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#“how did this happen” use your imagination
kingkaizen · 3 days
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𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓻
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∘ desc: although things are going great with your boyfriend nanami, sometimes you think he's too nice in bed. who better to ask for some pointers than from nanami's opposite, gojo satoru <3
∘ ft: nanami & gojo
∘ word count: 2.7k
∘ includes: voyeurism, threesome, pussy slaps, spanking, face fucking, edging, dacryphilia, dirty talk
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Nanami is the best boyfriend that you’ve ever had.
No matter everything that you’ve been through together in the last three years, nothing has ever made you doubt the amount of love you had for each other. You absolutely adored everything about him. After being friends for years before getting together, it wasn’t hard to fall so deeply in love with the man that he’s become. Being able to come home to him is everything that you’ve ever wanted and more.
But, of course, all relationships come with their issues.
When Nanami received a message from you saying that you had to talk, his heart immediately dropped. What could he have done wrong? Was today a special day that he forgot about? Did he accidentally leave the toilet seat up? What could possibly be it? He rushed home from work, unlocking the front door to see you sitting on the couch.
“Is everything okay?” Nanami questioned, slipping his shoes off and placing them neatly on the floor along with pinning his coat on the rack. “Your text worried me.”
“No, Kento. Everything is fine, I promise, come sit with me.” You gestured to the cushion next to yours, trying to keep him calm. You knew that texting him like that would elicit this concerned reaction, but what you’re about to say could not be said through a simple text message.
“Kento, when I say this to you, I need you to know that I love you so much and you are an amazing boyfriend okay?” Nanami nods his head slightly, eyebrows slowly coming together in complete anticipation of what’s about to come out of your mouth.
“I want you to start being rougher with me in bed.”
Finally coming out and saying it, you felt like a weight being lifted off of your chest. Nanami always treats you like glass, in and out of the bedroom. Although you love how gentle and loving he is with you, you need something more. You can’t help but think back to all of the times that he would come back home from work, irritated about something that happened. How good it would feel for him to take out those emotions on you. But, knowing your sweet boyfriend, that thought would never cross his mind. 
“Am I not satisfying you enough? I thought you enjoyed our intimate moments together…” Nanami responds, his brain thinking back to every single night you’ve spent together in the past. Why hasn’t he seen this before? Knowing that he hasn’t been satisfying you in the way that he thought hurt him much more than he was willing to admit right away.
“No, that’s not it at all. You know that you always make me feel good. I just want to change things up a bit, that’s all.” You placed an encouraging hand on his thigh, prompting him to look up at you. “I know you, Kento, don’t think too much into it. I love every moment that we have together, I just want us to try something different, that’s all.”
Nanami took in all of your words, making a pact to himself that he will change things for the better. He understands what you want, he’s just not sure how to fully give that to you. How he is in bed is exactly the way he is outside of that: sweet, loving, and overall just concerned. He would never forgive himself for hurting you in any capacity, so living up to your request will be a challenge for him. Who better to ask than his complete opposite in every single way?
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“She wants you, Nanami Kento, to be rough?” Gojo almost can’t help but laugh at the thought. It’s not laughable because Nanami doesn’t have a rough side to him, Gojo of all people would know how it feels to be on the opposite end of that. The funny part is that he can’t imagine him being rough towards you. Even from an outsider looking into your relationship, anyone could see how he treats you.
“I didn’t tell you this so that you could laugh at me, Satoru, I’m asking for your help.” This request from Nanami also humored Gojo. Finally, after all of these years, Nanami is actually voluntarily asking for his help.
“How exactly do you expect me to help you? Do you need me to demonstrate?” Gojo laughed as he said this, waiting for Nanami to show some sort of disagreement in his face.
That look never came.
“That is actually exactly what I want you to do. I know the type of history that you two have, I’m not an idiot. All of these years since we’ve all been friends before we started dating, I would see the way you would look at each other. I know that there is chemistry there and I wouldn’t be surprised if you have been intimate before.” Nanami looked at Gojo, seriousness etched across his face. “I want you to show me how to treat her the way that she wants to be, I only want her to be happy.” As much as Nanami hates to admit when Gojo is better than him in any sort of way, he knows the truth when it comes to this. He sees how other women have fawned over him, and it must be for good reason.
“I’ll teach you how to fuck her like a slut.”
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The sight of two shirtless men is enough to excite anyone. After telling Nanami what was on your mind, this is the last thing that you expected him to do. Of course he brought this up to you before this moment, always wanting to ensure your comfort. It was hard to disagree, you’ve been with Gojo years prior but it was never anything serious. Always flings, Gojo was never the “relationship type”. 
“So gorgeous, my love.” Nanami always admired how ethereal you looked, both in and out the bedroom. He caressed your face, planting soft yet firm kisses on your lips, growing more and more passionate by the second. Gojo was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, watching with an intense gaze. You would think that having another man watching the two of you would freak you out, but it weirdly turned you on. Gently, as always, Nanami laid you down on the mattress, fingers finding their way to your covered breasts, exposing them to his hungry mouth. After moving the fabric, his lips puckered around your nipple, tongue pushing on the hardened nub as you ran your fingers through his hair.
“Kento, I need you so bad.” You whimpered, the impatient side of you coming out already. You know Nanami, you know that it doesn’t take much begging to get what you want. You know how bad he wants you too, he can’t help but fully oblige to every word you say.
“I know honey, I’m going to give it to you.” Nanami had no self control when it came to you. Gojo rolls his eyes in the corner, finally making his presence known.
“Nanami, you can’t let her talk to you like that.” Gojo slowly began to touch his growing bulge through his pants. “It’s like you already forgot everything I told you.” He stood up and walked towards the two of you, Nanami moving to the side. Gojo gently gripped your chin, turning your head to look him dead in his eyes.
“If you want something from him, you’re going to have to earn it.”
You nodded your head, his authoritative tone sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. Following his discrete directions, you kneeled in front of your boyfriend, fingers playfully toying with the zipper in his pants as you pulled it down along with the rest of it. You kissed his hard length through the last piece of fabric still left on his body, looking up at him through your lashes.
“D-Don’t tease me like that, (y/n)”. Nanami loved this obedient side of you, even if he wasn’t the reason you were acting this way. Before he could even process, Gojo lightly tapped the side of your ass, sending a slight sting throughout your body.
“Tease him like that again and you’re gonna have to make yourself cum. Now say sorry.” Gojo threatened, backing away once again to see how this unfolds. By now, he has fully released himself from the confines of his pants, fingers wrapping around his girth as he slowly began to pleasure himself at the sight.
“I’m sorry.” You looked up at Nanami once more, pulling away the last piece of clothing separating your awaiting mouth from his leaking tip. 
“I’m sorry what?” Gojo sneered.
“I’m sorry sir.” Your pleading voice made Nanami groan, watching as you finally began to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You began to put your tongue to work, swirling it around his head while keeping your lips firmly around the top, sucking in. Nanami could tell that you were still in a teasing mood, refusing to go any lower than that. Suddenly, you could feel his hand find its way to the back of your head, forcing you to let more of him in. Nanami would never do something like this normally, his forcefulness with you turning you on tremendously. Gojo laughed, approving of Nanami’s sudden confidence boost. It’s arousing to him too, watching you take all of him so deep in your mouth, gagging on his length as he throws his head back.
“That’s it, take it all.” Nanami grunts, “I love how messy you look, choking on me like that.” He could feel you moan around his length at his words, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of what’s to come. “I know how wet you are already, if you want some help you have to ask for it okay?” 
No matter what, Nanami is still always keeping your needs in mind, noticing how soaked you're starting to become. He removes himself from inside your mouth, allowing you to fully breathe. You look so beautiful, tears threatening to spill from your lash line and saliva coating around your mouth. He helps you back up to your feet, leading your body to lay backwards onto the bed, callused fingers catching any tears that manage to slip. “Tell me what you want.”
Your gaze moved from his eyes over to Gojo. “I want you both. Please sir, just touch me.” You felt pathetic as you begged, your core pulsing with need. You’ve never felt this sensitive before, everything feeling that much more intense given how hungry the two men in your presence are. 
“Aww, what a little slut you are.” Gojo grinned, making his way closer to you. “What do you think Nanami, has she been a good girl for us? Should we give her what she wants?” Gojo’s fingers began to rub on the outside of your panties. “Look at how wet she is for us.” Gojo showed Nanami your slick on his fingers, watching it glisten underneath the lowlight. 
“I think she has been a good girl.” Nanami smiles at you, so proud of how well you’ve been doing for them. “Go ahead, Gojo, you can touch her.”
“Finally.” Gojo quickly moved your panties to the side, the coolness of his touch catching you off guard as he teased the inside of your folds. “You don’t understand how torturous it was watching you without being able to touch you yet.” He makes quick work of finding your clit, slowly rubbing his thumb on your pearl as he watches you begin to writhe underneath. “Don’t forget why you’re here slut. You wanted to be treated like this so bad and now you got it. Beg for it.”
“P-Please Satoru, please touch me. I can’t take it anymore, I need it so bad.” You pleaded, beginning to feel helpless underneath him. Gojo smirked, plunging his slender fingers inside of you unexpectedly. You felt your body arch up in surprise, a gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure began to consume your body.
“So fucking greedy.” Gojo began slowly at first, catching a rhythm. “Look at how she’s drenching my fingers.” Nanami rubs himself at the sight, growing impatient. You’re too far gone to notice, feeling your own orgasm already beginning to slowly creep up in intensity. Before you know it, you're cumming all around his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Gojo quickly pulls his fingers out, not doing anything to help you ride it out. “Who told you that you could cum?” He taps his hand against your pussy repeatedly, watching you moan in a mix of pleasure and pain and you slowly come down from your high. “What a fucking whore.”
“I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t -fuck- I couldn’t help it.” You sob, looking at Nanami. You’ve never seen him look so angry. He didn’t say anything to you, only twirling his finger around, motioning for you to flip over. You quickly follow his que, not wanting to do anything to tick him off further. You can’t fully process that this is happening, your Nanami actually treating you this way.
You fucking loved it.
You felt his familiar touch rub over your ass as you got on all fours, arching your back slightly. He groaned at the sight of your wetness, glistening core almost calling out to him. He rubbed his tip against your folds, feeling your hole try to suck him in. Meanwhile, Gojo is sucking your juice off of his fingers, loving the taste of you.
“Get on with it Nanami, if she wants to be punished so badly then so be it.” Gojo made his way in front of you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your plush lips. “We told you what would happen if you didn’t listen, right? You have to be a bit smarter than that sweetheart.” The syrupy tone of his voice didn’t match his actions as he parted your lips with his head, feeling you wrap your lips against his girth. With that, Nanami finally pushed himself all the way in, moaning in unison along with you. Gojo could feel the vibrations of your moans against him.
Nanami gave you no time to adjust, pounding his entire length into you with such force that caused your mouth to hang open in shock. You felt so good, brain completely fogged over with no thoughts other than the complete monster that Nanami has become. He’s never fucked you like this, usually preferring soft thrusts over the hard pounding that he’s subjecting yourself to now. You suddenly felt a sharp slap on your ass, his large hand rubbing the sting away almost just as quickly as he placed it.
“Don’t ignore Gojo now, honey. I thought a slut like you would love to have two thick cocks filling you up this way?” Nanami questioned, picking up the pace which made it so much harder for you to focus. Gojo wasn’t having that. He placed one hand on each side of your face, holding it in place for him to thrust his hips against you. His cock filled your mouth, spit sloshing everywhere as your face got messier and messier.
“Fuck (y/n), you’re doing so fucking good for us princess.” Gojo moaned, the sounds coming from the room overwhelmed his senses. The bed creaking, you struggling to take Nanami while also pleasuring Gojo, and the sound of Nanami’s balls slapping against your ass sounded like music to his ears. Nanami couldn’t believe how hot this all was, feeling as your walls began to quiver around him.
“You’re gonna cum again baby?” Nanami asked, gripping your hips tighter as he felt himself get even closer. Gojo was already almost there, hips beginning to stutter as he watched you cry out. All you could do is whimper in response, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Nanami made it there first, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he spilled himself inside of you. Ropes of cum flooded in as he fully pressed himself against you, beads of sweat threatening to drip off his nose. Gojo soon followed, shooting his load into your mouth as you took it all.
“Such a good girl.” Gojo mused, wiping the side of your mouth when he finished. He proceeded to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. Nanami pulled himself out slowly, watching in delight as his seed slowly dripped out of you. You whimpered at the now empty feeling, your orgasm slowly starting to retreat.
“You’re not going to finish me off?” You angrily turned to Nanami, watching the smirk begin to creep up his face.
“Not unless you beg for it.”
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ceilidho · 3 days
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 12) [note: trigger warning for a pretty rough spanking scene with a belt and minimal aftercare. if you need to, you can skip to the midway point (there's a line between the first half and second).]
first chapter >> last chapter
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He keeps your hands tied behind your back on the ride home.
All that does is confirm the fact that he must know. Graves must have tracked him down or perhaps he was approached by someone who did consider your sudden arrival in town suspicious. Why else would the sheriff chase you all the way into the mountains on horseback and then take you back with him? He would’ve within his rights to leave your thieving self to wander alone in the woods and succumb to the elements.
John doesn’t say a word the first hour of the ride back. You can feel the anger emanating from him though. He almost shakes with it. His anger somehow upsets you more than whatever is left to come. 
“Anytime you wanna start talkin’, I’m all ears,” John finally says, breaking the silence. 
You keep your lips pressed together, stubbornly silent. There’s no use giving yourself away before you’ve learned how much he knows. You haven’t built this life of yours with loose lips. 
“I don’t know what in the Sam Hill has gotten into you,” he continues, and his voice is cobblestone tread rough in the night. “Running off all by yourself. There ain’t nothing out in these parts except outlaws and highwaymen. There are men out here that’d love to get their hands on a woman like you—not even a knife to defend yourself with. You haven’t even got a scrap of food on you, never mind water. You’d’ve been dead in a week if the men out here hadn’t picked you off themselves.”
His words make your stomach ache. You know that there are worse things out there. A thousand gruesome ways to die. You’re less of a lady than John might think—you’ve heard stories. You’ve brushed close to that reality yourself. You wonder how he’d take it if you were to tell him about what had happened back east. 
Maybe running away this time hadn’t been your smartest idea, but it had been your only. You can’t fault yourself for the instinct to survive. 
“I know,” you mumble, dropping your chin to your chest. 
“You gonna explain to me why you stole my horse and ran off in the first place?” he asks. 
It’s the strangest interrogation you’ve ever heard of—sitting on the same horse with your back to the man questioning you and your hands tied together at the wrists. You wonder if you leaned back whether you’d feel his heart beating furiously in his chest. 
You remain mulishly silent though, reticent to answer the question.
“Maybe I’ve been spoiling you,” he continues, trying to rationalize it to himself. “After the fuss you put up those first few days, I thought a bit of structure and discipline would do you well, and it did. Giving you a bit of slack was my mistake.”
You frown at that. Those don’t sound like the words of a man with any knowledge of the circumstances leading to you running off. He might not even have come across Graves at all in the hours since the man made his appearance in the general store. Otherwise, you can’t imagine how he wouldn’t make the connection. 
Still, you can’t make yourself come right out and say it, even though every iota of your being aches to let the truth out. Call it nerves overpowering the need to be truthful and good. You vacillate between honesty and self-preservation, but each avenue feels like being dropped into a nest of vipers. 
But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t question you like this. It’s a boon you can’t give up, not yet. Not when the thought of his inevitable righteous fury fills you with dread and self-loathing. 
