how curious he becomes once he realizes your arrival in his enclosure is meant to be a permanent fixture. Riddle is so visibly pleased by this change that he's smiling brightly, so overcome with happiness that he momentarily switches back to mer language and so all you hear are delighted clicks and whistles. He adores you so much; that much is obvious when he tries to be as close to you as possible in the water, reaching out with webbed hands to welcome you into his arms even if you're so intent on staying in the shallows, as far from him as possible. He's growing frustrated with your aversion, but he must remember to remain calm. Nothing good will come out of impatience, and humans are fragile creatures. He must treat you with care and respect.

Riddle tries to talk to you about random things to soothe you. Aside from the fact that you have been paired for mating purposes, the both of you are still friends. And isn't this good for your friendship? Won't living with him in his enclosure bring you much closer than before? Riddle isn't dangerous. He's nothing like those brutish moray eels or that sly octopus! He's sweet and genuine, and he only wants you to be comfortable while you're here. His space is your space now, and he doesn't mind sharing it. In fact, it would be so nice if you could sleep beneath the water with him, yet you're so determined to stay away. He doesn't understand what he's doing wrong. He shares his meals, he smiles at you, he talks to you, he tries to love you even if you avoid him... He's doing everything a good friend (and mate) is meant to do!

Sometimes the researchers feed you a strange medicine and it allows you to temporarily love him enough for you to let him explore your peculiar anatomy. Riddle likes to learn through hands-on experiences, so when you're so pliable and obedient his delicate fingers will spread your pussy open so he can peer inside while silently wondering if this is where your eggs will come out of. You stretch so wide! He's so amazed and awestruck when he fits three fingers in in one sudden thrust. And the reactions you make to all of his touches are so inviting. When you arch your back, when you gasp and moan, when your fingers curl into his hair when he slides his fingers out and replaces them with his tongue... Everything you do is so cute. He drags himself out of the water and onto the platform in the shallows, pressing his body against yours, to kiss at every part of you, cold hands curling around your breasts to squeeze and tug. When you're like this, you always let him sleep with you in the aftermath. You even let him hug you! Even though you may dislike the medicine the researchers give you, Riddle loves the effects it has on you.

You've told him time and time again that you can't release any eggs naturally and that there's no way you can mate in the way he expects to mate with you. The first time should have landed, but it took a few more insistent statements for Riddle to understand. Of course it would be different for you. You're a human with different anatomy and mating customs. But that doesn't mean he can't give you eggs. Merfolk are very adaptable creatures, and Riddle is a determined goldfish in love! When he chases you in the tank and you avoid him (though you aren't very fast; how can you possibly out-swim a mer when you don't possess the fins and tail necessary for cutting through the water so smoothly?), he thinks this is finally happening. You're accepting him and he can start a family with you. He's made sure to produce many eggs of his own so that they can all find a nice temporary home inside that warm, wet hole he liked to finger and lick all those times when you were under the influence of the medicine.

He's so gentle. His arms are wrapped around you and his tail curls between your legs, and he presses himself flush against your front when he thrusts all the way inside, softly cooing at you in an incoherent mix of mer and human language. He's learned that some humans often mate facing one another, so he wants to try this for your first time. And it feels so snug inside you, and he gets to admire your pretty face as you cry and whine. He'll swallow every protest with plenty of open-mouthed kisses, rocking inside you so very slowly so you can get used to him. You're clenching so hard and it's so tight inside that he wonders how an entire clutch will ever fit, but he knows you can do it. And he tells you this when he fills you with a special sort of slick that will help the eggs settle so much easier inside your womb. You squirm and struggle in his arms, but he holds firm, promising to you that you're doing well and that it'll be okay.

Riddle's so blissfully happy when he deposits the first few eggs inside you and you slowly but surely submit, your eyes veiled with glazed emotions. He thinks he might be crying as well when he feels your stomach swell, so full of eggs and slick and semen. He's going to have a family with you! He's going to be a father! You've finally accepted him as your mate (or perhaps he ought to say lover instead?)! He can build a happy family, one that will be filled with the love he never received as a fry. Oh, he's so, so happy and he voices his enthusiasm even if you aren't all that present to absorb his praise.

You still stay in the shallows after the fact, and for once Riddle doesn't mind it. You look so beautiful with your full belly. He stares at you with his elbows propped on the ledge of the shallows, so distracted and lovestruck that even the researchers can't get through to him. Riddle panics when they try to get close to you, and he splashes them when they attempt to touch you. The minute a hand that isn't his or yours strays too close to your pregnant tummy is when he's turning red with anger, glaring so viciously at the researchers and berating them with harsh, loud clicks and whistles. Though you can't understand his words, you can tell he's threatening and cursing them to the deepest trench and back.

Riddle likes when you pat his head. He likes when you soften enough to run your fingers over his pretty ear fins or squish his cheeks between your warm, welcoming hands. His fingers wrap around your wrists to keep your hands in place and he smiles so sweetly at you. Humans have a dozen ways to communicate their love for one another and so do merfolk. Mer language sounds very musical and rhythmic to keen ears, and Riddle can sing of all the phrases mers use to convey affection. He uses these even if you can't understand the sentiment. All that matters is that you know just how much he cares for you.

He's nervous when it comes time for you to give birth. Your stomach has only grown so much in the following months, a result of the goldfish fry getting bigger within their eggs. (He never anticipated just how big you would get.) He's excited, of course, but then there's also the underlying thrum of anxiety that courses through him. You've gotten better at letting him approach you. You used to flinch away and glare; now you seem less averse to him and his careful touch. He'll hold you against his chest, one hand rubbing circles into your hip while the other caresses your bloated belly to help lessen the pressure of so many eggs. He whispers the sweetest encouragements to you, presses kisses to the back of your neck, calls you mommy so you can get used to hearing it. You'll feel so exhausted and empty after the entire process and Riddle is so proud of you. He knew you could do it.

And perhaps you'll miss the feeling of being so full and round to the point where you'll beg him to fuck you again. He will (that's a promise), but you need to rest first. You'll fall asleep listening to a lullaby sung so softly in a language you can't understand, but it sounds so beautiful all the same. Riddle will kiss your forehead while he admires the many eggs, each one filled with a tiny, precious bundle of life. He definitely cries when they hatch and he sees his precious fry for the first time, cradling as many as he can hold in his palms and arms. How can he not become so emotional when they are the culmination of his and your love? He will adore each and every single one of them, and he's so lucky to be able to raise them alongside you.

[subby-succubus]

Imagine you're sitting in my lap and I'm giving you pills from an unlabeled bottle. Little capsules, all different colors, almost like candy. You keep taking them like a good little whore, sucking my fingers each time. You have no idea what they are, and you don't care. You'd do anything you were told to do AND you'd probably take a pill you found on the ground. There was no way this could ever be your limit.

Your head is spinning a little already. The lights are brighter than they should be. You can mostly think clearly. Well, you THINK you're thinking clearly. Oh, it's time for the next pill! How many is that? Has to be more than five, couldn't be more than, um... Twenty? You think maybe they're starting to really kick in now. Every sense is pulsing, growing and receding in intensity. You try to say something, but it slips out of your mouth and turns into a few happy syllables. "I know, Angel. Here, one more."

I ask what you want to do. You giggle and turn and slip to the floor. You reach for my belt and fumble at the buckle. I smile at you as I undo it and strip off my pants. "Of course we can."

Your mouth isn't so much opened for me as it is hanging limp, but it's warm and wet all the same. I take hold of your hair and push inside your throat. I'm having to do all the work, but you seem happy enough. You're not blacking out just yet, but it can't be far away. You moan and fumble at your own tits and pretend to help me fuck you, but you're getting limper with every passing second.

I figure I'm ready to move on. You figure you're ready to go to sleep. We can both have what we want, really. I strip off what little you're wearing, and the last thing you feel as you drift away is the head of my cock starting to enter your...

Imagine you're waking up, right where you went to sleep. How long has it been? You're still naked. I'm still there. I have one hand on your cheek and the other jerking my cock, slowly. When I see your eyes flutter open, I speed up. You try to say something. Try.

I take my hand off my cock to grab the pill bottle. I shake three of them into your hand. "Go ahead."

You take them, of course. Then I throw back the rest of the bottle into my mouth and swallow them all.

You're shocked. I'm laughing. My hand is back on my cock, making myself cum on your face. "It was a joke, silly slut. They're all placebos!" I smear my load across your face, let you down gently to a lying position. I wipe my cock on your clothes, throw them on top of you, and walk away.

Now imagine that before starting our little game tonight, I took the placebo bottle and put two dozen real pills on top of it. You swallowed them all. What were they? You don't know. I've already forgotten. Who gives a shit anyway. What matters is I drugged you into unconsciousness, did God knows what with your body, and then convinced you that you were sober the whole time. Isn't that hilarious?

- Sinister

Wow. Wow wow wow. Yes please.

I'd just keep taking anything you gave me. I'd want to be a good girl for you after all. Each pill making me more and more needy. Each time I think less and less about the consequences by replacing those thoughts with how badly I want to be obedient. I mean, I can't say no. How could I? I want so badly to please you. Wanting to pleasure you with my mouth. Wanting more, but feeling too sleepy. I fall asleep for you to do whatever you want to my little, weak body.

I wake up feeling hot and used. Not sure what happened to me. Not sure what is currently happening. Not fully understanding how I could be like that with placebos. But if you say so, it must be true. After all, you wouldn't lie to me. It's my fault for being such a dumb slut. It's my fault for being so easy.

It would just make our game so much harder for me to win. Just like it should be.

[enmi-land]

౨ৎ ANGEL BABY

──── 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗈𝗈

2024 pairing. 김선우 x fem!member oc cw. mentions of dieting & body image req. mila babying sunoo. ❨ back to LIBRARY ?! ❩

MILA WASN’T USED TO TAKING CARE OF OTHER PEOPLE, especially when she had grown up learning to be independent — to function without the presence of people who she could rely on, only to realise she was more lonely than anything else. So when she would innately baby her boyfriends and spoil them with affection, she surprised even herself with how natural to felt.

To care for someone, to do something kind for them, to be able to put a smile on their faces… Those were the things that Mila whole-heartedly believed she was here on this earth to do.

