'

𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫

Ghostface!Anton x fem!Reader | Shotaro x fem!reader

Warnings: Language, College!AU, Ghostface!AU, Incel!behaviour, Violence, Body Insecurity, Stalking, Cheating Implied, Catholic Imagery, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Dark fic, Inexperienced!Anton, Voyeur noism, Stalking, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, CNC, Dub/Con, Degradation Kink, Impact Play, Slight Bondage, Unprotected Sex, Mask Kink, Primal Play, Knife Kink, Blood Play, PIV, Mutual Virginity Loss

Reuploaded due to overcoming my writing insecurities. Read the warnings.

You had absolutely no excuse.

Instead of pouring your attention into the gorgeous man peppering hot kisses down the side of your mouth, your gaze is planted on the casement window over Shotaro's broad, ruddy shoulder. And while he assaults your skin with a rain of sloppy, inebriated kisses, you can't help but let your mind wander as you think: it always seemed particularly sexist, that the boys’ dorm rooms had such a vast and expansive view of the city whereas the girl's dormitory was smack bang in the city centre on the other side of the district.

Perhaps not the best thoughts to be having while your study partner (and the college plug) was desperately trying to assimilate some kind of foreplay. Tiny cars strung along the streets created arteries of the city, as if the entire grid was a sentient being. It had the power to take anyone's breath away, but, the loveable, oblivious airhead above you, was very comfortable in the knowledge that your shortness of breath was all because of him…

"Has anyone told you that you're literally so hot?” You had learned pretty early on in your collegiate career that anytime a man veneered his words with this much of a slur, the chances that he was being honest was incredibly slim.. But then again, since when has honesty really been a defining male characteristic?

“Thanks, you too.” You whispered back with your eyes still firmly locked on the window. If only the city could be your lover

“I actually didn't expect you to be this kind of girl.”

Every single thing this guy said made your lady boner grow so horribly flaccid by the second. If he didn't penetrate your hymen soon you might be in dire need of artificial lubrication (which your roommate assured you was the very worst thing that could happen.)

“You just always seemed like the type to keep her head down,” Shotaro presses a surprising kiss to the very centre of your swollen lips. Your sudden influx of excitement at the action, not only leaves you partially relieved, but his hands digging firmly into the sides of your jeans is enough to reassure you that perhaps you weren't a raging asexual as you might have initially thought (and hoped).

“It isn't a bad thing, baby…" He continues to whisper as his plump lips find a particularly sensitive area behind your ear.

This was getting good…

“Just the thought that behind all that corduroy,” A kiss, “And pretentiousness," Another kiss, “And those undeniable book smarts,” His hand is cold to the touch as it slips beneath your woolen sweater, digging into your hip and wrenching an undeniable gasp from the bottom of your thoat, “I didnt think there was a nasty little slut so desperate to get fucked.”

Shotaro pulls back to admire your panting frame locked between his haphazard sheets and his exposed upper body. The sight of his red rimmed, droopy eyes and lazy smile glowing in the city’s technicolour spilling in through the window released in you, excitement and overpowered by an immediate feeling of insecurity.

“I like discovering people's secrets,” Shotaro grins before picking up his discarded jointcand taking one, long, sweltering drag. He leans down and your lips almost give way automatically, until he's blowing the smoke right into your mouth.

A groan mixes with a giggle leaves his mouth, and Shotaro presses your foreheads together before straightening back up, “I'm so hard right now,” He shakes his head before making quick work of killing the lit blunt and discarding it, somewhere in this room.

Shotaro lifts your shirt slowly, revealing the string of colourful beads dotted around your waist.

“It’s cultural,” You begin to quickly say,

“And fucking hot.” He concludes with a carnivorous grin before attaching his lips to your lower abdomen.

The air is vacuumed cleanly out of your lungs as your fingers find Shotaro hair.

He undoes your buttons while you feel the sudden inexplicable need to keep a firm eye on the open doorway leading out to the shadowy hallway. You vaguely know of a roommate yet you have no idea why Shotaro decides to keep the door open. However, the intensity in the idea of being caught spurs you both on.

If only you knew that the threat was not so hypothetical.

If only you knew that the pair of eyes you think you see lurking in the darkness is not, in fact, a mirage birthed from your overcast, sex-filled brain, but it's real.

And he sees you. And he is so undeniably disappointed in you for letting your natural instincts fall prey to such an utter predator like Shotaro. If only you knew that he saw you, even when you were seated in the very back of your Literature class. Never raising your hand but always mumbling along to a quote by Mary Shelley or Henry James, while the professor awaited the correct response from the rest of the class. Anton had always seen you, in spite of your shyness not despite it. It is from your wit alone and that narrowed look in your eye that has him tugging on his dick faster, while Shotaro begins to eat you out with fervour.

Anton nearly mewls at the thought of it being him between your thighs, wrenching those excited moans out of your pretty little throat. That throat that he would long ago have had locked in his fist while his fingers stabbed your pussy repeatedly and his lips danced against your soft, swollen, overstimulated little clit,

“Oh-fuck-” Anton blanched as his cum spurted all over his hand still stroking frantically at his cock. His mind was flooded with all the unassuming images of you he had saved on a private folder in his phone. Images of you biting your pen in a particularly boring lecture. Images of one of your braids hanging out the side of your mouth as you jotted down whatever you jotted down with such animation on your laptop. Every single fun and crazy hairstyle you wore on campus, slinking into the background thinking no one noticed but of course he did.