“I don’t have to explain myself,” you spit out suddenly, and it’s not you saying those words but something ugly and sad in you. “You’re not my owner.”
“I damn sure am your husband though,” John growls, winding his free hand around your hair to tug you back into his chest. “And I know these parts far better than you, little miss. Beyond running off on me for no good reason when I thought we put your reticence behind us, you went and put yourself in danger the likes of which you couldn’t even fathom.”
“I’m not an idiot,” you snap. “I know what men are like.”
“You’re telling me you pulled that stunt knowing what kinda danger is out there in the woods?”
“I wasn’t thinking!”
“I know you weren’t,” John grunts. “That’s the issue.” 
The rest of the ride home is uncomfortably quiet. John keeps one hand clamped on your waist while the other holds the reins of both horses, the two walking alongside each other back down the trail towards the house. The ride home is a lot longer than the ride out into the woods since John refuses to let either of them go faster than a slow trot while your hands are tied behind your back. 
He snorts in derision at your suggestion to undo your binds. “That eager for your punishment?” 
That gets you to zip your lips. 
When you get drowsy, John tips your head back and makes you sip from his waterskin. His hand fits carefully around your throat to hold your head in place, his fingers curling around to just graze the nape of your neck. Your throat pulses under his palm when you swallow. It’s far too intimate for how restless you feel, damn near shaking out of your skin, but it briefly shushes the voice in your head until he pulls his hand away. 
A shadow under the doorway of the house startles you at first before it takes a step into the faint light of the setting sun and you recognize the bristly blond of Simon’s shorn head and the red bandana shrouding the bottom half of his face. The tension ebbs back into you when you realize with creeping humiliation that the black horse you rode home on must belong to him. 
He watches the two of you approach with predictable disinterest, his eyes betraying nothing. The shame is excruciating. 
John brings the horse to a halt some feet from Simon, not bothering to greet him. You wonder if it’s the anger choking him or if this is just routine, men trading favors in silence lest a word in gratitude break the spell. After dismounting himself, John helps you down, all but picking you up and lifting you off the horse. 
Simon doesn’t say a word to either of you when he takes the reins from John’s hands, giving him only a curt nod and you a cursory glance before leading his horse away to mount. He doesn’t spare you a backwards glance before taking off back towards town. You watch him over your shoulder while John guides you up the porch steps and into the house, until the shape of him disappears into the horizon. Then the door shuts behind you. 
Alone now, your attention turns back to John. He stares down at you consideringly, a hand planted on the door he just shut until he lets it fall to his side. You can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something out. 
It wouldn’t be right to call it anticipation; it’s not quite dread either. 
“I don’t make idle threats, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing. 
His words make you frown until you glance down to find him undoing his belt. Your blood turns to ice. He tugs the thick strap until it comes sliding out of each loop around his waist. The buckle rests heavy in his palm, thick fingers curling around it, and when he bends the belt in two, you already know that he intends to follow through with his threat from earlier, the one you said you’d gut him for.
“I’ll scream,” you warn, heart in your throat. It almost chokes you. “I mean it. I’ll scream like the devil.”
“Don’t go makin’ no empty threats now, darlin’,” he says in a low voice, almost taunting. You can hear the hard edge in his voice though. It’s not something he craves, but he’ll take it. 
“You touch me with that thing and I’ll never forgive you.” 
John’s eyes go hard. “I’ll just have to take that chance.” 
And then he’s on you.
He hooks an arm around your waist when you try to rush past him back out the door and it forces the breath out of you. 
You struggle as best you can with your hands tied behind your back, trying to wriggle out of his hold even as he heaves you up into his arms and climbs the staircase towards the bedroom. The steps creak under the added weight of you in his arms. The screams come tearing from your throat, ripping your vocal cords and nearly sending you into a coughing fit. 
“Let—me—go—” you shriek, kicking out wildly, hoping to catch something that’ll make him lose his balance. 
“All that squirmin’ ain’t making me feel more merciful,” he growls. 
John kicks the bedroom door open with his foot when he reaches the top of the staircase. The room looks ominous without the oil lamp lit, the shadows growing in the corners swallowing up the end table. The bed is just as you made it this morning, the sheets pressed tight and neat, and you only get a second to take that in before he marches towards the bed and throws you down onto it.  
You hit the bed hard, bouncing slightly. He sits down heavily enough to jostle you and when you try to roll away on instinct, a hand catches you by the bicep and pulls you back. He hauls you across the bulk of his thighs this time, far different from your first meeting back in the sheriff’s office all those weeks ago. Your feet don’t even touch the floor this time around, dangling in the air and flailing for purchase. 
“You brute—you bastard!” you screech.
“I’m not gonna be as charitable this time,” John says, yanking your dress up and your drawers down until your bare bottom is exposed. You gasp at the cold air, murmuring something like please, please, please under your breath. “Even if I knew why it was you decided to run off, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you did. You coulda been hurt or worse out there, darlin’, and I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m gonna make sure the lesson sinks in this time.”
He folds the leather belt to hold it in one hand, leaving the other to pin you down over his thighs, making sure you don’t wriggle out. The leather is cool at first when he drags it over your butt. It makes your breathing pick up. It’s so gentle that you can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s all he intends to do. 
The first lash comes so quick that you barely register it. The second knocks the wind out of you, and then the pain sets in. 
It stings something fierce. Where his palm hurt that first time he bent you over his desk and spanked you, the belt burns. It goes deep and it lingers when he pulls the leather away from your stinging bottom. 
“Hurts like the dickens, don’t it?” John asks, not bothering to wait for confirmation before bringing the belt down again. “You’re lucky it’s only ten this time.”
You howl into the bedsheets, eyes tearing up and spilling down your cheeks. When you try to cover your ass with your bound hands, John grabs them and pins them to the small of your back. 
“What’ll you never do again?” he growls. 
“I—I’ll—”
“Say it, darlin’: I’ll never run off on my own again.”
“I’ll—n-never gonna—oh, it hurts, John—please—”
At some point, you must say the words he’s looking for. You lose count of how many times his belt has struck across your ass. Like thunder coming after lightning, you feel it and then you hear it. The sharp snap comes as a second wave of agony in and of itself. 
Your throat is stripped raw by the time it’s over. The aftermath finds you with a puddle of drool under your cheek, hair matted to your face. Sweat slicks the backs of your thighs and down your spine. Even the gentlest brush of John’s hand over your backside, the belt deposited off the side of the bed, makes you flinch, the skin there tender to the touch. You’ll surely feel it deep in your bones come sunrise. 
Too exhausted for anger, all you can do is lie there. It sits heavy in your stomach though, a pit at the center of you. You want to say, who gave you the right? The answer burns a ring around your finger though. You want to say, you don’t understand, it had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with him and you. 
You can tell he wants to say something. It gets choked in his throat, but you can hear it in the way his breath draws in, like he’s trying to coax it from his chest but it simply won’t come out. 
“Stay right there,” John rumbles instead, shifting you onto the bed to let you lie on your belly. 
You moan in pain when he moves you, sniffling into your arms. The crook of your elbow is sticky with your tears and snot. 
The bed dips under his weight when he comes back. You flinch violently when he draws the skirt of your dress up again and smooths his hand over the tender cheeks of your backside, spreading a cool salve over your skin. The first touch of his hand makes you hiss, tears beading in the corners of your eyes again, but then the cool sinks in, alleviating the ache. 
He does that for another few minutes in silence. Gentle, tentative touches, only stopping when the salve has been spread evenly over your bottom. He’s quiet when he shifts you up the bed until your feet are no longer dangling off the end. You’re distantly aware of him taking off your shoes and tucking you into bed, but the events of the day have finally gotten the better of you. It would be easier to push a boulder up a hill than crack even one of your eyelids open.
Time passes slowly; sluggishly. Your thoughts can’t quite catch up with it, either too quick or too slow. You’re stuck in thoughts of the desert, caught in a sandstorm that manifests too suddenly for you to take cover. All you can do is close your eyes and wait it out. 
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Morning comes like a brutal summoning into the waking world. 
It hurts, but you expected that. Before your eyes even open, you’re aware of a throbbing pain coming from your backside. You wince when you shift to your side, squeezing your eyes tight. You contemplate rolling over and taking your chances with John’s temper. The thought isn’t as appealing in the light of day though. 
It takes some time to get out of bed and when you do, you have to step tentatively from floorboard to floorboard, the ache making it decidedly uncomfortable. You can’t imagine what sitting down will be like. Riding a horse is just out of the question. 
From the bedroom window, you see John standing in front of the house with Simon, back again not even twelve hours later. With the window closed, you can’t hear their conversation, nor can you read their lips. Their exchange doesn’t last long though. After another minute or so, and a nod goodbye, Simon walks back over to his horse standing nearby and lifts himself up and over onto the saddle, taking off towards town. 
When John turns back towards the house, you see him glance up towards the bedroom window where you stand. The circles beneath his eyes are dark, pronounced. On another day, you might’ve ducked out of sight or jumped away from the window, but now you hold his gaze. 
He breaks your stare first this time, heading back inside. It’s less satisfying than you thought it’d be. 
You spend the day resting in bed and avoiding John for the most part. He spends the majority of the day out of the house. You hear him downstairs in the kitchen around midday, fixing himself up something to eat, and you listen attentively to the scrape of the chair across the floor and the pan on the stovetop. Like the day he brought you home, he brings you up a tray only to leave it at the door, rapping the door with his knuckles to let you know before heading back downstairs. 
When he comes up for bed, you’re already lying down with your back to the door, the oil lamp left unlit. John doesn’t say anything to you as he changes into his nightwear. He smells fresh when he climbs into bed, like he bathed in the creek out in the woods. You breathe in deeply, trying to keep your breath quiet enough to not disturb the silence. The pillow under your head is saturated with his scent. You turn your nose into it when he lies down on his back instead of curling into you like he usually does. 
Your chest aches at that simple denial. There’s a wall between the two of you and you know where it came from. Any trust that you’d built lies in ruins now. 
Perhaps that’s not quite right though. It’s a romantic notion that you’ve been building something together all this time, but it doesn’t feel right now that you have the wherewithal to look back and reflect. All this time, whenever you’ve touched, you’ve held him steadfast and at an arm's length away, stopping two degrees short of intimacy. 
Deliberately effusive; and worse, you’ve called it affection. 
The tenderness in your heart is the worst of it. There’s a bruise there, and it’s been there awhile. It’s only grown with your recent troubles. You tell yourself every year that you’ll air it out come spring, but then the winter comes and it freezes over again.  
The pillow under your chest grows damp with your tears. 
Your dress the next morning is cornflower blue. The wheatfields are golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It’s a pleasanter day than how you feel. 
The ride into town is as painful as you thought it might be. You wince with every stride, your bottom still tender as a rose. John’s arm tightens around your waist when you squirm, like you might slide off the saddle and try to flee again, and you bite your lip to hold back the urge to snap. 
The little bit of independence you’d grown to enjoy is snatched away from you. You expected that as well, but that loss of privilege comes with a biting ache. You fight the urge to gnash your teeth and bark at him that you’re not a child when he grips you under the arm and leads you down the road. It wouldn’t do you any good. 
When John leaves you off at the general store, you’re surprised to find Kate back, hale and hearty. She looks up when the chime over the door jingles and raises her eyebrows in greeting. The sound makes you flinch, memories coming back unbidden. 
You look over your shoulder to say something to John before he leaves, but the door is already closing behind him by the time you turn around. Your lips are pursed on a word that dissolves in your mouth. It has a bitter aftertaste. 
“Thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days,” you say instead, turning back to Kate. There’s already a chair pulled up for you by the wall and you make yourself comfortable there, grimacing at first when your sore backside touches the wood before settling in. 
She shrugs. “Plans changed. Gaz and I made it back late last night.”
You frown. “Gaz?”
“Kyle Garrick. Sorry—slip of the tongue. You’ve met him already. He used to go by Gaz way back when.”
“Way back when?”
“Not my story to tell. You should ask one of them, if you’re curious.”
You are, but not enough to ask. “Maybe.”
The two of you lapse into silence after that exchange. Before leaving the house, you remembered to bring with you some needles and wool to pass the time. They’re not as familiar in your hands as you’d like them to be, but you suppose, barring the possibility of Graves or another bounty hunter showing up in town to cart you off, you’ll have time to learn. 
The thought leaves you anxious. It feels distinctly more possible now. 
“You met Miles while I was away?” Kate asks, out of the blue.
Your head comes up at her question. “Miles?”
“He was minding the store for me while I was away. Said you came in the other day.”
You swallow reflexively. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I did meet him. I didn’t stay long, since you were gone and all.”
She hums and looks back down at the book in front of her. You feel nervous all of a sudden. 
“He said you were very helpful,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence. You flinch. “Told me some gentleman came by with a warrant for a murder back east and you were kind enough to take it to your husband for him so he could keep minding the shop.”
Your throat constricts. She pins you under her gaze, unblinking eyes staring into yours but not looking for anything. Wispy blonde bangs brush along her forehead when she tilts her head ever so slightly. 
You nod instead of answering. 
“Did you give it to him?” she asks.
“I didn’t have a chance to. The day got away from me,” you say tersely. 
“I heard something about that. Kyle said John had to borrow Simon’s horse the other day. Said something about him taking off in a hurry.”
Again, you don’t answer. It feels like without knowing it, you’ve crossed over a threshold. 
“Do you still have it?” Kate prompts when again you don’t respond. You don’t tell her that you don’t because in all the fuss the other day, it must have slipped out of your pocket and drifted off into the wind. “The warrant?”
“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. 
“That’s alright. I have a good enough idea about what it might��ve said.” 
Sweat beads on your upper lip. She all but says it outloud. You’re as still as a ferrotype under her gaze, imprinted in place, unable to move so much as a muscle or force a word past your stiff lips. 
“You’re under no obligation to tell me or anyone,” Kate says, and her voice is suddenly gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “I’m sure you had your reasons. I won’t be telling John, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh. Thank you,” you breathe, throat so tight that the words almost don’t come out. 
It’s the closest you’ve come to admitting to it, tangentially or not, and even now it’s spoken only out of the corner of your mouth. You don’t think you have it in you to recite the events sequentially. Even in the privacy of your memory, it comes piecemeal, in fragmented images that flicker across your mind because maybe to remember it whole would be too much. 
You don’t say much more after that, and neither does Kate. That wasn’t the point of bringing it up, you think. You'd know if it was. 
When John comes to fetch you at the end of the day, you leave without saying goodbye to Kate. Only a stiff smile before heading out on your way. If she returns your smile, you don’t notice it. To John, you simply duck your head and follow him out the door, letting him help you up onto the horse without a word. 
If it bothers him that you refuse to speak to him, he doesn’t show it. 
It’s so many steps back that you might as well be back where you started. Maybe even further back, a voyage gone so wrong that when you look over your shoulder, you can’t make heads or tails of where you came from. The trees from the other side of the trail never look quite the same. 
If you could open your mouth and say it, you would. If you knew he’d listen. But you don’t think John is that kind of man. Against the gold of the setting sun, he cuts a figure from times of yore. He speaks plain while you tend to speak in fricatives and bilabial stops, incapable of enunciating the words. 
You feel like a wound on the world. Getting it wrong again and again. 
It’s an old pain, one that started back when you were too small to hold it all. Now, you’ve grown large enough to hold it, though it holds you back in turn. You remember your parents studiously ignoring first creation like some noxious cloud billowing from the chimney. There’d been too many children for them to care about the runt. Shipped off to your aunt’s and uncle’s just for the cycle to repeat itself. 