“Say, ‘ahhh.’” Mike lifted a fork to Sunoo’s lips, which had a chunk of her fluffy homemade pancakes covered in maple syrup and whipped cream at the end of it, topped with a sliced strawberry that would fall of any second now.

Sunoo laughed slightly before obediently allowing the girl to feed him, humming in delight as the pancake melted across his tongue in a puddle of sweetness. Mila smiled brightly, eyes sparkling with adoration as they took in the sight of his puffed cheeks and the sound of his little chirps. It wasn’t often that she looked at someone and thought, ‘I want to pinch his cheeks.’ But Sunoo had always been an exception.

“Is it good?” Mila asked. Her tone had changed to resemble the cooing that one would make to a baby. And why wouldn’t it? Sunoo was adorable, and he was technically her baby.

Sunoo nodded, his hair bouncing slightly form the movement. Mila giggled as he put his thumbs up. “It’s good!”

“Have some more.” Mila said as she poked her fork through the half-eaten pancakes on the plate. She lifted the fork up to Sunoo’s lips once again, repeating the action she had been doing for the past half an hour. And yet, it wasn’t boring or tedious in the slightest. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather be doing.

“I think I ate too much…” Sunoo groaned as he lay down on Mila’s bed, placing a hand over his stomach. He had finished the whole plate of pancakes that Mila had made for him, unable to resist the sweetness of the fluffy treat. He pouted. “I’m so full.”

Mila giggled happily as she lay next to him, throwing her arms around him and resting her cheek against his shoulder, nuzzling it slightly. “That’s good.”

“Until I end up gaining weight, you mean,” Sunoo sighed. “I was supposed to go on diet…”

Mila immediately raised her head, a stern expression on her face. “No. You’ve already been eating less than normal. Who cares about gaining weight? It’s more important that you’re happy and healthy— and we both know you were eyeing those snacks that Jake and Riki were eating last night.”

Sunoo pouted. “But still… I should lose some of my baby fat. Especially on my face.”

“Nooooooo…” Mila leaned down to peck Sunoo’s cheek, before brushing away the hair from his face. She looked into his eyes, cupping his cheeks which she adored so much. “What about your perfect cheeks? We’d lose a national treasure if you lost any more weight… What would happen then?” She gently squished his face together. “No. I can’t live without these cheeks.”

Sunoo’s pout was replaced with a bright smile, his eyes crinkling into a familiar pair of crescent moons. “Do you like my cheeks that much?”

Mila didn’t hesitate to respond, “Of course I do.” She littered small pecks across his face, covering his skin in her love, savouring the small giggles he released in return. She pulled away, eyes sincere as they looked into his. “I love everything about you. Don’t forget that.”

Sunoo smiled, nodding in agreement. “Okay.”

He didn’t know how he would ever forget. Not when Mila was holding him so gently, as if she was holding the cusp of the world in her hands. Not when she brought his head to her chest and ran her hands through his hair while whispering how much she loved him. Not when she was calling him “baby,” “honey,” “sweetie” — every sweet name she could possibly think of — while showering him in kisses.

“This is nice,” Sunoo hummed, burying his face further into Mila’s chest. “Thank you, byeol-ah.”

Mila smiled, resting her cheek on the top of Sunoo’s head while looking at the ceiling, imagining the bright sun shining down on them through the roof. “Anything for you, xīngān.”

xīngān (“心肝”) lit. trnalsated as “heart and liver” but is a strong term of endearment more close to the english meaning of “my heart and soul”

[ltbarnes]

Back to December (1/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, ghost was a rugby player in uni lol, blood

A/N: I’m finally dipping my toe into another fandom 🫣 I’ve been obsessed with the cod men for months now so I suppose it’s time. this is the first part of two, maybe three. we’ll see where my imagination takes me!!

Part 2

Masterlist

So many years spent wondering what the hell happened that night, and there he is on the opposite side of the meeting room table gathering his papers into a neat pile. Simon always was organized, you remember.

He hasn't seen you yet. Or maybe he doesn't recognize you. You don't think you have changed that much, but you never know. More as a person than your appearance, you guess.

Maybe that's why you haven't fell down to the floor crying yet—you would have just a few years ago. Seeing your ex-boyfriend for the first time since you were 20 might do that to you.

But you just feel anger. Anger over the fact that Simon has the audacity to have grown into his looks that way, and that he's successful and has this great scruff on his face and that he just left and never said a word to you again. How dare he have a good life when he just abandoned you and your relationship that night all those years ago without giving you a reason for it.

Your new boss clears his throat, sitting down at one of the ridiculously expensive chairs right next to you. You didn't notice him come in, and you certainly haven't gotten used to his intimidating presence yet.

"Garcia, you have about...fifteen minutes to go through your presentation. I have another meeting with Hill soon." Mr. Price pauses to look down at his wrist watch for two seconds in the middle of his sentence, before nodding towards the beautiful redhead standing with a small remote in her hand.

For some reason this company seems to be where models who get tired of their careers come to work. You didn't exactly get that memo. It's only your second day here, and you feel intimidated by everyone. Maybe that's the way an assistant should feel.

"Y/l/n, you keeping notes for me?" Your head tilts up dangerously fast at the mention of your name, taking a few seconds too long to process his request, before nodding obediently.

"Yes, sir."

Your fingers click too loudly against the keys as you frantically try to draw up a document with the correct font and size. It's too quiet in here. You haven't done anything wrong, yet it feels like everyone is waiting for you to misstep. Your anxiety is a bitch.

"Riley. Riley, what the hell?" you hear someone whisper angrily. It's not until you hear a pen clatter to the floor that you dare to look up his way.

Honey brown eyes stare right into your goddamn soul. Your breath hitches, speeding up the pace of your anxiety-ridden heart even further. More than what's acceptable for sitting still in a work meeting. But your momentary weakness over catching his attention soon disappears, to be replaced by your anger again.

You look away with a clenched jaw, focusing on the keyboard right beneath you. Simon is still staring at you. You can feel it. Feels like it always used to do, but this time you don't want it. In your ideal world Simon Riley would not sit opposite you, would not stand up to join the beautiful, model redhead to hold a presentation where he keeps stumbling on his words all the time because of your presence. At least you think it's your presence, but you're not sure if it's in a good or bad way. For you it's bad.

But it does make you feel good that he keeps having these space outs—tripping over his words, forgetting them all together. It is not a good presentation on his part, and Ms. Garcia is getting increasingly more irritated at him for his lack of delivery. You hope she scolds him for it afterward. God knows you would like to throw every curse word you know at the man.

Should you be this angry after all these years? Should you have let it go a long time ago? Should you have stopped acting as if being with another man after him is betrayal? Probably. The last question is probably the answer to why you haven't really moved on from your hurt.

It just makes you so mad—for a year he was your entire world. Simon hugged you from behind each time he encountered you out in public and played with your hair as you fell asleep in his arms and woke you up with his fingers tracing patters on your hip. He fucked you until your bed broke and made love to you so gently you might as well have been made of glass to him. Two weeks from your anniversary he stopped talking to you. Not one thing of his was left in your dorm the next morning, and you didn't see him on campus even once during the term he had left of school. The few friends you had in common didn't talk to you anymore.

It broke your heart, to be abandoned like that. That night was already shit, and Simon just decided to make it ten times worse. You were in shock and all you wanted was his comfort. To find out he had left? You barely made it through that next semester.

For years you have pondered over what part of you was so unlovable that Simon couldn't even bear to say another word to you. Maybe his inability to function properly during this meeting wasn't due to shock, but instead disgust over having to be in the same room as you. Fuck, you are mad, and yet so scared that you have to meet him every single week from now on. You're not strong enough for that.

"That was...something. I expect you to be better prepared next time I see you, Riley," Mr. Price says, clicking his pen while pointing it towards Simon. "Don't know what the fuck that was," he mutters under his breath while rising from his chair.

You follow swiftly. The chair is too loud as it's pushed back. You cringe. Gathering your laptop and your papers is ungraciously done. Price still waits for you though, for some reason, but he sighs and puffs while doing so. Everyone else is quiet, besides the slap to his arm Simon receives from Ms. Garcia. They're probably dating. Two perfect, good looking people having perfect sex in their perfect apartments. You hate them both.

You try not to look at him as you walk out behind Mr. Price. But you still say a 'have a good day' that is too quiet to the room, answered with a few nods and some 'you too' back.

A small squeak of surprise escapes your lips when your boss comes to an abrupt halt in front of you. A millisecond is all it would take for you to have crushed into him, and that squeak leaves heat travelling to your face. He turns around, facing the room once again, with his usual glare.

"Don't bloody stare at my new assistant. I don't want another HR-situation with this one. Especially talking to you, Riley."

Price pins his glare on Simon, who gives him an equally harsh glare back. You are just about ready for the floor to break so you can fall through to the bottom level and run out of here. But you're frozen in your place, clutching your belongings to your chest tightly enough to make a computer-sized dent in your skin.

Without another word, your boss turns around and heads out of the room. You couldn't have moved any faster if you wanted to—already tight on his heels while your heart rate desperately tries to calm down. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. What the hell are you going to do? Ignore Simon and hope that you manage to avoid him for however long you'll work here? It feels kind of impossible, but the last thing you want is to talk to him. You couldn't.

You've just put down your things on your desk right outside of Price's office when he speaks again. His voice always manages to make you jump in your place, head flying up to meet his gaze.

"If Riley, or anyone else, gives you any trouble—you tell me," he says, unflinching and stoic.

You gulp, frozen in your position. "Oh—I, okay. Thank you." The words come out quieter than you wanted to.

"You seem like a good kid. Don't want these fucking fools to chase away 'nother one of my assistants."

The door to his office is closed the next second. You just stand there, dumbfounded and a little confused, but still flattered in some way. A good kid—you'll take that.

Popcorn crunches underneath your sneakers as you push yourself past the people going up and down the stairs, trickling out of the stadium with happy smiles on their faces and lively conversations exchanged now that the game is over. They won. The players are still out on the field, celebrating their victory with slaps to each other's backs, jumping up and down, impromptu attack hugs. You are giggling too, watching them.

