Orange Lipstick

18

Warning(s): A traumatized reader, non-consensual touching, and crude language.

"Did you see that cute inmate?"

"The slutty one that's fucked half of the prison, but still acts like an innocent bitch?"

"Yeah! Turns out she hasn't ever had a disease. Surprising coming from a whore who doesn't use protection."

"S-seriously? She lets you do it raw?"

"You pervert! Don't even think about screwing around with an inmate, plus last I heard she has some pretty scary people after her."

The distant chatter of the guards keeps you awake in your bunk bed, the will to sleep had left you long ago.

You really did try to go back to sleep, but every time you closed your eyes, you could still see rageful periwinkle eyes.

Clutching the blanket closer to your body, you whimper at the reminder of what happened earlier.

To think it lasted for an hour, only for it to figuratively stay in your head for a much longer time.

Your eyes had dried out long ago, definitely leaving marks on your soft cheeks.

"That's it. Faster Y/N! I-I'm close! Keep riding it as if it were my own!"

A gurgle of hunger pierces through the silence, you numbly clutch your stomach.

For the remainder of the day, you had felt too emotionally exhausted to get up, much less take a few bites of the prison food.

An action you heavily regretted.

Grrrrr

'Man, the things I'd give for some well-cooked pasta. Sugary snacks are only good for so long."

Thinking of the yummy sauce and the slippery texture of the noodles makes the h/cnette drool slightly.

'Nice and warm. Traveling down my stomach...'

"Keep it up, good girl! Next time I see you, I'll pump your pretty belly full of my cum- you dirty thing!"

Yup. Nice, nice pasta.

Y/N liked cooking many things, but pasta had always stuck in her head. The recipe memorized from scratch thanks to its simplicity.

'It's sad really how she doesn't even have to touch you, and you're already crying.' A snarky voice mocks the inside head.

No.no. I'm not gonna think about it.

Burying your face in the measly pillow, you huff out a sad sigh.

May would be coming soon, and you just had to accept that as a fact.

Crying about it wasn't going to solve anything.

As harsh as that thinking was, it was the truth.

Instead, you had to think about how to avoid your fate at the hands of May.

Negotiations with the silver-haired woman were out of the question. You'd tried that the first month in your captivity. More so begged, you think bitterly.

You couldn't offer any money to the CEO, (you heavily doubted she would easily trade you for money anyways) for you were dirt poor and had heavily relied on your boyfriend financially.

You only had a high school diploma in your name, teachers claiming you were too stupid to study for anything greater.

Like a bitter pill it is to swallow, you weren't good at anything in particular and you were hardly dependent. How would you be able to escape prison- much less someone like May?