It’s an old grief, this one, friendly because it nudges at your hips when you brush by, striking in the blue-green. And when it burns, it burns.
“John, I—” you say when he helps you down back at the house. 
He stares down at you, waiting you out. Your mouth goes dry, the truth beyond your grasp again. Your heart aches when his brows furrow and the lines around his eyes crease again, frustration welling beneath the surface. 
You understand. It sits under your skin too. 
"Go inside," he says instead when you don't go on. "I'll bring in the horses and start supper."
Your God sits at the edge of the bed, wholly lacking praise. It’s not His fault that it’s been awhile. These days, you can hardly muster up the energy to say hello. You gargle saltwater before you bathe and scrub your skin free of blood, waiting for the next morning to come.
And you think, lying on your side while John sleeps on the other side of the bed, wouldn’t it be lovely to get it right now, rather than in retrospect?
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Vanishing Act ~ HHJ
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⤜WORD COUNT: 1.7K
⤜GENRE: Established relationship, mafia romance, mafia boyfriend! NON IDOL, Arguing couple, fighting, making up, cry baby reader, angst with a fluffy ending
⤜PAIRING: Hyunjin!Mafia x Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
A/N: I lost the original screenshot! But I remembered cry baby reader so I hope this is okay! 
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Hyunjin paced back and forth in the dimly lit office he'd spent most of the day in, his mind plagued with worry. You had vanished without a trace earlier in the day. You hadn't answered his calls or messages, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that gnawed at him. In their world, disappearing like that wasn't just unusual; it was dangerous. His anxiety only grew in his chest the more he thought about what could have happened to you.
"Did you find her?" He growled out at your personal guard who had managed to lose you this morning. He'd hired Mark because he was supposed to be the best of the best, an ex-military man who was also a private investigator and you'd managed to get out of his sights.
"No," Mark gulped, looking around at the office and back at Hyunjin who looked as though he was about ready to throw up at the thought of something happening to you. Being who he was in this world meant anyone close to him had a giant target on their back and you were the closest person to him in the whole world. 
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As the hours stretched on, Hyunjin's anxiety mounted higher and higher as he thought about everything. He imagined all sorts of scenarios - rival gangs, undercover cops, or some personal vendetta targeting you. He couldn't afford to lose you. You were his anchor, his solace in the tumultuous world they inhabited, you were everything to him and the thought of losing you was tearing him up inside.
Finally, as the evening descended into darkness, Hyunjin made his way home ready to find someone else to try and find you but when he walked through the door he couldn't believe his eyes.
You were sitting calmly on the couch, engrossed in a book, and his anger flared. No one had been able to find you and you'd just been sat there all day?
"Where the hell have you been?" he barked, his voice echoing off the walls. You jumped, dropping your book onto your lap and staring up at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion spread across your face.
"Hyunjin, I was just out for a walk. I needed some time alone." You breathed out, you assumed he was referring to you being gone most of the day. You just needed some time away from everything to relax and clear your mind. 
Something you used to do a lot before the two of you had moved in together, something you didn't think was that big a deal, especially since you'd stuck to the gardens of his mansion and just spent most of the days in there. The place he had once told you was the safest place in the country. 
"Alone?" Hyunjin's voice rose, his frustration bubbling over as he stared at you, how could you not be taking this as seriously as he was? Did you find this all funny? 
"You think you can just disappear like that? Do you have any idea how worried I was? Do you know many enemies we have out there that would love to get their hands on you!?" His voice bounced off the walls and you stood up, wanting to get away from his wrath since you knew he would go on a tangent for a while.
"Hyunjin-" He cut you off by shaking his head at you and scoffing loudly,
"Don't Hyunjin me! You know how worried I get when you disappear on me without a word!" He yelled, his anger finally getting the better of him as he lashed out at you, knowing deep down that it was wrong for him to do so. 
"What if someone had gotten to you? Huh? Kidnapped you?!" You stared down at the floor, feeling the tears starting to rush into your eyes as you did your best to stop it from happening. 
You were so insecure whenever it came to crying in front of anybody but especially someone that you were getting into an argument with. You hated that whenever someone was yelling at you your body's response was to cry, it was the same thing that happened whenever you were angry the tears would just stream down your cheeks. Hyunjin's anger surged as he saw tears rolling down your face, your shoulders trembling with silent sobs but instead of softening, his words only turned harsher, cutting through you like a knife.
"Stop crying!" He barks at you, his voice laced with venom and impatience.
"Is that all you know how to do? Acting like a damn crybaby whenever someone yells at you?!" You flinched at his words, your head shooting up and finding his eyes on you as you stared back at him. your tears flowing more freely now, your silent sobs turning into choked gasps as he turned your insecurity back on you. Something you'd never thought Hyunjin, of all people, would do to you.
You struggled to compose yourself, wiping your cheeks with trembling hands, but the tears refused to stop flowing. Hyunjin's heart clenched at the sight, a pang of guilt piercing through his anger and allowing him to see how much he had hurt you.
He knew just how insecure you were about it, how you saw it as a sign of weakness but his frustration had gotten the better of him and now he'd only added to your pain,
"Yn, I..." He began, his voice faltering as he reached out to you, but you recoiled, your eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. 
"Don't," You whispered, your voice barely coming out, you couldn't believe that he would do this to you.
"Just...Don't," You choked out, walking away from him as he called for you to go back to him but you couldn't. Right now you didn't want to be near him or face him after what he had said to you. 
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After an hour or so Hyunjin decided to venture up to your shared bedroom, his anger had completely vanished the second he realised how hurt you were but he'd wanted to give you some time alone before he came up to your room. Entering the room, he found you curled up on your bed, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. 
The sight tore at his soul, a painful reminder that he had been the one to cause all of this. 
"yn," He whispered as he approached you cautiously, his footsteps hesitant as he sat down beside you.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," His voice was barely audible over the sound of your tears. You flinched at his words but you didn't push him away. Instead, you turned over to face him, your eyes red-rimmed and filled with sorrow.
"You always say that." You murmur, "But it doesn't change anything." Hyunjin felt a stab in his chest, he knew he messed up and he knew that mere apologies wouldn't be enough to mend the damage he had created. He reached out to you, his hand shaking as he wiped away tears from your cheek. 
"I know," He admitted, his voice heavy with regret, "But please, Yn, give me a chance to make it up to you. I'll do anything, I swear," He begged. He wasn't below begging you, he would do anything for you, take a bullet, run in front of a car, anything for you.
"What could you even do to make this up to me?" You mumbled, your voice tinged with scepticism and he moved to sit beside you on the bed, looking at you as he sighed softly. 
"I had a whole evening planned you know, I was going to take you out to dinner...wine and dine you," He smiled weakly as you stared at him,
"When you weren't here I freaked out, I got scared that something had happened to you and I let my anger get the better of me," He admits as he looks down at your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing softly. 
"You disappeared all day without a word...I was worried." He admits to you, not trying to get into another argument but just wanting you to understand his side of all of this.
"The thought of anything happening to you kills me inside." He whispered and you stared at him,
"I wasn't in any danger, I was in the gardens most of the day...I just took some time alone," Your voice had a tinge of frustration but you cuddled into your boyfriend's arms. 
"You can't just wander off without a word, in this world, I need to know where you are." He pleaded with you, his eyes finding yours as you bite down on your lip and nod at him. 
"I worry because I love you. I can't bear the thought of losing you." He whispers as you kiss his cheek softly, 
"I love you too," You whisper back to him as his eyes start to fill with tears.
"I...I just can't lose you, Yn. Not now, not ever," He whispers as tears start to fall down his cheeks, your arms wrapping around him and cuddling closer to him. Your chest hitting something hard in his pocket,
"What-" Your laugh cut you off as you felt the box inside of his pocket.
"Oh," He groans pulling the box out from his jacket pocket and holding out the small velvet box. It was something he'd been planning to give to you at dinner that night before all of this had happened.
Slowly he opened the box and revealed a delicate diamond necklace. 
"I got this for you, I wanted to give it to you tonight, but I messed everything up," He laughed softly as you traced your fingers over the intricate design. 
"Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how much you mean to me," He begged, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears before you nodded slowly, a small smile playing on your lips.
"Okay," You whispered, kissing him softly as he carefully put the necklace around your neck and made sure it was perfectly sitting on your skin.
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Seventeen and first dates (all members)
More like this on Seventeen Masterlist <3 Requests are open! Genre: FLUFF
→ Choi Seungcheol
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“You do look like a fish” he says.
You and cheol were walking around in an aquarium as your first official date. You both have been really close friends for a while before you decided to finally give into your feelings and see where it goes with each other.
You couldn’t be happier, cheol really was the best thing that happened to you, even friendship wise. The sweetest boy.
“Look, that looks exactly like you” he points to ansilly looking fish through the glass.
You put you lips out and pout like a fish.
“Close your eyes; you look exactly like this fish behind you,”
You giggle at that, you’ve never been told you look like a fish and that made you laugh,
“let me take a picture” he says.
You stand at the glass, with your lips out and eyes closed. After two clicks you feel someone in front of you and a pair of lips, pecking yours.
“Hey!” You were fully red. It was your first kiss with him. It was playful and so sweet. Nothing like you imagined but a 100 times cuter, innocent.
“Sue me! I stole a kiss” he says running away from you while you chase him.
“Come back here”
→Yoon Jeonghan
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“You can’t eat anything if you don’t catch anything!,” jeonghan tells you while you stand at this pool like area for fishes.
You and Jeonghan confessed quite mutually to each other that you liked each other. All your friends could see it, how you would kick your feet at his messages and how he would giggle at yours. You weren’t just friends.
“You’ll let your girlfriend starve?” You ask acting offended.
He pauses for a second and scans you top to bottom.
“Yes”
You playfully smack him while the fish catching turns into a competition about who catches more fish. At the end of the night you had 6 fishes you caught, snd you foulness possibly eat 6 fishes so you gave some away to the kids who couldn’t catch any.
“If this is how we were going to catch fish, I would’ve taken you fishing instead”
“I am somewhat of a master fisherman myself”
You giggle at the reference.
→ Hong Joshua
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You’ve liked joshua ever since he transfered to you school in high school. He was your bench mate and it wasn’t a long time before you fell for his charm, he was a handsome boy with such a kind heart. You still had an umbrella he gave you to use.
You met him again at a reunion after years and the group of friends planned to go to an amusement park that weekend at the reunion.
Seeing him again, after years set you off with some feelings, all unresolved.
You reached the amusement park as a group but little did you know it was a set up and suddenly you and Joshua were left alone.
You ended up touring the entire park, you realised he was the same crazy shua you knew and liked. Everything he did made you laugh.
“Here!” He says and hands you a bracelet he won shooting at balloons.
“A souvenir from our first date” he adds.
You look up at him in surprise.
“First date?”
“Unless you don’t want it to be”
“No, of course, I like that”
“Good”
‘Our first date’ rang in your head the rest of the day.
→ Moon Junhui
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This was the first time you had gone over to your boyfriend, Jun's apartment. He liked decorating his apartment and interior design, his apartment was full of decorative items, you went through them all. it was fascinating how much you realise of a person just by seeing how they decorate their spaces.
Jun had called you over for a home cooked meal that he was so confident about. He was so excited to make you this Malapot that he knows he makes the best. He wanted to almost show off to you and impress you with his food.
You were excited for the food too, just listening to him talk about it made you drool when you made the plan.
"Ah it's ruined" you hear jun's voice from the kitchen.
"What's wrong?" you walk over.
"Somethings wrong, it's not tasting the way it's supposed to" he says dejected. You go over and he gives you a spoonful of broth from the pot. It was quite flavourful.
"It's good Jun, what's wrong?" you ask again.
"It's good, not great, I can do so much better" he was very disappointed. He just wanted you to enjoy his food and like his food.
"I'll eat anything you make junnie" you say hugging his side while his eyes never leave the pot in front of him.
You force him to look at you.
"There's always a next time, I'm not going anywhere"
He finally smiles.
→ Kwon Hoshi
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You were cycling with your boyfriend of 1 week, hoshi. You met at a fashion show and immediately clicked. You fell for his goofy personality and felt this urge to protect him from the world.
He asked you out first and you happily agreed. Both of you had some feelings some flirtatious text messages happening between the two of you.
But today you could taste blood, he was cycling way too hard and you couldn’t catch up.
He was a little ahead of you while you volunteered to crash in the grass to relax, you would’ve died if you went on for a little longer.
You were panting while the tiger came back to you to check if you are okay.
“Cycling is too hard” you say between laboured breaths.
“You have no stamina” he smirks suggesting something completely different.
It was your chance to chase him down for that comment.
“We’ll see” you blush but also respond sassily chasing him in the grass.
→ Jeon Wonwoo
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Jeon Wonwoo, your next door neighbour that had taken a liking to you, has made it routine to pick you up from office everyday, so you could go back home together.
You were still unsure about dating him and he gave you all the time in the world to come to a decision.
You wanted to surprise him today, by agreeing to date him. You had spent a lot of time together and he was a sweet guy. You were just scared of something, past relationships weren’t exactly a flower path. He understood that.
You came out of your office building, to see wonwoo, hopefully your soon to be boyfriend, waiting at his bike.
“Did you wait for too long?”
He smiles. “I’ll wait forever, if its for you”
Maybe you don’t have to wait anymore.
You take a deep breath and take his hands in yours.
“Listen, I had to talk to you about something”
His body language changes and he’s almost nervous. You fidget with his thumb, very embarrassed and shy.
“Whats wrong?” He asks getting concerned at how you couldn’t make eye contact with him.
“I gave us a thought”
He visibly freezes. Like he’s preparing himself for anything thats to come.
“I like you Wonwoo, I know I’ve been scared but Im ready to get through that”
There is a glowing smile on his face. “I’ll treat you so well, I promise” his hand pats your hair. It makes you feel safe and reassured.
“So girlfriend?” He asks putting your helmet on you and buckling up for you.
Him calling you girlfriend sets your chest on fire.
“Yes, boyfriend” you squeak out, not used to this.
“Let me take you to the moon, our first date”
“I’ll go anywhere with you” you say softly, getting on his bike.
→ Lee Jihoon
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Jihoon was a schoolmate first, your co worker second, he recommended you at the company you work at now. You became close with him being the only person you knew. Soon, this closeness turned into romantic feelings. You couldn’t get him out of your head.
You asked him out, you straight up told him, you like him and what he thinks about it. It was the first time you had seen him speechless. He took a minute to collect himself before he said “sure” and you started dating. Although his demeanour may seem as if he doesn’t care but you know he likes you too. There has been multiple times jihoon has gone out of his way to help you blend into your work and otherwise.
“Our first dinner in the studio” he said and it made you smile. You like when he says ‘ours’
“You never let me eat in the studio, how cone today you called me here”
His face turns red before he answers. “I thought it’ll be rude to have your girlfriend eat out while I work in the studio”
It was your turn to turn red. You mutter “cute” under your breath.
The power suddenly shuts down and the whole room goes pitch black. Jihoon steps out to see if its just his studio.
“I think something wrong with the generator on this wing” he says sitting next to you on the couch while you gobble up the food you brought for the both of you.
You hear him sigh and carefully lay his hesd on your shoulder.
“Are you tired?”
He shakes his head cuddling closer, you never took him for a cuddler but its like a cat, if a cat CHOOSES you to cuddle, you shouldn’t move. Thats exactly what you did.
You turn on the light on your phone and set it on the coffee table next to your food.
“Torch light dinner”
You hear him chuckle at that while you offer him some food almost feeding him.
You hoped the light never came back and this stayed like this forever.