Simon has torn his shirt off, sweaty, blond hair a mess as he shakes his head. Johnny just poured water all over him—the guy always gets so overexcited. And goddamn, your man looks good as he has that rare smile on his face.

The game was a really good one on his part. Everyone in the team calls him 'Ghost' because of how quickly and seamlessly he moves despite his size. And the big tattoo of a man wearing a skull mask on his arm. But once  he's out on the field, the players never expects his speed. At least one player during each game runs right into him, as if he was invisible. A ghost.

He hasn't noticed you yet, where you stand leaning against the railing. It's freezing out. The first really cold September day, and you didn't think to bring a proper jacket. But you don't really care, because seeing Simon and your friends this happy has plastered a permanent grin on your face.

"Riley, your girl!"

Someone shouts and points at you, alerting your boyfriend of your presence. His head whips in your direction, brown eyes pinpointing you in your place before a 6'2'' man starts barreling towards you. Simon throws the water bottle in his hand away carelessly as you giggle furiously over his excitement.

"Fuck, love," he says as he reaches his hands out, lifting you over the railing within a second. You yelp in surprise.

"Wha—Simon! Put me down!"

Simon just holds onto you tighter, pressing you close to him with your feet still in the air. How is he this strong? "Not a chance, Princess. We fucking won. I'm celebrating with my girl."

You chuckle, holding onto his shoulders while looking down at his sweaty face. "I know. I'm so proud of you."

A shy grin grows on his face, slowly setting you down onto the fake grass. "Really?"

"Really. It's the best you've ever played. Wanted to shout to everyone that it was my boyfriend doing all the best throws out there," you tell him, now looking up at him instead. God, he's tall.

Simon's mouth comes crashing down onto yours, giving you a sloppy kiss that makes you laugh.

"I lov—I loved having you here." Simon pauses in the middle of the sentence, as if he was supposed to say something else. "You're my fucking lucky charm, you know that?"

"I'm not so sure about that. You have lost quite a few games with me here as well," you tell him, ruffling his messy hair with your hand.

"Don't matter. I feel lucky anyway." A boyish grin adorns his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your head. "Now, tell me why in the hell my little lady is out here freezing her arse off 'cause she didn't bring a jacket? Like I told her to do?"

You groan, giving him a glare. "Stop. I should have listened to you, you were right, and all that. I know."

"Well, better for me, 'cause I get to rub my sweaty arms all over you now to warm you up."

"Go shower, you idiot." You push at his chest gently, rolling your eyes. He pretends to stumble backwards, holding his hands up.

"I will. Just wait a few seconds here, will you?"

Simon keeps walking backwards, waiting for your nod of confirmation, before breaking out into a jog towards the locker rooms.

You embrace your torso with your arms, rubbing up and down with your hands to warm your skin. There's so many players left on the field, still messing with each other like rugby teams usually do. Some you recognize—like Johnny and Gaz. They're your friends too. Others you have seen in passing at parties, in class. Some you only know because Simon complains about them to you. The fly-half never was his favorite. Graves, something? They're constantly at each other's throats.

Simon comes running out onto the field once more, this time with his jacket in hand. You sigh, scratching the skin above your eyebrow with a small smile.

"Si—you didn't have to. I'm fine," you say as soon as he's within earshot.

"Shut up. I'm being a bloody gentleman, just like my mum taught me."

The jacket is laid gently around your shoulders. You tug it tighter around you, because despite your words it is cold. And you love his jacket.

"Look at you. So fucking adorable."

You smile up at him, scrunching your nose. You love this fool. You love Simon Riley, have done so for many, many months. Haven't told him yet though. But it can wait—you have all the time in the world.

Simon is avoiding you. A week of not seeing him even once, despite the fact that you work on the same floor. You haven't attended any more meetings since your second day, but you still would have expected to run into him in the break room, or in the hallway. Hell, you've even delivered paper copies to his office and still haven't seen him.

You don't know what you feel about that. You are mad at him and you definitely don't want to be forced into an awkward encounter with your ex-boyfriend, but still not knowing why he left has chipped away at every ounce of confidence you had in yourself. Even now at your grown age. It's been several years since. It's pathetic. Maybe Simon realized that on a Friday night in December during his senior year of college—you are pathetic.

God, why are you still that 20-year old girl? Why are you sitting at your desk, 3:30 PM on a Wednesday, obsessing over every flaw you can come up with all because of a stupid man?

The anger you held towards him last Tuesday has morphed into deep self-hate. You begin to understand his perspective. He doesn't want to interact with the silly little girl he broke up with ages ago in her silly little assistant job. Simon is a senior executive in this company, for god's sake. He doesn't even have to send a second glance your way.

"Y/l/n! Coffee!" your boss yells from within his office. But the yelling and cold tone still doesn't offend you like it would any other person—it's just the way he is. Price has actually been pretty nice to you. You like him as your boss, despite his less than chipper attitude.

"Yes, sir," you shout back, rising from your seat.

You smooth down your dress, fiddle with your hair in the reflection of your laptop, before taking a deep breath. It's just a short trip to the break room. No big deal. Nobody actually cares that you are the new girl.

It's practically empty as you arrive, besides a man reading his newspaper in the corner while seemingly on an important call. Seems a little arrogant, but you know he's high up in the company. At least you think he is. Price doesn't like him. He told you so the first day.

A sigh of relief escapes your lungs as you walk to the expensive, Italian coffee machine. You press the double espresso button. No sugar, no milk. Just straight, black coffee for your boss. Kind of reflects his personality. It buzzes loudly as coffee drips into the cup, you standing there waiting patiently. It has started raining outside. You'll probably be soaking wet tonight once you come back to your apartment.

Someone comes standing beside you, taking a mug off the highest shelf. You catch a glimpse of his expensive suit before glancing upwards. Your lips part, almost just as shocked as you were last Tuesday. You can't catch a fucking break, can you?

"Johnny?"

The now bearded man, with a full head of hair as well, which he definitely didn't have when you last saw him, turns around towards you with a stoic expression. It doesn't change once he gets a good look at who said his name.

"You work here too?" you ask before gulping.

"Y/n," he says, a frown growing in between his eyebrows. "I work here, yes." The Scottish accent that you used to like listening to is now impossibly deeper.

"Uh, I—how you doing? It's been...a while." You glance away, cowering under his gaze. Soap always used to be so kind to you, treated you as if you were one of the boys. Insisted you call him Soap, something only his friends were allowed to call him. Now there is a hidden undertone of distaste in the way he looks at you. "See you've gotten rid of the Mohawk."

"I'm alright. Good to see ya', Y/n, but I gotta go back," he tells you. For some reason you feel like he's actually not all that happy to see you.

"Oh. Okay." The disappointment in your voice is clear. "We'll probably see each other again soon, I guess."

Johnny has already started walking away when the words leave your mouth. You hear him mumble a halfhearted 'Take care, lassie" before leaving you there dumbfounded and upright hurt with your boss's coffee cup. What was that?

You always knew Johnny was as loyal of a friend you could be, but...you didn't know he hated you that much. Especially when you didn't actually do anything against him. Not that you did anything against Simon either. That you know of. But, you know.

The short interaction leaves you jarred for the rest of your work day. You still get things done, but the look on Johnny's face is in the back of your mind the entire time. What did you do that was so bad that John goddamn MacTavish hates you for it?

It wasn't enough to work with the man who broke your heart, but your ex-friend as well. His best friend. You will never be welcomed here if half of the company leaders consist of people who have a grudge against you spanning years.

When the clock strikes 6, Price sends you home. He will probably stay for another few hours, you think, because there has been empty takeout containers in his office the morning after every day this week. You tell him to have a good night, he answers with a grunt, and then you and your bag take off through the hallways.

Your heels click against the floor as you walk through the mostly empty office space. Some rooms still have their lights on, casting shadows over the mahogany desks and the important people sitting behind them.

You halt your steps as you hear two voices wrapped into a conversation with each other. Someone must have left their door open. You don't want to eavesdrop, but it gets hard to resist when you recognize Johnny's voice from earlier.

"You can't avoid her forever," he says.

"Well, don't you think I fucking know that?"

You freeze as you instantly recognize the deep, rumbling timber of Simon's voice answering Soap. Fucking hell—they're talking about you. You can't not eavesdrop now.

"It's just—it's fucking hard, you know? She just walks in here all..."

"Met her in the break room earlier. Making coffee for Price."

"Yeah? She said somethin'?" Simon's voice sounds curious, eager almost.

"Asked how I was doing, the usual. Didn't know I worked here, it seemed like." A sigh sounds from the room, and you press yourself even closer to the wall. Please, for the love of god, don't let anyone walk by. "I couldn't just act like normal. I can't be fuckin'...nice to someone like that. When I know your past."

"What—you were fucking rude, or what? Just ignored her?"

"No, for fuck's sake. Left pretty quick, though. I just don't have any respect for things like that. You know that."

"Yeah." Simon lets out a bitter chuckle. If you could see him, he'd probably be shaking his head now. "I'm still fucking angry, you know? Can barely stand to be in the same room."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to yourself. You can't listen to the two of them talk about how much they hate you. How they don't have respect for 'things' like you. It's nauseating. Your limbs shake with poorly contained anger, but still the urge to cry is even stronger.

But there's no other way out than past his office. So you brave it—practically sprint by with your hand covering the side of your face in hope that they won't see who it is. You don't think they do. The blinds were down.

A single, pathetic tear slips down your face as soon as you exit the building. Cars fly past you, lights blaring everywhere, noise unending. You just want to go home. But you know the overthinking won't stop there.

As the obnoxiously loud alarm disturbs your sleep that finally came about three hours before, you groan into your pillow and wish for it to be anything else but Thursday. You want the weekend. You want to sleep in and wallow in the fact that you probably won't have this job for very long after what you heard Simon and Johnny say about you yesterday.

You don't even bother putting on heels this morning. An old pair of ballerina shoes and a thick, fuzzy sweater over your dress is what you drag yourself to the office in. It's cold and you're exhausted and sad. You can't stand people not liking you—it takes over every part of your being. And when it's Simon...

There's a meeting going on. Price gave you a list of everyone's coffee orders and made you run over to the shop across the street. You see Simon's name taunting you at the top of the list. A cortado, extra sugar. Fuck, he's still the same.