Of course he did.

“Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-” Ethan slapped a hand against his open mouth, ebbing away his hoarse and desperate whispers as he delved further into the shadows. His wet curls bounced as his back hit the wall.

Before he lost sight of you for whoever knows how long, Anton made sure to look at you one final time before slipping away, down the hall to his own room just as Shotaro turned his head around in apparent alarm.

“Did you hear that?”

You most certainly did hear that but for the purpose of achieving your first orgasm that was not self-inflicted you dumbly say, “Heard what?”

“It sounded like-'' Shotaro's sentence is cut short by a loud and oppressive Drake tune that cuts through the charged silence. In a matter of seconds the boy abandons your exposed vagina in search of his phone displaying a profile picture of a brunette. You were once again losing your lady boner at dramatic altitudes, especially as Shotaro began to pull a shirt over his head and fumble around the room for his shoes.

“Something really bad came up,” He says as he drops the phone and backs away towards the doorway “Could we reschedule?”

What else could you have said to that? 'Could you please penetrate my hymen first before jumping to your girlfriend’s beck and call?'

“Of course. That’s perfectly fine." Even though it most certainly was not fine and your heart is plummeting as you pull your pants up with a nagging voice in your head telling you that 'You couldn't even hold a man's attention when he was greeted with the promise of sex. How pathetic could you get? Really.'

"I don't know how comfortable I feel letting you walk the streets alone so late at night, though,” an intense discomfort comes over the boy. It looks unnatural. “Especially with all those…” Shotaro trails off and you roll your eyes before sliding off his bed.

“You can say murders," you reply.

While Shotaro stands in the centre of the room, rubbing aimlessly at the back of his neck, you can't help but feel your attraction wane with his apparent and unmistakable idiocy.

"And anyway, that's okay. I'm not exactly the target of any murderer's affections." Not even yours.

You begin to gather your things, dead set on the idea of hiding out in your dorm room for the foreseeable week until the weight of this rejection is lifted. "I'll be quick."

"No, please, I insist." He says, ushering you out into the hallway before jogging past you. You wait idly in the short corridor with your backpack slung lazily over one shoulder as you overhear Shotaro burdening you onto his roomate.

While you wait, your legs are restless as your feet shuffle underneath you. That would've been all well and good if you didn't lift your Converse to see a murky white smudge on the wooden floor. Your eyes squint to better make out the stain in such horrible lighting but you're bombarded by a new pair of footsteps and a retreating Shotaro who screams as he leaves, "I'd feel much better if Anton walked you home!"

"So Anton will walk you home." Says the quiet boy in third person. A small, almost shy smile flits across his face as the front door slams shut.

---

Awkwardness settles when you run the risk of what is very clearly two introverts being forced to bare each other's presence. You had been walking alongside Anton Lee for 2 blocks and not once has either of you chosen to thaw away at the silence with a refreshing joke or some sliver of lightheartedness. No…

Everything feels so particularly heavy.

"We could cut through the park," Your voice sounds foreign even to your own ears, "It's the quickest way to my building."

Anton only replies with a small imperceptible 'sure' as the trees grow more dense around you, and the near constant New York bustle begins to wane.

"I'm sorry, you had to do this," With the sound of the city centre slipping through the space around you, you're compelled to fill the silence somehow. "I'm sorry for putting you out of your way."

The very next thing to happen not only surprises you but it sets off an equally surprising spell of warmth in the pit of your stomach as Anton throws his dark haired head back in a flurry of warm-hearted chuckles.

You immediately find his smile dazzling. It's so wide and all encompassing. Big teeth, big nose and scrunched up, enjoyment-filled eyes.

"I think I might've killed Shotaro myself if he let another one of his 'study buddies' walk home alone." He looks down at you through the corner of his eye, without ever once turning his head.

Only then do you take note of the sheer size of him. You could've easily been walking down this path with one of these dense trees.

"Very surprising that so many people like him, actually." Despite waging a war with his instinctive need to feel shy and reserved Anton cannot help but feel his natural inhibitions melt when he finally has you so close beside him.

"Very surprising that you like him…"

"I don't think I like Shotaro." You begin, "Not really." You make sure to keep your gaze trained on your shoes as you shuffle down the stoney path. Around you, midnight joggers, and crazy men high on various substances wander the park like forgotten apparitions.

"Yeah, Taro doesn't seem like someone you should hangout with." You raise a questioning eyebrow up at him.

Anton backtracks and fights to string along a functioning sentence, "Uh… I-Um-just mean, from what I gathered in our shared classes together-well, you're really smart! And Taro is…"

“-A mass of brainless brawn with zero wit and zero social skills outside of getting high and fucking?" You conclude for him, only earning another laugh from Anton that has your stomach warming once again.

“Remind me why you were about to have sex with him?" Anton fought hard to stuff down his vexation as the words left his mouth but to no avail. "I know what goes on when Shotaro brings people over to ‘study’."

You notice the vehemence with which he utters those words but you choose to not respond to it.

“Well I'm catholic," You begin, as you both cut through the trees, "And as much I pray to the Holy Mother, as much as I love and respect her, I have no interest in ending up like her

“Immaculate and deified?"

“A virgin.” You are unaware that your reply has Anton's gaze snapping towards you. Silence once again grows pregnant between the two of you as you walk. You begin to regret being so candid with a complete stranger.