→ Seo Myungho
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You ran an art workshop where you met Minghao for the first time. You didn’t know what he did and who he was until you saw your pictures plastered all over the internet one day.
He was the first to say he likes you. You liked him too, he brought perspective to your life and you loved that about him.
You and him were at a library having a relaxed date but the thing is you suggested going to a library when you didn’t even read.
You look over at hao, sitting by the window completely immersed in his book, he looked gorgeous. You pick out a comic to read from the shelf. You were a bad reader, even comics bored you after a while. But since Hao liked reading you thought you can enjoy it too. You sat next to him on the couch he was at.
You flipped through the pages and almost got bored instantly.
“Trouble reading?” You hear a whisper next to you.
You look up, not being able to manage this front you put on to impress him.
This was the second time he caught you looking bored.
“I’ll be honest, I’ve never been a reader”
“Everyone’s a reader, you just haven’t found the right book yet”
He’s so wise and calm, he brings stability to your chaos. He suggested a book you might like and he was right, you were immediately hooked to the premise and discovered that you like the thriller genre that doesn’t let you put your book down.
→ Kim Mingyu
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“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”
You shake your head no. Kim Mingyu was a random guy you bumped into at a coffee shop you frequented at. You madecthe first move and dared to ask his number.
Turns out he was the sweetest guy you had spoken to in 4 years. He really reset your brain and suddenly you just wanted to do everything in your power to see where things go. You felt an instant connection you didn’t want to let go of and regret later. You decided you’d go for it.
Kim mingyu comes back to your car, you and him decide to watch a screening of cars 2 in a drive in theatre. You have never been to one and he was excited to show you.
As soon as he opens his package of food, the air is filled with the smell of burrito. It makes you hungry as soon as it hits your nose. But you already told him you didn’t want any, and asking for even a bite felt criminal.
But you were subconsciously staring at his food.
“You’re staring y:n” he calls you out.
You immediately snap out of it and look away, muttering a quick sorry under your breath.
You see him dig into his package and pull out another burrito wrap.
“This is for you” he hands you a wrap.
“No, Im really fine” you defend yourself again, but you were so so hungry.
“I know what ‘im fine’ means y/n, it means you’ll get hungry when you watch me eat” he says smiling like the big puppy he is.
You can’t help but give in, you take a wrap from him smiling sheepishly. He really was the best.
“You eat so well, it could make anyone hungry” you say cutely while he gobbled up his burrito in literally 2 bites. It was insane to watch this man eat.
He pats your head softly.
“HEY! Burrito hands!” You squeal while he laughs.
→ Lee Dokyeom
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You and Dokyeom were cycling in the park. It was one of your first dates. You had met him at a coffee shop,ordering something you also liked so he offered to pay for yours too.
Here you were on another date with the goofball. The original plan was to bicycle around the park and get some lunch at a picnic spot.
But, as with dokyeom, he fell off his bike showing off some ‘cool’ moves to you. Although he made you laugh but the fall looked bad. You ended up getting him some ice from the store to press on his wrist.
“This is very normal”
“What do you mean?”
"I was a very… curious kid, i’d put my feet out on the road as a car would pass, just to see how it feels” you laugh out loud at that. “That’s hilarious”
“At least this is making you hold my hand” he says looking down at your hands pressing his with ice while your other hand hold his wrist in place.
This realisation makes your ears go red.
→ Boo Seungkwan
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“I can’t believe it” seungkwan exclaims.
You met seungkwan as a trainee and you had become fast friends. But life happened and you decided not to be a trainee anymore. You ended up going for artist management and becoming a manager.
Life had plans of its own when they assigned you to seungkwan and your friendship rekindled. This time the friendship took a step further and you started to love spending time with him laughing with him.
One fine day in the car you blurted out that you liked him while driving him to a solo schedule. To your surprise he reciprocated these feelings. You were the happiest girl that day.
“What what happened?” You ask. You and seungkwan had come hiking to a mountain close to his place.
“My pants tore”
You laugh out loud. “What a memorable first date” you continue laughing while he scurries to cover himself with his bag and a towel he had brought in his little backpack.
“What a story, ‘kids, your dad hiked so hard, his pants tore on our first date’” you laugh thinking about the anecdote you have now you can use. Its a funny story.
“You want to have kids with me?” He asks stopping what he did and looks up at you
You freeze at what had just come out of your mouth. You did not mean it like that but now that you think about it definitely sounded like you wanted to have his babies.
“Um..”
“Thats cute” he says and a sense of relief washes over you as you try to come up with something else to catch the subject STAT.
→ Choi Vernon
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Vernon wanted to watch this scary movie and you liked him so much you just wanted to be with him. But you forgot how scary scary movies can become.
Half way through the movie you were flinching and just uncomfortable in your seat, it really felt like someone was going to grab your feet from under the seat.
Seeing you this uncomfortable, vernon casually decided to put his arm around you and cover your eyes for you while you covered your ears with both your hands to protect yourself from jumpscares.
This position automatically made you lean into him a little and it made you feel a million types of a ways. He smelled good was the only consistent thought.
“Are you okay?” He asks leaning into your ears and whispering.
It sent a shiver down your spine. You nod without being able to push out any words. You liked being this close to him. ‘The things you do to me Choi Vernon’ you think to yourself.
You could watch a thousand horror movies if this is how you watch it.
→ Lee Chan
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“Its burnt!” He exclaimed looking at the marshmellow you decided to toast for yourself.
“Thats the flavour!” You defend. You liked slightly burnt marshmallows.
You and chan are childhood friends that ended up falling for each other. Your way of showing love was through constant banter.
One such banter, Chan ended up confessing his feelings for you and you found it so cute.
You move away to get some crackers for the marshmallows. As you come back you hear a scream.
“Whats wrong whats wrong?” You panic and rush to him. You see Chan holding his fingers out and hissing in pain.
You immediately take his hand to inspect.
You see that it was a little red, he probably burnt himself. You see him think for a second. He is going to say something funny, you knew that look on his face, trying to cook up a joke.
“I burnt myself so you’ll like me” he said dramatically looking into your eyes.
The lamest joke ever made you laugh so hard, only because it was Chan who said it.
211 notes · View notes
badbtssmut · 3 days
Note
I'd love momo!!! (like hirai momo from twice??)
streamer!jk x assistant!oc (changed the weverse thing to a regular streaming platform, but you can go for it if you like!)
oc is Jungkook s assistant, and he's helping him with some home stuff. one of the clausules on her contract is that whenever they are alone, she has to wear like the sluttiest lingerie ever. they never fucked, but jk just enjoys watching oc big tits bounce. but this time he gets super horny and asks oc to give him a tit fuck, and while she's at it (she has been waiting for this moment for weeks), he decides to go on live, but they can only see him from the chest up on the live. then he tells her to get on all fours, and fuck her while he's still on live and everyone sees them
this is the lingerie I picture her wearing: https://www.tumblr.com/ithurtswhennn/726328691158892544/levi-coralynn?source=share
🐮 🐮 🐮
Inspo links: https://twitter.com/24hrplayhouse/status/1772446197145379161?t=o8osxq3JN9UH62H9Ruzfiw&s=19
https://twitter.com/helIishporn/status/1727148849456705991?t=_YM91xBRuwsamiJGJacquw&s=19
https://twitter.com/helIishporn/status/1762978556013928533?t=Y-c4jJr6zJ9A8-B0yfTY2g&s=19
ibb.co/8z3yXPt
Fuck, there was something about his shaft disappearing in those massive tits, the tip poking out with every thrust. It was exactly how he imagined it to be.
It was the first time you were helping him out with his cock, and he loved it. His hand rested on your head as you tit fucked his cock, his tongue resting over his bottom lip as he read the comments on his live stream.
He looked back down at you, and saw you staring up at him, your eyes focused on him, not his cock. You were looking at him, waiting for instructions. He smirked and patted the top of your head.
“Get on the bed, all fours.” Jungkook ordered, and you scrambled to your feet.
This was really happening, wasn’t it? You fantasized about this so many times but for it to actually happen…
You snapped out of your thoughts as he grabbed onto your hand and led you to the bed, and you did as you were told, getting on all fours. You grabbed a nearby pillow, covering your face from the webcam that was pointed at the two of you. You didn't want your face to be on live for everyone to see.
Jungkook chuckled, but didn’t seem to mind.
[Uhm what’s going on?]
[Who is that?]
[Are they gonna fuck???]
Jungkook leaned down, his hands running up your sides. You felt him press his body against yours, before he slipped your panties down to your knees, his cock rubbing against your pussy. You shivered, pressing yourself back against him. Then, he started to dry hump you, his hips bouncing against your ass and his cock sliding past your ass and pussy lips, and you couldn't help but whimper in anticipation.
“Sensitive, hm? I haven’t even put it in yet...”
You whined, biting your lip as you felt the tip of his cock rub against your clit. It felt so good, and the more he rubbed against you, the more wet you got.
He finally stopped and lined up the tip of his cock to your pussy, before slowly pushing himself inside. You gasped, your toes curling as you felt him fill you up completely. He felt so fucking good, and when he ensured that every inch was in you, you let out a breathless moan.
[Holy shit they actually gonna fuck?]
[I can’t believe this is happening lol]
[Her body is so hot tho]
He held onto your waist, and slowly began to move his hips, and you couldn't help the moans that spilled out of your mouth. He was barely doing anything but… you couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmed by him. When you got used to his size, he started to go faster, his hands gripping tightly onto your skin.
You buried your face in the pillow, whimpering into it as you felt the tip of his dick slam against your sweet spot. You bit down onto the pillow, the feeling of him being so close to you, touching you, inside of you… It was enough to melt your brain.
Jungkook didn’t say anything and neither did you, the only sounds being your bodies merging together. You were so wet that the sound was audible even over the live, and Jungkook’s grunts were just as loud. You started to move along, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.
You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the pleasure of having him inside of you, then, suddenly he pulled out and pushed you to your side, laying behind you and pushing himself in again, he fucked you from the side, the viewers having a full look at your body while they could see his cock pounding into you.
His hand slid under your body, grabbing a handful of your breasts, squeezing it as his pace grew rougher and rougher. You were a moaning mess, whimpering his name far too many times as he continued to fuck you hard.
[Wow]
[This is hot]
[Im jealous I want her body]
“A-ah!” You squealed, arching your back as you felt yourself cum all over his cock, and that seemed to have set him off, his pace growing sloppier and sloppier as he fucked you through your orgasm, and then he came, his seed filling you up to the brim.
[Holy shit I came to this too lol]
[is this even legal?]
[Are they done now?]
256 notes · View notes
gglitch1dd · 24 hours
Text
Listen yall, I know we hate Enji right. Totally hate him.
But like... 👀
Sugar daddy?
Imagine being Enji Todoroki's sugar baby, because my friends say I'm crazy when I say this AND I'M NOT CRAZY!
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Warning: Some smut towards the end, INTENSE daddy issues (Glitch starts sweating), Age Gap.
Big bad fire lord Enji who's a father who's children don't trust him. He views himself as a father who failed and considering they are all old enough that they have their own careers, they don't want to rely on him anymore.
Enji who has enough money to burn because his kids wont let him spend it on them.
Divorced, Enji Todoroki who doesn't even want to attempt entering the dating scene because he just knows how that is going to go.
Enji who's still Number One, just waiting for Shoto's generation to finish being sidekicks and burst into the ProHero space and take over the ranks..
Enji who gets dragged to meet and greet one day with Hawks (who only has like a handful of people actually wanting to meet him since everyone is scared of him), and one of them just happens to be you.
You aren't afraid of him, nor do you seem to care that he is a giant muscular man, over twice your size with hands big enough to cover your entire face.
You talk too much, you flutter around him excitedly asking him about how it is as Number One, he isn't your favourite hero by any means but you respect his career and what he's had to do to get there.
He finds you annoying, but he can't help but crack a smile when you attempt to make him laugh.
Enji who finds himself thinking about you at the end of the day, in his empty home wondering whether you would smile as big as you did today.
Enji who meets you a few days later while at a coffee shop by pure coincidence. Who actually gets the courage to talk to you and ask about you.
The two of you talk for a few minutes, you telling him about what course in varsity you were in and what exactly you were doing.
He honestly wanted to throw in the towel when he found out you were nearly twenty years younger than him. That sounded like his next scandal.
However, you managed to make him feel as if time just ran by.
Somehow, between getting to know you better and managing to actually get your number, he found out that you were struggling financial. Your average student that was just trying to make enough money to survive and pay off the student debt you were in.
So Enji decided to help. Not because he wanted anything back, but he had the money that you could use.
That's how Enji became your Sugar Daddy, although he hated the term. He was something like a boyfriend but not really. A Sugar daddy but not really.
The both of you grew close, your own issues and traumas fueling your relationship. He was a failed father and you felt like a failed daughter.
He found pleasure in the little things. In having you hold his hand and drag him around the mall, your eyes catching on clothes that you would love to wear or him buying you a new laptop because yours was old or buying you a new phone because you got a good grade, or him sitting you down for a nice meal because you deserved to taste good wine more than ten times older than you.
However, Enji wasn't expecting to have you come into his home and wind your way into his bed.
Enji was not weak by any means. His self control was impeccable and so was his own strength.
However, having you hold onto his shoulders as you struggled to take his fat Coke can of a cock, was a type of rush he didn't expect to find again. To have you whining, telling him how big he was, how warm his skin was and how nice he felt inside you, all around you. He could encage you so easily too.
He wasn't rough at you the first time. He was slow and methodically, watching you undo yourself on his cock in pure bliss. You whined as you held onto him for dear life, almost as if you were afraid he would disappear. But Enji didn't disappear.
He was right there, and he held his large arms around you. He would rather die than have you, his little flame, disappear and be snuffed out of his life.
-Glitch1d
(random thought honestly)
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mitsvriii · 2 days
Text
self-talks
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・❥・aventurine x reader
★ wc: 730+ ★ no reader type or pronouns used or specified ★ cw: aventurine is his #1 hater, mentioned death/ways to die, set during 2.1 quest, written by a mentally-tired high schooler, lowercase intended, lazily proofread ★ no summary for this one, notes at the end ★ if you get what’s happening i’ll give you a cupcake
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“[name] doesn’t really love you, y’know.”
that voice. the same, agonizing tone that held itself high as if the owner knew every secret in the world. how aventurine hated how it followed him like an ant and he was a basket filled to the brim with succulent insecurities - as if they themselves were ripe, appetizing pieces of fruit.   
the tinted shadow, or should he say figured, of himself wouldn’t stop drilling those words into his head. aventurine tried to prevent the words from bothering him but he couldn’t shake them. it was agonizing having to hear his ‘future self’ talk about you as if you thought he was the last pawn left in a chess game, waiting to be used for the greater good. 
“that’s not true.”
because he knew you. then again so did he. future is often wiser than present but if that’s the case then why did he feel anxious at his words? 
shaking his head like a parent who caught onto their child’s lie, the ‘shadow’ tsked in mock disappointment. “honestly, i thought you were self-aware of the majority of one’s actions. are you so blinded by the scorching love that [name] provides that you cannot even see that you’re burning?”
he wasn’t burning, and you weren’t so bright that he wouldn’t be able to see anything else besides you, either. it was infuriating how this version of him - more of a shell than aventurine was in the present time, hollowed out and left to rot on a tree branch of desolation - seemed to believe that he was wiser than him about the love of their? his life. 
aventurine was as loyal as he could be to you without pushing past his boundaries (which were often as weak as a dam made out of twigs when it came to you). he could say the same about you, the absolute truth to anyone but him. bringing a hand up to his hair aventurine scratched it roughly in discomforting thought. all of this ‘he said, he says’ was making him go crazy.
or crazier than he already is in this deforming dreamscape of twisted memories and second-takes. if he ever gets out of this ‘living nightmare’, the first thing he’s going to do is charge up to veritas and-
“i wonder if [name’s] flocked to ratio yet. clutching onto him as soft weeps leave puffy eyes.”
okay, buddy.