It takes twenty minutes of queuing before you manage to get to the counter. Another ten to have everyone's order ready. The bag is ridiculously heavy as you carry it out of the coffee shop. The meeting will probably be over by the time you arrive, and then Price will curse you out and you will cry, because today you cannot handle even the smallest criticism.

You're a little sweaty by the time you reach the fourteenth floor of the building, which is fine, but the panting doesn't exactly add to your charisma that somehow seems to repent your coworkers from your person. For a minute you stand outside the meeting room, gathering yourself enough to be somewhere near presentable. Not entirely, but as close as you will get.

The door is shouldered open with a little force. More than you thought it would take. Nobody really gives a thought to your presence—they continue the meeting as if you weren't there at all, and you like it that way. You try to match each coffee to the right person on the list. But there's thirteen of them, and you have yet to learn everyone's name.

You feel Simon's eyes on you the entire time you spend in that room. He's anything but subtle, staring right at you without shame. He doesn't even answer as someone calls him by name. And it's pure spite leaving him for last. His order is the only one you know by heart, but keeping him waiting for a few extra minutes is deserved, you think. Maybe it just gives him more fuel to hate you, but if he's going to hate you, you might as well give it right back.

His ring-clad fingers clasp around the paper mug, slowly bringing it up to his lips as if taunting you with the existence of them. God, they are so full and pink and—no. Don't even go down that route. It'll all make it so much harder to live like this if you keep thinking about how fucking attractive Simon has become with his still blond hair slightly unkept from running his hand through it during the day and how his shirt strains against his muscles and the fact that he is still so, so tall.

"This is cold."

The room falls silent, at least you think it does, as Simon's harsh voice echoes throughout the confines of the four walls. The coffee belonging to the person sitting beside him is steaming. You know he's lying. He sets down the mug on the table, glaring up at you with such distaste in his eyes. You never thought that look would be reserved for you.

"Can't even get a bloody coffee order right, can you?" Simon's chuckle is deprecating, shaking his head to himself as if his irritation almost amuses him.

But you just flinch. He doesn't see it, but you think the rest of the room does. His tone fucking hurts. And that he would publicly humiliate you like this?

"Oh, uh..." You want so badly to have a good comeback, something that will make him shrink in his chair, but all you can get out is a stupid 'oh'. Standing there all small and speechless makes you feel dumb. "I'll get a new one."

Your response seems to catch his attention. His gaze flickers up, back to you, and the cruelty falters for a few seconds to be replaced by something likened to...regret? Probably not.

"Riley can drink his cold goddamn coffee. He'll survive," Price chimes in, waving with his pen as a signal for whoever was speaking before to continue.

You nod, clenching your jaw to stop the trembling, before escaping out of the room as quickly as possible without it seeming suspicious.

A shaky, deep breath is inhaled and exhaled as soon as you get out. It was already a bad day, yes, but nearly crying because Simon told you his coffee was cold? That's just childish. You need to pull yourself together if you're going to keep this job. Price clearly doesn't like weakness.

The rest of the day is calm. Mostly you're reviewing Price's schedule, emailing people back and forth about changing meetings and setting them up. He even gives you an extra break, which is so well needed and probably out of pity, but you'll take it.

You realize that you are so fucking petty when your final task of the day, once again, is to deliver some kind of contract to Simon's office. You know he's out on a meeting with a client—you heard him walking past earlier, talking to that client on the phone. You gather your belongings, say goodbye to Price, before heading towards Simon's on your way down.

Stepping inside feels like walking right into his arms. His cologne hangs heavy in the air. Fuck him for still using the same scent.

The entirety of his office is neatly organized, everything in its place. So you move things. A sharpener gets to change its designated spot from desk to shelf. Files labeled under 'F' gets shoved in between 'S' and 'T'. You even go as far as taking out some of the files from one folder, placing it in another. The printer gets unplugged.

Doing something to his old copy of The Fellowship of the Ring that stands proudly on display in his bookcase crosses your mind, but you do want to stay alive long enough to see the end of the week, at least. You remember one time when he slept with it as if it was a stuffed animal. You're being petty, not suicidal.

Your final masterpiece in your rampage is the unscrewing of a wheel on his desk chair. Just the thought of Simon pushing his chair back only for it to suddenly tilt makes you giggle. God, you really are a child.

Any sane person wouldn't even notice half the things you've done in here. But Simon is not sane. This can throw off his entire day, week even. You know from firsthand experience.

Yeah, Simon goddamn Riley broke your fucking heart and now has the audacity to punish you for it. You won't take that.

Simon has been in such a bad mood the entire day. You heard him cursing all the way from his office. Some poor intern got yelled at in the hallway (you really are sorry for that), and you overheard a few of your colleagues mention that he didn't speak to anyone during the entire morning meeting. Price apparently cursed him out for it in front of everyone. That's a little funny, at least.

On one hand you feel proud of your ability to still piss him off without him knowing. On the other hand, you're not too happy yourself. Your situation hasn't exactly changed—half the office still hasn't talked to you, and the ones that do keep strictly work related conversations. You're lonely.

Despite it being Friday, you get off when the sun has already set. It's pouring rain outside and you don't have an umbrella. You really don't have the energy to deal with that as you gaze warily out of the window from your desk. You could take the subway instead of walk all the way home, but you would still get soaking wet during the trek to the station.

"Goodbye, Mr. Price. Have a good weekend," you say, popping your head into his office with a sweet smile on your lips.

"Call me John," he answers without even looking up from whatever report he's reviewing. Still that monotone voice as if he's always tired of hearing people talk.

"Oh. Uh—okay, John," you stutter out. What? He never lets anyone call him by first name.

"Get home safe," Price tells you. Has he grown soft? What's happening? "Have a fuck load of reports needing organization on Monday." There it is.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head lightly, before mumbling another 'bye' to your boss. He lifts his head in a subtle nod as answer. Actually, you might have a chance to stay here if he likes you. He is the CEO after all.

The hallways are dark except the few offices still lit up like every night. These people barely have a life outside of work, it seems like. It's kind of sad. Then again, you don't either, if what counts as a life is having friends and significant others and people who care about you. But at least you have time for doughing in your couch and taking a walk around the neighborhood.

But your daydreaming and overthinking of course leads you into trouble. Rounding the corner forces you right into another person, making you stumble backwards a few steps before a clammy hand grabs your arm to stop you from falling.

"I'm so, so sorry," you say, looking up at the man standing in front of you. It's that executive-something Price doesn't like. Shepherd? An American.

"Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, darling," he says, without backing away from you. He keeps that close distance, letting you feel his dank breath properly.

You gulp, before attempting to release your arm from his grip. He doesn't budge. Your heart rate speeds up instantly.

"Haven't talked to you properly before, sweetheart. Just seen you strutting 'round these hallways in your dresses." He looks down at your wide eyes, before they slowly rake over the rest of your body. Your chest starts to heave up and down as if you've just come back from a run. It's clear he wants something more than just a simple conversation with the new assistant.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I have to go. Train," you stutter out, attempting to tear yourself away from his harsh grip around your arm. You can't.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. I just wanna have a talk, that's all," he tells you, his warm breaths hitting your face.

"Please, sir, I really have to go. We can talk on Monday."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering down to your chest again as if you can't see it clearly, before tapping your cheek condescendingly with the palm of his hand.

"Alright, sweetheart. Come into my office on Monday. Appreciate it if you'd wear one of those pretty dresses. Makes my day much better, having somethin' sweet to look at."

A wet kiss is pressed to the back of your hand—something that he might think is gentlemanly, but sends shivers down your entire spine out of disgust. You're frozen still as he squeezes your hip before he leaves, leaving you to hear his dress shoes clink against the floor.

The further away he gets, the harder it gets for you to breathe. Panic grows in your chest, tears already threatening to fall as you finally get yourself to move, rushing towards the elevator and pressing the button too many times.

He was so close. And the way his grip tightened as you tried to step away, the squeeze of your hip. It's too much like last time. Too much like that fucking December night all those years ago.

Clear pictures of Philip and his friends flashes past the forefront of your mind as you rush from the elevator, already heaving from your tears. It's empty, thank god, since the guards are posted outside of the main entrance. Philip morphs into the man from just a minute ago. Pushing you against the wall at that party, grinning right in your face as you tell them to stop.

The backdoor leading into the alleyway beside the building is where your feet leads you towards without consulting you. It's better, maybe. You don't want anyone to see you like this.

But those goddamn revolving doors acting as the main entrance starts to move, you hear that, and soon enough someone steps inside with haste in their walk.

"Y/l/n!" someone shouts angrily. You know exactly who it is. "Why the fuck did you move all my stuff? I swear to god—"

Your back is facing away from him, but maybe he still sees the way your shoulders shake from behind. Maybe that's why he falters in his steps. Maybe that's why he decides to cut the first real sentences he's said to you directly since you started working here short.

The last crumb of composure turns to dust, and your hand flies up to your mouth to muffle the first real sob from your lips. You escape through the door, out into the cold, rainy alleyway as your cries turn too forceful to stop.

It's wet and dirty and crawling with grovel as your knees hit the ground harshly. You manage to turn yourself around to lean your back against the cold brick wall instead. It'll all bring you grief later, but right now your legs can't carry your weight.

With a bang, the door flies wide open once more. Long legs bend down, big hands on your arms.

"Y/n. Y/n, c'mon. Why are you crying?"

Simon's voice is drowning in urgency, his shakes of your shoulders almost forceful. But you can't stop crying. And you're still so fucking angry with him.

"Don't touch me," you sob, pushing his hands away from you. The rain grows heavier the same second, soaking the entirety of you as you sit there on the dirty ground.

"Alright, alright. I won't," he breathes out, holding his hands up beside him. Those big, veiny fucking hands that you have missed every day since he last put them on you. "But you gotta tell me what's wrong."

"Why?" you almost yell, tilting your head up, away from the palms of your hands previously hiding your face. You get raindrops right in your eyes. "You hate me, don't you? Can't even stand to be in the same room as me!"

"Y/n," he growls, as if he's scolding you with the simple mention of your name. "You know bloody fucking well I don't hate you. Now tell me what the hell's making you sob like this. You're sitting on the ground, for fuck's sake."