"Ugh- I shouldn't have said that-"

"Hey, do you wanna play tag at all?" You're caught off guard by his sudden proposal, but he makes no move in explaining further as he continues to walk coolly, his graphic shirt flapping in the wake of a gust of warm summer wind.

"What?"

"What if you ran," He shrugs, "And I tried to find you?” You can only look up at him with a questioning smile before he shakes his head furiously,

“Or not," He murmurs, his hands curling by his sides. "It's just, cardiovascular exercise might help improve your mood right now. You could run and I'd try to catch you and maybe it might help you forget but that's so stupid and I'm sorry-"

But you've already begun backing up. The park is filled with your happy giggles as you push the boy to the ground yelling "YOU'RE IT!" Before breaking off into the darkness collected amongst the trees. Your feet are set alight with motion, and your blood charges with newfound energy rolling through your arteries. This truly is the most alive you've felt in a really long time and you're quite embarrassed you hadn't thought of running by yourself.

You throw your head back, welcoming a gust of wind into your lungs. The skyscrapers peeking up from between the trees are quiet spectators.

Your eyes have begun to adjust to the darkness just as the very first spell of tiredness wash over you but you charge on, filled by excitement and that innate childhood need to 'never get caught'.

"I'm gonna get you," a voice murmurs from between the trees, only spurring you further into the darkness. Your once airy, carefree laughs have grown into tired pants as you feel the weight of your backpack on your shoulder and the first strains in your thighs. Your hair whips around you like the wayward petals of dandelions as you split through a grassy clearing.

You decide to take your break with your hands locked on your knees as you frantically survey the space around you. All appears calm but the inclination that this boy is much faster than you, has you beginning your sprint again.

"Fucking, fuck exercise!" You're panting heavily now and your gait has slowed down significantly however, you're surprised that the tiredness is not the only feeling coursing through your body right now but…

"You're gonna have to do better than that." You hear this from an unidentifiable location around you. Like a madman, you begin to grow utterly unsure of what you just released.

Complete and unadulterated fear.

"H-Hey, Anton!? I don't wanna play-" You place a hand on your heart, "I don't wanna play anymo-"

But a flash of black has already attacked you from the side, tackling you into the ground and leaving you completely winded. You try to wrestle him off of you but his knees lock on the ground as he straddles you. Your movements stop when you gaze up at Anton - or what you really hoped was Anton.

"Where'd you find time to change?" You ask, bring your hand up in an attempt to paw the Ghostface mask on his hidden visage.

You're wriggling and writhing underneath him but he doesn't move. His weight is practically as concrete as that of a cinder block on top of you, and there is virtually no way you're fighting him off. It takes all of 60 seconds of futile struggling to realise something was utterly wrong.

"Fuck-" The panic expands in your lower belly, floodinb your insides with fear until it inflages and pours out of your mouth.

"HELP!" You cry, "SOMEBODY! PLEASE FUCKING HELP ME- PLEASE-PLEASE FUCKING HELP ME!" You begin to cry real tears as you whip your head to the side in search of park wanderers only to find absolutely no one. The man above you quickly secures his hand over your mouth, collecting your rolling tears.

"Fuck yes…" You can hear his whispers through the mask as he lowers his head until his face is close to yours. You're quick in turning your head away from this monster on top of you but his hand on your wrist only snaps up to plug your nose shut.

Anton has your mouth and your nose covered in a horrible display of strength and danger. Your arms flail wildly around you and you're pretty sure you remember thinking the very frightening, very concrete thought that this is the moment your soul leaves this world.

But death does not open her arms to you, instead, you're furiously gasping in the fresh air that he allows you to have.

"Now I'm going to tell you one more time that yelling is allowed, baby. It's actually preferred, but, just not too loud okay?" You're nodding frantically once Anton uncovers a jagged blade from beneath the black robe. It cuts a menacing glint through the moonlight and you're only able to whine as the blade is aimed at your jugular while Anton's other hand lowers to explore the vastness of your clothed body.

"Youre gonna play my helpless victim alright-oh fuck, you're so pretty, you know that?." It's all so incredibly muffled from beneath the mask but the urgency in his tone has your legs squeezing together underneath him and your eyes squeezing shut in stark embarrassment of your actions. How absolutely sick of you to feel turned on in this very moment? Potentially more turned on then you might have been with Shotaro, in fact.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay. I'll take care of you," the blade taps lightly at the side of your face, urging your wet eyes open only to reveal a blurry distorted image of the Ghostface above. "I'm honoured to be your first, okay?" You're only able to wail helplessly into his gloves as his other hand undoes the buttons of your cargo pants.

Anton rips your pants off like a madman, failing to hide his urgency or his jittery, maniacal movements. He doesn't even have your pants down all the way before his hand is buried in your cunt.

"I've watched enough porn to know I'm supposed to get you ready. And while raping you may be what this looks like I have no intention of leaving you unsatisfied." He words are slurred as you feel his gloved fingers enter your soaked vagina.

"You're already wet?" He remarks in complete disbelief as he uncovers his hand from the confines of your ruined panties. The Ghostface mask is lifted and discarded somewhere behind him only to reveal a painting boy with wild curls and wide eyes. He gazes at the arousal in awe, raising it up into the moonlight as he moves his fingers around it. Your breath shudders as Anton instinctively places those fingers directly in his mouth. He moans around them, before gazing down at your glistening cunt.