“what’s your deal?” aventurine hissed at the amusement drawn on his face, covered hands digging crescent shapes into his gloves. “you seem so adamant in getting me to believe [name] doesn’t love me, yet i’ll probably never-“ cutting himself off with a quick bite down on his tongue, letting it go swiftly when metallic laced his taste. 
he couldn’t think like that. that anxious feeling that sunk into his stomach as if it were made of quicksand tried to open and claw its way out of him.
if aventurine could not ever see your face or hear the voice (that he wanted to put on a record and play it repetitively), he feels as if he would rip out all of his hair that you adored combing your fingers through, floss it through his teeth, tie it up, and ha-
a shaky exhale, “there’s a high chance i’ll never see [name] again, so what’s the point of getting me to openly despise everything that pertains to…what’s the point?”
he only smirked in response, the expression on his face was akin to looking in a mirror of opposition to aventurine’s own. he hated how he looked.
oh. so that’s it, huh? could it be that his ‘future’ version seemed to be nothing more than what aventurine himself already imagine what his future would be like, was that it? whom was molded with clay laced with nothing but pure self-hatred without you being there to swat them away.
inhaling sharply, pain shot up through aventurine’s head as he doubled over. he clutched his head and gritted his teeth as if he had a severe brain-freeze, shaking it as he stomped a foot to the ground as if he were in a tantrum. in all honesty, he looked like he was. 
puffs of frustration left him as he glanced up, eyes meeting his own heavy, irritated ones as he stared into them with ferocity. “oh aventurine”, he spoke to himself as he blinked away.
“you’ve got to stop talking in mirrors.”
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me if writing bad characterization for my fics was hilarious 😹😹😹 seriously though i need to character study him more. take this while i go cry into my pillow over exams 🙏 this didn’t go as i originally had in mind but we ball!!! i hope this flops harder than a fish on a deck after it has just been caught i hate it sm
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ihadlife · 3 days
Text
puppy hybrid!reader returning a found towel and Price indulging in a scent kink
tags: 18+, hybrid!reader, gn!reader (however, there is a use of 'puppy cunt'), scent kink, masturbation, talk of oral and penetrative sex
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Price straightens up in his chair after hearing the knock on his door. With a gruff 'Come in', he waits for a second for the door to open and reveal you. You – one of the four hybrids they have on the base. The other ones are dog hybrids and you're no different – the army having use for your kind mainly because of your qualities. Heightened sense of smell and hearing, agility and speed, orientation, loyalty. He has worked with you on one mission and even the ever so careful captain was pleasantly surprised with the uncommon addition to his team. He praised you accordingly in the report after the mission was done, genuinely knowing that you would make it far in the army. 
"Sorry, captain." Your voice is meeker than one would assume, seemingly not matching your appearance what with your big canines and sharp eyes. "You left this in the gym." You extend your arm towards him. And in your hand, there it is – the towel Price used while weight training this morning. 
His eyes stay trained on the towel for a few seconds before he moves to get it from you, clearing his throat as he does so. 
"Thank you, private." 
"No problem, sir!" Your voice is cheery but he notices how your eyes move towards the floor before you turn around and exit his office. Was it embarrassment on your face? Shyness? It's hard to tell since he doesn't have the pleasure of knowing you too well. 
The whole interaction was so quick and brief Price almost feels like he hallucinated it. The only proof of it ever happening being the towel he's still holding in his hand. His eyebrows scrunch up as he looks at the generic white towel. It's a standard, army-issued one. The towel doesn't have more personality than the grey sludge they get served every morning in the canteen. 
He breathes out suddenly when he realises how you were able to recognise the towel as his. You must have smelled it – must have pressed your nose against the fabric, recognising the smell of his sweat. Were you able to recognise everybody's smell the same way? Price's cheeks tint the slightest shade of pink when he realises that he actually hopes you couldn't. 
He tentatively brings the towel to his face, putting his nose to the material, smelling it himself. All he can smell is the faint, cheap smell of the detergent they use on the base. His sense of smell isn't developed enough to smell anything else. Either that or his nose is scent blind to the way his own body smells. His mind involuntarily reminds him of the memories when he smelled other people's bodies – always during sex, able to recognise their distinct scent and thoroughly enjoying it. 
Did you enjoy it? When you pushed your nose into the nonoffensive cloth and smelled him on it? Were you able to smell anything else from it? What shower gel he used that morning, what lotion he applied afterwards? The scent of the deodorant he has been using for the last year or so, always buying the same one in the store without giving it a second thought? 
He feels his cock stir in his trousers. Maybe you did like it. Maybe you spent a few moments sniffing the fabric, just enjoying yourself. Maybe you got just as aroused as he is getting right now. 
He buries his face in the textile once again, his hand hesitantly pressing against the swelling dick in his trousers. 
Maybe you got aroused and spent a few moments with the towel yourself, rubbing yourself against it, spreading your scent on it too. Marking it. Who's to say? Not him. He couldn't tell, but he could at least imagine. 
He unzips his trousers and takes his cock out, now fully erect. He moves his hand with the white towel still in it, bringing it underneath his office table and wrapping it around himself as he starts to fist his now covered cock. 
He hopes you smelled it for longer, hopes you spent some time with it, hopes that you rubbed yourself against it.
His head rolls back on his neck as he imagines how well your puppy cunt would take him, milking him right from the start. Would you smell him during the act? Burrow your face in his neck, stick your nose into his armpit? Would you happily rub your face against his crotch right before wrapping your lips around him, getting drunk on the scent of his sweat and musk? Whine happily while he massages your pointy ears and tugs on your tail? 
With a slightly concealed grunt, he spills onto the fabric, getting more of himself onto it. He chuckles slightly as he wipes all residue off of his dick before zipping up his trousers again. 
He will not be washing the towel anytime soon. And he will be forgetting it at the gym next time again. 
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bunnys-kisses · 2 days
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jailhouse rock au - again! (master-list) <3
i imagine that simon would get rather insecure when you two were in public. while he adored you, he'd move the sun across the sky for you! but shouldn't you be with someone better?
someone who wasn't working a blue collar job in small parts manufacturing, who wasn't a former criminal? like simon stole and was locked away in the can for several years because of it! what kind of man would look a woman like you in the eyes and you'd say, 'i want you.', it left a clench in his gut that he couldn't get over.
he wanted to be good enough, but failed. just like he failed at being good enough for his father. sometimes his old man's words made him shiver at inopportune times.
"simon." you said.
"yes, love." his attention was drawn to you.
you leaned over, closer to him and rubbed his forehead softly, "you're getting worry lines."
he leaned in to kiss you, his hands were on your legs that were draped over his lap. he said, "sorry, love."
but no matter how much the anxiety bit at him, you loved him with your whole heart. you never shielded your love away from him, you found that when you were with him, you simply lit up. you could do all the mushy couples stuff together.
"we should go on the ferris wheel!"
"look there's a photobooth over there."
"i'm grabbing another straw to try some of that milkshake of yours!"
and simon ate it up. and as you got further into your pregnancy, you became more "mushy" as you said. you'd cry more often, but you weren't a weak woman. if anything you still commanded your little household more than before. because now simon couldn't say no to his pregnant girlfriend.
"yes, love." he said to your request as he was nuzzled up with your belly. he basked in its warmth for a minute before he got up to do what you asked.
your life wasn't without arguments, simon could be closed off and have a dark storm cloud over his head. but he would never tell you why, it drove you crazy when it happened. you knew so much yet so little, you had his entire life mapped out but his childhood (the root of some of his issues) was entirely blank in your memory.
"speak to me, simon... i'll never judge."
"i don't wanna scare ya off."
you reached out for him and got as close as you could. you stood on your tiptoes to be more eye level. you held onto his face and said simply, "simon, if i was scared off. i would've never sent that letter."
and simon replied, "never leave." and pulled you into a tight hug. and for the first time in many years, he cried. he cried so hard that he had to go on his knees with you because he felt so weak.
he was your lover, your pen pal! he was everything. and as you kissed him on the cheek you said, "nothing will ever take us away from one another."
-
later that evening, you thought you'd be sweet and feed him crisps from the bag while his head was in your lap. while he softly licked the seasoning off your fingers, you let out a small moan.
simon smiled a bit, his heart of ice was completely melted with you. and with a hand up the skirt of your maternity dress. his tongue was on your fingers while his fingers were skimming your pussy.
"tomorrow." you said, "i want to know everything i can about simon riley."
he looked up at you with those dark eyes of his. he nodded and said, "of course, love. now c'mere."
let's say that the most fun you ever had having sex with him up to that point was when he took you on the couch. however it did leave you with a pretty bruise on your knees from pressed into the base of the couch while you rode him. <3
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sp1d3rzz · 24 hours
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Can we talk about how much of a pervert Midoriya is???
Warning !! : Masturbation, degradation, and pussy eating. Lemme know if I missed anything ^^
Like think about it. Your average bullied 'weird' kid who honestly doesn't have a lot, (no friends, no quirk, and certainly no girlfriend) is just so dirty.
Uses his computer a LOT. You can't tell me he isn't sitting there jerking off to his oddly specific choice in hentai because he can't stop thinking about how girl's hand accidentally brushed against his while walking.
Poor thing probably doesn't even know the girl was definitely gossiping with her friends later about the accident.
"I mean, did you see the way his cheeks went bright red?" followed along with a few "yeah"'s and "that guy is so weird"'s.
Or maybe he does?? Maybe he imagines how much shit the girls talk about him so his orgasm comes even faster. Midoriya finds pleasure in someone who knows how to put him in his place.
His rough hand moving up and down his length, biting down extra hard on the hem of his favorite 'Plus Ultra!' shirt to keep him from making too much noise.
Groans and whines are heard from behind the door to his room as he trails a thumb over his slit, bringing the pre-cum around his tip to ease the tension. His head dips back and his eyes close.
He imagines the feeling of being stepped and shoved into the floor with the heel of his favorite hentai cosplayer. Insults and degrading words going through his ears and to the blood of which flows to his girthy cock.
"You're such a naughty boy, hm?", "Say it, say your mommy's naughty little boy.", "Want me to spit on you?...Yes?? Dirty bitch."
Saddest part is that he just can't help how he feels. Always becoming heated whenever a girl tells him how messy and improper his hair is.
Of course, she means it as a way to make him feel self-conscious about himself. But little does she know how he thinks about how it'd look even messier if she were to tug at his green strands while he ate her out like it was his last meal.
Mouth desperately sucking up the juices of her cunt as he moans and whimpers pathetically from just the pure taste of her warmth.
His nose swiping against her clit every time he adjusts himself to get a better angle. Arms wrapping around plush thighs to bring her closer to his face.
"Tastes— so good–" he'll buck his hips up into nothing just to cool his sensations. Eyes watch every move she makes, just to make sure he's doing this right. Just to make sure he's pleasing her.
And when she finally cums and scoots herself away from him, she see's her wetness and cum have coated his face messily. The sight might be sexy, but who wants to do anything more with a loser like him?
So when she gets up and leaves like nothing even happened (despite the fact she's practically shaking as cum leaks through her panties), he follows her to the door.
"B-bye!" he calls out, and isn't surprised when she slams her car door, starts the car, and drives away. Just a little hurt.
102 notes · View notes
emeraldborealis · 8 hours
Text
Grotesque
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FEM!reader
TW//CW: DARK FIC, stalking, vibes of somnophilia ish, sexual harassment, nonconsensual touching, threats, mention of cannibalism but no cannibalism, threatened necrophilia, a creep calls reader a whore, murder, graphic depictions of gore, blood, shock induced mania, talk of human taxidermy, no use of y/n. Dead dove do not eat. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION.
Words: 4,641
A/N: Now you may be wondering, Emerald, what the actual hell is this? Well, I wanted to know if I could still write dark fics. And I thought it was time to remind everyone this started as a horror writing blog.
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STOP! Have you heeded the warnings on this fic?
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People say something special happens when you fall in love, that suddenly everything else doesn't matter. That there's a warmth and gentleness that grows inside of you towards the other person.
But not for Ghost.
Ghost doesn't deal in warm gentleness. Simon did, but Simon is dead and buried in Mexico.
When Ghost saw you he did feel something sudden, an urge to keep everyone else away from you, an urge to protect, an urge to keep and shepherd. 
So he did.
From a distance he kept his eye on you, watched you go through your days, completely unsuspecting. Or so he thought.
You knew he was there, you knew from day one. Knowing he was there was more of a comfort than a fear, so when the sound of your front door opening in the middle of the night came to your ears you were more than content to pretend you were still asleep.
Keeping your breathing even and deep, keeping your expression neutral, letting nothing tip him off to the fact you were awake was a skill you learned in your youth, one you needed to survive the house you grew up in.
You were lonely, and you were alright with him taking advantage of that. You wanted him in your life because there was nothing else in your life. A phantom, a ghost willing to watch over you. Something that stayed in the dark, content with silent control.
His footsteps were light coming down the hall, almost silent, if you weren't listening for him you wouldn't have heard him. You wondered how many times he'd come and you hadn't woken up.
Hearing him pause in the hallway you imagined him looking at your photos, committing them all to memory, each one of their locations and if they were perfectly level or not. You knew he'd take in every detail before moving on, he just seemed like the type.
Your door used to make noise when it opened, but a month back it suddenly stopped. A reminder of his silent presence ever lingering, you often wondered if he'd fixed other things for the convenience of his watching, of his sneaking.
Nothing was allowed to jeopardize his stalking, nothing was allowed to tip you off to his presence. Nothing was allowed to give you evidence to stop him.
Listening, you heard him move silently through your room, coming to stand beside your bed, your acting was imperceivable, especially when you weren't looking for it.
You didn't react when the soft feeling of a gloved hand trailed over your face, the glove was rough, but he used it gently, kept his touch featherlight, barely even there.
His hand went from your face down your exposed arm, feeling the lovely skin of your appendage sticking out of the blankets for the sake of regulating your body temperature. The feeling nearly made gooseflesh blossom on your skin, nearly made you shudder. Do sleeping people shudder? Looking into that could be good for future visits from your stalker.
You felt his figure lean over you, breathing you in like a bad habit, when he was satisfied he moved from your side of the bed to the other side. Gently, he laid himself down, stiff as a board laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. You were familiar with this routine by now.
He laid like a corpse, his hands clasped together over his chest. He never did more than this, never touched, never hurt. He just laid beside you for a few hours before leaving just as silently as he came, always making sure to whisper 'sweet dreams' to you before leaving hours before your alarm for work would blare into your room.
Every once and a while you would dare to put your arm over him, sometimes he moved your arm gently off of him, sometimes he let it stay.
Sometimes he watches you sleep, either facing you in bed or sitting in your desk chair.
You wished you understood him, understood why he does the things he does. Wish you understood why he didn't do certain things.
He really was a ghost, your Ghost. A mystery you weren't sure you'd ever figure out.
Rolling onto your back you flopped your arm on him, not holding him, just touching him, testing him. He didn't remove your arm this night, he let it stay, resting right above where his hands were.
You had no clue what he looked like, not really. The few times you dared a peak he was wearing a balaclava with a skull on it. But you'd grown familiar with how he breathed, the rise and fall of his large chest. That was what mattered to you, not his face. Not who he was under the skull.