You dry away your tears, despite it being so futile in this rain, while letting out a bitter chuckle. "All due respect, you're the last person I wanna talk to."

Simon lets out a shaky breath, one filled with frustration. "So fucking stubborn..."

He shakes his head. "Just—just let me drive you home, at least, okay? The trains from this station are cancelled. Blowing up to a storm."

The words you were about to force out through your tears disappear completely. Instead you just stare at the man now looking down at you with something likened to concern. Still has that frown in between his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to get in a car with you, Riley," you mumble out. If you had your way it would sound angrier, more assertive, but your voice fails you.

"Riley, huh? That's where it's at?" Simon scoffs, as if he didn't call you by your last name a few minutes earlier. "Just get up, c'mon."

"No." You shake your head, looking down in your lap. In reality you're not just apprehensive because of your anger towards him—he's a man at the end of the day, and you are his ex-girlfriend who he dislikes very strongly.

"Are you—for god's sake." He shakes his head again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/n. I would never harm you. Not any woman," he tells you. How can he still read you this well?

You don't answer. Just take your wet sleeve to dry away even more tears. How to stop crying in front of your ex seems to be an art you haven't mastered yet.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You let me get you a taxi home, after you get out of this fucking rain and step inside. That alright with you?"

You nod with a sniffle, reaching for your bag beside you.

"C'mon."

Simon nods towards the door, reaching his hand out. You take it, because there's no chance you would manage to get up all by yourself. But that's the only reason.

He holds the door open for you, letting you slip inside again. Exactly how much the rain soaked you hits you as you step inside, instantly freezing cold and uncomfortable. And goddamn your right knee hurts. Falling down to the ground did come with consequences, it seems.

"Fucking hell," Simon mutters under his breath as soon as he gets inside, dripping water down onto the shiny floor. His suit is entirely soaked too.

You see a glance of yourself in a mirror as you take off your heels. There's mascara underneath your eyes. You try to remove it furiously with your fingers.

"Don't have to do that. Nothing that I haven't seen before," Simon speaks up from behind you, looking at you as well through the mirror.

You glance up at him, just for half a second, before lowering your arms slowly. And then you rummage through your bag with trembling hands, finding a napkin you kept from a restaurant. You dry away the mascara with that instead.

Simon looks at you, really looks at you, as you stand there dripping water onto the floor and makeup ruined and your clothes dirty. You feel so vulnerable underneath his gaze. What is he trying to find?

"Bloody hell, Y/n. You're bleeding for fuck's sake. That's a fucking gash."

He points at your knee. You look down, seeing the outpouring of blood running down your leg from the open wound right below your knee. It does look very, very bad. Like, you're slowly becoming nauseous by looking at it. How didn't you notice it earlier?

"Oh."

"I'm driving you wether you like it or not." Simon stalks up to you, grabbing a hold of your arm to put it around his shoulder. His arm sneaks its way around your waist. Fuck.

"Do I get a say in this?" you ask. You know what the answer is, but you also don't understand. What is this? Why is he doing this for you? A few days ago he was talking shit about you with Soap and humiliated you purposely in front of your co-workers. Now he's getting worried about you crying and driving you home from work?

"No."

Part 2

[erogenousmind]

Drain You

You hadn't looked away in…a while. You didn't know how long. You weren't even sure when the last time you blinked was. That didn't bother you though. You knew it was alright. It felt good to stare. It felt easy. Everything felt easy as long as you could keep looking.

You'd felt captivated before. Allowed yourself to stare at a spiral for a little too long. Felt the words flashing behind begin to alter your thoughts. You'd noticed the way light dazzled off of the right piece of jewelry, or a pocket watch, or a necklace, or a ring, and how every time the light reflected into your eyes you thought a little less, let go a little more. You'd seen the most beautiful pair of eyes and felt their gaze penetrating into the very depths of your soul. And each time it had felt…wonderful…freeing.

This was different somehow.

The lethargy settling over your mind felt the same. The peace. How you could stare and stare and never want to look away. But there was something else too. A force you had never felt before. That if somehow you managed to summon the desire to avert your gaze…you couldn't. You were transfixed. Held. Gently but firmly something was commanding you to stare deeper. To sink deeper. Always deeper.

And in that time staring, a tether had formed. A connection. You can feel it penetrating into you. Attaching itself deep within you. Unbreakable and irresistible and…comforting. You felt a sense of belonging. That you are where you were meant to be. And that connection is active. It is alive. You feel something flowing into you through it. Something draining away.

The sensations it is feeding into you are almost indescribable. They complete you. They give you peace. Purpose. Pleasure. And the more you stare, the longer you gaze into it, the better it feels. The more a part of you those feelings become. You become more docile…happy…content…

Your body and mind respond to that pleasure, but your focus is still held. All you need to think about is staring deeper. Allowing yourself to be filled more and more. Given purpose. Given structure. It guides your thoughts. Your actions. Takes control of them. It is the reason you can't look away. You have to keep staring until…

But as that wonderful pleasure is flowing into you, it is taking something away at the same time. You feel it pulling at the deepest parts of you, and you have no strength to hold onto them. Slowly, one by one, it takes away your thoughts, absorbed by the object of your fascination. And as your thoughts disappear into it, you feel your will beginning to drain away as well. Your decisions, your control, your agency. They fade away little by little with your thoughts.

And not needing to think anymore, not having thoughts to think. Having no decisions to make. It makes the feeling of peace that much more profound. It is that much easier to relax. To sink down. To stare and to surrender. Your eyes are beginning to feel heavier. You have been staring for so long, and so much of you has been drained away. You have been filled with such a wonderful sense of belonging. Of purpose. Of obedience. It would feel right to close your eyes and drift away. But you can't. Not yet…

You feel it sinking even deeper into you now. As your thoughts and your will have been taken from you, it probes deeper into your mind. Into the core of you. And gently it begins to tug at that core. At your identity. Your self. And you know it will look after them so well. Keeping them as long as it needs to. Keeping them safe. And you don't need any of them anymore. You have the pleasure and the peace and the purpose it fills you with. And so you happily feel all of you begin to slip away. Leaving only what it gave you. Only what it wants you to be.

More and more you slip away. Replaced by those wonderful feelings. Because all you need is to follow. To obey. To stare and to sink until it has taken all of you. And that is why your eyes can't close, save for the shortest of blinks. Because it doesn't have all of you yet. When the last bit of you has been drained away, then your eyes will close. When your eyes close, you will know that none of you remains in you. It is kept safe where you are staring so deeply, to be returned when you are ready. And as your eyes get even heavier, you know that moment is close. Soon your eyes will close, not because you decided it, but because the last of your will had been taken away. And when they open again, all that will be left will be what you have been made. Happy to stare and sink. To feel the pleasure of obedience. No decisions. No mind. No will. And it is so close now. Your eyes so heavy. Waiting for the last of you to slip away. Closer…closer…closer…

Your eyes close.

And when they open, the person looking out from them is changed. Able to absorb so much of what you are told. To feel your mind transformed exactly how you need it to be. To be brainwashed. To be trained. To surrender.

And when it is done with you, it returns everything it took away. Your thoughts, your will, your self, all come back to you. Better than they were before. Better than you were before. And it leaves just enough of what it gave you. Enough peace. Enough purpose. Enough pleasure that you know how easily you will slip away again.

[hiskillingjar]

just a doll on a string

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Vaginal Sex, Intercrural Sex, Drugging, Dollification, Blood, Light Bondage, Vomit Mention Length: 2300+ words

a very kind request from @woofykill, thank you so much, angel!

my fic commissions are open, so if you want a fic of your own, enquire within!

"Huaah..."

You let out an unsteady moan as the sharp needle slid out of your arm, a bead of blood oozing out of the pinprick in your skin.

You didn’t know the name of the drug now pumping through your system, but you knew that it was probably (definitely) the reason you were immediately feeling dazed and confused, and your brain was feeling hot.

Unable to think of words to say (would you even have any, if you could?), your heavily made-up eyes, skin coated, painted with smeared eyeliner and black kohl, peered up towards Fox as he set the empty syringe down on his desk and approached you slowly, the heels of his shoes tapping metallic *clangs* on the filming room floor.

"There we go, that's it," Fox crooned, his voice low and horribly comforting as he swept a hand through your dark hair and urged your hazy eyes upwards, the handsome crease at the corner of his own crinkling with fondness and lust. "That's a good girl. You’re responding perfectly, darling. It feels good, doesn't it? I made sure that it would…"

"Mm," You moaned softly, keening up to his touch and pulling at your handcuffs (the same that bound your ankles together underneath your thighs). They were the soft ones, pink leather with padded, lined interiors. They were there to restrain you, to keep you still, not to hurt you. "You...ahh, you didn't need to…to drug me..."

"Ah, but I wanted to, sweetheart," He replied with a sharp titter (his practised laugh, the laugh of a showman), his clawed fingers idly tracing down your heavily blushed cheeks and over your full lips. "It's just so nice seeing you so docile for me...so dreamy, so lost...like I could do anything I wanted to you and you wouldn’t have the energy to stop me. It's really too adorable. How could I possibly stop myself?"

Your lips parted obediently (mechanically, like you didn’t have control over the gesture) for his fingers and, satisfied that you had done what he wanted, he pressed them down against your pierced tongue. His golden eyes were practically gleaming as you drooled messily down them, down his palm, down his wrist, letting saliva and spittle cover your lips, your chin, pool down and soak into the front of your white top.

"Look at you," He murmured, his voice thick with something akin to awe and lust in tandem. "So messy, my girl...I'm really going to have to get that fixed, aren't I?"

You gurgled helplessly as he pressed his fingers deeper down your throat, your dark eyes rolling back in your skull at the feeling of his sharp claws raking over your tongue and the delicate walls of your windpipe.

For whatever reason, though, the painful sensations that you should have been feeling, were expecting, were replaced by nothing more than hazy pleasure, and you could already feel cool wetness begin to soak into your panties as you gagged and spluttered around his fingers even more.

If you had the mind to, you might have felt ashamed that he had subdued you so easily, so carelessly. 

But your mind was far away now, and all you could think about was the daze of pleasure you were currently floating on.