"I need you." He begins to plead as his voice cracks and his eyebrows curve inwards, "Please, I need you so bad." The knife is momentarily released from your throat as he sits back on his haunches. Anton rips his gloves off with his teeth before eagerly delving underneath his own robes to shove his hands down his sweatpants. You watch dazed as he jerks off above you, never once stopping his helpless cries. Cries that make the ache between your legs grow hotter and heavier, and your breathing once again picks up as you gaze up at him.

"A-Anton?" Your own voice cracks in the wake of not only your arousal but by the way you were crying your lungs out just a second ago.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Please fuck me." He does not waste even a second more before he's shuffling off of you. Another yelp eases out of your throat as Anton pulls your hips towards his in a surprising display of strength before wrenching your legs apart. Without removing your panties any further Anton frantically uncovers his dick from inside his sweatpants. He mewls over and over again as he clenches the materials of his robe in his teeth before pistoning his cock through the folds of your virgin cunt.

You scream ruggedly into the air, exposing your throat to him as your back arches and your pussy cries out in pain. His cock rams unapologetically into your cunt as he lowers his head to your neck. He is crying, you begin to note as he fucks you relentlessly. He's fucking crying and its turning you on.

"Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful." He coos in your ear, only causing another wave of arousal to lubricate your pussy. "You're so fucking pretty and I promise I'd do anything for you. I'd do anything for this. To feel your pussy around my cock like this. I'd fucking kill someone for it-"

"My fucking God, Anton!" Your throat is hoarse from all your gasping and the immense pain is yet to subside but his words bring you a pleasure you've never ever felt. A pleasure you've never been able to feel on your own.

You pull him down into a sudden kiss which he melts into, his hips rutting into yours as if his cock can't get enough of the friction. Your own pain subsides, as you lift your hips to meet his shallow strokes and you're quickly approaching euphoria. This, you realise, is the feeling you've been missing. Rubbing your cunt underneath your covers in the dead of night brought momentary pleasure but there has always been a need for more.

"I need to cum inside you, okay?" You can't say no, not when he's taken to wrapping his fist around your throat and spearing your cunt with his cock as if his very will to live depended on fucking you senseless.

"Fucking slut- tell me to cum inside you!" And then his grip loosens and he's frantically slapping at your cheeks, "Please baby. Please, my pretty, pretty girl." It's utterly deranged, his moods lifting and falling and morphing and changing. It only brings you further to the edge to be so uttericaly unsure around him. Whether he's gonna hurt you or love you.

"Please cum inside me. Oh fuck, please cum inside me!"

Anton's mouth hangs open as his thrusts become irregular. His body shakes from above you just as your insides are flooded with his warm cum. The fullness of it, has you placing a hand on your clit as you're cumming loudly around his cock, milking it for everything it's worth.

"FUCK-" You scream, completely overcome with mutlplie waves of euphoria as you stare up at him above you.

Your hooded eyes looked up at him like your personal god. Nothing feels better than what he has given you, nothing could be better than this. Anton gazes down at you with the very same reverence. His perfect little slut cumming so beautifully around his cock. It's better than he could've ever imagined.

"I wanna stay inside you forever." He whispers breathlessly before pushing a slobbering kiss to your mouth, a kiss you warmly return. "Me too." Is all you can reply.

"Was I supposed to rub your clit? I'm sorry." He says, noticing your hand has found your wet mound while his cock is still buried inside you.

He pushes your hand away to some slick off your clit causing you to face another wave of shivers.

A trail of blood runs down his fingers and he stares intently at it and then at you before he eases his cock out of your cunt and bends down to place a delicate kiss on your mound. His plump lips are painted red, your red.

"We're a team now, okay? A family."

omg your safeword fic !! it's the first time I saw someone do a slightly more toxic mingyu in such a fic and it was so interesting to read 😵‍💫 I was fully expecting the typical " sorry yadadada won't ever again " kinda thing but yours felt kinda more realistic !! it was a breath of fresh air almost 😶‍🌫️ tysm for your hardwork !

That part was kinda toxic, right🫣

I'm slowly realizing I can't write a completely fluffy kdrama-esque romance. I want to. I really do. But I'm most interested in the parts that make us human 😭😭😭 I'm sorry that it had to be Gyu lmaoooo but I'm glad you appreciated that

Reactions like this is the only reason I write tbh

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐕𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧

Lukas Matsson x Fem!Reader | Kendall Roy x Fem!reader

Summary: Kendall had always been a competent, steady boyfriend, but there is always, always room for improvement.

Warnings: Language, Politics, Business, Cheating, Mentions of murder, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, CNC, Rough Sex, choking, degradation, ownership kink, dom/sub dynamics.

I am mentally unwell, and so is Matsson.

Due to your perilous schedule as a political and public figure, arguing with your lover had never really made it past scheduling in the smorgasbord of your career. Perhaps that is why Kendall decided to pick unnecessary fights in the middle of a Swedish trip. He felt, and rightfully so, infinitesimally insignificant when compared to the hellscape that is your established career in the American political sphere.

You can see it in the way his broad shoulders hunch slightly, the way his larger lower lip protrudes into a petulant pout.

You're appalled.