Feeling him beside you didn't feel wrong, it didn't feel nauseating or dangerous. He had the capability to do harm, but he'd never left any indication that was his intention. He just seemed interested in watching you live your life. Why? You didn't know.
Sometimes you thought about what would happen if he decided to have malicious intent, how far he might go. What he might do. He was a strange man stalking you, and you were letting him. 
You were just asking to be an episode on a true crime podcast, solved or unsolved? What would it be? You suspected unsolved, even if you lived.
If he killed you how would he do it? It was interesting to think about. Would he hack you into pieces? String you apart, pull at your nervous system. Dissect you like a frog. Maybe he'd fillet you, hang you up and eat you. Or perhaps he'd take it slower, break your ankles and watch you starve to death helpless on the floor, he did like to watch you.
If he hurt you, if he touched you, he'd want to watch you as he did it. He'd want to see your face as it contorted into pain.
Really at the end of the day he was a man, no different from any other, you were risking just as much being around him as any other man. At least you believed if he witnessed another man trying to attack you he'd intervene, protect his territory.
His belongings.
Did he see himself as your keeper? Or more like a guard dog? What were his intentions here? Why was he this little shadow in your life? It seemed like he was always there, a force that lingered around you.
Your Ghost, something that was becoming a more common name for him in your mind. It seemed fitting.
To say you weren't attached to him would be a lie, he's grown on you, something consistent, something you could make yourself believe was there to be good for you. You were becoming just as infatuated with him as he seemed to be with you.
You were comfortable falling asleep beside him, letting him stay as long as he wanted before leaving. He always locked the door on his way out, after all, he was the only one allowed to creep into your home.
Shifting in bed you got more comfortable, you needed to let yourself fall back asleep if you wanted to be able to function well at work tomorrow. Your Ghost paid no mind to your shifting, he's watched you sleep in actuality and faking it enough to believe he'll never get caught. Not knowing he already has been.
At some point in the night you vaguely feel the bed shift, faintly hear his deep voice whisper something in your ear, and his soft footsteps as he leaves.
In the morning there was no trace of him, nothing tipping you off to the fact he was ever even there, nothing but your memory.
You dreaded your arrival at work, dreaded seeing him. 
Brian.
A creep in HR, you would have reported him by now but he was who you would file those reports to. You didn't know who else to file a report to, nothing was serious enough for police intervention. 
At least there was no evidence serious enough for police intervention.
Sometimes you hoped your Ghost knew about him, that he was watching your back, though you doubted he watched you at work. Still, the thought of him handling this was not unwelcome. You took a strange comfort in it actually.
Brian was not welcome in your life, he was pushy, touchy, didn't understand boundaries. Something about him gave you the heebie-jeebies, like he was doing all sorts of nefarious things to you in his mind, planning them out, waiting to execute them.
You hated how he watched you, he was doing more than just undressing you with his eyes. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel like he wanted to do more to your skin than just molest it. Do more than possess and sink under your surface.
He looked to covet. Your Ghost looked to encroach and observe.
You liked how your Ghost watched you, like a guard dog willing to be sicked on anyone, to be your defense, to get them off of you, to keep them away from you.
"Come on, doll. When are you going to agree to come over? Let me pour you a drink, I promise I can mix you up something you'll like. Or at least let me drive you home sometime, there's no need to take the train when it's raining. Don't want you catching a cold." Brian cooed to you, walking with you as you made your way to the elevator, he always waited for you.
You'd only step into the elevator with him when it was crowded, otherwise you'd wait, make an excuse and talk to the lady at the front desk until you saw someone you knew would go up to your floor or above.
You refused to be alone with him. Not even for a second.
"I don't drink. And I like the rain." You shot him down, trying to step around him, but his arm caught your waist, stopping you.
"Okay, how about we watch a movie? Play a game?" He gave your waist a squeeze, testing your patience. He was a persistent man who believed he would get what he wanted. You wondered how many times he had. How many girls came before you.
"I'm not interested." Spinning out of his hold you continued walking towards the elevator, a good group of people already waiting.
"Come on, doll. I'll make it worth your time." He trailed after you.
You didn't like the thought that he had access to your address, that he might know where you lived, that all he'd have to do to figure it out is look at your personal records.
"I have a boyfriend. We're serious, he stays the night almost every night. I'm not interested." A small lie, laced with truth, you did have a man who stays the night. Your Ghost. You needed him to know you weren't alone at night.
There was a warning light in your brain that was starting to predict something. Something was coming. How does the quote go? 'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.'
Something was coming, something you were not sure how to stop. You were in terrible danger, you could feel it in the way his hands defiled you with their touch. Scorching and burning with how atrocious it was.
"That's alright, I just want to spend time with you. Nothing serious." Everyday he grew more bold. A predator closing in on their prey.
You were not going to be a boiled frog, you knew when this started, and you know the temperature is rising to dangerous peaks.
How many girls has he done this to?
How many.
"I don't think my boyfriend would like that, he's protective." Joining the others waiting on the elevator you watched the floor indicator, nearly holding your breath waiting for it to reach ground level.
"Protective? I'm no danger." Leaning in closer he whispered in your ear, careful now that you were surrounded by people. No witnesses. No one else could hear his persistence, it might one day arise suspicion.
"I like to spend time with him when I'm off work. I'm a busy person." You took a breath as the elevator doors opened, stepping inside with everyone else.
"We'll talk more about this later. I just want to get to know the next employee of the month better." His voice was sickeningly charming, his words derailing your train of thought.
"What?" You hadn't heard anything about that, you weren't even super important in your department. He was baiting you with reward. Setting himself up as innocent, someone who was rooting for you. A devastated work friend when he hears of your inevitable disappearance.
He played this game too well.
How many girls came before?
How many times has he gotten away with this?
"I pulled some strings, got you some well earned recognition. We need to celebrate it." His smile was all teeth, unnatural. It was a threat.
You really couldn't tell anyone about this now, not after he's painted himself as the good guy. Just trying to get employee's recognition. You'd sound like an ungrateful asshole. No one would listen.
No one would listen.
"Today, we will celebrate today." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. 
Whatever he was planning, whatever he was going to do to you, he was going to do it today. Nothing was going to stop him or get in his way. He was coming for you, going for the throat. 
You worked in paranoia and unease, took an early lunch just to avoid any possibility of running into him and completely left the building, went to a very public place for lunch. Didn't even pay attention to what you ordered, not even sure you paid before walking away. You got your food though, so someone paid.
In your panicked state you were struggling to pay any attention to the people around you, only looking for one person in the crowds of people. But he wasn't there. Brian wasn't there. Not that you could see.
Running into someone on your way to the door out of the restaurant you apologize, catching his eyes, they were brown. He was tall, well built. Dirty blonde. He oozed an energy that settled you, like your body knew him. Of course it didn't, you'd never seen this man in your life. There was just something about him.
"No worries, love." You couldn't shake your feeling of deja vu hearing his voice. "Keep your head on straight, no ones goin' to get you."
What an odd thing to say to a stranger.
"Um, thanks." You didn't know what else to say. How else to respond. You stand in front of him a moment more, awkwardly looking at him. There was just something about him you couldn't place. 
Checking the time you turned to walk away, you were going over your thirty minute lunch break. You needed to get back to work. Even if you'd rather have your eyes gouged out than have the possibility to run into Brian ever again. 
You were jumpy the rest of the work day, hypervigilant to everything around you. It wasn't atypical for Brian to interrupt your work, but he didn't come to bother you today. 
You tried to leave work early to avoid him, but he was already waiting for you when you reached the main floor. 
"I missed you at lunch today." There was something sinister in his eyes, something that didn't match his tone of forced pleasantry. "No matter. We'll go to that new pub tonight. We can meet there or I will pick you up." It was a threat, a subtle way to make sure you knew he knew where you lived. That he would come for you if you tried to skip out on him.
You'd rather he come to your house. Maybe your faithful watchdog would step in, maybe he'd help you. Maybe he'd stop him. Protect what's his. 
If not, you'd rather have whatever's going to happen, happen somewhere you know. Somewhere you've once felt safe. You'd rather die surrounded by your memories than wherever he'd take you, somewhere probably cold and unfeeling. 
"Okay." You had nothing else to say, rejection wouldn't work. This wasn't ever going to be a date, this was always going to be an assault. 
You were scared. A cornered animal with no way out. Despite your best efforts the water was starting to boil, and you had let it happen. 
Getting home didn't calm your nerves, it almost made them worse. Waiting for the arrival of the beast, waiting to be devoured, bones and all. 
Is this how the spring lambs feel? Screaming as they go down the line to the slaughter. All just to satisfy a man's hunger. 
Is that all women are good for? Satisfying men's hunger, lust, need for violence. Has it always been this way? Women are fucked and murdered. Will they ask what you were wearing? Blame the victim like they always do. 
Like they always do.
Maybe this would have eventually happened with your Ghost too, maybe this was just how the world works. Maybe men just have that right.
It was inevitable, unpreventable. 
It was late when the knock finally came, the sun long gone. There was nothing, no one who would shine a light on what was about to happen. Only the women with their podcasts will ever wonder what really happened to you. What led to this. 
Making eye contact with your front door only death stared back. Wicked wasn't coming. Wicked was here upon you, waiting for you to open the door for it to come in and take you. 
The knock came again, like the toll of a bell. Ringing through your ears like a sick mantra. There was no way out of this. There was nothing you could do.
Your feet shuffled towards the door, it was like walking down death row. 
The bell tolls for you. 
There was a hope inside of you that you'd open the door to your Ghost, that he's come to save you. That you could let in your stalker rather than your murderer. 
Grasping your doorknob felt like grabbing red hot metal, scorching and branding your skin, the last thing that would probably ever have your full set of fingerprints. 
You wondered if you'd fight, if you'd fight to survive or if you'd let him kill you.
It's a strange feeling, coming face to face with your mortality. 
Slowly you twisted the doorknob, letting the devil in. 
"I knew you'd let me in." The door was pushed open, pushing you back, removing your last barrier. Bringing you face to face with Brian. "A whore like you was probably just waiting for a guy like me to come along. You wanted this. Didn't you? You want me to ravage you, don't you? So needy."
He was clutching his stomach, he was bleeding. He'd been stabbed. 
You couldn't make sense of it. Was it your Ghost? Where was he now? Was he dead? Did he try to stop this? 
Brian reached for you, making you stumble back, out of his grasp. 
"Don't." Your feet wouldn't take you farther, they wouldn't let you run away. They'd take you right where he couldn't reach you, but they wouldn't let you get away. 
Maybe you did want this. Maybe every girl wanted this. Maybe that's why men thought it was okay.
"Come on, don't be like that. I know I kept you waiting but I got held up." He took a step closer, stalking towards you. "You'll look so good with the others."
No.
You didn't want this. You never wanted this. No one ever wanted this. 
This wasn't right.
He didn't have the right.
Your mind was flittering, it was hard to make it work, hard to force yourself to stay present. It's always been hard to make it work in situations like this, it hurts less when you just let yourself get hurt. But you didn't want to be hurt anymore. 
"Don't touch me." You took another step back, he was blocking the front door, but you could get out the back. Maybe someone will help you, maybe your neighbors will let you in.
"Come on, you knew it'd always come to this. I'm taking you home." You should have done more, should have opened the door with a knife. Should have been ready for him.
"No. You're not." Turning you ran, struggling with the backdoor for a moment in your adrenaline and panic, but you got it open. Slipping out you held down a scream, it wouldn't help you right now to lose your mind screaming. You needed to get away.
You didn't get far before he was on you.
Hands pushed you down to the ground, flipping you on your back, his hands found purchase on your neck, pulling you up before bashing you down, knocking the wind out of you. "A pretty doll like you would be better stuffed, skin perfectly preserved and taxidermied. Of course it would be better if I could have killed you without leaving damage, your bastard friend made sure that couldn't be a possibility. He got his, and you'll get yours."
Hands squeezed at your throat, the pressure in your head overwhelming, your eyes felt like they were going to pop out of your skull. Maybe that would help with the pressure.
"I'll separate your head from your body, that will take care of these marks. I'll figure something out for the rest of the damage. But don't worry, I'll turn you into a work of art. You'll be the prettiest out of them all." 
Wrestling with your panicking body he slotted himself between your legs to continue to choke you, pressing uncomfortably into you. A promise of what would come once you stopped moving.
You were going to die. He was going to kill you.
You were going to die.
Your hands desperately reached out, searching. Searching for anything that could help you. This couldn't be it, he couldn't do this. You couldn't die.
Finding a large rock you took hold of it with all your might, bashing it against his head, making him fall limp on top of you, blood from his head soaking into your hair, his face partially on yours.
His open mouth wreaked of Benson & Hedges cigarettes and tooth rot, saliva leaking onto your cheek. Pushing with all your might you shoved him off, adrenaline didn't allow for your hand to relax enough to drop your rock, the veins in your arms rising to the surface.
When his face scrunched and his body twitched you could hear a scream. Was that you? You didn't know anymore. Your body moved without prompt, bashing him again. And again, and again.
You hardly flinched as the blood peppered your skin, drops of crimson spraying your face. You bashed to the symphony of bones cracking, it was the only thing you could hear, the only thing filling your ears, and yet you continued, bashing until the rock in your hands was hard to hold, slippery and covered in red and grey matter.
You bashed until you felt the rock connect with the damp grass through where his face once was, nothing recognizable left of his head, nothing but the skull fragments and brain matter. Everything else was unidentifiable.
Horror and shock filled you at the sight, he wasn't dead was he? He couldn't be. He can't be dead. He wasn't a person who was dead, so he couldn't be dead.
Desperately you felt for a pulse on his neck. You didn't find one. As a last ditch effort you checked the hole of his stab wound in his stomach. It was warm. He was still warm.
He was okay. He was alright. Dead people aren't warm.
But that warmth meant he wasn't done, he wasn't done killing you, he hadn't succeeded yet. The thought made you scream. He wasn't done with you.
He hadn't succeeded yet, and he was supposed to succeed, that was his goal wasn't it? He couldn't fail. You couldn't have stopped him, you weren't capable of that. You were just a girl. You didn't have that right.
You needed more of his warmth, needed it coating you. Needed him to finish his task. His warmth was proof he would.
Searching for more you pressed your fingers inside, warmth squishing around your fingers, it felt good. Familiar almost. A familiar squelch. 
It was what you needed. More. More. More.
Wriggling your fingers inside you tested the limits of the wound, it wouldn't stretch farther, you couldn't get to more of his warmth.
But you needed more.
Getting fingers in from both hands you searched for grip through the unending amounts of red liquid around your hands.
Finding it you pulled, tearing it apart, the feeling of ripping flesh a rewarding feeling.
You were getting more, getting to the warmth. 
Your digits were digging now, puncturing into his gut, ripping and tearing, pulling out viscera and entrails. Blood perfectly coated the scene, coated you, painting an elegant picture in rouge, and most importantly, warmth.
There was a need, a desire, this couldn't be over yet, he couldn't be done yet. He wasn't done yet. You weren't dead yet, so he wasn't done.
Something pulled tight around your neck, a scarf of the small intestine, wrapping, suffocating. Pulled this tight it almost felt like his hands lovingly around your neck once more, crushing your windpipe. This was that beautiful feeling you were looking for, this was what you needed.
He wasn't done, he hadn't finished yet. You weren't dead yet, but now he could finish, now his slick warmth could finish the job.
Pulling tighter on the two ends of the thin warm viscera that same pressure in your skull was building again, a fuzziness in your vision. You couldn't breathe. It was perfect.