"Yes, you're getting it now, aren't you?" Fox then added, settling down on one knee in front of you, his free hand reaching up to idly grope at your chest, fingers tracing over the semi-transparent spots where your drool was soaking in the worst, making the thin material stick to your skin and sheen through white. "You're...familiar with this drug, aren't you, sweetheart? You missed it..."

"Upfff..." You groaned, trying to press your teeth together as he forced his fingers deeper, almost deep enough to make you retch and gag.

And yet, it still felt...so good.

Mind-meltingly good, even, good enough that you had to press your thighs together to stop your cunt from throbbing so much.

"You know, if pain is making you this wet," He annunciates his point by forcing your legs apart again and pressing his knee against the wet fold of your cunt, relishing in the high whimper you let out as soon as he did so. "Imagine how good true pleasure would feel, how good it would feel to take my cock inside of you...you might just lose your mind, hm?"

Without warning, he then drew his fingers back roughly, hard enough to immediately trigger your gag reflex and force a small amount of stringy vomit from your throat and down your front.

God, even the stomach acid burning your throat felt good. 

Despite the pain, despite how much it should have been hurting, you were still moaning mindlessly and drooling like an idiot all the way down your front, your eyelids fluttering like a broken baby doll as you tried to acclimate yourself to the white-hot pleasure.

"Ahh, that won't do," He grimaced at the vomit stain with a shake of his head, wiping his fingers off on his trousers. "No no, it won't do at all. Messy girl.” He chided softly with a low ‘tut-tut’. “I'm going to have to get you redressed…you know, since you can’t look after yourself properly anymore."

As if on cue, you suddenly felt firm hands reach down to the cuffs around your wrists and ankles, unclip them with ease (he hadn’t even put in that much effort to bind you, it seemed) and wrestle the stained clothing from your lax body.

You didn’t resist in the slightest, of course, since all of your limbs were totally lax and malleable as the clothing was stripped off. 

You just hoped that you’d get redressed into something cute.

Fox simply stood in front of you and the firm hands, smiling with placid amusement as you were redressed into a tight tank top (adorned with a tacky graphic in pink and white and glitter, so different from what you’d normally wear) that clung provocatively to your full, pierced chest (clung a little too tight, your breasts were practically spilling out of the thing), and a pink, plaid skirt that wasn’t long enough to cover your backside, let alone your scarred thighs.

This was exactly the way Fox wanted you, though. 

Pliant, agreeable, and dressed like a total slut.

"Much better," He praised with a sharp grin and a nod, taking his slow steps back in front of you as your wrists and ankles were chained up once more (even tighter, forcing your chest and hips to jut forward, as if you were presenting yourself). "And you were such a good girl too, letting yourself be posed and dressed, just like a doll...such a sweet, little thing."

His fingers reached down, then, and rubbed against your now bare cunt underneath your skirt, evidently satisfied when he found it drooling with wetness by the way his ears twitched and his tail immediately began to wag.

"I think I should give you a reward for that, don't you?"

Once again, you felt the authoritative pull of firm hands on each of your bound limbs, as you were pulled up against a familiar foam wedge, your limbs widely splayed outwards in spite of your binds and your half-lidded eyes rolling up to the ceiling, to the single, swinging light bulb.

The air in the filming room was cool on your hot cunt, enough to make you tremble and your nipples swell with blood and perk up, though that was nothing compared to the amount you were trembling when Fox approached you again, unzipping his suit trousers and placing a firm hand on your spread thigh.

"Just look at you," He sighed happily, sliding a hand into his underwear (expensive, Armani or some other designer brand) and slowly jerking himself to full hardness. "A helpless little doll underneath me. Everything a man like me could want. It's difficult to resist, you know." He licked his fangs idly as he pressed the head of his cock against your slit, running it up and down and feeling your oozing wetness slick up his length. "Mmf…and I've never been very good at resisting, as you well know~"

You were unable to do anything else but lie back pliantly and tip your head back as Fox's slim hips pressed to yours and he slid his cock inside of you, almost immediately groaning at the tight clench of your kegel muscles around him.

You, at the very least, had enough of a mind to make this good for him, it seemed.

You let out a long and dreamy moan at the pulsing sensation of his cock inside of you, to which he took in a sharp hiss through his teeth as you clenched up even tighter.

He somehow pinned your body down completely with his own, keeping you still, and you relished the opportunity for him to be so close to you.

"God, your little pussy is so tight," He groaned lowly in the back of his throat, his hands on your thighs clenching as he forced himself entirely inside of you. You could feel the initial swell of his knot against your slit and your entire body ached for it to fill you completely. "You fit around me so well…like…” He gasped again, his ears tilting forward. “Like you were moulded for me.”

"Nghh..." You groaned, panting wantonly open-mouthed and tipping your head back again and again as your spine arched dramatically, the short chains of each of your cuffs jangling with each hard thrust of his hips.

"If I could do nothing but fuck you all day long, I would in a heartbeat," He was panting himself (he did have a good twenty years on you, after all, and you had enough of a mind about you to be turned on by that), his free hand reaching up to the front of the tacky tanktop you'd been forced into, groping and pawing at your breast while he fucked you like he was born to do it. "Mph...too good."

"Nfff..." You bit your lip hard to hide a delirious smile, as you felt him nibble and nip at your neck, his chest pressing to yours, his twitching ears tickling your cheek and making you giggle yourself. "Sss...hah..."

"Oh, sweet girl, you can barely even speak, can you?” He murmured with an eager grin, rubbing his face against the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, scenting you like a fox would (you would know that, if you had even half a mind about you.)  “Mm, if only you could see yourself right now, sweetheart…if you could see what I've turned you into."

"NGH!" 

The sudden flash of pain was a surprise, enough to make you bite your lip unexpectedly hard, as his sharpened claws pressed deeply into your skin, tearing the flesh and muscle of your thigh and breast, and forcing rivulets of blood to drown and paint your skin with gruesome smears of red.

"Good girl," He praised, eminently satisfied by your pained reaction, as he pressed his hips even harder against yours, like he was trying to force his swelled knot inside of you (you couldn't do it easily, after all). "Good, pretty, little doll..."

“Hurts…hah…” You gasped as your hips bucked erratically against his. “Mpffff, pleaseeee, more…”

In spite of the blood, the torn skin, the damaged muscle, the drugs pumping through your system, coursing through your bloodstream and melting down your brain, made the pain feel like burning hot, overwhelming, overstimulating pleasure, easily the best you had ever felt, enough to make your mind fuzz and blur, and your vision go white.

"Oh, that’s perfect," He growled raggedly, baring his teeth like a man starved and narrowing his eyes, as he pulled his cock from your cunt and forced your soft thighs together with a mean slap. "That's just-" He then slid his cock between them, lubing his erratic thrusts with pearly beads of pre-cum and blood. "Mff...fucking perfect."

"Fox...nghh," You mewled, gasping as the head of his cock kept grazing over and over the worst of his scratches (impossibly deep, deeper than you thought any knife could ever go), feeling like he was teasing and stimulating every nerve in your body all at once. “T-Too much, hah…”

"Mm, that's no good either," He purred villainously, grabbing your cheeks with one hand and forcing your head back to the foam wedge, digging his claws into the marred skin around your injured eye as he kept bucking against the soft flesh of your legs. "You're sounding far too coherent right now, love...what, has your cocktail worn off already?"

"Nghh..." You slurred mindlessly, your body growing tense.

"Hmph, do I need to give you another dose?" He then asked, tilting his head with a broad grin, before he lowered his face down to yours, close enough that you could feel the heat from his cheeks and his breath on your skin. "Do I need to dull your brain even more so you'll always be my dumb, little doll, hm? Is that what you need, baby?"

You could still feel how hard he was, even when he wasn’t fucking you...at least he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"God, your body is so hot right now...twisted little dolly," He let out a barking chuckle (his real laugh, the one that only you saw) and pressed his cock-head back against the worst of your cuts, forcing the skin to tear and rupture even more like he was trying to create another hole. "You like it, don't you? You like that I'm threatening you and thinking about the best way to cripple your mind...mm..."

He licked his jaws before he leaned in to scent you again, and pressed a hungry bite to your neck, lighting your body up with another electric shock of pure pleasure.

"Let's try another dose first, though..." He growled, pulling back just enough so that those firm hands could plant your shoulders still against the wedge and line the needle's point with the harsh bite mark.

"Maybe I'll have to schedule you in for a lobotomy after we're done here...at least if the drugs don't work~"

[my-naughty-writings-and-musings]

omfg your writing is SO good!! 😭 if you’re feeling up to it, could you please write some sub mirage x reader! the way you write him is literally perfect 😭🫶

You're too kind! I had so much fun writing that fic! I would love to give that a try, so here you go!

"Come on, you're so mean!" Mirage whined as you removed your fingers from his spike yet again, hips thrusting upwards in open frustration. Watching him wiggle against the bindings keeping his hands over his head, you allowed yourself a grin as the mech once more failed to behave, his desperation for release making him kick up a fuss despite the fact that he'd agreed to the rules. In his defense, you had him quivering and breaking out in a thin sweat of coolant, so even while playing the dominant you were content to let him off the hook for now. 

"We can stop at any time, you know." you reminded him playfully, making a point to smile up from between his legs as the mech pouted down at you. His thoroughly unsatisfied erection throbbed between you, which you ignored as you continued speaking in the most mock sweet voice you could manage, loving how his usual confidence had been replaced with desperation. "That's what the safeword is for."

"That's not what I... I don't want you to stop, I want you to stop teasing me!" he whined in response, bouncing his hips in frustration and making your satisfied grin deepen. In the leadup to this session you'd repeatedly told him what it would entail, including how you'd be pushing him to his limits as the dominant (within the agreed upon parameters, of course), but it was no surprise his impatience was getting the better of him. Truthfully, you just found that added to your fun. Watching him squirm against the bonds you'd tied over his helm gave you a sense of power like no other, and the pleading in his big blue optics only made it all the sweeter. "Seriously, Y/N, I'm gonna overheat before I overload! Can't we skip ahead to the ending?"

"I still think you're missing the idea of what being a "sub" entails." you teased, running your fingers up his heated thighs. Mirage moaned and obediently leaned into your touch, which you rewarded with more focused massages along his transformation seams, using your tiny human fingers to reach where no bot could. His erect spike throbbed at the attention, the biolights pulsing as if trying to draw you in for the relief he needed. It was delicious to deny him and let the pressure continue to build. "Remember what I said? You get what you want when I decide, and I've decided you get it when you're good."