"Kendall, you can't be fucking serious," Your first night on Matsson's retreat was scheduled to be filled with myriad orgasms in myriad uncanny positions. You and Kendall should be christening this luxury suite, but, instead you find your voice has climbed to ungodly octaves to a point that you feared you may shatter the glass wall that displayed the quiet Norwegian woods.

You couldn't give even half a shit as to whether others housed in adjoining tree-house suites might hear your furious bickering.

"You're a fucking child," he says lowly, desperately trying to regain control over the situation but only fumbling it by the second, "Do you know that?"

"No!" You exclaim, "Iverson and Sophie are!" He turns his back to you. Your nails dig into the bedsheets, "Those are your actual children, yeah!? When was the last fucking time you called them!? You're too busy measuring your dick against the Swedes- you're too busy to give Rava a fucking call."

He turns back, his shadow falling over you like a second cloud in the already darkened suite's interior. "I have met plenty of selfish sociopaths in my day, Kendall, but this is unfathomable."

"Did she put you up to this?" He asks in that manic state of his with his hand pointed outward in condemnation of his most recent enemy.

"Are you aware that you have children together? You will know her for the rest of your life, are you aware of that?"

Kendall is quick to deflect, "Fuck! I can't catch a fucking break. Of course you run to my ex and- and- what? You fucking-meet up at Tasha's. Fucking talking about Kendall's cock-rings over your croissants."

You withhold the urge to laugh by letting a wave of fury wash over you anew. "You didn't even tell them their grandfather died before you dragged us out to fucking Norway, Kendall! That's unhinged! You're unhinged!"

"I'm perfectly hinged!" He says, turning away from you, pyjama pants billowing as he grabs his keys and a pack of cigarettes, "I'm like the doors on fucking Downing street, motherfucker," He speaks lowly. Voice simmering. "I'm fucking hinged."

The door slams with finality, leaving you clinging to your robe in front of a backdrop full of trees.

There's a deeply sated sigh that leaves your throat as you haul yourself over the Egyptian linen sheets. Fighting with Kendall had always been an impossible feat- something akin to yelling obscenities at a brick wall smeared with cocaine, but it always left you marginally satisfied after. A part of you felt like you might be saving him.

There is a frown, slight and not at all visible in the low evening light, drifting across your face as you stare down at yourself with disappointment and a hint of disapproval. Kendall was supposed to rip this robe right off you the second you got out of the shower. But, instead, you find yourself turning on your side, staring at the pines beyond the glass.

The sound of the door clicking open, ruins the serenity that had begun to settle. Far too soon.

"I for sure thought you'd gone and blown your head off for real this time, Ken." You mumble monotonously while staring ahead at the glass.

"While all these hungry vultures at my retreat does make me lean into the sound of suicide, I quite enjoy living."

You're quick to pull your unravelled rope across your frame as you sit up against the oak headboard.

"Not Kendall." He says.

Matsson towers enough to hunch slightly and disrupt the flow of the sleek, vertical finishes.

"Why are you here?"

"Well it is my retreat."

He smiles. Or at least you believe that he believes he is smiling. Sharks can't smile.

"My house."

Lukas shoves his hands in pockets as he continues to stare at you. His disciplined eyes never stray or drift across your exposed legs, they never gloss over your deadly grip on the tightened robe digging into the plushness across your middle.

He's staring at you. Eyes boring into eyes.

"I've come to deliver a noise complaint."

"Consider it delivered."

He does not leave. Instead, he delves deeper into your space, the space shared with your boyfriend. You watch carefully as Matsson plants himself on the edge of the bed. There is an air of nervousness that bristles throughout the Norwegian woods as he brings one leg up to cross the other. You watch, entranced by how the soft Tom Ford sweatpants crease slightly under his fluid movements. His beige Balenciaga shirt sits comfortably and it elicits a sense of control as he makes himself comfortable in front of you.

The one thing you could never allow yourself to be was intimidated, and intimidation is all you heard from the mouths that affirmed this man. However, the subtle yet suffocating label whoring, the designer sandals…

He was just another man, suffocated by the weight of his own money. He had everything to prove. That gave you control.

"I didn't know when Kendall brought me on this trip that I was to be subjected to an invasion of privacy,"

"I heard you the first time," He says, chuckling in complete condescension, "I am aware you're here with Kendall. You don't have to bring him up the whole fucking time."

"Are you here under work pretences then? I'm not involved in the hellscape that is ATN, nor the Nazi wonderland that is Waystar so I would make a lousy spy."

"I know who you are," his eyes dart away, giving you enough time to break slightly, take heavier breaths and compose yourself, "I've seen the work you are… attempting to accomplish in that flaccid dick of a country," His gaze is back on you, "And while I do applaud you, politics bores me. You're all fucked anyway, I just came here to enquire if you would like to have sex with me?"

The manner in which he says those words, so calmly and succinctly, has you praying for another moment of regeneration while he darts his eyes away.

"You mean the noise complaint was a fluke?"

"In addition to the noise complaint, I would like to sleep with you, yes."

You're practically suffocted with the over abundance of choice. Matsson would be a fun and interesting side project for you to sink your claws into and manipulate with the added advantage of sex.

But there is a darkness lurking behind this man's gaze that promises far too much risk with little to no reward.