You needed more.
Pulling harder the scarf tightened, it wasn't enough yet, you needed to pull tighter, harder.
With the grotesque sound of tearing the pressure around your neck was gone. Air now filling your lungs in gasps, a burning feeling accompanying each inhale.
Looking down you were still holding the intestine, now in two pieces, the fluids from inside of it making your skin irritated and itchy.
He'd failed. Again.
Hearing a sound from behind you didn't startle you, turning your head your eyes met the hollow eyes of your Ghost, the white of his skull balaclava nearly glowing in the dark. "I broke him." You mumbled, disappointed, presenting the two ends of his guts to him. "You would have finished the job, right? You wouldn't have broke?"
"Of course, love." Crouching beside you he wiped the blood on your check. "I wouldn't break on you like 'e did."
"He wasn't done. He was supposed to kill me. And now he's just a mess. A useless mess. And I'm covered in him." Tears fell from your eyes, your voice whining out of your sore throat.
"Don't cry, you're perfect." Your Ghost pulled the intestine from your hands, letting it fall onto the heap of Brian's unidentifiable carcass. "Come on now, let's get you cleaned up."
The feeling of his arms slipping around your back and under your knees wasn't repulsive like it was when Brian would touch you, your Ghost's touch wasn't nauseating.
Hoisting you up your Ghost carried you away from the scene. "But what about the mess here?"
"I've called people who will come take care of it, I 'ave connections. The police will get involved, 'is victims families deserve to know what 'appened to them. But nothin' bad will happen to you. You'll be just fine. I'll make sure of it. I'm takin' care of you now, love. There's nothin' to worry about." His voice was soothing, the nose of his skull balaclava pressing against your temple. "I've got you now."
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misc-obeyme · 2 days
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🍄 coming in for laughs So imagine lucifer and mc switching bodies for a day. Satan needs to learn how to store the cursed tomes. Mc makes lucifer swear to behave like nothing happened. At RAD Dia obv figures out mc is lucifer for today, and so mc is excused from work. Meanwhile, lucifer needs to handle all his brothers touching, flirting, suggestions, secrets, not being able to be as intimidating, body is too small, where the fuck are my wings, why is your skin like that. At some point mammon even picks mc up on his shoulder and runs away. Attempted kisses. Total chaos. But he is too prideful to go back on his promise. At evening in the common room, they are back in their bodies, mc sitting on the couch, stifling a laugh, lucifer standing there embarrassed to his core, the rest come in, and find out the truth. A week later, Satan still hasn't come out of his room, Mammon can't look lucifer in the eye, Asmo gets flustered just thinking how close he was to lucifer having him on the table (in his imagination at least), Solomon wishes he asked mc for a pact while he could've, maybe it would work like that What do you think about the rest pf the characters? Ps. I love torturing lucifer, it's a hobby at this point
OH NO poor Lucifer!!!
MC being kinda mean by making him promise not to tell! They had to know he'd suffer at the hands of everyone believing he was them.
Then again, maybe it's good for him to experience a day being MC. He can finally know what it's like for MC to deal with this nonsense every day lol.
I love the idea that Diavolo figures it out almost immediately. Like MC shows up in Lucifer's body, ready to pretend to be him and get work done. At first Dia's like hmm okay.
But then MC does something too un-Lucifer like and Dia's like okay what gives. Who are you and what have you done with Lucifer. And MC just caves.
I can kinda see Levi just being unaffected. Like maybe he didn't even go to RAD that day and he's been holed up in his room playing some video game and missed the whole thing. 'Cause if he thought he was having some kinda sweet moment with MC and then found out later it was Lucifer, I promise the HoL will be flooded shortly thereafter.
Beel takes it in stride. He just goes over to Lucifer and says "Sorry for what I did when I thought you were MC." And Lucifer sighs and looks aggrieved, but he's like it's fine. 'Cause who could stay mad at sweet precious Beel?
Belphie is devastated, but like hell he's gonna let anyone know. Says he doesn't care and goes to sleep. Later finds MC and is like, here's what I did when I thought Lucifer was you. It was terrible. How could you make me suffer like this.
Barbatos would know, I don't think he'd be fooled at all. He keeps the secret, but he's just laughing about the whole situation on the inside.
Simeon is confused. Wait. MC was actually Lucifer? Oh. Oh no. He's gonna be apologizing to Lucifer for anything he did when he thought Lucifer was MC, even if he didn't do anything lol. Lucifer's just like please let us not speak of it.
I love that Solomon is disappointed he lost his chance to try for a pact. Lucifer is just like it's never gonna happen.
Satan receives an unfortunately long lecture about the correct storage of cursed books.
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the-lil-spud · 2 days
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Mama Didn't raise no Bimbo!
Y/n was thrown head first into Hell - like everyone she has to find her own path and she was doing pretty darn good but what happens when she finally comes across the three Vee's who don't necessarily like to share...
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four
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This was such a bad idea!
Such a bad idea! How did Angel Dust manage to convince you to do this was beyond you. But here you are gripping the handle of the front door of the Vee’s Tower.
“Oh, I’m just running a little late at work honey, meet me at the tower and we will head to the clubs from there,” you mocked under your breath as you turned the handle. Swear, if that Valentino tries to get you to join a porno you will kill Angel.
Deep breaths. Entering the main foyer, you squint because of all the damn bright lights, screens, and décor. Spying all the cameras you drag your coat closer to your body. No hiding from anyone here. You make your way up to the receptionist desk as instructed by your lovely ‘friend’.
“Hey sugar, I’m here to see Angel Dust, they’re expecting me don’t suppose you could tell me where I should be going could ya?” Giving your best winning smile at the bored receptionist, at her unimpressed flicker of her eyes going over your outfit and hair you could feel the smile start to strain. Like everyone, your appearance changed when you came to Hell, and you considered yourself lucky that you mainly had humanistic characteristics – the fangs, violet eyes, skin as white as snow and wicked pink highlights in your hair you just considered as an extra – it could be so much worse. You have seen much worse.
Smoothing your hands over the coat you let your smile drop and narrowed your eyes at the receptionist. Down here in Hell you were sure others just made situations difficult to be difficult. Actually… that was probably true. They were just the worst down here.
Popping her gum in your face you could feel your eyebrow start to twitch. Bitch. Tapping away on her keyboard she proceeds to ignore you for a few moments before pointing at a sign which told you which floors for what people. Seeing Valentino’s floor, you assume that’s where you should be heading. Thanking the receptionist – though she didn’t exactly do anything but affect your confidence in your outfit – you make your way over to the elevators, getting in as soon as one arrived and jabbing at Valentino’s floor.
Crossing your fingers you wouldn’t meet that particular Overlord, considering the receptionist was a pain in the ass you could only imagine what he would be like and from the horror stories Angel Dust told you – you really didn’t wanna meet him.
Reaching the floor quicker than you expected you straighten out your outfit, slightly regretting the black stilettos but they were the only decent heels you have in your closet for dancing, plus the neon pink on the base matched your accessories and splashes of colour on your dress. You fully embraced the image that you were a bimbo, it helped with tips and your image at work. As a singer and a dancer at one of the clubs on Pride Circle, the dumber you appeared the more people underestimated you. And you just loved it when they underestimated you.
It's where you met Angel Dust, in one of the first clubs that you were working at. Through him you then met Alastor who after hearing you sing a few older songs then allowed you to sing on his Radio Show (on occasion) and from him you then met Rosie who put in a good word for you with your now current boss at one of the more respectable (using that term loosely) clubs in Pride Circle. Which is the only reason why you would enter the Vee’s Tower – you owed Angel Dust a lot this was a small ask.
Stepping onto Valentino’s floor the smell of smoke, sex and sweat hit you like a wall. Flickering your violet eyes around you spied the Spider speaking to the Overlord. Damn. Seeing that the conversation wouldn’t be ending any time soon you huffed under your breath before making your way to them.
“Angel, sugar, you ready to go?” You ask when you reach the two, keeping your gaze on him as from the corner of your eye you see the tall Overlord swivel on the spot. Angel’s eyes connect with yours before trying to hide a grimace.
“Heyyy gorgeous, listen it’s gonna be a little later than we planned I’ve just gotta film one more scene then we can go”, catching the mouthed sorry at the end. Smiling understandingly at him you shrug your shoulders.
“Oh no problemo honey, want me to stay or I can meet you at the club?” secretly crossing your fingers that they’d say to meet you at the club.
“Ah no it’s cool if you stay, right Val? Y/n can stay for the last scene?” Bugger. Turning your winning smile up at the infamous Valentino only to see their stare was focused on you already with an menacing smile pulling his face into a sinister expression which made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end.
“Ah the famous Y/n, Angel talks about you all the time – don’t you baby! Course you can stay and watch. What about if you participate as well, I could get you a job princessa, with those legs, boobs and that pout you are a star waiting to happen. I could get a contract written up in seconds if you want-“He pulls a deep drag from his cigarette and blows it all around so you three were in a cloud of hazy red smoke. Holding back a cough you try to keep the smile on your lips.
“Thank you for the offer, Sir, but I am happy with my job at the moment but as soon as I want a change in career, I’ll let you know”, I reply to the Overlord. A bead of sweat drips down the back of my neck. Valentino’s anger was legendary. To refuse him was to insult him. And you had done all that within a few moments of meeting him. Plus being close to Angel Dust was another factor against you – he was so jealous over Angel.
His smirk grew as he gazed over your outfit. Well, a smirk was better than shouting, right?
“Shame. You could be a star,” another drag of his cigarette before shrugging you off and directing Angel back to the stage. Quickly winking at the spider, you make your way over to a few chairs that were against the wall. Shrugging your coat off you turn to see a few creeps eyeing you up, bloody perverts. Baring your fangs at them you sit down and yank your phone out from your purse.  
A sigh leaves your lips, crossing your leg over the other, you peruse Sinstagram while trying to block out the sounds coming from Angel and the other demons and sinners in the scene. Checking on the progress of a few photos of the outfit that you shared earlier of what you were wearing tonight which you had tagged in Velvette as she was the designer of your dress: a tight black dress with stripes of neon pink, ruffles of the neon around the off-shoulder neckline and other intricate details – it reminded you of Marilyn Monroes pink dress, so you had saved up for months to buy it. The almost velvet material clung to your curves in the most delicious way and the colours just accentuated your hair, skin, and eyes. If no one could tell - you just loved pink and again it helped the Bimbo image you put across.
Brushing the waves of hair out of your face you look up and again see a certain Overlord’s stare focused on you, his own phone clutched in his hand. Careful not to challenge him by looking at him head on you keep your gaze soft and lowered.  The issue with Valentino was he didn’t always accept no as an answer. And you were so not ready to become a porn star. To be honest since arriving in Hell you hadn’t even entertained any one in your bed. More concerned with getting somewhere safe to live, safe(ish) to work and try not to get mauled, raped or murdered every day seemed to take up your energy. Which is why Angel wanted to go out tonight – to try and get you laid. Chuckling softly as you remembered his horrified face when you said you hadn’t had sex in over a year you let your violet gaze glance over to him. Wincing slightly at the position he was in at the moment, which really could not be comfortable, you let your attention go back to your phone ignoring both the Overlord and Angel as a slight vibrate notified you that a certain Vee had liked your post.
Your mouth opens in shock when you see THE Velvette had liked your photo. Heart racing a little you couldn’t control the smile that stretched across your lips, holding in the little squeal you desperately wanted to let out you settled for giving a little excited wiggle in your seat. Or you were until a shadow encased you. Looking up you lock eyes with the main V. Vox. Uh oh. “And who is this lovely lady, Val?”
Sooooo ... for a first chapter what did ya thinkkkkkk?
A03 Link is here
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telvess · 2 days
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Pizza delivery girl
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higuruma hiromi x reader fic, a bit of smut content (nothing extreme, only kissing, touching and inappropriate dialogues). 🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞
wc: 3,390
Big thanks to my @teatreeoilll for correct spelling and supporting me the entire time. You're the best 💕 This fic would never have been written without you!
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He doesn’t even like pizza.
And yet every time he has to do overtime in the dull room he calls an office, all while working cases and overwhelming his mind to the point where he just wants to see the bed, he finds himself thinking of you - the pizza delivery girl - and wondering if he should order another damn pizza. You slip to his mind unannounced once the tiredness takes over and his brain needs stimulation.
Higuruma Hiromi never took himself for a daydreamer, but here he is - imagining scenarios that will never happen with a woman he barely knows.
Ding dong!
Hiromi feels his co-workers' eyes on him when he gets up from his desk, their gazes follow him all the way to the door. As he walks there’s a new spring in his step. It's that time of day.
He opens the door and sees you, the woman who rules his irrational side. You smile at him, freckles clear on your fair skin.
“We meet again,” Hiromi welcomes you, looking at your peach colored hoodie with a print on it that he assumes is the cover of some band’s album.
“I’m starting to think that there’s hidden reason you order from the same place almost every day,” you point out with a smirk. Hiromi likes the way your voice changed over the last few meetings - how it became partly coy and… seductive.
“Well, I'm starting to wonder what are the odds that you're always the one who delivers my orders,” he bites back.
Your smile deepens and with slight shrug you mutter, “Touché.” You hand him over the pizza. “But don’t jump to conclusions. I’m just worried about you”— and your voice lowers to a whisper as you lean closer—“a little birdie told me you’re living here, Higuruma-san.”
Hiromi enjoys the softness in your voice, but for the love of God, don't use this tone when you say his name. You straighten up with a contented smile when you notice him swallow.
“You’re looking more tired every day,” you admit.
It’s not that you're innocent in all this.
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” As you nod the brown hair in your pigtail sways.
“You should take care of yourself before helping others.”
“Tough case,” he tries to shrug it off.
“Yeah, I heard.” Hiromi looks up to see genuine concern in your eyes. Before he can ask, you continue, “I read the papers. You did good job.”
Hiromi wants to say the case it’s far from over, but instead he decides not to; he accepts the compliment with a nod.
“Work goes better on a full stomach,” he says, raising the pizza box to light up the mood. You snort and bite your lower lip.
“Well I’m sure it could go even better if you relieved the pressure here and there.” You massage your shoulders and move them as if you were exhausted. You catch Hiromi a bit off guard with that.
“Well, I”—He rubs his hand over his two-day stubble—“Heh…” He smiles and can’t force himself to look you into eyes, feeling annoying heat spreading over his cheeks.
“No comeback, huh?” He hears you barely holding your laugher. Soon both of you laugh, more or less openly. For a moment Hiromi forgets he's at his office. The burden that weighed upon his mind lately suddenly becomes bearable.
“You know, I was wondering…” He scratches his cheek with a finger. His head is still full of doubts, but the timing feels so right that Hiromi gives in spontaneous impulse.
“About what?” you tilt your head.
“I—” “Excuse me, is this the defense attorney’s office?”
That’s not the right question.
For split of a second Hiromi doesn’t register the man appearing by your side. Then he notices a patch on the man's jacket with the symbol of the courier company.
“Yes, it is,” you say.
“Mr. Higuruma Hiromi?” The man asks and Hiromi confirms with a nod. His eyes are still on you, observing how you smile with what he hopes is some sort of disappointment. You shrug, then wave at him and finally turn away.
Hiromi watches over man’s shoulder how you go down the stairs. One last peek at your ass before the disappointment in his chest slowly builds up. He takes the package, closes the doors and comes back to his desk, too pensive to feel his co-worker's eyes on himself.
“Oh enough already!” Hiromi flinches at the woman's voice. It doesn’t happen often for her to be this angry, especially not at him and not about matters that aren’t work related.