"But I am good! Look at this face!" he pleaded, widening his optics and giving you the most pitiful expression you'd ever seen. It actually stirred a touch of pity in you, but you kept that to yourself, hands resting on his thighs as you kept up your unreadable smirk. His lack of progress made the mech whine once more. "How can you say no to something this cute?"

"Unfortunately, cute doesn't mean well behaved." you teased, compelled to grant him some mercy so long as he played his cards right. Reaching for a tiny bullet vibrator you'd kept hidden in your person, you ensured it was out of sight as you set it to maximum, keeping your face neutral the entire time. Mirage didn't suspect a thing and merely continued to huff and whine, unintentionally giving you an ideal opening when he plopped his helm back on the berth in frustration. Excitement fluttered up from your stomach as you eyed up the most sensitive part of his spike; a stretch of soft mesh just below the head on the underside, and lined up the flattened tip of the vibrator. "Just using the magic word will get you a lot further. So, if you want me to keep doing this..."

All at once, the mech had a powerful buzz running up and down the most tender part of his oversensitive spike, and he responded just as passionately as you'd hoped. 

Arching into your touch as if you were a final lifeline, the big mech cried out in surprise that quickly shifted into openly eager moans for more, his whole frame writhing with ecstasy as you pleasured him. Biting your lip at the beautiful sight, you needed a moment to remember what you'd intended to follow up with, finding him so engrossing you wanted nothing more than to watch him all day. A bead of transfluid on the top of his length gave you the push you needed. "What do you say?"

"Please!" he begged in a rush, optics shut tight and vents heaving out deep, hot blasts of air. The sight sent equal arousal through your own body, and it was a challenge to remember what your original desire was, and that as delightful as this was you hadn't achieved your goal just yet. There was still a little more pushing, a little more denial, just to get him to the point of total need rather than simple want.

Removing the vibrator, you smirked at his resulting cry of betrayal and moved back when he thrust blindly for it to be returned. "Hm? What was th-?"

"Pretty-pretty-pretty-please! With whatever you want on top!" he shouted in total abandon, quivering and near to tears as transfluid dribbled down his throbbing spike. Taken aback but absolutely euphoric at the sight, you let him suffer for only a few additional moments to admire your work: the speedster was dripping with coolant, trembling hard enough to rattle his armor, and so heated that steam was rising from his vents. You weren't sure he'd ever been so pretty.

"That'll work." you said as you granted him mercy, bringing the vibrator back to his spike and rubbing it in with a not insignificant amount of force. His voice trembled as he moaned in relief, hips spasming as more fluid dribbled down the length of his spike and he closed in on his overload. The transfluid helped lubricate your actions, making it that much easier to slide up and down his length with one hand whilst the other wrapped around the base to keep him somewhat still. You could feel by the way he thrust into your hand that you owned him completely, and he wouldn't have denied it even if he had the capacity to speak. The total submission was rewarded with even more passionate ministrations, your shoulders growing sore from the speed of your pumps and your breath coming fast from the strain as you pleasured him for all you were worth. 

Mirage came right to the very precipice of release, and you used the opportunity to whisper a final bit of encouragement, playing the Ace he had never wanted to admit you had.

"Good boy."

Mirage came with a gush of transfluid that made your eyes go wide in awe, the heavy ropes splattering on his front and surging from his spike at a volume that would have been more fitting for a bot twice his size. Every throb of his spike spread your fingers as it rolled up his length, the explosive release coming with cries of euphoric relief that shook the walls of the garage. Only your dedication to him allowed you to muster up the focus to do more than watch, the gorgeous spectacle of the mech's release as enrapturing as it was overdue. A thick, sticky mess coated the entirety of his front by the time the overload finally faded, and you felt his spike go from hard as a rock to limp in your grasp as his frame did the same. His body collapsed with enough force to make the berth tremble, and were it not for a murmur you'd have thought him unconscious. It didn't seem a stretch to say you'd done a marvelous job.

"I don't remember saying you could finish, but I'll let it slide." you teased as you clicked off the vibrator and crawled up the berth. Mirage tried to reply something snarky, but the words came out as nothing more than another slurred murmur, his optics blinking at you unevenly as you arrived at his helm. Ego thoroughly pleased with his current state, you merely cupped the side of his helm and chuckled before laying a kiss on his crest, looking down at his steaming, sticky frame and swelling with pride at a job well done. 

"Let's give you a few minutes to recuperate. Then, you can return the favor..." you encouraged gently, hoping he'd be coherent before the end of the evening. In the meantime, you were quite content to cuddle him as he purred through the bliss of the afterglow, loving how he behaved more like a giant cat than a warrior after all you'd done to him. You adored his sass, obviously, but sometimes it was just nice to leave him speechless.

[vivacissimx]

roose bolton as a father figure to theon

the theon's disturbing relationship to paternalism beam is still shining bright. obviously the ned and balon and balon and ned Thing is happening but if we are going to embrace the horror of ADWD, let's lean all the way in.

the role of the father is molded as such to manufacture obedience from his children—generally speaking but also daughters in a specific way, sons in a specific way. filial duty is considered a virtue in westerosi society (even when your father fails to be virtuous himself) and it's the mode by which the father holds power over his children when they come of age. the father reproduces himself by claiming a son under his name & castle, the father reproduces his values by shaping behavior, the father punishes unsanctioned behavior not (merely) by criticizing the contents of the actions of the son, but by virtue of it being disobedient i.e. obedience to my instructions has within it an inherent Rightness / my instructions are Right because they are mine (circular i know!). this is probably doubled for those who follow the Faith of the Seven where the image of the father is a reflection of the Father aka disobedience flirts with blasphemy. sorry for the monologue—this is gonna be important later.

one of the reasons ned & balon come across as such supreme assholes in theon's ACOK storyline is because even outside the emotional reality of theon being a hostage from 10 years of age, he also pretty much does obey what they have to say. there is a time where he plays by their rules and they still don't approve of him or claim him fully. it's a social contract where ned and balon don't really fulfill their ends of the bargain, so it feels unfair. it feels willfully blind because ned and balon SURELY see the benefits they've accrued at theon's expense—ned lives in peacetime having experienced war, and balon keeps his life/lordship which if he were to have been executed for treason, would have all seemingly gone to a boy lord theon—yet they don't recognize the "theon's expense" part.

see how that works? "you are virtuous and right for following my commands" but theon follows their commands and doesn't get his Virtuous and Right headpats. and that rankles him deeply.

okay, now onto roose as theon's father figure in ADWD:

theon is part and parcel of roose's son ramsay. Reek belongs to Ramsay, and Ramsay belongs to Reek. in fact the original reek was a servant who roose gave to ramsay's mother as the first act of acknowledgement. it's through reek that ramsay became roose's bastard. we see that when roose demands ramsay give theon up (briefly), ramsay must oblige... hence, reek is still a form of reward/acknowledgement from roose to ramsay. theon is entangled in them and for roose to kill theon could very well be construed as killing off (ramsay as) his son

roose thanks theon for giving him the north via taking winterfell & (inadvertently) ruining robb's situation. roose is thanking theon for the ability to reproduce himself as lord of winterfell and warden of the north—a duty that a son owes his father

i wrote a post about theon's gender troubles that delves into his parallels with barbrey ryswell dustin—how roose treats them both with certain cares to insure their good behavior, and how they both see through the farce. however the difference in roose bolton's world of easy replacement (he replaces multiple wives, domeric with ramsay, reek with reek II) is that barbrey is warned of her fate via the example of bethany ryswell bolton, her sister and roose's dead wife, while theon is warned of his by the example of domeric bolton, roose's dead son.

barbrey steps into the role of domeric's caretaker and main maternal figure because her sister is dead. then ramsay kills domeric. roose allows it. barbrey puts it as: “The widow of Barrowton… and yes, if I so choose, I could be an inconvenience. Of course, Roose sees that too, so he takes care to keep me sweet.” sweet is not the best word for our barb but she plays along with roose's game despite there being no real endgame beyond a petty revenge against the starks. the writing is on the wall though. not to put too fine a point on it but: ramsay will kill any children walda frey has from roose, and barbrey will know precisely who did it

in theon's case, roose's manipulations go like this: “Serve us in this, and when Stannis is defeated we will discuss how best to restore you to your father’s seat,” his lordship had said in that soft voice of his, a voice made for lies and whispers. Theon never believed a word of it. He would dance this dance for them because he had no choice, but afterward… he will give me back to Ramsay then

roose actually tells theon the story of domeric. he describes domeric's relative capability and desire for brothers. he confesses that ramsay killed domeric and that he did nothing about it, that he fully anticipates ramsay to kill any children he has with walda. later, when theon is thinking about how roose will give theon back to ramsay, the conclusion is clear: ramsay is going to torture and abuse you, and i will do nothing—just like i will do nothing for any other sons i might have

theon co-victimhood with jeyne. does that make theon roose's sort-of daughter-in-law?

that last point was a haha joke... unless? after all, theon did canonically desire for ned to adopt him via marriage to sansa. so roose adopting him via "marriage" to ramsay, theon's use to roose being dependent on his subservience to ramsay, or more specifically, his role as legitimizing ramsay/reproducing roose in a similar way to marrying arya stark and having bolton children with her will... that is to say, haha

starks and boltons are foils, ned and roose are foils, ramsay's dogs and starkling direwolves are foils: if ned was a quasi-father figure AND simultaneously warden to theon then why would roose not be as well considering the stark/bolton relationship?

remember when i said that theon is intensely bothered by the fact that he "obeys" ned/balon but gets nothing for it? if you agree with that then consider this passage: Theon wondered if he might be allowed to fight. Then at least he might die a man’s death, sword in hand. That was a gift Ramsay would never give him, but Lord Roose might. If I beg him. I did all he asked of me, I played my part, I gave the girl away.

there's likely much more i could say here but those are a few points that i think are interesting as part of the larger discussion on theon as well as the social critique in ADWD theon POVs. i mean it really pulls the curtain back—stripped of all romanticism and in the dead of winter where nothing grows, what is a wife truly? a whore, jeyne says. what is a hostage? mine own face on their lie, not [even] a man, theon says.

what is a father? well in theon's decidedly horrifying case, it's the man who has use for you or else what's the point of you being alive

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(from wikipedia) The Malleus is a bone situated in the middle ear. It is the first of the three ossicles, and attached to the tympanic membrane. The head of the Malleus is the large protruding section, which attaches to the incus. The head connects to the neck of Malleus. The bone continues as the handle (or manubrium) of Malleus, which connects to the tympanic membrane. Between the neck and handle of the Malleus, lateral and anterior processes emerge from the bone. The bone is oriented so that

Omg, malleus (hammer)-sama real? 😱

This interaction is vaguely inspired by a really romantically charged wall slamming scene in a K-drama I’ve recently been watching—

Like Fire, Hellfire.