"No, I think I'm good. Thanks for stopping by, Lukas. It was certainly not a pleasure talking to you-"

You speak calmly, shuffling off the bed so you can escort him to the door. "Please find yourself outside of my personal and habitual space kindly and quickly-" but the axis tilts, and he does a daring thing by encircling a strong grip on your forearm. You try to lurch your arm out of his iron grip but it's fucking sealed around you like a constricting python. The darkness seems so incredibly poignant. God, all this man holds is darkness.

"I did not ask for myself." He says with a hint of condescension, "I asked for you." Matsson has you locked between his spindly legs while your robe billows open. Your face warms as you feel coolness settle against your exposed stomach but Lukas' eyes never leave your own.

From this angle, there is no chance to look away. Everything is maximised, from the wrinkles running like river channels underneath his bright blue eyes to the slight overbite in his teeth, perhaps his only external flaw.

What a dangerous individual.

"They're Roys." Lukas says, "He's a Roy," You suddenly feel juvenile and bashful, as you take the scolding, "You should know better,"

You're only vaguely aware that the distance between you two has been lessening because the air feels warmer. His breath is mixing with yours and his hand is doing a funny little dance along your forearm. "You should know better," He says.

And perhaps you should have closed the distance, perhaps you should have chased him away. You certainly should not have waited for a pair of irregular footsteps approaching to finally push the lumbering man away from you. Thankfully, he kindly obliged although Matsson's hand stalled, still rubbing against your elbow when Kendall stumbles in.

"Uh, what the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck is he doing here?" Kendall's eyes are tired and bloodshot and you step away from Lukas' gravitational pull as you curl into Kendall's side. Kendall's suede Versace jacket is cool but his skin is warm as you burrow into the side of his neck. Your guilt worsens as you feel Kendall's arm curl around your waist.

You speak into Kendall's ear, loud enough for Lukas to hear, "Matsson is still trying to rape your company." You say with a lazy smile.

"Already raped," Says Lukas, shuffling passed the two of you, "Logan was the decision maker, remember?"

Before the man finds himself over the threshold, Kendall speaks up.

"Hey, no more private visits, yeah? Not cool."

You watch with bated breath as Matsson only cracks a toothy lopsided grin before tapping the wood of the doorframe and disappearing.

That evening had ended, like most of the evenings to come, with angry, jealousy-fueled sex. There had always been a distinct animosity between Kendall and Matsson but whatever had been in the air seemed to triple. Kendall kept you close during the entire experience. He kept you under Kremlin-level surveillance but he couldn't be with you all the time. In the moments you found yourself without Kendall, Matsson would appear from out of the shadows like a demon, slinking behind you with a hand ghosting your hip. He watched you from above the rim of whiskey-filled tumblers and even asked for your input whenever conversation within the group got a little political. One such conversation had the unfortunate interjection of one Roman Roy, who saw you as another toy in his toy box.

"What do you need two assistants for anyway?" The grinding of your teeth come to a deafening halt as you turn your head to face the youngest Roy. The smile on your face is amicable, some might even call it polite, but it is a well enough facade veneering the tempest brewing beneath.

"What- does Jess hold your balls while you tell knock-off Maya Angelou here" He points to you, "-to bend her head and suck?"

There were a number of things you simply allowed when it came to your courtship with Kendall Roy. You would even shame yourself into admitting that you might have found Kendall's overall emotional incompetence and dysfunctional family quite endearing in the beginning. But, like every magnificent, spine curling orgasm, the magic ebbed away quickly and soon, you were left with nothing but the wetness of his cum, cooling between your thighs.

That is what Kendall and his siblings were like most times.

Cooling, diabolical cum.

"Rome, come on." And therein lay Kendall's consistent, valeant response, of which he chose to defend you.

Rome. Come on.

Simply hearing those words leave his brother's mouth with even the faintest hint of disapproval sent Roman into a frenzy (you could see his pupils dilating and his cock hardening from your spot on a couch adjacent to Roman and Shiv). Matsson's entire foyer was set alight with amicable, drunken murmurs, of which Greg's nervous whimpers were occasionally heard peppered in.

Tom had retired to bed, (whether that would be in the same suite as Shiv, would be a satisfactory cup of tea you would divulge with your girlfriends later.) Matsson and his followers sat in their own private harem in a corner beside you.

"What?" Roman cries, slamming back a handful of ground nuts (an admittedly clever substitute for Swedish alcohol) "I was just asking a question. I know your people like to claim reparations for a lot of shit these days but I'm sure enquiring about the girl my big brother's fucking doesn't equate to slavery."

Although you hated the little demon with every bright blue blood cell running through your arteries, you did admire the sure-fire way he would spit his hateful vitriol.

"I appreciate the faux-concern, Roman." You keep it curt, cute and even forgiving, hoping he might take the win and leave you to down the last of your Hennessey in peace.

"That's your cue," Kendall announces, "Drop it."

"Look at how wet she's getting from my rich white brother finally using his voice to defend her for once." The conversation between the Swedes had long since ceased and your throat clogs as the music tins through hidden speakers. "Kenny so clearly has a type," Says Roman, now facing his brother with his elbows steepled on his knee. "I bet you couldn't wait to dive into that plethora of liberal pussy, could you, big brother?"

Your patience had long since snapped and your words are flying before you could stop them, "Considering you couldn't even get pussy without catching a rape charge or an incredibly disappointed prostitute, I'll assume this pseudo-incest interest you have in Kendall's sex life is normal,"

Roman only laughs, "No amount of sick burns is going to release you from the fact that your fucking a crackhead. Maybe it's the money," he taps the bottom of chin in a flamboyant display of consideration, "Although if it's raping our company that's your main goal, the Swedes might have you beat." Matsson straightens in your periphery, not by a lot but by enough to have a stoney smile cracking across your face.