“Why won’t you ask her out already?” She asks, crossing her hands over her chest.
If there’s one thing that Hiromi is grateful for, it’s definitely the ability to keep his cool in stressful situations. Professional habit.
“Why would I?” His voice is drier than when he was thanking the courier for his service.
His co-worker takes a deep breath, then asserts, “Because every time she turns her back you stare at her ass with those sad puppy eyes of yours.”
Is this how criminals feel when they speak to him through the glass windows in the visiting room? Because he definitely feels like one of them caught red-handed.
“There are no puppy eyes. And besides,” he pauses, lacking a counter-argument, “I don’t stare.” It takes one long skeptical gaze to break his façade. “Fine. But I wouldn’t call it staring.”
The co-worker raises her brows.
“Then how would you call it?”
“Admiring?” he mumbles, hoping she doesn’t hear it. His co-worker chuckles from behind her desk. He sighs as he looks at her, and puts the package and pizza box on his desk.
“I don’t think she would decline though.” It was naive of him to assume the conversation was over.
“Don't you have work to do?” He tries to separate himself from her by breaking the line of sight with a book. His tie starts to irritate him, but loosening it up means giving more opening to his co-worker so he lets it choke him.
He hears how her heels knock on the floor as she comes to his desk and lean over to reach the pizza box.
“It’s very unusual to see you like this. I’ve always thought you were a robot when it comes to your personal life,” she takes a piece of margarita.
Hiromi raises eyebrows. The book in his hands drops down.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs.
“You know… very, hmm… economical?”
“Nice save,” he mumbles.
Economical was the last word Hiromi would have used describing his personal life. Not after wasting so much money for a food he never eats.
“So, are you going to ask her out?”
“No,” he says but sounds very disappointed. Damn courier.
“Why not?” She frown.
“It’s complicated—”
“Rubbish! You could sell me that crap at the beginning when the both of you were acting like teenagers. Now”— she snorts—“you basically flirt like normal people do on the third date!” she waves her hands, as if trying to convince an invisible witness. “Except you never went out once and it seems that the two of you would rather die than change that…”
His co-worker takes a bite and looks at him, but this time Hiromi’s facade doesn’t break that easy. He only shrugs.
“Ugh! What’s the matter with you?” she snaps at him. “Have made it a mission to complicate everything in your life?”
“Guilty,” he admits without a blink. There’s no point in denying this. “And you can’t do anything about it. We aren’t at court.”
Hiromi watches as she chew in silence.
“You can have all of it.” He moves the box towards her.
“I know,” she answers. “It isn’t the pizza that’s on your mind.” She takes the box and walks back to her desk. Hiromi knows what she's about to say before she opens her mouth, “But with that attitude you never gonna taste that in your lifespan.”
How vulgar…
Hiromi sits on the couch in his dull living room, with a glass in one hand and a remote in another. He flips through channels, staring at the TV without a hint of interest. When exactly did he become the person who comes back to home and has absolutely no idea what to do with himself? Everything feels like an empty time filler at this point.
Click, click, click…
Hiromi maintains a fast pace, his eyes on the screen, but mind barely present. Drama show, reality talk, an okonomiyaki advertisment… “Our national pizza!” Says a lady with her mouth full. Not the best marketing gimmick, he thinks. But yeah… He could go for a pizza. Today someone has interrupted his little tête-à-tête with you, but maybe it isn’t too late to fix it?
Before he can think it through, his hand reaches for the phone and opens the food app on its own. The pizzeria you work at is marked with a star as the only one in his favorites. Hiromi chooses a margarita, pays in advance, and hopes that your boss has forced you to work overtime today.
And then… what remains to be done? Just wait. But this time sitting in his dull living room doesn’t feel awfully boring. Hiromi finally finds a comfortable spot on his couch. He leans back and puts his feet up on the table, feeling strangely relaxed. As if he has found the missing piece of the puzzle. The advertising marathon has finishes and he watches the beginning of unknown romantic comedy. A pleasant drowsiness slowly befuddles him…
Knock knock!
Oh? Is it already time?
Hiromi gets up from the couch, his body feels dizzy at first but with each step towards the doors it gets more and more tense. Dozens of thoughts run through his head as his hand reaches for the door handle. Will that be you? What should he say? He haven’t thought of any opening line… Now, that’s the lawyer everybody needs, right?
Very slowly he presses down onto the handle and opens the door.
“Hello, your pizza- Oh! Hi, Higuruma-san! What a surprise!” Your expression changes from weary to genuinely happy; Hiromi feels your smile deep in his chest. “So you don’t really live in your office, huh?” You try to take a peek over his shoulder.
“I have to come here from time to time. Otherwise they will start imposing rent at my workplace,” he answers, shrugging.
Your whole chest trembles as you laugh, you have the same hoodie you had afternoon with faces of some band on it. Hiromi catches himself at staring for too long at your chest. It draws your attention.
“Do you like this band?” you ask, pulling the hoodie to stretch the fabric, which reveals a bit of your neckline.
Hiromi finally raises his eyes to meet yours.
“I don’t know them,” he says honestly and, given the cheerfulness in your eyes, you seem to be content with this answer.
“Ah, I see,” you slowly nod. “That’s not what interested you.”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
He doesn’t feel too embarrassed when you smile like this at him. Maybe his sad puppy eyes come in handy…
“Now that I caught you red-handed I won’t feel bad telling you something like this -” You smirked, “Don’t be upset, but you don’t look like a guy who likes pizza.”
You would think, huh?
“That’s a bit judgmental,” Hiromi says with unusual sensitivity in his voice that immediately puts you in defensive mode.
“Oh, no! I’m sorry!” You raise your hand in apologetic gesture. “It’s just”—you eye him up and down—“I don’t know, I guess it’s the suit. It makes you look…”
“Pompous?” he slips watching you struggle to find the right word.
“No!” you quickly deny. Too quickly. “I mean… well, kinda.” You gave up.
“Ouch.”
Hiromi has never heard you giggle before, but he could definitely get used to it. He couldn’t explain the phenomenon that makes him seek for your reaction - any reactions, really - but the idea of closing the doors right now and not getting more out of you seemed awful.
“Do you ever take it off?” you ask pointing at his loosened tie and wrinkled dress shirt.
I could for you, he thinks to his own surprise.
“Well, I was waiting for the pizza,” he reminds.
“Right. Can’t collect your order in pyjamas.” And you laugh again, which causes a rush of heat in his belly and bellow. Cursed thoughts suddenly take him to very inappropriate places where you tell him about the band printed on your hoodie as you take it off. He wonders what color of bra you wear. The white one would suit you - in his modest opinion.
“You weren’t wrong though.” He breaks himself out of the trance. “I don’t like pizza." After all the orders he made for the past few weeks.
You blink at his words, definitely not as surprised as he thought you were going to be. In fact, your reaction tells him that you knew and have played along this entire time.
“Then why did you order so many of them?” you ask, a soft smile forming on your lips.
“I was ordering you,” he finds himself saying. The moment the first word left his lips, Hiromi felt in his guts it was a bad idea, but the rest of the sentence left his lips anyway, leaving sweet-sour flavor on the top of his tongue.
He watches your eyes widen for a second, and your lips part - then close - then open again as you try to say something back, but your mind can’t find the right words.
Well, this is it then…
A lonely “oh” slips quietly out of your mouth.
Oh?
“Well, you are my last stop today.” Your rosy cheeks rise up as you smile. “Why don’t you invite me in?”
For a moment the world stops.
“Are you sure?” The lower parts of Hiromi call him an idiot, but the lower parts have never been in charge. Biting his tongue wasn’t an option.
Sudden embarrassment takes over as you look sideways and as both of you wonder about the simple “should I or should I not?” You smile and Hiromi smiles as well.
“Do you think my boss can sue me once he finds out that I’ve made him lose a regular customer?” You break the silence. Hiromi watches at the corners of your lips twitch, then raises his eyes at yours.
“Why do you assume I won’t order any more pizza in the future?” You shrug.
“Why would you if you can just call me instead?”
“So you can have nice break at work,” he answers. This is enough to make you burst out laughing.
“I see you've thought everything through carefully.”
“I only try to keep you here as long as I can.”
You make a step towards him, standing on the threshold. Much, much, much closer than usually. Hiromi could smell your perfume, but he mostly focuses on the soft smile you give him.
“Well, can’t deny it isn’t working. Lemme in,” you whisper, fidgeting with the collar of his dress shirt as you speak.
Once Hiromi opens the doors wide for you to come in and you cross the threshold, letting the pizza box fall on the ground, making you giggle again. Hiromi presses you against the doors, his hands finally on your waists, fingers tightened to feel you under the fabric of hoodie.
You are the one who closes the gap between your lips. Your smell stupefies Hiromi as you kiss him without hesitation, shamelessly penetrating his mouth with your tongue. Your fingers slide right under his collar, slowly moving around his nape, tickling his skin and sending shivers down his spine. Hiromi feels dizzy from the excess of stimuli.
“Tell me about this band,” he says once you two break away to catch a breath.
“I know only one song…” you mutter, too focused on undoing buttons of his dress shirt to give the song name. “It was an accident. I spotted the hoodie on the sale. L—Liked the color. Later found out it’s them,” you babble.
The feeling of your fingers exploring his bare chest and belly is blend of disconcerting relief and irritation. He waited for this moment for so long that now, when he finally has you, the touch of fingers isn’t enough to meet his expectations.
You place a kiss on his chin but before you can reach higher, Hiromi’s mouth is on your neck. One hand wraps around your waists, pulling you closer to him, yet still not close enough in his opinion. He wishes he could absorb you. He wants to feel the heat coming from your skin and your heartbeat quickening.
The other hand finds your buttcheek and squeezes it hard. The moan that escapes your lips is like long-awaited music in his ear. Hiromi can’t help himself and bites your earlobe to get more reactions out of you. And when that stops being enough, he starts sucking your neck and giving you hickeys while his hands roam freely all over your body, finding their way under the hoodie.
Considering how your fingers have made big mess out of his haircut and how now they dig deep into his shoulders, he assumes he's doing a good job so far.
“These damn legs of yours,” he mumbles into your ear while lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around him.
Hiromi carries you to the couch where he takes off your hoodie together with the work uniform underneath it. Your sports bra is black, and nicely molds itself to your breasts. He can see your perky nipples through the fabric at which his erection grows larger.
You pull him towards you by tugging on his tie. Very soon your bra ends up on the floor as well when Hiromi places himself above you. The way he cups his hands around your breasts, squeezing your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, puts your dirty needs to another level.
“I’ve been waited for so long to feel them,” Hiromi whispers right before your face, a hair's length away from touching your lips. His voice is so quiet you have a problem hearing him. “You’re blushing,” he notices, making you look away and mutter an embarrassed “shatap”.
“Better hurry up and suck them,” you pout at him, you have hard time talking at this point, your throat dry and voice distorted by hoarseness.
Hiromi’s smirk gets bigger.
“It’s nice to know you want it as bad as I do,” he says before leaning over.
DING DONG.
Hiromi opens his eyes. At first he doesn’t even recognize his own apartment, the view from the couch is downright unrealistic. With his swollen eyes he looks for any sign of yours presence, because even if he knows you weren’t here, his mind doesn’t want to give up. Not yet. He can’t help it, his professional tendency to hope for the best and be ready for the worst speaks through him.
But the longer he stares at his empty apartment and the longer he can’t find any part of the clothes that he just took off of you, the more and more the disappointing reality seeps through his mind.
Ding dong…
Oh, right - the doorbell. He looks at the door, then at the bulge in his pants, sighing at the bitter unfinished business. What one pizza delivery girl can do to a man who doesn’t even like pizza…
He slowly gets up, massaging his sore nape that the couch header have gave him as he approaches the door. A doubtful thought on the back on his head whispers to him that he may see you behind it - with your high-tied ponytail, a hoodie and unearthly legs - and that his dream have been prelude to the main event.
Hiromi opens the door and sees the most average looking stranger.
Yeah, he thinks, taking the pizza and mumbling thanks, life isn’t that pretty, is it? He doesn't think about covering himself or even feel embarrassed about it. There’s just pure disappointed in his heart and an annoying tightness in his boxers.
He closes the door. What a shame it wasn’t you.
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there is a possibility that a second part will be written. thanks for reading!
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Did you know odm is like 124 pounds 😭👌🏼 that shit on HEAVY!!! But then that made me think…… do you understand the thrust strength Levi must have? Let’s be Foreal. This mane can push and pull fr fr
oh, sweet mother of pearl…. what’s happening to me…. 🚶🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🦮
just imagining how STRONG levi actually is to be lugging that gear around and still have the ability to move nimbly.
mdni !!
cws : top! levi + bottom! reader, no prns used, smut but not fully thought out, rough sex implied, manhandling, chubby! reader mentions at one point but the reader can be any body type and color, i wasn’t sure how to end it so probably an abrupt ending, bruising implications, squirting mentions 😭
like,, if you’re getting down and dirty with levi, you gotta think about how accustomed to carrying that shit and how it’s probably a bit of an effort not to be too rough with you. not to mention the fact that he’s gotta be super strong upper body wise too!! i’m a sucker for chubby bodies myself, but imagine levi manhandling someone soft and plush…….. god, this whole thought is genius.
or imagine how levi would harshly grip your hips or your waist, his thrusts knocking the air out of you. it would be impossible to stay quiet enough for the cadets to not be aware. especially when the headboard is barreling into the wall with the motion of his thrusts.
thinking about how levi would have to make it a conscious effort to not lose himself in the feeling so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. he’s just strong and while he knows his own strength, he can’t help but want you to feel good too.
thinking about how levi would pull your hips back to meet his thrusts, your legs thrown over his shoulders and his cockhead brushing against the softest parts of you.
thinking about how levi’s fingertips would dig into your skin in an attempt to ground himself, the area feeling exceptionally tender the next day.
thinking about how if you’re a squirter, it would be soooo easy for levi to make a mess of you. his hips and thighs dripping with a mixture of both of your fluids.
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cherryxblossxms · 2 days
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🔞 Ellis looks like one of those deceptively strong type of guys that can actually pick you up with ease. Very athletic, wiry, and picks you up without hesitation just to see you get flustered
Just imagining him really teasing you, hoisting you up by your thighs and pressing you against the wall. And hes holding you up so effortlessly so the only thing you can do is wrap your legs around his hips as he grinds against you. He loves seeing the shiver run through your body when he grinds just right, feeling the way his hard-on tries to slot itself between your legs, just a few measly layers of clothes separating his skin from touching yours.
Hes quick to get needy for more, but he'll try to wait until you admit it first or even asks you what you want him to do. The moment you give in, he's not even bothering to undress completely, simply shoving aside whatever clothes he has to until his heat can touch yours. And once he's inside, that strength comes in handy to bounce you on his dick, easily pulling you up and back down and watching you fall apart as you're used like a toy.
He's not mean about it, though. In fact, the compliments and praise that fall from his lips only serve to fluster you more, telling you how good you are to him, taking him so well and accepting his love. His eyes never leave you for a second, basking you in his adoring gaze as it travels from your face down to where you two are joined, and back up again.
And he makes sure to angle his hips just right to hit all the best spots, because your pleasure is so important to him. He doesn't care how noisy you might get, any scratches or bites, as it all serves as a physical reminder of how happy he's making you. If someone happens to overhear, he's just making his lover feel good, is that a crime?
And the moment you fall apart for him, he's taking you down gentle, wringing out every last bit of pleasure from you as he tells you how well you did for him, how perfect. How you make him so happy that he can deconstruct you completely. Now, how happy has he made you?
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