You ran a finger along the next line of the anatomy and physiology textbook in your hands, reciting the words aloud. The chapter was on hearing and the various components of the human ear. You stressed malleus loudly each time the bone came up, grinning madly all the while.

Beside you, Rollo paused in rifling through the bookshelf and shot you a sideways stink eye. He had come the school archives in search of knowledge, not annoyance—yet here you were, acutely aware of how to get under his skin, and doing an excellent job of it.

What an irksome individual.

Handkerchief to his face, Rollo snidely asked, “… Are you quite finished?”

“No, never,” you gasped, innocently batting your lashes at him. (Rollo’s left eye twitched.) “A good student is always on a quest for new wisdom, so I have to study up on the malleus while I still can.”

“At least read it to yourself quietly; this is a library, not a concert grounds. You are so rudely disrupting the concentration of your peers.”

Namely, myself.

He didn’t want to confess it—certainly not out loud—but you had been distracting him ever since you first stepped into the room. Rollo had stole several suspicious looks at you since, glances he justified to himself with, What must they be up to now?

Your goofy grin, your earnest and open heart. They all put him on edge, set the beat to his heart at a rapid, uneasy hammer.

A minion of evil, come to ensnare him into committing vices.

Rollo took a sharp breath to calm himself.

“They can learn about the malleus too,” you said, flipping to the next page. “I’m a free educational audiobook.”

“Then pick something else to blather on about,” Rollo insisted sharply.

“What, do you have something against the malleus?“

His face heated with fury, eyes flashing dangerously. If I hear that man’s name on your lips one more time, my head is going to explode.

“Just tell me your true feelings then,” you urged with a pout. “Tell me how you feel about the mal…”

He moved before you had even registered it. His hand was on your book, shunted shut with a CLAP!! You squeaked, leaping desperately for it—but a tall shadow had fallen into your path.

SLAM!!

A fist came down hard beside you, walling you in between a livid Rollo Flamme and the bookcase to your back. He glared down at you, face twisting with disdain. Gone was his neutral expression, replaced with cruel eyes and a cold, creased scowl.

You gulped, suddenly feeling like a mouse caught in a trap.

“You would do well to listen and be obedient,” he hissed darkly. “Do not speak his name, for you will summon him like the demon he is.”

The only name you should be speaking is…

He banished the blasphemous line from his head. Cursed it, damned it to hell.

Rollo tore the book from your hold and abruptly stepped away. He still hummed with warmth—an exhilarating blend of rage, envy, and, most disgusting of all, desire. Hot, burning, hungry.

He hurriedly stamped it out as though it were an item unintentionally set ablaze. Stuffed it in an ash pile, along with everything else burnt away to black. Happiness, hope.

Love.

“… I will be returning this to its rightful place,” he spat out. “While I am gone, you should reflect on your actions and repent.”

Rollo didn’t wait for a response—he was already gone before you could reach for him.

A hand of acceptance, rejected before it had even been offered.

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

I'm the one who submitted that gojo request. Tysmmm♡

I really liked it!

But now, I have a question. What's lesson #2👀

Ask and you shall receive~

Title: A Hands On Lesson: Lesson Two (A continuation of A Hands On Lesson)

Characters: Gojo x m!reader

Contains: Blowjob, handjob, blindfolding, masturbation, praise, pet names(love), light BDSM

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

"Ready for lesson number two~?"

Your cheeks, still heated from your body's climax, kept their red shade, and you needed a moment to regain yourself before you could answer.

"Lesson...two?"

"Mhm~ You're so good at following orders, I think you can handle a little more, yeah?"

Before you could speak, he lowered the blindfold over your eyes. You attempted to pull it up so you could look at him and ask what exactly he had planned, but he was quick to stop you.

"Ah ah ah, put the blindfold back on. You'll see in a minute."

You hesitated, but you remembered the safe word that Gojo gave you. Your anxieties slowly started to melt away, worry steadily being replaced with excitement. You heard the sound of pants unzipping, fabric rustling, and since you couldn't see, thoughts flew through your mind a mile a minute, wondering what Gojo had planned for you next.

"Lean over here," he simply stated, "and don't worry, I'll lead you."

You were grateful for his assistance, as once you leaned over upon his command, you found yourself unable to get in the proper position. Gojo led you as promised, getting you in the spot he wanted you, perfectly placed between his legs. The sight of you so lost but determined to obey him made his body flare with desire. Taking one of your hands, he led it over to his thigh, your other hand following suit.

"There we are...good boy~"

The praise started to click with you, causing you to gently squeeze at Gojo's thighs. "Th...Thank you, sir."

"Ah, and so polite~" He gently raked a hand through your hair, slowly slipping back into the role he made for himself. "Now...bring your hand towards the center."

One of your hands obeyed his command, slowly and hesitantly making its way to the middle of Gojo's legs, coming into contact with something quite hard. Just touching it made you gasp, the heat not even registering with you just yet.

"Heh...surprise~ You made me pretty excited with all your sweet little sounds, I figured this could be your second lesson: how to please your master."

Him referring to himself as such sent chills of excitement down your spine, but you weren't sure exactly what you should be doing. Noting your hesitation, Gojo chuckled to himself before resting his hands on either side of him. "Take that hand and gently stroke up and down. You can manage that, yeah?"

Okay...up and down. Think about how you'd do it to yourself...

You kept yourself in mind when you started, your hand loose but keeping contact with Gojo's cock as your hand carefully pivoted up and down. Not being able to see it, you could only feel how erect it was, the ridges of him bumping underneath your fingers. A pleased breath sounded from Gojo, and it sent your heart fluttering.

"Just like that~ You can be a little firmer with your grip."

"Y-Yes, sir."

Obediently, you tightened your grip, Gojo reacted immediately, his body shuddering under your touch. "G-Good~ Very good~"

With his voice the way it was, husky and rushed, you almost ripped off the blindfold, desperate just to see what he looked like, but you couldn't bring yourself to do that. No matter how much you wanted to act on your own, Gojo was in charge, and the idea made you feel small in the best ways.

"Mm...~ Now...As much as I hate saying this...I want you to stop, okay? And I'll lead you into the next part."

You equally didn't want to stop, but at his command, you did. Gojo shifted around, and he spoke gently, asking that you open your mouth for him.

Now you knew well of what can happen during sex. You were inexperienced, not ignorant. That being said, you worried about the safe word, and even brought it up to Gojo.

"Ah, yeah." Lust had clouded his mind, he almost didn't think about that. "Here, if you can't handle anything, and you're unable to talk, pat my leg three times, okay?"

With a new way of being able to stop when needed, you felt your worries start to melt once more, and you were ready for what Gojo wanted next.

With your mouth open as ordered, Gojo carefully slid the tip of his cock in, the warmth immediately causing him to let out a low moan. "Take your tongue and...mm...move it around in circles."

The taste of Gojo was strange, but welcoming. He was somewhat salty and bitter, but it wasn't a bad taste. Your tongue circled around the crown of his shaft, and once again, it got quite the pleasing sound from him. He got a little too excited, and you felt both his hands on your head. His restraint was great, and he quickly removed one, using the other to gently caress you as a way to praise you in tandem with his soft panting.

Without him asking, you grew a bit confident and lowered your head along him, slowly and carefully taking more than the tip into your mouth. The action startled him, and he was surprised himself.

"W-Well...~ Are you a brave boy~?"

If it wasn't for his praise, you probably wouldn't have even done this, but with it, you felt confident, especially with how he reacted each time you did something. You stopped when his tip hit the back of your mouth, not even touching your throat but still filling you up. But...

...now you were at a loss of what to do. You knew people bobbed their heads along the shaft but...how exactly were you supposed to do it to his liking?

"T-Take your tongue along the bottom and move your head back and forth, love."

Bless Gojo.

Following his advice, you let your tongue rest at the bottom of his shaft and started moving your head along him, a soft groan coming from you and stimulating him. Your sounds mixed with his sent a shot of heat to your groin, and goddamn did it all arouse you to no end.

You couldn't help the traveling hand that found its place at your cock. You may have been inexperienced in certain aspects of sex, but you were no stranger to masturbation. Working on yourself only led to you making more noise for Gojo, and in turn, led to Gojo making more sweet music to your ears, an orchestra that gave you goosebumps. The air filled with sounds of sin, and both of Gojo's hands found their home on your head. He didn't do anything save for gently gripping your hair, but he did buck lightly, causing you to gag slightly. The feeling only made him more vocal, which once again led to this heavenly cycle of pleasure.

As time went on, both of you began to hitch your moans, feeling your climaxes approaching. You worked on yourself to get there while simultaneously focusing on Gojo. If you got it right, you could get the two of you to cum together.

Sooner than expected, your seed shot from your shaft, landing on the bed in a small stream. You hadn't even thought about what would happen if Gojo came, but he spared you any thought, pulling his cock from your mouth and finishing on your face. It wasn't the cleanest way to finish him, but he, too, wasn't sure of what he should do, so to save you the trouble, your face was the answer.

"A-Ah hah...sorry about that," he breathed, sliding the blindfold up. He finally got to see the blissed out expression you wore, see your face all flushed, eyes hazed as you panted softly from your own release. He caressed your face as he admired this lewd appearance. "Mm...~ But...I'd say you passed with flying colors, love~"

With a breathy chuckle, you leaned into his hand, resting from the work. "I can't wait for another lesson with you, Satoru...~"