"ATN is not my vice. Racist Propaganda doesn't get me as wet as it gets you, Roman."

"How convenient. I thought all Leftys held special orgys dedicated to besmirching racist propoganda."

Your response was already loaded in the back of your throat, aimed and ready to fire at Roman with reckless abandon. If it weren't for Lukas' interjection, you would have hoped to leave the little man bleeding all over Matsson's marble floors.

"You let him talk to your woman like that?" The rest of the party had left this specific ring of people behind, but that seemed okay. Everyone within the circle, the important people, were silent as Matsson turned his attention to a floundering Kendall.

"Maybe worry about your situation over there and I'll worry about mine."

"I'm not worried." Says Lukas, with a fierce stoicism that was so unique to him. Your heart rate speeds up ever so slightly as the couch groans while Lukas begins to rise. His friends each hold knowing smiles. Hungry smiles.

"Would you like to know why I'm not worried?" Asks Lukas, advancing with a slow gait. You turn your head just in time to watch Kendall's Adam's apple against his throat. He was speechless as per usual when the discussion didn't involve drugs or stock prices.

"Ask." Says Lukas as he advances. "Ask me why I'm not worried."

Upon you first meeting, you had found Lukas' height to be quite rude and unbecoming. You expected him to duck down, almost out of courtesy for the rest of the world laying low underneath him. As his shadow falls over you and Kendall, you find yourself grateful for this giant man making your boyfriend feel small for once- almost as small as you were made to feel around the Roys.

"Why aren't you worried?" Kendall's voice is still masked with confidence as he peers up at Matsson.

Matsson, who's teeth glint in the low evening light, like a hungry shark. He bends down low. You move slightly out of the way as he whispers into Kendall's ear.

"Because I'm gonna fuck her, okay?"

Absolute silence grows pregnant between the two and you're left to do nothing but watch as the exchange unfolds and Kendall's perceived control over everything and everyone unravels. His mouth opens and closes slightly while Matsson watches with a sadistic sort of pleasure in his eye…

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Nothing," Says Lukas, having returned to his full height. "I didn't say anything. I just asked your-" His blue eyes darts to you and back, "-friend, if she'd like to see my bookshelf in the living room. I saw her reading Bronte earlier," Matsson shrugs, "Thought I might extend the invitation."

Lukas is not one to wait for confirmation, nor is he a man that waits for validation. He shuffles out his foyer, quite comfortably leaving present company behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. No rebuttal from Kendall needed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? What are you doing?" You lift yourself from the couch, ironing out the invisible creases on your plaid Chanel skirt as your eyes dart to Roman, now in idle conversation with Siobhan.

"They're just books, Kendall." You sigh softly. "You can't honestly believe I'd be any safer here." You deliver one final gaze at his lesser appealing siblings before following Matsson out of the foyer. The amount of people congesting the dark corridors lessen as you venture further into Matsson's abode. The walls are built with a dark, heavily sanded stone. Something casting a very ominous, yet unmistakably earthy glow throughout the corridor as the mouth spills into a large and defining living room. The colours are dark. The coal walls are all encompassing and Matsson stands beside a low leather couch, waiting rather awkwardly for your arrival.

"There is no library or bookshelf." He says with his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his sweats.

"I figured. You strike me as someone that would keep all their books stored on some gadget."

"Technology and leisure are the two civilizers of man," He says, watching you with bated breath as you slink around his living room, eyeing but never once prodding his things.

"Don't misquote Disraeli, it's not very attractive."

Matsson seems to relax at that, opting to take a step closer to you as he speaks, "I'll misquote Disraeli as much as I want. The 'increased means and increased leisure' part seems a little far-fetched." Your heart begins to hammer in your chance at the advancing man and you turn, whether out of cowardice or bashfulness, choosing rather to examine the sculpture along his mantle.

Your back begins to straightens as warmth radiates from him. He does not move but he cages you in. You would not be able to leave his sphere even if you wanted to.

"We don't have to fuck, obviously. It just didn't seem safe for you to stay in that situation."

You turn slowly and you find yourself slightly jarred by Matsson's proximity. His turtleneck hugs a string and definite build and the hunger in his eyes melts all inhibitions.

"I don't need saving."

"I'm talking about the little angry man." He says, referring to Roman. "I've seen your debates. It's the little nugget of American politics I find myself quite entertained by and I have no desire to wipe a Roy's blood off my floors this evening."

His words end up snapping any and all inhibition as you're throwing yourself quite mercilessly at him. The kiss is silent but so inexplicably charged allowing you to bump into various pieces of furniture in the process of pushing you up against the nearest stone wall. A wall that is cold to the touch, eliciting a surprised gasp which fuels Lukas all the more. He displays wet slobbering kisses down the nape of your neck as he murmurs drunkenly in your ear.

"I like seeing you like this. I like seeing you among my things." The conviction present in his gravelly vibrato has a pool of wetness gathering in between your legs. Your arm circles around his broad back until your pulling, rather roughly at the blonde hair curling at the nape of neck. This had consequently been a morbid mistake because his grip travels to your throat lightning fast, compressing a dangerous weight on your oesophagus as he rips his lips away from your throat.

"You don't get to do that," he says far too casually. "You don't get to assume control when you are here in my house with my things."

Matsson keeps his eye trained on you but your focus in compounded, solely, on his wandering hand tracing the hem of your skirt. "Hey, hey, hey." As you strive to keep watch of his wandering hand, Matsson moves his head into your line of vision.

"My things. Yeah? You'te apart of that now."

As his hand inches underneath your skirt you're suddenly flooded with a wave of unfamiliar emotions - fear being the most poignant and defining one.

"I don't want to do this anymore-" You're not sure whether you mean it or not but you're quite certain that Matsson doesn't care. You're suddenly truly aware that you had released something you don't really know how to control.

"Bullshit, you don't want to do this anymore." You finally feel his hand sliding into your panties and your legs wavers underneath you, "Your words say stupid shit," Sings Lukas as his fingers ghost over your swollen clothes, "But your cunt just can't seem to lie." His grip on your throat tightens before relaxing as he brings your head up to his lips. "You're fucking soaked."

"I'll fucking sue you," Although you're unable to assume a single confident tone as his fingers begin to play with your cunt, "I'll fucking take you to court for fucking assault, motherfucker."

"You wanna call Kendall for assistance?" He asks, slyly pushing his middle finger deep inside you with no regard for your strangled gasp. "Here, let's call him together. Say 'Kendall!'"

The only thing able to leave your mouth is a straggled moan as Matsson keeps you pinned to the wall by the throat. The sound of your voice - so incoherent and helpless has him evading any sliver of decency he might have had. "Fuck, you're so perfect." He places a chaste kiss on your cheek before spinning you around until he is sandwiched between your body and the wall. "I have to fuck you."

"Watch the door for me," he says, pulling your hips right up against the bulge in his pants. "Watch just in case Kendall, shows up. Right, sweet girl?"

You're nodding dumbly as Lukas hunches his tall frame while grinding his bulge into your backside. He has your skirt lifted, and his shadow casted over you as he murmurs diabolical things into your ear.

"God, you're a fucking slut, you're such a fucking slut." He keeps a grip on your throat while the unoccupied hand reaches around to lift your shirt haphazardly, "No amount of smart ass comments will ever hide the fact that you're just another whore." The casual air with which he degrades has you simultaneously humping the air while you push back against his bulge. It is in that moment when he finally decides to release his aching cock from his sweatpants dotted with precum.

"Jesus Christ, feel how hard you made me. Feel how fucking turned on I am just because you decided to be a stupid slut." You can feel the head of his cock pressing into you until you're unable to hold in the desperation.

"Jesus- Lukas!"

"What? You want me to fuck you? I think you want me to fuck you but I'm not sure." You're unsure of what he's asking, too blinded by the possibility of a carefully curated orgasm.

"Go on." He says, "Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to fuck your pussy while your boyfriend waits just downstairs."

There are tears pooling in your eyes at the sheer lewdness and the unapologetic quality of this betrayal, but your mouth opens and soon, you're shakily crying out. "Please just fuck me, Lukas."

His cock rams into you with a surety that leaves you winded. He seems as if his patience had been waning as well, what with the haggard sigh that leaves his throat and the numerous disquiet groans that float in the air. Despite yourself, you do keep a half-lidded gaze on the entrance, not put off, but rather spurred on with the possibility of your boyfriend finding you being railed by his latest rival. The thought alone has you clenching around Lukas' cock with your orgasm cresting.

"Whatever you're thinking about, I'm going to need you to think about it again- you're so fucking tight."

There's an animalistic quality to the sex- being bent over for him while he rests against a wall, a firm grip on your throats and your tits as he rams himself into you again and again.

It's far too much.

You wouldn't think there was something so ruthless hiding underneath such a calm veneer but that's all it is. All it always had been. A veneer.

"You're not with him anymore, do you hear me?"

"Fuck- Lukas I'm gonna cum soon," his grip on your throat tightens until it vacuums out any and all air. Your hand encircles his wrist, begging for release but to no avail.

"Tell me," he says as he continues to fuck mercilessly into you, "Tell me you don't belong to him." He finally gives you lee-way to talk and you're gasping out your response, "I don't. I don't belong to him," he nods slightly, brows firing as he bites into your shoulders.

"Fuck- I didn't plan to cum inside you-"

"I don't fucking care- I'm really close." Lukas nods quickly before releasing your neck to drag your cheek until your faces are pressed together in a smouldering kiss. "Fuck I'm gonna cum inside you-"

His words already have you diving headfirst into a groundbreaking orgasm. You're crying out helplessly, until Matsson has enough sense to cover your mouth with one large hand. He fucks you through it, filling you with cum as he groans just as loudly as you had been.

"Fuck," he chuckles quietly, "Kendall is not going to like that."

"Kendall," You breath heavily, safely contained in Lukas' comforting grip, "Is not my Keeper."

Lukas delivers a chaste kiss on your cheek, his stubble grazing against the side of your face.

"I plan on killing them anyway." He says, simultaneously unaware and aware that he's drifting into pillowtalk.

"Every last one of them."

I think it's time for another break...

bff is ur anton smut supposed to be cut off or😭??? it stops suddenly like midway...

Need to stop uploading at 1am... Thanks

why when I go to the m.list it says "no post found"?

Fixed